Hobbit Advent, Day 25 -- Family
Yule-night, among dwarves, is a time for family — a time to gather for feasting, celebration, the exchange of gifts, and the counting of blessings. In one house in particular, some years on from the reclamation and resettling of Erebor, there is a large (and growing larger by the year), noisy, patchwork sort of family that comes together — a family built on the road, forged in dragon-fire, and tied together by memories both bright and dark.
(Or: Yule-night party at Bombur’s house and EVERYONE’S INVITED. Basically just a warm, happy holiday vignette; pretty darn long behind the cut.)
Bera starts fussing when they’re still two streets away, managing to get one small hand free of her blankets and catch hold of Bofur’s ear-bob. She gives it a tug and lets out a shrill squeal, and as Bofur grimaces and gently tries to disentangle the little fingers from his treasured warg-fang, Bilberry leans over, laughing, and says, “I believe that’s as close as she can get to, ‘Adad, aren’t we there yet?’”
"Well, if you’re playing translator, perhaps you won’t mind telling her, ‘Nearly, and for pity’s sake let your Da’s poor ears alone,’" Bofur replies, but his tone is light and fond. "Ow — ow, Bera — I don’t suppose you’d like to take her for a moment?”
"Once we’re inside," Bilberry promises, shifting her own load — two covered dishes and an enormous platter of biscuits — in her arms. "Ah, and here we are, and… hmm. You haven’t got a hand free to knock, have you?"