#bilbo baggins one shot

[nostalgicnarrator]

Over Hill and Under Mountain

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Word Count: 1,555

Parings: Thorn X Bilbo

Description:

Thorin leaves Erebor to visit his dear friend Bilbo, will new feeling shine through? What will happen?

Chapters: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6

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Note:

Listen to me I’ve never done anything like this before, I have written and sure I have posted one of two things and immediately abandoned them. If you want to give me constructive criticism or feedback please do I wanna get better at this kind of thing.

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Thorin had sent a letter to Bilbo not too long ago by raven, telling him of his departure from his kingdom and hopefully swift arrival. It had been a year since he had last seen his hobbit.

Thorin had found himself missing his hobbit. Even with the regular letters between them, now It had only been a week since he had gotten the last letter and Thorin had begun to feel a sort of ache in his chest the longer he went without contact from Bilbo.

Now the King Under the Mountain found himself hundreds of miles away from his Lonely Mountain, the one he had left in questionably capable hands, right back were it all began a year ago now, and getting himself lost once again on the roads and in the Shire. passing farms and burrows, even at one point finding himself on the road to brea. He had turned red when he realized, though he wont tell you that, and turned back hoping to find the burrow of his hobbit.

Thorin grumbled as he thought to himself and took another turn down a path he swears he’s seen hundred times before. ‘Now if I can just- have I already been here before?’ Thorin thought, sighing. ‘Mahal, am I even in the right place?’

When Thorin passed a deceptively familiar-looking farm, one he had to have passed twice now, he sighed and swung his pack off his shoulders to fish for a map. Maybe it can help him figure out where he was.

That’s when he heard a very familiar voice. “Thorin Oakenshield, King Under the Mountain, as lost as a chicken with no head.” The voice was full of a teasing tone as it spoke.

Thorin whipped around and looked at the familiar small hobbit, his caramel-colored curls wild on his head, suggesting that he hadn’t done much more than wake up and throw clothes on. The hobbit seemed to be wrapped and almost gilded in gold in the light of the early sun, the old dwarf couldn’t fight himself from blushing at the hobbit.

His undershirt was a buttery yellow, a little warn but clearly loved, and his pants an emerald green that could put any gemstone that the king had seen to shame. The bottom of his pants were embroidered with flowers and other things hobbits seemed so enchanted by. The hobbit had no waistcoat, so his suspenders were visible. He stood not a few paces behind where Thorin stood. Thorin only just began to notice how long he had been staring at his hobbit.

Bilbo was smiling broadly, chuckling fondly at the sight of the bewildered and red faced king. Thorin didn’t wait long to rush forward and embrace his friend in a hug, which the hobbit gladly returned it with just as much enthusiasm. Thorin patted Bilbo’s shoulder affectionately and looked down at him when he pulled away from the hug.

Thorin smiled as he spoke. “Bilbo Baggins, and here I thought I’d have to stumble around here for a day until I found you.”

Bilbo laughed and grasped at the dwarf’s arms as he leaned a little closer before teasing. “Now what kind of hobbit would I be if I let one of my guests stumble his way around here like a newborn fawn?” Bilbo said as he moved to hook Thorin by the arm to lead him up a path toward his burrow. “Let’s get you inside and I’ll find you something to eat! I’m sure you are starving.”

And that’s where Thorin found himself, sitting in an uncomfortably comfortable armchair in the living room of Bilbo’s burrow. He watched the small hobbit as he made tea, to quote, ‘hold him over’ till Bilbo was done cooking.

The warmth that wafted from the kitchen seemed to almost lull the king to sleep. The next time his eyes opened, Bilbo was handing him a warm mug of tea that smelled and tasted sweetly of elderberry and mint And a cloth that held a sweet blackberry tart.

Bilbo headed back to the kitchen to continue his task of making breakfast for the two of them. Thorin stood to follow after him, leaning against the door frame as Bilbo mixed something together in a bowl. He found himself observing the hobbit’s every movement, from the way his curls bounced as he worked to the concentration furrowing his brow.

‘He really is quite charming,’ Thorin mused, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. ‘The way he moves about his kitchen, so at ease, so… endearing. Why didn’t I see it before?’

Bilbo grinned at Thorin when he pulled himself a chair over. After a brief silence, Bilbo asked, “How are the renovations of your kingdom going?”

Thorin sighed, closing his eyes as thoughts of Erebor’s restoration filled his mind. They had found that the old techniques of his forefathers had been forgotten or abandoned for more useful skills during the time they had lost their home. But Thorin couldn’t help the pride that swelled within him at the thoughts of his people and how he and his Company had reclaimed his home. And how he feels that his hobbit was to thank for that.

Thorin let his voice sound as tired as he felt, as he spoke, “They are progressing well, but it seems many of the secrets of my people have seemingly been forgotten over the years.” He looked at the mug he held, now half full and tart long gone. He rolled the mug in his hands, it being a tad bit smaller than any other mug he was used to. It had flowers and soft things painted underneath its glaze.

“Still,” Thorin hummed and looked to Bilbo now. ‘Have his eyes always been so sweet?’ “It will be grand and restored to the best of our ability.”

Bilbo hummed and went back to cooking. He scrambled eggs in a hot pan. “Well, I wait patiently to see. You better keep me updated properly this time.” Bilbo said with a bit of a teasing tone and smile. Then he stopped what he was doing, looked at Thorin again as he set a plate down on the counter, and started plating food.

“I dare ask, you are staying a few days, are you not?” Bilbo asked. Thorin felt his breath catch in his throat. He had to think a little harder than he was used to, to speak.

“Yes,” Thorin nodded as he spoke. He found himself once again thinking of Bilbo, the way his eyes sparkled with curiosity and care. ‘Why does my heart quicken every time he looks at me?’ Thorin wondered, a bit confused by his own feelings.

“Then, who is running the kingdom in your absence?” Bilbo inquired.

“Fíli,” Thorin replied with a fond smile. “He is capable and eager to prove himself. And I am not one to disappoint.”

Bilbo nodded, seemingly satisfied with that answer. “Ah, well, I am sure he is quite excited, and I am sure Lady Dís is not pleased at your sudden absence not too long after you have taken back your mountain.” Bilbo teased lightly as his eyes shined with mischief.

Thorin found himself chuckling and nodding softly. “No, she is not, but it will be a good experience for the lad to practice how it truly is to run a kingdom.”

“I see…” Bilbo hummed and pulled a loaf from the oven, setting it at the table to cool.

“How has the Shire been?” Thorin found himself asking as he helped Bilbo’s food find its way to the dining room table.

Bilbo’s face lit up happily as he smiled “Oh! Well, the Shire has been peaceful, as always. You know how things can be here, quiet!” He started digging through the cabinets for more plates. “And! I’m sure you saw on your way here but the fields are green with new crops, the harvest looks promising.” He said.

As Bilbo went to grab his cutlery as he spoke he gasped and looked to Thorin before almost yelling. “Oh! Do you remember what I told you happened a week ago well! It had happened again!!Lobelia Sackville-Baggins has tried to make off with my good silver again!”

Thorin watched Bilbo with growing affection and amusement as he animatedly recounted the events of the Shire. ‘He gets so heated over these things,’ Thorin thought, finding it endearing. ‘How could someone be so fiercely protective and yet so gentle?’

They continued to talk as Bilbo and Thorin prepared and set up breakfast. The aroma of freshly baked bread and bacon filled the air. As they sat down to eat, Thorin felt a deep contentment.

As Bilbo went on about the Shire and what had been happening since his last letter to the king only a week ago, Thorin thought to himself, ‘This visit with Bilbo,’ he mused as Bilbo went on about how some children had trampled over his marigolds, ‘will be as lovely as I imagined.’

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There it is, please don’t get to mad at me if I have made a mistake or messed something up. Okay, please leave feedback! Let me know what I can do better next time!

[literaltyblackthorn]

bilbo probably felt the same way about the ring that thorin felt about the arkenstone and i think about that often-

[creativemessbyvd]

BAGGINSHIELD 101 DISCORD EVENT FANFIC: "HARVEST SEASON"

Title: Harvest Ghosts

Status: Complete 1/1 Chapters

Word count: 10,789

Reading time: 53 min.

Rating: General

Pairings: Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield

Summary:

--They didn't have tales of the spirits coming back to visit, and the only thing comparable to that was...

"What if it's the Harvest Ghosts?"

Frodo's tiny voice was heard above the near shouting, and it shut down all conversation. As one, all the dwarrow turned to Bilbo, expecting a reply. Bilbo could feel his Quest Headache returning. --

Bilbo is busy being Consort 3 years after the Retaking of Erebor, the last thing he needs is ghost stories affecting his upcoming events (including his wedding) during the busiest time of the year: Harvest.

Do I know anything about gardening or farming? Absolutely not, and neither do the dwarves. Had the idea all month long but I couldn't actually write until like Wednesday. I didn't mean for it to be 10,000 words long v:

Have a fic of misunderstandings and Bilbo being a BAMF Consort for Erebor, also Frodo, Sam, Pippin and Merry being absolute sweethearts. I haven't written in months and I also have a deep pain that no meds so far have fully taken care of bc I have a kidney infection so this might not make full sense, forgive me for any mistakes :c

Some out of context gifs (and slight spoilers) under the cut that will only make sense once you read the fic. Also! It's inspired by Abbott Elementary :3

[dont-go-where-i-cantfollow]

ok, but what about some bagginshield?

When the dwarves were captured, Bilbo was not able to remain composed. Would they be harmed? Would they be mistreated? Would their weapons be left or taken so that the prisoners couldn’t even think of escape? And what if someone is hurt and needs urgent help? Bilbo had no idea how elves treated their prisoners, but he was sure that nobody in his company wanted to experience it. 

A group of armed dwarves, led by their king, imprisoned in an elven dungeon and awaiting judgment, isn’t it just wonderful? Warring races always try to put a spoke in one another’s wheel, and when a bunch of armed shorties falls into the hands of the forest elves, it is naive to believe they will be released without a proper investigation. They are not in RIvendell, there are no friendly elves. There are only forest keepers fighting anyone who dares to disturb their peace. 

Bilbo uses his ring once again, becoming completely invisible to the guards. He is aware of how sharp all the elves’ senses are, but he crosses his fingers and tiptoes past two guardians who are cracking jokes and laughing out loud. He is almost caught by a tall elf in white clothes (is he someone important? or maybe he’s even an elven prince? the hobbit does not know him and he is not particularly interested in making acquaintances with anyone right now), who is reprimanding one of the female warriors accompanying the dwarves before. Bilbo has no idea what they are talking about, but he is ready to swear that they are not discussing anything good. 

The keys are stolen (The hobbit starts to understand what the dwarves were talking about; he really is a skilled burglar), and Bilbo makes his way to the prison cells. He hears how dwarves are getting angry, discussing how they would punish all these nasty forest creatures for imprisoning them, and he can finally take off his ring. Asking his companions to remain quiet, so as not to be noticed, he takes the keys out of his pocket and pushes them through the bars. Some of the dwarves are sitting here together, some alone, but all of them are jumping on their feet and trying to exit the cells as quickly as possible. 

When Bilbo approaches Thorin’s cell, he doesn’t even have time to greet the dwarf king. He is pulled by the sleeve so that his face fits neatly between the bars, and he is kissed as if he has just returned from an incredibly long journey. Thorin is holding him by his hand, his other hand touching the soft spot where the neck meets the skull, and the hobbit has no choice but to surrender. He exhales into the kiss, closing his eyes, and relaxes for a few seconds, feeling the warm waves of shivers coming down the spine. 

He was worried about all the dwarves who were traveling with him, but especially about their king. He was afraid that, because of his status, Thorin would be treated differently, forced to talk about their journey, or even tortured, but no. Here he is, standing in front of Bilbo, with leaves in his hair, and trying to squeeze the living hell out of him. He was afraid, too, Bilbo thinks, but he will never admit it; he is too proud to be caught caring for this little hobbit with sticky hands. 

They break the kiss and Thorin looks at his hobbit as if he has grown a tail in these few hours they were separated. There’s no tail, his ears and feet are the same size they were before, but the dwarf king looks at Bilbo with such attention and even… worry? Of course, he will never say this out loud, but this troubled look on his face speaks louder than words, and so does this sparkle in his eyes, similar to the one occurring right before you start crying.

‘’Thorin, let me open the door please, and then we can hug properly.’’

‘’Finally, you stole something worthy! Well done, little burglar!’’ Thorin steps aside and waits for Bilbo to deal with the lock. Before this adventure, Bilbo would have taken offense at such words, but now? Right now he understands that the moment the door is open, he will be enveloped in a hug so tight, he will hear his bones crack. Thorin can’t show his emotions properly, but the hobbit doesn’t ask him to do so: he knows what the dwarven king feels; he couldn’t doubt him even if he tried. 

Tonight, when they manage to get some rest, Thorin will hold him in his arms, cover his face in many kisses, and whisper about how he prayed for his hobbit to be safe while they were imprisoned; but for now, there is a battle awaiting them, and Bilbo hopes that his companions are ready to fight. 

[am1dnightdreary]

In desperate need to write some silly one shots for Bagginshield or other LOTR/The Hobbit ships. Please gimme prompts!

[miklansur1]

Introduction:

Hello! This is an introduction because I am new to tumblr but I want to become a writer.

Even if I am still getting used to the apps settings.

Now to the basics:

You can call me Miklan.

My pronouns are They/them.

My birthday is on July 5th.

My MBTI is ISTP

Since I am a new writer, I am mostly going to stick to one fandom, Aka The Hobbit.

In the future I’ll decide whether to include more fandoms but for now, it’s just The Hobbit.

I’m open to request and I’ll try my best to answer them as soon as I can.

Masterlist:

Thorin:

Thorin x F!Modern!reader: Fluff

But for now, have a good day/afternoon/night! <3

[tickles-ivory]

Wrote a short One-Shot based on the post below:

Sometimes Those Who Wander are Indeed Lost (721 words)

[crossingbaranduin]

queerplatonic bagginshield

that is all, i just have a Lot of thoughts about em tbh

[johnmurphysgirl]

DEPTH; BILBO X THORIN DRABBLE/ ONE SHOT.

The yearning for his hobbit hole in Bag-End had yet to cease; the rolling hills of the Shire calls to him on his arduous journey, for which he must ignore. A peaceful little life he had had. Most days, he tries to distract himself with thoughts of his arm chair, his dishes, second breakfast, and most importantly, tea time. 

It's easier to yearn for something he had known, rather than the man sleeping a few inches from where Bilbo sat, unblinking in the damp cave they'd found themselves in. He could not help it. It didn't matter how hard he'd tried, he found himself drawn to the King under the Mountain in ways Bilbo could never imagine before.

It is wrong, it is wrong, it is wrong, his mind tortures him in the dark; wrong, for whatever reason, didn't really matter. 

The thing that truly matters is what Thorin would think of him, if he knew. If he knew what it was exactly Bilbo thought about in the dark, how watching Thorin sleep never once bores him. In fact, Thorin has never looked more beautiful.

 His eyes are relaxed; unguarded in the safety of his dreams. A soft but still somehow smug smile on his lips. Bilbo groans.

 He's doing it again isn't he?

Bilbo is too lost in his hopeless daydreams to notice Thorin's eyelids flutter, and then open. His eyes adjust to the darkness of the cave, before they settle on Bilbo's pensive face. He doesn't speak. Not yet. Instead, he, too, takes a moment to soak in the others' appearance. To see a side of him that the others would never get a chance to. 

After all, Thorin is not blind. If it weren't for Kili's incessant teasing, and Bilbo's eyes following him everywhere, he probably would be; but he isn't. 

"It is late," Thorin says, interrupting the silence with a voice thick with sleep. "I will take over your watch. You, master Baggins, sleep." 

Bilbo nearly drops his watch in surprise at Thorin's voice, before he shakes his head. 

"No, no, don't you worry a nickle about me," he says instead, a soft smile on his face. "You need it more than I." 

Thorin snorts uncharacteristically; what have they turned into? A gallant knight and a chivalrous King? Instead of offering a reply, he moves and sits besides the master burglar; the two sit in companionable silence for quite a while. The gentle breeze floating in through the open mouth of the cave enough to comfort the two men, as their arms gently touch but neither move to pull it away. 

It's just them. No need to fret themselves with titles and confusion, of what they could or couldn't do, or whether their interaction is entirely proper. A hobbit and a dwarf; but so much more than that. 

"I'm.. sorry, Thorin," Bilbo says after a while. "I can't sit here and look at you and pretend that I don't wish to.. to.." 

"I know, Bilbo," Thorin interrupts, his blue gaze piercing into the Hobbit's eyes. He doesn't think about what he's doing, what he could change, or how this will all be perceived in the daylight hours. Thorin knows if he allowed himself to think, he would never have leaned closer, so close he could feel Bilbo's breath. "A thousand sunsets could never compare to the innocence of a first kiss." 

It's all so uncharacteristic; so Kingly of Thorin, as if he were saying it to a fair maiden in a garden, but he meant them. The words he uttered so carelessly. He meant it, and he wasn't sure what scared him the most.

 Before he can get lost in throes of doubt, he leans forward just enough and presses their lips together. 

[an-honest-burglar]

Bilbo had never seen battle before, let alone the aftermath of one. It was almost worse. The wounded and dying surrounded him as he walked through the halls of a place utterly unfamiliar to him. He had no idea what he was doing here. How did he get to this place? Was he even wanted here? No one had talked to him since he had run down Ravenhill to get help. They looked at him now with a sadness he couldn’t comprehend. He wondered if it had been too late, if his efforts to save them had been all for nothing. His red rimmed eyes blurred as fresh hot tears rolled down his face. It had only been a day, and yet it felt like ages. He walked and walked and walked down endless halls and corridors inside this place that he thought he had been so desperate to save. He felt fresh guilt gnaw at him, he had only wanted to protect him. To protect Thorin from himself. 

And look how well that turned out, he thought to himself as he turned down a familiar hall. He hadn’t meant to come here. He wasn’t ready. It was too soon, too fresh. What if Thorin hated him? He had to. All those words said on Ravenhill, he thought he was dying, he must have lied to Bilbo, to spare his feelings, his guilt and shame. Had he done the right thing? Would Thorin’s rage still be there? Would the sickness still fog his eyes? Bilbo couldn’t bear it. As he was about to turn to leave, he noticed movement out of one of the doors and looked up in time to see Óin walk out, wiping blood off of his hands. He was sweating and looked pale. He looked up just in time to see Bilbo choke on his tears, turn heel, and run.

Two days passed and Bilbo found himself walking down that hallway again. He had never meant to end up here but in his dissociative state, he always found himself at the stone door. He stood there and stared at it for a long while. He wasn’t ready to see Thorin. But would he ever be ready, could anything in his life ever have prepared him for this? How in the world had he gotten to this. As he stared at the intricately carved and ornate door, he started marveling at the pattern before him. How it arched and branched in many directions, how one line would be steady until it split into different paths. He reached out his hand and traced a line as far as he could until it came to a fork. He pulled his hand away instantly and swiftly went back to his endless wandering.

Everyday he found himself once again in front of that door. Just outside of the room, so close to what he cared most about in the world. On the fifth day after the battle, he came to the door, only to find it was slightly ajar. Cautiously, as not to disturb anyone inside, he pushed the door open a hair more, just to get a peek inside. He just had to know. He saw Thorin, he was still asleep in a bed that seemed too small for a King. He was covered in furs and wool blankets, or at least his legs were. His chest was exposed save for a large bandage around his middle which was slightly red-ish pink. His breath came quickly and raggedly. He was sweating and shivering and panting. There was a cloth on his forehead that Bilbo could tell hadn’t been refreshed in a while. Slowly, Bilbo opened the door further. He walked into the room on quiet feet. He was not ready for Thorin to wake, he was not ready to talk to him. But he could do this kindness for him. He would do anything for him in truth.

Bilbo reached over and grabbed the cloth. He was right as it was bone dry, save for the sweat that had soaked into it. He found a small water bowl on the table next to the bed and soaked the cloth. He rang it out, and crept back over to the side of the bed. With a kind of gentleness that he forgot he had possessed, he placed it on Thorin's forehead. Thorin stirred and groaned slightly and Bilbo jumped back startled. 

“Please,” he said in his sleep, without opening his eyes. Bilbo inched closer to him, desperate to be near him, but still so scared of which Dwarf lay slumbering fitfully in that bed. Was it the brave, loyal and stoic King he had met in Bag End, or was it the cruel and mistrusting King Under the Mountain? Who would wake? If he ever woke. 

“Please,” he said again, “Bilbo, I beg you,” He trailed off before finishing.

Bilbo stood paralyzed, does he go and take the hand of that noble Dwarf laid out in front of him? Does he run away to protect himself? How did this happen to him?

“He’s been asking for you for days,” A voice came from the doorway and Bilbo spun on his heel to find Óin. 

“He, he has?” Bilbo’s voice cracked and he suddenly found his mouth very dry. 

“Aye laddie,” Óin took a step towards him, Bilbo stepped back. He was wrong, he wasn’t ready for this. This was too much. He could only take so much. 

He tried to get words out, but choked, and ran for the door. 

.   �� .     .

Thorin awoke in a room he barely recognized. Seven days had passed, but of course he didn’t know that. In his mind he had been on top of Ravenhill just seconds earlier. The eagles flying above and the hobbit by his side. Bilbo. Where was Bilbo? He leaned to the side of the bed and tried to stand, his head pounded and his whole body ached. It was as if the whole mountain had fallen on top of him. After a few unsuccessful attempts he managed to stumble out of bed. He had to find Bilbo. Had to tell him how sorry he was. Had to make sure that his brave little burglar was alive and well. Had to tell him how he felt. He had tried to hide it for so long. No longer.

He walked to the door and swung it open to find the halls empty and quiet. It was nighttime and the torches that lined the halls were covered in dust, filling the space with a musty sort of smell. Throin had no idea which way to go, so he just started walking. When he reached a fork, he would pick a path and follow it until he was forced to make another choice of which way to go. He made a silent prayer to Mahal that his efforts would not be in vain. That he would find Bilbo before he passed out from exhaustion. Óin would be furious to see him out of bed but he didn’t care. Some things were more important. 

And so he walked on and on, the fresh white bandage covering his wounds starting to stain red as he felt his stitches come undone. He couldn’t tell how long he’d been walking, it could have been minutes or hours, he didn’t care either, he just kept going, trusting that his feet and his heart would lead him in the right direction. In the night, the mountain was silent, the only noise his footsteps echoing off the halls. He felt like a ghost, unnoticed, but seeing all that was around him. He just kept going and going, until he seemed to find himself back where he started. How strange, he hadn’t meant to go in a circle. 

But he was ever so glad he did.

As he looked down the hall of the Infirmary, he saw Bilbo. Standing in front of the door he was supposed to be behind. He watched for a second as Bilbo seemed to be deciding something, finally he began to walk towards him. 

Bilbo’s head shot up immediately and he gasped to see him. Bilbo took only one step back as Thorin walked closer and closer to him.

“Bilbo,” he began.

“Thorin, I-I’m so sorry. You have to know I never meant for any of this to happen. I know you’re angry with me, but you must understand I only ever wanted to help you. I never meant to betray your trust but you, you weren’t yourself. And I couldn’t just sit there and watch, I had to do something!”

“Bilbo,” Thorin said again as he continued stepping towards him. Bilbo didn’t move. The hobbit looked so scared of him, he felt a bolt of guilt flare up inside of him as he watched Bilbo shake. 

“I just know you hate me for what I did. You can’t have meant those things you said. How could you have meant them? How could you have forgiven me? You trusted me over your own kin! How could you have forgiven that easily?”

Thorin kept walking towards him slowly, he was dumbfounded by the words the hobbit was saying. He understood why Bilbo did what he did. Why would he lie to him about his forgiveness? 

“Please Thorin say something, say you hate me, say you’ll never forgive me, say you want me gone from your sight!”

Thorin finally was within reach of him, he stared into his eyes and took his hand. And with a gentleness he forgot he possessed, laid a kiss upon it. Bilbo stopped shaking almost instantly. 

“Bilbo, I’m so sorry for every way that I have hurt you,” He quickly looked Bilbo over to make sure he was still whole and hale and thank Mahal he was. “I do not deserve you or your forgiveness. And yet you still offer it.”

“And I do not deserve you or yours, and yet you still offer it.” Bilbo said as he grabbed Thorin’s other hand. Tears rolled freely down both of their faces, they felt no shame over them, for not all tears are an evil. Without thinking they found that they were leaning into each other, and suddenly their foreheads were touching. They were clinging on each other, breathing the other in, holding on and never wanting to let go. The kiss they fell into was gentle, forgiving and wholly unexpected. 

Little one-shot inspired by this post! I've never written fanfiction before so who knows how good this is but I like it. Hopefully the people in the notes of this post that I wanted to see this (@spookylolbit and @kilibaggins) like it too lol!

thinking about bilbo and thorin after thorin wakes up from his wounds post-botfa. thinking about bilbo not knowing if he's wanted. thinking about thorin demanding to see billbo as soon as he wakes up and bilbo thinking he's mad just to have thorin gently take his hand and quickly look him over to see if hes hurt. thinking about bilbo breaking down crying because thorins OKAY. hes ALIVE. thinking about thorin gently bringing their foreheads together.

[kateksmallcuteowl]

June 29: Single Parents/Uncles AU for an event by @bagginshieldweek24

I deeply regret that the challenge is a day late! Exams are merciless to me, and even though I started drawing in advance, I still couldn’t handle the deadline 😅 I promise to catch up with feedback tomorrow, after passing bioinformatics exam.

More headcanons and details under the cut>>

— It’s an alternative Middle-earth universe with hobbits, humans, dwarves, and elves, but set in modern times.

— Thorin grew up in Erebor in a royal family (which makes sense), is accustomed to good coffee, can distinguish different types, and knows which brewing devices are best. Now he has moved to London for work and discovered that both dwarf and human coffee shops would often use cheap beans or bad coffee machines, or they grind the beans incorrectly, or even set the wrong amount of grams of coffee per espresso shot. In general, they save money wherever they can, mostly selling the vibe and relying on the fact that taste isn’t important to most of the customers. Elves occupy the niche of coffee connoisseurs, but Thorin would rather drink filter coffee from a kettle on the roadside than go to elves. And then he discovers that hobbits, little hedonists, love good food and GOOD COFFEE! Of course, in hobbit cafes, he has to sit on low chairs and by the small tables, and at first, the other patrons looked at the dwarf in their company strangely, but it’s worth it. Thorin is willing to sit with a bent back if he gets a quiet and cozy atmosphere, excellent Wi-Fi, and delicious coffee (an office in London is good, but sometimes you need to get out of the four walls to not get nuts).

— Thorin rarely drinks pure espresso, preferring softer variations. He also has a sweet-tooth.

— Bilbo is a children’s book writer, mainly known for a series of fantasy novels about a brave hobbit who traveled over and under the mountains, rode in barrels, and played riddles in the dark (Bilbo, in canon, wrote his memoirs, which all hobbits except Merry and Frodo knew primarily for Hobbiton children, so I think he would primarily write for little hobbit kids).

— It’s not a real feather he uses, but a ballpoint pen with attached feathers, like those sold in souvenir shops. Bilbo bought it after a tour to the Tower of London. He likes the ✨vibe✨ and the fact that he can twirl the feather part around his lips when he’s thinking. (It’s literally an instruction on how to seduce Thorin)

— Mr. Baggins only drinks doppio. The cup is big compared to him because it’s hobbit ceramics, and the portion sizes for hobbits, who love treats, are no smaller than human ones.

— Bilbo has taken care of Frodo since his parents drowned in an accident. Frodo is about 8-9 years old here.

— I love the headcanon that hobbits’ ears react to their emotions, so the fact that Frodo doesn’t lower them when Bilbo scolds him is a good sign. Bilbo is a good uncle.

— Thorin and Bilbo have seen each other several times on Wednesdays. Usually, they don’t care about other patrons, but barista keept trying to serve a doppio to the stern scowling dwarf in black leather jacket, and a cappuccino with whipped cream to the little curly hobbit in a plaid sweater. They’ve had to swap their drinks several times.

— Thorin read Mr. Baggins�� books to his nephews in Erebor and quickly figured out who always sits at the table near the window in his favorite cafe. Thorin likes Bilbo’s books but doesn’t know if he’s married because he keeps his personal life private. Seeing Frodo, he immediately assumed he was Bilbo’s son, considering how the little hobbit looks at him.

— Bilbo immediately noticed the stern ( handsome) dwarf sitting with his eyes glued to his phone, but he always felt too awkward to speak with him. How do you even start a conversation with a stranger, especially from another race? So when Frodo, rather bluntly, commented on his appearance, of course, Bilbo was embarrassed. No, he absolutely agrees with Frodo. The exotic braids, unusual for short-haired hobbits, look amazing on the tall dwarf, and the iron clips highlight his blue eyes perfectly, but isn’t that a bit rude to point that out? Wouldn’t a dwarf decide that he is trying to mock his culture?

— Bilbo saw that while he was scolding Frodo, Thorin turned away and for some reason tugged angrily at his braid, so he decided to muster the courage and compliment him himself to ease the awkwardness and not seem rude (not at all because he would gladly say what Frodo did himself and not because Mr. Dwarf has much more attractive features he’d also like to make a comment on, not at all, what are you talking about, no-no-no).

— The dwarf didn’t seem offended at all.

— They started talking and found out that Thorin’s nephews love Bilbo’s books (Bilbo was flattered by this news. He’s still surprised when his books are read by anyone other than hobbits. (Gandalf didn’t tell him that his books are popular among all races. Mostly because for other races they play the role of kids books where main protagonist is a cute mice)).

— And in the end, as we see, they exchanged numbers 🌚🌝

— They will meet again, but without Frodo and not just for coffee.

— The end✨✨✨

I’m still experimenting with a flat-color style and lineart so I’ll be glad to know what do you think about it. Hope the comic was enjoyable!

[samwwise]

certified freak bilbo baggins really stood in front of thorin oakenshield and presented him the acorn that he wants to take home and plant in his garden so that one day an oak will grow out of it……insane little guy shooting his shot

[just-a-little-cellist]

Hi! I love your stuff I saw requests were open 😁

Could you Write a fem human reader x thorin who’s shorter than him, and she’s new to the quest meeting the company in Bilbos house, Gandalf already knows her and is like a farther figure.

Thorins a bit skeptical of her at first but those feelings die down as he realises she’s his one. Basically Thorin being a dick at first but warms up to the reader, some confessions are made and some fluffy/little-very tame nsfw stuff occurs when they reach Rivendell?

Thank you!! ☺️

(oh I love this so much! I hope this does your idea justice, there isn't smut in this one since it got quite long by itself, but I'd be happy to make a part 2 where they get to Rivendell if you'd like :) hope you enjoy :D)

(link for part 2!)

An Unexpected Guest (Thorin x female!human!reader)

Thorin watched you from across the campfire and tried to ignore the familiar tugging in his chest. You were too busy laughing alongside Fili and Kili to notice his probing stare, and seeing how easily you'd integrated into the group only made him more perplexed by your presence. He quickly averted his gaze though when he caught the look Balin sent him. The older dwarf simply chuckled and patted him on the shoulder, reminding Thorin of the evening he had met you.

The dwarves had been gathered at Bilbo's house for some time now, and evening had fallen by the time another, relatively quiet, knock sounded at the door. The hobbit almost seemed to be seething at the idea of more people showing up, but this time it was Gandalf who rose to answer.

"It seems our final guest has arrived." At this, Thorin shot him a glare that went unnoticed as Gandalf left the room.

"Gandalf! It's wonderful to see you again."

"Likewise, my dear. Come in, I shall introduce you to the company."

After you had hung your cloak up, you closed the door and followed Gandalf into the room where the dwarves sat. Thorin could only watch in disbelief as you politely thanked Mr Baggins for hosting the event and shook his hand (which appeared to at least partially dispel the hobbit's bad spirits). The wizard had really invited another without his consent - and a human woman at that.

With a gentle hand on your shoulder, Gandalf said, "It is my pleasure to introduce to you Y/n L/n, a student of mine. I have decided that she will accompany you along this journey."

Thorin rose from his chair abruptly, and all eyes turned to him.

"When were you going to tell me about this decision?" His voice was quiet, but his rage was betrayed by his clenched fists. "You do not have the right to-"

"Thorin, I have said she will go with you, and you should be wise to respect that." The wizard's face was dark, and Thorin paused before he reluctantly stepped forward to look at you. "I can assure you that she will be of use. She has studied under me for some time and is a rather excellent navigator, which I suspect will come in handy."

You bowed respectfully. "It is an honour to meet you, Thorin." You made brief eye contact with him as you rose and he felt something in his chest tighten, but he chose to ignore it.

"Don't get in the way," He muttered and returned to the table.

Later in the evening, he found himself stealing glances at you as you chatted merrily with some of the others. He couldn't quite figure you out - you seemed an intelligent young woman, but he couldn't risk compromising the quest, and he didn't trust humans in general, but just maybe there was a small part of him that wanted you to come, and there was this odd pulling feeling deep within him...

His train of thought was interrupted by Balin's hand on his shoulder, and he quickly realized he'd been staring for longer than he intended.

"Your feelings are written on your forehead, laddie."

Thorin cleared his throat and looked anywhere but where you sat. "I feel nothing for her. She's a liability."

Balin chuckled and patted his shoulder. "If you say so."

Balin had moved to sit next to Thorin in the time he was stuck in his own head, and spoke quietly with a smile on his face.

"You can't stare at her forever laddie." The glare he was sent did not deter him. "It's been the same with her since she first arrived, and I've never seen you like this before with any other lass." The two dwarves both looked at you, still teasing Kili over something or other.

Feeling the eyes on you, you looked across the fire and waved shyly with a smile when you saw Thorin watching you. And as much as he tried to resist, he couldn't help but give you a smile in return.

Now that he thought about it, maybe he had warmed up to you a little more than he'd like to admit. Something had drawn him to you and he couldn't quite place why.

"Lad, I haven't seen you smile like that since we started this journey. She makes you happy, and you'd be a fool to deny yourself that."

Thorin sighed. As if he was trying to pretend he wasn't saying it out loud, he murmured, "What if she doesn't feel the same?"

"She does, I'm sure of it. She has the same look in her eyes as you do." Balin put a comforting hand on his knee. "Y/n is your One, Thorin. You know it better than I do."

Oh. That... actually made a lot of sense.

Before he could respond, Kili ran over to them. "Uncle! Can you come and stand next to Y/n? She's making fun of me and you're the only one taller than her!"

Balin laughed and clapped him on the back. "Go on laddie."

Trying to settle his beating heart, Thorin stood and let Kili lead him over to his One (even if she didn't know it yet).

Fili pushed her lightly in Thorin's direction. "She thinks she's better than us because she's two inches taller than me."

"Is that so?" Seeing the slight blush on your cheeks, Thorin realized that Balin may not have been exaggerating, so with a subtle smirk on his face he looked down at you. He was only a few inches taller but it felt like he towered over you in that moment. "I don't appreciate the torment of my nephews, Miss Y/n."

You looked up at him and smiled with a teasing tone. "Well, they started it. I can't take all the blame, your majesty."

If his heart was beating too fast before, he was pretty sure it just stopped completely.

The two of you maintained eye contact for just longer than necessary, before he stepped away and cleared his throat. Fili seemed to have caught on to his uncle's unusual behavior, and with a wink in your direction he subtly directed Kili back over to Balin.

"May..." He paused, still uncertain. "May I speak with you, Y/n? Somewhere a little more private."

"Of course." Mahal, your smile was almost enough for him to forget he was nervous in the first place.

He led you a little further into the woods, just far enough from the group that they couldn't eavesdrop, and took a deep breath.

You smiled anxiously. "You're making me nervous, Thorin. What is it?"

In an uncharacteristically quiet voice, he said, "I think you're my One."

"Your One?"

"I..." He tried to calm the shake in his voice, to no avail. "I suppose you might call it a soulmate."

The blush on your face spread as you processed his words. "O-oh. I see."

"I must apologize for my behavior when we first met. I was skeptical of you, but you have shown yourself to be not only a valued member of the company, but also a caring and wonderful person." Thorin looked up from the ground to meet your eyes. "I have grown fond of you, Y/n, and I feel a connection with you that I have never experienced before. Something has been drawing me towards you every time I see you, and I can't pretend it isn't there anymore."

"Thorin, I-"

"If you do not feel the same then we need never discuss it again, but I-"

He was interrupted with your finger over his lips. You giggled at his confused expression and took his hands. "Thorin, of course I feel the same." You smiled sheepishly. "I was hoping to hide it for a little longer but Kili saw right through me."

"He is more perceptive than he looks," he chuckled, tracing his fingers over yours.

You lifted one hand to softly cup Thorin's cheek. "Either way, I'm glad the feeling is mutual."

Feeling your fingers in his hair when you tugged him down to kiss you, he had never been so glad for Balin's prying in his life.

[shirefantasies]

Not Here- Bilbo Baggins x F!Reader

Warnings: reader is sick (like cold/fever type sick), a bit suggestive hehe

For all the world you thought you were being discreet. Taking off an extra layer, after all, was nothing unusual. Perhaps you'd been breathing louder than you realized, sniffed one too many times. The dwarves liked you, you knew that, but in fact they liked you so much that so much as a sniffle out of you would sic Oin and Dori both upon you. Cue teasing from the princes and-

“Hello? Are- are you? Alright, that is?”

Oh, yes, of all people, thank the Valar, it was Bilbo who had taken notice of you. One of the features that had struck you most about him was his natural abundance of comfort and care, even if it was in a tightly-wound package. The way he looked at you whenever anything went wrong, the softness of his grey eyes just-

“That’s it,” he spoke your name in one exasperated huff, “come here.”

You came to him almost against your own bidding, aware of your actions but feeling quite amongst the swimming like your head had come untethered from your body. Moving of some accord beyond your own as your mind raced. Bilbo looked into each of your eyes one by one, shaking his head. They must have looked glassy.

“I am only fussing because I care,” Bilbo insisted before turning to the rest of the company, voice and hands raised, “I think we should take a rest!”

“Of course you do,” Dwalin snorted most unkindly, bringing a slight frown to your face.

Admittedly, you had never liked the way some of the dwarves treated Bilbo, especially amidst the hypocrisy of the way the very same gentleman would fall over themselves to make you comfortable for the simple fact of your being a woman. Bilbo treated you with the greatest respect and normalcy of them all, though that was probably due to his embodiment of home’s hearth as well as being the most well-adjusted. Sympathy coursed through you every time you imagined the place you'd once known as home if it were to be destroyed by a massive fire drake. You'd simply left yours behind, following where your heart moved and the respect you held for all the great art Ori, Oin, and Dori had shown you. It was them and Bofur, the kindhearted dwarf who reminded you of your uncle, that really had you on their side fighting for them. That was part of the reason they simply could not receive revelation of your illness. No need for the whole flock's feathers to bristle.

“Not for me,” the hobbit shot back, exasperated yet again as he gestured your way, “for our company’s fairest member. She was too proud to say. Any objections now?”

Fair? Supposing he spoke of all the old ‘fairer sex’ adages.

No objections posed. It was a bit early to waste kindling on a fire, but seats were found and even some boots kicked off as you hunched down upon your own bedroll. Holding the handkerchief you had offered to Bilbo at the beginning of the journey up to your face, you half hid from the world, half dabbed at your nose, eyelashes fluttering and lips rising in silent thanks toward the hobbit.

Said hobbit who had not left your side since taking notice of you, though he surprised you with less tutting and shaking of his head than you’d expected.

At that thought, a smile crept its way to your face. Perhaps thinking it was directed his way, Bilbo returned the quirk of lips quickly, then shifted closer to you, your arm brushing against the soft velvet of his coat sleeve. First he pressed a tin cup of something steaming-tea, you thought- into your kerchiefed hands.

“How are you now? Better? Or if you want I could-”

“Not here,” you cut him off, waving the hand that wasn’t curled around the warm cup. How had you gone from peeling off layers to seeking the heat against your palm? When had you, for that matter?

Your head swam a little too much to consider this further. For the same reason you did not protest when Bilbo tightened up his own bedroll and tucked it behind your back, leaning into the added softness and feeling your eyelids flutter.

“Better?”

His voice was so soft. A nod was your response, relief flooding your hot-cold body and washing over your flushed-feeling cheeks. Shifting sounded at your side, prompting another fluttering of lashes, this time opening upon the hobbit and the faint light tinted green by the great trees at his back, though your focus remained upon him.

Bilbo’s next action all but swept you off your feet with surprise. Still facing you, this time only inches from your face, the ghost of his breath hitting the curve of your cheekbone, he leaned even closer.

His grey eyes took your focus completely, cutting into the delirium of feeling your mind outside of your body, anchoring you back into sensation. Realization that the world was still going on around you broad and beautiful as ever, but small as well, small as this little world between you and Bilbo and shrinking, too. Suddenly his forehead touched yours and there he held, warmth blooming beneath your skin from that point of contact.

“Well, you’ve definitely a bit of a fever.”

He was checking your temperature? Like that? Never had you seen it done such a way. Only with the back of one’s hand…

Your gaze did not drop, rather it held fast, unable to release its tether to sensation, or rather its concept. All your floating mind could conceive of, again and again, was Bilbo sealing your little world fully, all the life fading outside of his lips upon yours.

Faintly you registered the sound of his voice uttering your name barely above a whisper, but you said nothing until your point of contact tilted, granting your wish and sending your head swimming in a completely new and much more delicious manner. Bilbo’s lips were far more desperate upon yours than you’d imagined, pressing deeply and slowly savoring your every motion of response. Instinctively you took hold of his shoulders to guide the push and pull, though surprisingly even to you you were the one who first broke contact, pulling away ever-so-slightly at the feeling of Bilbo’s tongue darting hesitantly along your lips.

“Not here,” you repeated yourself teasingly, summoning up a faint smirk as you gave his shoulders a squeeze, “besides, I could have you catching your death too.”

The hobbit’s arms found purchase about your waist, sunlight gleaming from the tree line into his curls, illuminating soft brown with highlights of pure gold. His eyes flicked with lightning speed and about as much discretion back down to your lips before they returned to your gaze.

His countenance was surprisingly sheepish for a moment, quieting his doe-eyed reply. “Well, that might not be such a bad thing. After all, then we can be all wrapped up together, no?” Peeping at you from beneath his lashes- did he realize what he did to you?

“If you’re sick, we might have to share a bedroll. So as not to contaminate the others, of course,” you supplemented.

“I think I’m feeling a bit under the weather already,” Bilbo said hastily, tugging at the collar of his buttoned shirt.

Smiling, you leaned forward to connect your foreheads once more, feeling his hands tighten a bit about your waist with the motion. “Perhaps we should get some rest before the others come fawning over us.”

“Fawning over you, maybe. I suspect quite a great deal of complaining, too.” Foxlike was Bilbo’s next grin, a look of wicked satisfaction unlike anything you had witnessed upon his sweet face before. His hands upon your waist began roaming ever so slightly, his voice lowering. “Envy, too. Are you certain not here? I won’t tire you out too much, I promise.”

Taglist: @lokilover476 @fuckyoumakeart @kilibaggins @mossthebogwitch @ibabblealot @stormchaser819 @pirate-lord-of-narnia @datglutengoblin @letmelickyoureyeballs @mossyskinn | Reply/Message/Ask to join 🥰

[daughteroftheteleri]

A little Christmas gift for you all

Wow guys, I can't believe the year is practically over. I've had such an amazing time on this account, I've made some amazing friends, reblogged so many amazing things from other members of this wonderful community, and received more love and appreciation than I ever expected I would over my fanfics and fanart - thank you, all of you, for this year and warm welcome you've given me to this website. My Christmas gift to you is a bit of festive bagginshield reshirement drabble (with no plot in sight) that hasn't been beta'd but was fun to write:

"Hold still, Uncle Thorin!" Frodo chastised the dwarf below him, who merely grunted in response as he fought to keep his balance with the fauntling perched on his shoulders. "I'm not done yet!"

"I don't know about this," Bilbo stood nearby nervously, wringing his hands. "I'd hate for you to fall, Frodo."

"What, don't you trust me, my love?" Thorin teased, earning him a playful eye roll from his husband. He could see the sassy retort already forming on the hobbit’s lips, but their nephew cut him off with a triumphant declaration:

"There! All done!"

Thorin bent down, allowing Frodo to jump off his shoulders. Straightening up, he nodded in approval at the sprig of mistletoe the little hobbit had tied onto the arched doorway. "Well done. But I believe we should still test it out, right, Bilbo?"

"I certainly think we should," his husband smirked as Thorin pulled him into an embrace. As they kissed, Thorin savoured the moment, taking his time to appreciate the warmth of his one in his arms, the taste of the gingerbread they had made earlier still fresh on his lips. Thorin did his best to ignore the gagging sounds Frodo was making.

The sound of the doorbell pulled them apart, but even without him in his arms, the gorgeous smile that Bilbo shot him filled Thorin with warmth regardless. "That'll be the Gamgees."

Upon opening the door, Frodo immediately grabbed Sam's hand and pulled him away to play in Bag End’s snow covered garden. Thorin left his husband to entertain the other Gamgee family members while he followed the fuantlings outside.

The two best friends were engaged in an intense snowball fight. Thorin was proud to see that Frodo was winning, as he lobbed a projectile at the blond hobbit while his back was turned.

"Ow!” Sam rubbed his head indignantly. “That is not fair, Mister Baggins!”

"Sam, stop calling me that! We're not boring grown ups," Frodo laughed. Thorin lit his pipe, watching the scene unfolding before him with fond amusement. "Call me Frodo!"

"Ok, Mr...um..." Sam stumbled over the words awkwardly. "Mr…Mr Frodo."

"Close enough!" Frodo giggled, and the fight resumed.

The two continued to throw balls of snow at each other until Frodo, his raven hair speckled with white, paused mid throw. He opened his mouth as if to speak, then promptly shut it again, grabbing Sam's hand. He dragged both of them over to Thorin, who snuffed out his pipe, curious as to what inspired Frodo's sudden silence and wide eyed look.

"Uncle Thorin," The fuantling whispered in awe, pointing just beyond the fence. "There's a reindeer here!"

Thorin squinted at the brown shape his nephew was gesturing towards. The dwarf couldn't see well at the best of times, let alone in the gathering darkness of the winter dusk while flecks of snow fell softly down. Carefully, he crept closer, keeping his footfall quiet. Thorin wasn't nearly as good at sneaking as his husband was, (he could admit that), but he could still move with a surprising degree of stealth when the situation demanded it.

The shape grew more defined as he got closer, and a smile tugged at the dwarf's lips. It wasn't a reindeer, but a young faun, with red brown fur and big, nervous eyes.

"It's a reindeer, right, Uncle Thorin?" Frodo's tiny hand had found his own.

"Indeed it is," The dwarf smiled, unwilling to dampen his nephews’s enthusiasm or discourage his imagination. "Come now, it's getting cold. Back inside, the both of you."

They returned just in time to hear the doorbell ring again. Bilbo, returning from delivering cups of hot cocoa to the rest of the Gamgees, exchanged a confused glance with Thorin. They were not expecting anyone else over for yule this year. Before they could wonder any further, a playful shout from behind the door interrupted them:

"Hurry up and open the door, it's freezing out here!"

With a delighted laugh, Bilbo pulled open the door. Thorin couldn't keep the goofy smile off of his face as Fili and Kili piled in and pulled him into a tight hug, which he returned fiercely.

"I thought the road over the Misty Mountains was not safe for you to travel through this year?" Bilbo asked when they had finally separated.

"Pfft! As if a little snow is going to keep us from seeing our favourite cousin!" Kili replied joyfully. "Where's Frodo?"

"I'm here!" Frodo ran into the waiting arms of Fili, who scooped him up and onto his shoulders. "Wait a minute! Aren't I your only cousin?"

Thorin laughed alongside the others before a serene, feminine voice drew his eyes back to the door. "What, do I not get a hug as well, brother?"

Dis stood framed by the doorway, her fur coat speckled with snow and her midnight green eyes sparkling with warmth and affection. Thorin ran to her, pulling her into a tight hug which she returned gratefully.

"I'm glad you could make it, sister," he murmured into her hair. She just giggled, pulling away from him and lightly punching his shoulder.

"Like my youngest said. No amount of snow is ever going to keep us from visiting you during Yule."

"I hope you still have our presents!" Fili joked, Frodo swaying dangerously on his shoulders. Bilbo swatted him away, a faux scowl on his face.

"Drop my nephew and I'll replace them all with lumps of coal," he playfully snapped. As soon as Frodo was safely back down on the ground, Thorin’s husband led their new guests into the lounge, where the yule tree stood proudly beside the fireplace. Everyone began to settle into comfortable chairs around the hearth, save the fuantlings, who sat on the ground playing, and Fili and Kili, who had decided to play with them. Bilbo, noticing that only one person had yet to join them, turned back to his husband and held out his hand expectantly. "Are you coming, Thorin?"

Filled with contentment, Thorin took his hand, lovingly weaving their fingers together. "Of course, Amrâlimê."

[thoroq]

hello! i’ve been very diligently hammering out this one-shot/short-story and it is now 12k (so far edited) so i thought id share a little blurb, it should be posted sometime by next week at the latest! 🤞

“Baggins.” Kili said the name, scrunching his nose in distaste. “What ugly sod gave you that?”

The sound of cutlery and gnashing of mead quieted in the wake of Kili’s, otherwise obnoxious question. Hobbits being an incredibly private species, to ask of one’s family was often taken as romantic interest. Knowing better, he cleared his throat before speaking.

“My father,” Bilbo responded flatly, more annoyed by Kili’s pestering than the question itself. His parents had both been dead twenty some odd years, he was well acquainted with the old grief. “—And he was quite ugly in his old age. Not as ghastly or brutish as a Dwarf, we have a reputation to uphold you know!”

The company grumbled in slight offence. Those who listened. “What of your mother?”

Bilbo raised an eyebrow from where he sat at Belen’s large, stretching wooden table. The Hobbit did his best to hide his amusement. “Before she married my father she was a took.”

“A took.” Kili exchanged glances with who, Bilbo could not see. Though the interaction only served to widen the young Dwarf’s smirk. “What is that?”

“They are names,” He huffed. “My father was a Baggins and my mother a Took. Should you ever find yourself with your nose in a book instead of in the business of others, you might learn that names have reputation.” Kili’s expression stuttered, cheeks darkening with amused embarrassment as he grinned. Non Perturbed by the Hobbit’s insults.

“Took,” Kili emphasised his prononciation with flying spittle. “Hobbits are strange little things, next time we visit you’ll have to introduce us to her.” The Dwarrow brought his mead to his face, taking a long swallow that sloshed out the sides of his mouth and down his face.

“Oh, my mother passed long ago.” Bilbo said as casually as you might tell someone the weather. Twenty-some years now, he’d long since stopped counting to save himself the heartache of reminder.

Kili choked on his food, eyes blown wide as he searched across the table for another pair of eyes to glance into to share in his horror. Bilbo felt Thorin’s eyes, burning concerned holes into the side of his head but he brushed the look of sympathy in their eyes off.

“My mother enjoys painting.” Fili chimed in, muttering under his breath as though it was a soft topic for him. Bilbo appreciated his consideration, but felt a lance of embarrassment with the attention. “She also enjoys cooking until there is nothing left; makin’ sure we’re stuffed. She makes a good stew. Plays the harp real well.”

“Aye.” Gloin hummed in agreement. “My Gimli loves it!”

Bilbo felt any and all prior grievances with the pair of brothers melt away from him. They were good boys, sons. Inwardly, The Hobbit swore that he would see them back to their mother at all costs.

“She sounds lovely.” He met Fili’s gaze; as intense and deep as his Uncle’s. Softer though, as he ducked his head in quiet appreciation.

When his gaze flickered to Thorin at the head of the table, he was pleasantly surprised to find The Dwarf looking back at him. His blue eyes softened for a moment before they flitted away again.