A Hobbit Haircut and A Dwarven Tragedy
When Bilbo felt his hair tickle his back, he knew it was time for a cut. He was long overdue for one, but he never had the time to think about it since leaving Hobbiton. Spring had come around, so it was time for a haircut anyway.
Hobbits liked to let their hair grow out for the colder months and cut them for the warmer months. The average Hobbit had one haircut a year, always in the springtime. Though, some Hobbits did enjoy keeping their hair a bit longer. Those Hobbits almost always kept their hair up.
There had been years where Bilbo kept his hair longer. But, seeing as he was now busy helping rebuild Erebor, cutting it would make for easier maintenance.
The room provided to him by Thorin was wonderful. It was spacious yet cozy. His only issue is that he wished there was a window. But considering they were inside a mountain, he knew there wasn’t much anyone could do about that.
He stepped out of his bathroom, a thick, dwarven robe covering him. He approached his mirror with a brush, a pair of scissors, and his damp hair.
He took out the little bead and braid Thorin wove into his hair. Hopefully, Thorin wouldn’t mind rebraiding it later.
Bilbo remembered when Thorin first approached him with the bead. A beautiful, little thing made of Rose Quartz. Thorin said something about making “it” official. Bilbo assumed he meant making Bilbo an official citizen of Erebor. Though, the King seemed rather shy and flustered about it. But Thorin was funny like that, so he didn’t think too deeply about it.
Some Hobbits offered their services to cut hair, which many were fond of, but Bilbo much preferred to cut his own hair. It reminded him of his mother. Belladona Baggins had grown accustomed to cutting her own hair on her travels, and enjoyed cutting her son’s hair and teaching him how to cut it himself. It was a little ritual all their own. His father, Bungo Baggins, would chuckle, calling them “silly Hobbits” and wishing them luck before going to the Birdluck’s Hobbit-hole to get his own hair trimmed.
Bilbo beamed at his reflection once he was finished. It felt refreshing, and he felt like a brand new Hobbit!
He looked down at the little bead sitting on his dresser. He decided to leave it there for the night and ask Thorin to rebraid it later. For now, he would head down to the dining hall for supper.
On his way to the dining hall, he found Fili and Kili. He called out and waved to them.
When they saw him, their eyes widened. Kili let out a little squeak, and Fili rushed to cover Bilbo’s head with his very royal cape.
He tried to make protests as the brothers rushed him into their room. Fili locked the door behind them and Kili tore the cape off of the Hobbit’s head.
Bilbo backed away from them and fell onto a bed behind him. “What has gotten into you two?!” He shouted.
“Did someone hurt you?” Kili asked, he looked sorrowful, and his eyes brimmed with tears.
“Where is your bead? Did they take it from you?” Fili asked. He looked much more angry than his brother, but he also looked like he was close to tears.
Bilbo was so bewildered, he struggled to find words. He managed to stammer out an answer. “No one hurt me. What are you talking about?”
Kili reached a hand out, but recoiled, like he was scared to hurt his friend.
“Your hair… It’s been cut…” Fili whispered.
Bilbo furrowed his brow, “Yes, I just cut it a few minutes ago.” The two Dwarves gasped. “Why? Is it bad?”
“Oh, it’s just awful…” Fili said. “Kili, you stay here with our Hobbit. Make sure he doesn’t do anything. I’m going to retrieve Uncle.”
Kili nodded stoically before wrapping Bilbo in a tight embrace. Fili ran off without another word.
There was a moment of silence before Bilbo spoke up. “Kili? Could you be ever so kind and let go of me?”
The Dwarf seemed to hold on tighter, “No, Master Hobbit. It’s not safe for you.”
Bilbo eventually managed to get the two of them to lay down on the bed, and somehow, Kili’s grip never loosened. It actually felt quite nice. Dwarves didn’t seem to be very physically affectionate like this outside of their immediate family. Not like Hobbits, who enjoyed physical contact with others.
Fili returned with Thorin. Kili finally let go of him, and he sat up on the bed. Thorin stopped in his tracks. He looked like he had just witnessed a great tragedy unfold before him. He rushed to Bilbo’s side, cupping his face gently. “Why would you do this to yourself? What ails you, Amrâlimê?” (My Love)
Bilbo’s face twisted more with confusion. “Nothing ails me Thorin. I don’t understand why you all are acting like this.”
“Your hair!” Kili cried.
“Yes, yes, my hair! You mention my hair!” Bilbo nodded, “But why? What is so awful about my hair?”
“You cut it…” Fili said, voice heavy with grief, “You would only cut it if something terrible was happening.”
“Why would something terrible be happening? How does that relate to my hair?”
“Hair is valuable in Dwarven culture,” Thorin explained, “Braids especially. They represent your status. Your family, your employment, your role in your community. They are everything. To cut someone’s hair is an act of hate, and a rare and severe punishment in the legal system. To cut your own hair… You are hurting yourself. You are signaling to others you are grieving or in pain.”
“Oh,” Bilbo sighed. He smiled at the Dwarves, his face growing less wary, “Well now, this is all just a big misunderstanding!” They stared at Bilbo confused, “Hobbit hair cared for based on necessity. We let it grow out for fall and winter, just to help keep our ears and neck warm. We cut in the spring, so we won’t overheat in the spring and summer.”
Thorin blinked. “But… You took your braid out…”
“Well, I didn’t want it to fall on the ground while I was cutting my hair! I left on my dresser. I was going to ask you rebraid it tomorrow.” Thorin let out a sigh of relief.
“Why is that bead so valuable anyway?” Bilbo asked, “Not that I believe it is poor quality or anything, rather the opposite. I just mean, it seems to hold sentimental value to you.”
Thorin’s face went red. Fili and Kili turned to their Uncle. “Did you not tell him what it means, Irak'adad?” Fili asked. Kili laughed.
“I thought he knew…” the King said.
“Uncle, he is a Hobbit! Of course he would not know our traditions and culture!” Kili said, amused.
“What does it mean?” Biblo pushed further.
Fili and Kili didn’t say anything, only looking to their uncle for the answer.
Thorin paused before speaking. He seemed to have gotten shy. “...It is a symbol of our to-be marriage.”
Bilbo’s jaw dropped. “Marriage! What do you mean, marriage? You never proposed- You never even courted me!”
Fili and Kili tried to hide their giggles. Thorin stammered, “Well, I know I never courted you, but we were on the quest to Erebor, and my ability to do so properly was severely limited. But I did propose to you, and you did accept it.”
Bilbo blinked, “When did I ever accept a marriage proposal?”
“On the carrock,” said Thorin, “I hugged you and you hugged back. You put your life on the line for mine after I had been so cold and untrusting to you. When I saw you stand against Azog with such a small blade and no battle training, I fell in love that very instant. Touch is typically reserved for family and spouses. I thought I showed you all the love I had to give you in that embrace.” The King lowered his head, starting to feel embarrassed, “But I suppose a Hobbit wouldn’t know of Dwarven customs…”
The Hobbit smiled softly, “I might not have known what I agreed to, but that doesn’t mean I would have said no if I did know.”
Thorin’s head shot up. Fili and Kili began to beam at their Uncles.
“You mean… You would still take me as your husband? Despite my foolish behavior?” Thor asked.
Bilbo guided Thorin’s head to his, pressing their foreheads together. “Fool or not, you are mine. In this life, and the next.”
He parted from the Dwarf, “Let us go to my room. You can braid the bead back into my hair before supper,” he looked at the matching bead in Thorin’s hair, “And, maybe I could try my hand at braiding your hair.”
Kili grabbed Fili’s hand, dragging him to the door. “And we shall meet you two back in the dining hall. After all, we wouldn’t want to get in the way of two love birds!” The two ran off, no doubt to tell the rest of The Company what had happened.
Thorin and Bilbo, now left alone, made their way to the Hobbit’s room. They sat on his bed and braided each other’s hair.
“When did you know you felt love for me?” asked Thorin, as his fiance braided his hair.
Bilbo hummed, “I found you to be rather handsome back in Bag End. I’m not entirely sure when I knew, but I wanted you to like me from the beginning. I suppose somewhere between leaving Beorn’s home and leaving Dale.”
Bilbo finished the braid, and Thorin observed it in the mirror. It was simple, yet comfortable and stable. “I have not seen this braid before. What does it mean?”
Bilbo met Thorin’s eyes in the mirror. “Hobbits don’t braid their hair much, save for special occasions, when you want to dress up a bit. This is a farmer’s braid. Many Hobbits wear them while working out in the field, tending to the animals and such. It’s meant to withstand heavy labor and harsh conditions. I thought with all of what I saw you do on your quest it would suit you well. And it’s resilient, just like you.” Thorin gave him a shy smile. “Maybe I can give you a Hobbit style wedding braid, when the day comes.”
Thorin held onto Bilbo’s hand and kissed it, “I would quite like that, Master Burglar.”
They made their way to the dining hall, where they were greeted by a very cheerful Company that congratulated them on their reestablished relationship. That night, all filled their bellies with meat and liquor and laughter.
This is the first fic in a little hobbit/lotr series I'm making : )
https://archiveofourown.org/series/5013061
