I saw Kaciart and Ewebean’s baby Bilbo, and I wanted to draw him too.
I have this AU where Bilbo first met Thorin when he was just a child. What if one day Bilbo and his mother were traveling to Bree, and being a curious little Took, wanders off a bit too far and gets himself kidnapped by some orcs (most likely kept him as emergency food). At the same time Thorin and Dwalin are nearby, probably hunting orcs or looking for work in villages. Lo and behold, they spot the very group of orcs that kidnapped Bilbo (their numbers are few, so it’s easy for both Thorin and Dwalin to take them all out). After the skirmish, both dwarves hear this sniveling sound and they find this poor, petrified, little baby hobbit bawling his eyes out while calling out for his mother. Since they can’t leave the poor thing, they kind of adopt him until they can find his mother.The end for now.
By any chance, are there any fanfictions of baby Bilbo meeting Thorin? I would like to read them if they exist.
You’re going to make me write this, aren’t you?
- Kili, who is now being nibbled on by the Blanket Fort Plot Bunnies
Do it. Dooooooo it.
*hands bunnies carrot
The Night of the Killer Rabbit (Or How Dwalin Son of Fundin Should Really, REALLY Stay Off the Red Dragon’s Firewhiskey) Here’s the thing you ought to remember about the Sons of Fundin.
Ply them with a good drink or two or three (I heartily recommend the Firewhiskey at the Red Dragon Inn - it’s LETHAL!) and you’ll be all set with the Best Blackmail Material of All Time.
Ahem. Stories. I meant good stories, that’s all. So let me see - this is a story by Dwalin, son of Fundin.
Well, laddie, that Rabbit story of yours is a right good one but truth be told, that full moon at the Carrock wasn’t the first time we’d seen your Uncle turn into a Fearsome Floppy Ear. True, he hadn’t done it in a good long while and I doubt he remembers it happening.
But it did happen, I swear it upon the hair on my head.
(Dwalin, you haven’t got any hair on your head.)
Blame your Uncle. It’s all his fault. Are ye going to listen or not?
(I’m listening! I’m listening!)
Now that I think about it, I believe we were travelling near the Shire at the time, since we’d just finished a good six months of working as blacksmiths in Bree. Folk were a bit nervous, since there were talk of orcs and wargs roaming about and the Rangers were all gone. Of course, we knew that they’d gone after the Orcs, Rangers being who they are, but most Menfolk don’t know that and grumbled about it like fools, instead o'helping themselves and preparing for battle.
Still, Thorin thought we ought to seek out the Chieftain of the Dunedain before we set back for Ered Luin, since we feared and rightly so, that those cursed scum might take it into their heads to test Dwarrow steel. And naturally, since I was with Thorin - we got lost.
I swear to Mahal, he’s got the worst sense of direction outside of a mountain. I tell you true, lads - you can trust Thorin’s sense of direction inside any mountain - that Dwarf’s got the best stone sense I’ve ever seen. But outside - Mahal help you.
And yes, that was exactly what happened. We could’ve really used the help of our Creator and perhaps a few more of the Valar, because we ran into a pack of Orcs and Wargs.
Of course we’re Dwarves and we’re of the blood of Durin, you dumb sots - neither of us would be running off like cowards. So I commended my soul to Mahal, kissed Grasper and Keeper for luck and prepared for a glorious ending. It was a full moon and the seven stars of Durin’s crown were in the night sky and all that poetical blather a good scribe could use for a tale - it wasn’t half bad, I thought.
And then, it happened.
One minute, it seemed I was standing next to my King and dearest friend. The next, I was fighting by the side of a Terrifying Giant Rabbit.
(With Majestic Floppy Ears?)
Aye, lad, majestic indeed, those ears were as Thorin Werebunny Oakenshield fought off Orc and Warg with fierce bunny paws, axe and sword. Never seen anything like it in all my days. Almost felt sorry for the lot of them, what with the limbs flying and the blood a-spurting and their cries of terror.
Best battle I’ve ever been in. Worth a thousand epic songs, let me tell you.
Of course, I suppose it was fortunate that we did wander into the path of these Orcs, because all trussed up in a burlap sack was the veriest wee hobbit I’d ever seen. He was just a babe, poor thing - and I shuddered to think at what the Orcs had planned for the wee one.
So of course, the poor darling cried out at the sight of me, blood-spattered as I was and still holding on to Grasper and Keeper. Luck was still with us, of course, because he finally cooed and smiled when Thorin - still appearing as a Giant Rabbit - appeared before the little hobbit.
Naturally, the little hobbit wanted the Giant Rabbit to pick him up for cuddles. Can’t say I blame him. It was the sweetest sight I’d ever seen.
So here I was in a bit of a fix, so to speak. My King was currently a Giant Rabbit and showed no signs of turning back into a normal Dwarf. We also had a wee Hobbit on our hands with no parents in sight.
On the other hand, all the Orcs and Wargs were dead and we were alive. Mahal was still looking out for us.
We spent a good week in the Shire asking around if anyone had misplaced a little one with reddish gold curls and big blue eyes. Lucky the babe could talk a bit and babbled something about “lookin for Elveses and fairies and now I gots a wabbit!” Of course, my King the Giant Rabbit was very protective of his little hobbit and threatened to give anyone who even looked at the wee one wrong a good thumping. Also, we both quickly figured out that a wee hobbit will sleep all the more restfully when he’s cuddled by his Giant Rabbit, holding on to one fine floppy ear.
Finally, we figured out what “Bag'en” meant - because that’s what the babe said when we asked him about home. So we turned up at Bag End and Mistress Belladonna was right glad to find her son safe and sound - despite the fact that he was currently in the company of a Giant Rabbit and a Dwarf. Good woman - didn’t even bat an eyelash at the Ridiculous Sight - and invited us inside.
Her husband fainted at the sight of His Majesty the Floppy Eared Werebunny, but that was all right, he came to his senses soon enough and was just as grateful as his wife. He made the best cookies, I tell you. On the other hand, it seemed that Thorin really enjoyed the carrot cake baked by Mistress Belladonna.
Now it was rather obvious then that my King was reluctant to leave his little hobbit behind, but of course our hobbit was safe and sound with his parents and it was time to say goodbye.
The babe, of course, protested quite loudly when it came time for us to leave.
What? Of course I’m not crying. Just got something in my eye, you suspicious lot.
Well, once we left the Shire and between one night and the next, my King was back to being a Dwarf and remembered nothing about our little Hobbit or our time in the Shire. And he never did turn into a Giant Rabbit again… at least until we were on our Quest to destroy Smaug and Bilbo Baggins, of course, who was now all grown up to be a proper Hobbit Adventurer, was part of our Company once more. Now that I think about it - perhaps we weren’t quite lost at all. I’ve noticed that mountain or no mountain, Thorin somehow always manages to find his way to Bilbo. Perhaps he just needed hobbit-sense to guide him above ground after all, just as he’s always got stone-sense to steer his steps beneath the earth.
I have to admit that Bilbo inherited his Pa’s talent for baking cookies. Best things I’ve ever tasted.
Now if you lot will excuse me, my King is right furious and itching for a brawl. I’ll be glad to oblige him. Du Bekar!
- end - Note: If anyone needs me, I’m just minding my own business, in my Pillow Fort and no, Nori, I’m not going to betting against my Uncle while he brawls with Mister Dwalin. Popcorn, anyone? - Kili, Plot Bunny Master of the Blanket Fort
