She/her //30+// I wanted to have a tumblr to link to my ao3 account where I can post sneak peeks, interact with other writers, and reblog fandom and writer things. //Check out my pinned post to see what all I write for. //Header image belongs to the talented @dimdiamond//p>
Welcome to my blog where occasionally, I actually manage to write stuff. đ€Ł Feel free to poke around, check out the fic links below, and don't hesitate to reach out via ask or DM!
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Requests/Events
99 Problems But Our Love Ain't One (99 Follower Requests Open)
Last Updated
I Dreamt You at My Side (Year of Bagginshield, Bagginshield, 1/31/26)
Nori Needs a Burglar (Chapter 2, Bagginshield, 1/24/26)
From the Pieces of Your Shattered Memories (Chapter 1, Bagginshield, 1/17/26)
To Spoon Feed You Comfort (Chapter 5, Bagginshield, 1/10/26)
And with that we've reached the end! Thank you all so much for your support. Feel free to comment or reblog still! I'll keep count for another week before I decide which plot bunny to commit too. This is the masterlist for all the links to the plot bunnies in case you miss one. Thank you so much for reading and being a part of this celebration with me.
These Lies That Keep Us Apart
Rating:Â T
Warning(s):Â N/A
Words: 1178
Summary: Bilbo, a renowned dwarven historian, wants more than anything to truly experience dwarven life and culture. However, that requires him entering a mountain city, of which outsiders are strictly forbidden. With the help of Gandalf and his magic ring, however, he might just make his dreams a reality.
Bilbo and Gandalf crested the ridge, stopping to stare down at the Mannish city spread out below them. The city of Dale, and beyond thatâŠErebor. Bilbo had read about it, made a study of it, but to see the legendary kingdom of the Longbeards actually there before him. A mere day and a halfâs ride away had Bilboâs heart about to beat out of his chest. He reached down into his pocket to pull out the ring Gandalf had given to him back when he summoned the wizard to Bag End months ago.Â
âAre you sure about this, my friend?â Gandalf asked him.
Bilbo took a deep breath, remembering why he was doing this. He was more than ready.
***
Bilbo puttered around his sitting room making sure everything was ready for his appointment when there was a chime of the front doorâs bell. Bilbo nearly jumped, his heart beating in excitement. This was it! He made sure all his papers were stacked nicely before going to answer the door. The wizard greeted him fondly, forgetting to duck and hitting his head on the chandelier as Bilbo took his hat and staff for him, leading him to the parlor.Â
He pulled out the biggest chair he had for Gandalf, which was still a bit small for the wizard, but if he had any complaints, he did not voice them. Bilbo asked after Gandalfâs travels, and told him of the going-ons of the Shire. His leg bounced a quick rhythm as he poured them both tea. Bilbo was quite certain his nerves were not hidden from the wizard, and his next comment made that clear.
âWhile Iâm not opposed to merely taking tea for the sake of it, your letter indicated that you had something important to ask me.â Gandalf mused with a small smile.
Bilbo froze for a moment before completing his task of adding biscuits to Gandalfâs plate, wiping the crumbs off on his napkin.
âApologies, Gandalf. You know how easy it is to fall back on Shire pleasantries when Iâm nervous.â
âAnd what do you have to be nervous about, my dear friend?â
Bilbo took a long sip from his cup, rehearsing his speech in his head before giving Gandalf his full and undivided attention.
âWell, as you know, Iâve been doing my best to piece together a comprehensive study of the dwarves.â
âAye.â Gandalf agreed happily. âI would say that you are easily their top historian outside of their own people. You are actually well-known inside certain circles because of it.â
Bilbo felt his ears wiggle, wanting desperately to find out more about his supposed fame, but he had a big ask that he needed to make first.
âGandalf, you are the Grey Wizard. You are welcome inside any settlement that would count themselves amongst the Free People. You are, in fact, the only non-dwarf who has seen the city of Erebor in centuries. My research and correspondence will only carry me so far unless I see the kingdom of the Longbeards for myself.â
Gandalf did not make a move to stop him, and Bilbo allowed himself to continue on as he grabbed his papers.
âThe dwarven law says âonly dwarves and dwarf-friends may enter their sacred cityâ. I know you canât make me a dwarf-friend, and despite all my attempts to befriend the scholars I talk to, they cannot grant me that title either. I had thoughtâŠperhaps, if I was your âassistantâ even for a little while, that might be a loophole to allow me entrance.â
Bilbo held Gandalfâs stare for as long as he was able. Hoping the wizard could see his desire, his yearning for this adventure. After his motherâs passing, he did not allow this side of himself to show often. He had thought he would be perfectly content with his books and his histories, and that had worked splendidly all up until he read about the friendship between Celebrimbor and Narvi. His studies quickly switched from Lothlorien to Khazad-dum only to find there had been little to learn there. As most of the dwarves' histories were either lost or closely guarded. A mystery that nagged at him relentlessly until he got to this point.Â
âMy dear Bilbo,â Gandalf began sucking out any hope that Bilbo had with that tone. âDwarves do not take kindly to loopholes. You must be a dwarf or dwarf-friend to enter.â
Bilbo did his best to disguise his disappointment.
âI-I understand. Truly I do. It was a longshot anyways. I just thoughtâŠâ
âSo if we cannot make you one.â Gandalf interrupted, causing Bilboâs head to fly up. âWe shall simply make you the other.â
***
Bilbo looked back down at the ring in his hand. The ring that would apparently transform him into a dwarf. He looked up at Gandalf with a wry smile.
âWellâŠhere goes nothing.â
He placed the ring on his finger and closed his eyes tightly only to feelâŠnothing. He didnât feel any different at all. Bilbo frowned before looking up at the wizard.
âGandalf, are you sureâŠ?â
Bilbo gasped lightly feeling something moving on his face. He carefully prodded around his mouth, only to laugh in delight. He had a beard and mustache! Well that was quite odd indeed. Bilbo swung his head around to get used to the feeling, and long curls and braids hit him in the face. He quickly grabbed onto the end of the braids, knowing the beads attached would have symbols that implied the meaning behind such braids. He traced his finger over the cirth, wishing he knew what it said. And then suddenly, it changed before his eyes to where he could read it. âHistorianâ and âadventurerâ swinging on twin braids on either side of his head. Bilbo looked up at Gandalf who was smiling down at him.
âI may have added a little something to make your time easier.â Gandalf explained. âYou will not be able to read or speak Khuzdul as I would not betray my friends in that regard, but if someone speaks to you in the language or something is written before you, it will change into Westron for you to understand.â
âI wish I had a looking glass on me.â Bilbo chuckled as he flexed his arms.
He was by no means muscular, but there was definitely some dwarven heft there.
âThere will be plenty of time to explore your disguise later, I dare say.â Gandalf teased.
Bilbo beamed up at him. âThank you, Gandalf. Truly.â
âDonât thank me yet. You are still entering the Longbeards stronghold illegally after all. Just make sure you keep that ring on, and you should be fine.â
Bilbo nodded solemnly, or at least as much as he could. The excitement of it all was a little too much to overcome. He looked to Erebor again, this time in a new light. At last, his journey well and truly began.
In Erebor, at that exact moment, stood a dwarven prince staring out across his forge, his braids and beads hidden from view, as he had the same thought.
Almost to the end now! Feel free to comment or reblog! This is the masterlist for all the links to the plot bunnies in case you miss one. Thank you so much for reading and being a part of this celebration with me.
Always Coming Back to You
Rating:Â T
Warning(s):Â Canon Compliant Beginning, Mourning
Words: 1577
Summary: Bilbo has not gotten over Thorin's death. In some ways, he will never get over it. He lost more than just a friend that day, but someone so essential to his very being, he felt he might never recover. So when he went to sleep one night, clutching tightly to his ring and dreaming of more, he is shocked to wake up in an Erebor where Bilbo is married to an alive Thorin.
Bilbo was now seventy-eight days into his return to Bag End, and the pain in his chest was as fresh as the first day. He did better to disguise it nowadays. Playing along with the customs and norms to an extent if only to have a routine that didnât revolve around him wasting away in his bed the full day. Unable to even stomach a full hobbitâs meal routine, Bilbo skipped first breakfast and woke just in time to have second breakfast. He would amble his way to his study after that, dithering with books and his maps that held none of the former joy that they used to. He carried on like that until his head hurt too much to ignore the call of tea. At the beginning, he used to have visitors drop in on his tea time. Now, thankfully, he ate and drank alone. Then he would summon all of his courage to step out into his garden, thankful that he had someone to care for it. Because he didnât know if he could do it himself.
Sitting on his bench with his pipe, he let his gaze wander over the flowers dancing brightly in the breeze, past his prize-winning vegetables that Bilbo rightfully let Holman claim every time, and finally settling on the fresh shoot that already stood a half a foot out of the ground. Impressive for its germination, but hadnât quite earned the title âtreeâ.
One day it will grow, and Iâll remember. The good, the bad, and how lucky I am to have made it home.
And ohâŠdid Bilbo remember. He remembered every single moment of every day since. He remembered so much that he almost grew bitter of the skinny, green-leafed reminder, and had to hurry into the house for fear of taking a hoe to it.
Plant your trees, and watch them grow.
It was only the last treasured words he had heard from Thorin that kept his hand, and sometimes, in those moments, he hated him for it too. For speaking such beautiful words of hope at their parting. Like Thorinâs death would be merely a footnote in Bilboâs life. That being home in his armchair surrounded by his books and his garden was somehow all he needed to be happy. Perhaps the worst part is before this trip, it would have been enough. He had settled into a sort of contentment that he didnât know was any different from true happiness. And then thirteen dwarves had barged into his life to prove him wrong. A bond was built between the fourteen of them, so much so that numbering just eleven left a hole too large to fill. Or perhaps it was just Bilbo who felt that hole so deeply.
Bilbo had no doubt that the company mourned Thorin, Fili, and Kili. Mourned them as the dwarves they were as well as the symbol of hope to their people they were. However, Bilbo mourned two nephews he had never gotten to claim. Bilbo mourned that deep part of his heart that he gave away to a dwarf king, and never said it as such. Bilbo mourned that these three made up such a center of his universe in such a short time, and were snatched away just as quickly. Bilbo mourned that he never got to tell them. Bilbo mourned that the only ones who knew this fact about him were now tending to their own home half a world away. Bilbo mourned that he was a hobbit, and as such he belonged in the Shire, no matter how much the mountains called him. Bilbo mourned so much, he couldnât seem to remember how to live a life where he wasnât mourning.
And so, Bilbo continued on. For what else could he do.
So it was that night, where shadows and moonlight curled around him, comforting in what they could hide, that he would pull out his silly little magic ring, and he would wish while it was clutched tight in his fist. He would wish for Thorin like a drought wished for rain. He would wish for Fili and Kili, cut down far too short. He would wish for a life in Erebor where he was fast enough, strong enough, cunning enough, or brave enough to have made a difference for the people he held so dear.Â
Is that what you really want?
Bilbo curled his hand tighter around the golden band, his consciousness just on the verge of leaving him completely as he sobbed.
âMore than anything.â
Bilbo dreamt at that point that he was falling. A huge gaping dark hole with no end in sight, and the only thing to distract him from the bottom was the images he passed. Flickers of memories of his life starting with his parents in the Shire and continuing all the way until his quest to Erebor. OnlyâŠthe ending had changed. Bilbo saw himself getting to Thorin and the others before they split up. He saw Fili and Kili working together to protect him from Bolg, and succeeding in taking down the horrid orc. He saw himself, throwing his body into Azog to knock the horrible creature away before he could kill the pinned Thorin. He saw the mithril keeping him from receiving the same wound as Thorin righted himself to slay the scourge of Durin's bloodline. He saw Thorin cradle his head with such a soft look of affection as he asked him to marry him.
âThatâs quite nice.â Bilbo hummed happily as he let his eyes close.
He let himself sail in the darkness, until it abruptly came to an end. Bilbo cried out as his head bounced against the ground. Not strong enough to do any damage other than leave him with a fierce headache. He groaned as he curled himself in a ball, waiting for the pain to pass. He wished he could say this was the first time his dreams had caused him to fall out of his bed as he blindly sought out his duvet.Â
There was a gasp and the sounds of running feet as someone shouted something in a language he did not know. Bilbo abruptly sat himself up, regretting it immediately as his head swam violently. He cradled his head as he blinked his eyes, his brows furrowing in confusion. This wasnât his room.
âZabadyusth Baggins, kudze' durnu sĂąti yadi? (Consort Baggins, how long have you been here?)â
A hand came down on his shoulder along with the strange words, and Bilbo nearly jumped out of his skin. He spun around as best as he could to see a strange dwarf standing there in polished armor, looking at him in concern. Bilbo quickly found his feet, although the room was spinning drastically as he backed away from him.
âWho are you? How did you get in here?â He demanded.
The dwarf held his hands out placatingly as he spoke again, and this time Bilbo realized it was dwarvish language. When the dwarf realized Bilbo did not understand, he tried again in Westron.
âMy lord, youâre in the throne room. Iâve sent Theda to fetch the king. Do you remember how you got here?â
âThrone room?â Bilbo repeated faintly.
A throne room didnât make sense. He had only been in his bed a little while ago. Where could he possibly have been taken that had a throne room? Thatâs when details of the space started to piece themselves together. It had been dark and grimy when last he had been here, but he knew this green stone. He knew this great ledge overlooking the abyss below. And yes, looking at the seat now, he remembered that throne even with the scars left by dragon claws repaired. He was in Erebor.
But how?! Why was he in Erebor? He had no desire to be here. It would be lovely to see his friends, surely, and congratulate them on the job well done repairing the space, but he certainly didnât want to see Dain ruling where Thorin could not be.Â
âI have to go.â Bilbo stated as the guard, for he must be a guard, reached out to steady him. âI canât be here.â
âGo? Where?â The guard asked, sounding slightly distressed. âConsort Baggins, if you could please calm down. Iâm afraid youâve had a terrible fall.â
âI absolutely will notâŠ!â Bilbo rounded on him only to deflate as his words rang in Bilboâs ears.
âC-Consort? Did you just call meâŠ?âÂ
Bilbo did not have the chance to get his answer, for at the moment the doors at the opposite end were flung wide open as a dwarf charged down the path for him. A dwarf with ebony hair streaked with silver. A dwarf with round blue eyes so full of worry and hope. A dwarf that was somehow standing there with the sheer audacity of being alive when Bilbo had properly made a fool of himself at his wedding. A dwarf who wrapped him in a hug that was familiar and yet, different at the same time as he whispered Bilboâs name in reverence, burying his nose deep in Bilboâs hair.Â
And Bilbo could not bring himself to question how this was possible. Could not bring himself to do much more of anything besides cling just as tightly, letting the tears spill that he had thought he was done with forever. If this was a dream, he hoped never to wake.
Over halfway now! Big thanks to all of you who have liked, reblogged, and commented. Feel free to comment or reblog! This is the masterlist for all the links to the plot bunnies in case you miss one. Thank you so much for reading and being a part of this celebration with me.
The Rose Thief
Rating:Â T
Warning(s):Â N/A
Words: 1652
Summary: Bilbo's time is running out. Unless he gets the golden rose rumored to exist in Erebor, he will succumb to his illness. Unfortunately, Erebor isa cursed kingdom believed to be haunted by the very beast that drove the dwarves out. Bilbo doesn't believe in curses or dragons until he's staring into fierce blue eyes accusing him of being the thief he is.
Bilbo pushed and shoved his way through the bustling city of Esgaroth, ignoring the people who gasped or commented on his rudeness as he weaved his way towards his destination. Once, this would have bothered him greatly. Once, good manners and respectability would have been the peak quality in his life. Now, merely getting the chance to live was the only thing that was important. He did his best to ignore the pressure in his chest, the sudden vertigo that gripped him from his quick movements, and the cough that tickled the back of his throat. He was running out of time.
He hurried down the next road, quieter than the main one, where he found the inn he had been told to meet his guide. The dwarf was tall, burly, with no hair on top of his head and a fearsome scowl.Â
âErebor then?â He grunted.Â
Bilbo nodded.
âItâs cursed.â The dwarf spat. âWhat do you want with a place like that?â
âMy business is my own.â Bilbo answered, throwing the agreed upon money pouch towards the dwarf. âDo we have a deal or not?â
The dwarf merely gazed down at the pouch, balancing it in his hands as if weighing its contents. He tossed it in the air before another dwarf sidled up beside him with a curt grin on his sly face. Bilbo watched him warily, very much understanding he was outnumbered at this point.
âDeal.â The new dwarf answered.Â
Dwalin and Nori were their names, and while Bilbo didnât trust them completely, he was desperate enough to need them. The road between Dale and Erebor was shut down and heavily guarded as it had been for years for fear of angering the supposed beast inside. However, the two dwarves knew of a path that would take them closer to the edge of Mirkwood, skating by the guard rotations as they traveled mostly under the cover of night.
They would lead him to the southern edge of Ravenhill, neither daring to get closer. It worked well for Bilbo as his plan was to find the hidden passage on the western side of the mountain having nearly depleted his parentsâ fortune to ascertain the map and key.Â
He had expected questions from his two companions. He had expected attempts to talk him out of it. He had rather hoped they wouldnât slit his throat and steal his belongings when they made camp, but that was still more expected than the assessing looks. Dwarves were naturally suspicious by nature due to their nomadic lifestyle and secretive culture. Yet, the way they watched him. The way they whispered to each other in their language of harsh consonants and multi-syllables made Bilboâs skin crawl. Like Bilbo held the very answers they had been looking for. It would disappoint them to know Bilbo had nothing. Nothing but desperation and greed.
Bilbo departed from them on decent enough terms at least, taking a large swig from his waterskin when they were out of sight. The herbs in it were bitter and left a bad taste in his mouth, but they at least abated the worst of his symptoms. He needed the edge taken off as he assessed the massive climb before him.Â
It took Bilbo a day and a half to complete the journey. Nearly causing him to miss the deadline he had been warned about. However, with the autumn moon and the setting sun behind him, Bilbo was able to find the keyhole and open the door to allow him into Erebor. He stood in that dark passage, breath held as he listened for any indication of the supposed beast that dwelled within. Thankful for his soft feet, he took one step at a time creeping deeper into the abandoned city. The path led to a chamber, glittering golden light spilling out before him as he remembered that Erebor had the reputation of treasure beyond comprehension. Bilbo cared not. He was here to claim a different prize.Â
All he needed was a single rose. A rose that was said to be golden as the sun. It was a rare bloom cultivated by the first queen of Erebor herself and never shared with anyone. Yet, a single petal would heal the most fatal of wounds. Bilbo would take the whole rose to be safe, and despair later about depriving the world of such a beautiful flower later. When he had a life to fill with despair. It was Bilboâs last chance. Lord Elrond had given him six months. Faced with his own mortality at the staggeringly short deadline, Bilbo threw himself at the elfâs library with reckless abandon. There had to be something. One last chance to save himself from a fate held over his head for the entirety of his life. Surely, the Valar could not be that cruel. And that was when he learned of Erebor.
Bilbo continued to sneak down the path past rooms left to time and neglect. Past grand halls and family homes. He knew that the dwarves claimed a curse fell upon the mountain. He knew that they spoke of a beast with razor sharp claws and a fiery breath. He knew that this is the reason they were left desolate and homeless. However, he could not bring himself to worry about the fortune of others any more than that as he turned the corner and found a beautiful atrium of light and green.Â
Bilboâs jaw dropped as he walked amongst the overgrown plants and flowers. The ground was soil and rock, but the sky was endless above him, and thatâs when he realized it wasnât sky at all. It was mirrors! All positioned to gather the sunâs rays and reflect them to this spot. Bilbo hadnât known what to expect, but certainly not this. Certainly not a garden in every sense of the word that spread out for at least a hundred yards in every direction. He was actually a bit overwhelmed. How was he to find a rose in all of this?
The leaves rustled and the ground crunched beneath heavy steps as Bilbo caught something dark and big moving out of the corner of his eye. He spun around quickly, the small sword that had been gifted to him by the elves, in his hand and at the ready. However, there was nothing there. Bilbo dropped his blade, but he did not relax. If there were curses and dragons about, he wanted nothing to do with it. All he wanted was that damned flower.Â
Picking a direction, Bilbo walked deeper into the garden. Once again, marveling at what was to be found. There was a massive fountain still pumping clear water into a mossy basin. There were paths of perfectly round smooth stone leading outwards from it. There were benches overgrown with ivy that would have made a beloved book-nook. There was a history here that spoke of a life that loved this space, and Bilbo felt even more the intruder with every step he took which didnât help the feeling of being watched.Â
Bilbo worried if he would find it at all or if the true curse would be wandering this garden until it claimed him. Every breath felt fainter, every beat of his heart felt shorter, and thenâŠhe saw it. A tunnel of climbing roses in all different colors. Reds, pinks, purples, yellows, and whites. Healthy and vibrant despite the wild state of the garden around them. Bilbo laughed gently as the blues hung down to almost nuzzle at his face as he walked past, and there. At the end of the row. Was the prize he sought.Â
It was small. Smaller than he expected, but it was undeniable. It could never be mistaken as yellow, that rose was completely golden. Bilbo crept forward, certain there had to be some sort of trap or obstacle. He didnât feel like it could be that easy. The key to fixing him, changing his life completely, sat there just in armâs length. Bilbo reached out, his fingers just ghosting against the petals, when there was a growl from behind him.
Bilbo jumped as he spun around, his sword drawn once more and held out in front of him. There werenâtâŠanimals in here, were there? His eyes swept from left to right, trying to catch anything out of the ordinary. When he felt confident that he was imagining it, he slowly turned back around, only to see a large shadow dart just outside his peripherals.Â
âHello? Is someone there?â Bilbo asked hesitantly before scoffing at himself. âYes, good job, Bilbo. Address the person youâre here to steal from.â
âSo you are a Burglar then.âÂ
Bilbo let out a high-pitched hiss through gritted teeth to keep from full on screaming. That voice was deep and serpentine. It didnât sound like it was hobbit, dwarf, man, or elf. It sounded big.
âW-What are you?â Bilbo demanded.
âThe King Under the Mountain.â The voice answered.
âSo youâreâŠa dwarf?â He ventured, still craning to get a good look at what he was talking to.
âI didnât say that.â
Bilbo felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. He started backing up, keeping his sword held out in front of him as he continued to scan the garden for this self-proclaimed king. He took another step back when he bumped into something big and solid. The shadow cast over Bilbo, and he looked up only to stare straight into a black draconic face with fierce blue eyes. Bilbo gasped, the sword falling from his numb fingers.
âWhat? No plans to slay the dragon, Burglar?â The face sneered at him.
Air. Bilbo couldnât get air. He somehow managed to breathe out, but couldnât bring himself to suck a breath back in. Spots danced before his eyes, and before Bilbo could fight his way back to coherency, his world went dark.
Moving right along with Day 3! Feel free to comment or reblog! This is the masterlist for all the links to the plot bunnies in case you miss one. Thank you so much for reading and being a part of this celebration with me.
It Takes Forgetting to Truly Remember
Rating:Â G
Warning(s):Â N/A
Words: 1742
Summary: Bilbo Baggins swore that day on the Carrock that if he lived through the end of this adventure, he would marry Thorin Oakenshield. Waking up in Erebor a year later with no memory past that moment, while disorienting, definitely solidified for him that he did accomplish his goal. Only...why does Thorin seem stunned as well?
âI have never been so wrong in all my life.â
Bilbo gasped as he felt those warm, solid arms wrap around his frame. For a moment, he thought he must be dreaming. He had been killed by the orcs, and this was nothing but a wonderful figment of his imagination. However, he knew deep down that he couldnât imagine the lingering scent of pine and fire and blood clinging to Thorinâs coat. He couldnât imagine the bristly feeling of beard hair pressing against his shoulder. And never in his wildest dreams could he have imagined Thorin smiling like that at him. It was only when Bilbo was able to acknowledge that this was, in fact, real, did he return the hug.Â
Thorin pulled back a moment later, far too soon in his opinion as he looked Bilbo up and down before pinning him with those intense blue eyes.
âI am sorry I doubted you.â
âNo.â Bilbo was quick to reassure him. âI would have doubted me too. Iâm not a hero, or a warriorâŠor even a burglar.â
Everyone had a good chuckle at that, and it was as Bilboâs attention turned to the eagles flying off into the distance that something else caught Thorinâs own. He watched as the dwarf stepped past him to the edge of the cliff, Bilbo scrambling to join him in amazement. The lonely mountain! It was right there. He looked up at Thorin at the same time the dwarf turned to him, fondness and awe present on his face. Bilbo could feel his insides turn to mush as his heart did a backflip. He thought he could perish from Thorinâs smiles alone.Â
So it was there as they gazed upon the end of their journey that Bilbo made a vow to himself. Should he live long enough to be there when the dwarves retook the mountain, he would marry the dwarf king beside him. If he denied him, then it would be a lonely trip back to the Shire for him, but at least he was not a coward and made his feelings known. And if he acceptedâŠBilbo beamed brightly as he gazed back onto the mountain. Their road was most likely still wrought with perils, and he would need to keep his head, but he could feel the hope ignite something inside him. This no longer became a trip to reclaim somebody elseâs home, he was now fighting for his own as well.
***
Bilboâs head was pounding something fierce as he dazedly came back to consciousness. He blinked up, confused at the smooth green stone stretching on for miles above them. He didnât understand. Where were they? Did they find a cave to make camp in? Bilbo shifted a bit, wincing when his head gave a sharp shooting pain at the movement.
âEasy now, lad. Donât undo all my hard work in one go.â
âMaster Oin?â Bilbo murmured, moving his eyes over to where the greying healer was standing.
âLetâs take a look at you. Youâve been down for the count for about six days now.â
He had? What happened? Did Azog and the other orcs catch them? What about Thorin?Â
âHow?â He murmured.
It was only after Oin lifted his trumpet and leaned in that he remembered the dwarf was partially deaf. Bilbo choked down the nausea as he repeated his question a bit louder.
âThere was a tunnel collapse.â Oin explained. âBit of bad luck. The ground gave out beneath you and two other dwarves excavating the area. The other lads are fine. You knocked your head on the way down and rattled your brains a bit. Wasnât sure when you would wake up.â
Two other dwarvesâŠhe wondered who it was. And a tunnel? What was Bilbo doing in a tunnel? It didnât make any sense. Oin lifted a glass to his lips with the order to drink even when Bilbo wanted to gag as the taste hit his tongue. Still it did help with the roaring headache.
âAre weâŠstill on the Carrock?â Bilbo asked him once he felt like he could do so.
âEh?â Oin held up his trumpet again. âA balrog? This isnât Khazad-dum, lad. Wouldnât expect any of those to be around.â
Bilbo pursed his lips, ready to correct the dwarf when a snore from on the other side of his bed caught him by surprise. Bilbo slowly turned his head only to blink. And blink again. However, there could be no doubt. Thorin Oakenshield slept at his bedside, his arms splayed out on the cot, pillowing his head.Â
âCanât get him to leave.â Oin huffed. âHe comes here every moment he can spare. Damn fool. It wasn't that long ago that he was injured himself.â
That was right. Thorin had been bitten by that warg and hit with Azogâs mace. However, other than an angry red scar cutting through his eyebrow, there were no marks, no bruises on his face. Bilbo was very confused now, and it certainly didnât help with his headache in the least.
âOin? IâŠI donât understand. Where are we? What is going on?â Bilbo insisted, his voice faint.
âWhat was that, lad?â Oin asked loudly.Â
Loud enough to wake the sleeping dwarf, for better or worse. Bilboâs breath caught as he watched Thorin blink slowly, trying to get his bearings. His eyes lazily drifted to Bilbo only to widen when he realized he was awake. Thorin was suddenly sitting up, clutching Bilboâs hand with both his own, his hair still clinging to the corner of his mouth.
âBilbo! I mean, Master Baggins. Youâre awake. How do you feel?â
Bilbo could feel heat rising to his face as he gave the dwarf a small smile, finding his worry and his state to be oddly endearing.
âYes, well. Could be better all things considered, but Iâm sure Iâm in capable hands with Master Oin here. How are you? Do your injuries still trouble you greatly?â
Thorinâs brows furrowed together as he opened his mouth before closing it again, unable to utter a single word to that. Bilbo wasnât all that surprised. He had been terrified he had been too late in his rescue when Thorin lay unconscious in the eagleâs talons. Perhaps he just didnât want to admit his pain out loud.
Bilbo once again roamed the room with his eyes realizing he was, in fact, in a room and not in some cave they found. Oin said he had been unconscious for six days. Did they carry him to some sort of town built into the mountain?
âIâm sorry for holding us up. I know you would probably prefer if we were back on the road at this point. Iâm sure now that Iâm awake, Iâll be right as rain soon. Tell me, how does the rest of the Company fare? I donât even remember if any of the rest of them were injured now that I think about it, but Oin said there were two who fell with me? Certainly not Fili and Kili I would hope!â
The pinch between Thorinâs eyebrows became more pronounced the longer Bilbo talked. Slowly he shook his head.
âNo, it was not Fili and Kili. It was Rugar and Halik.â
It was Bilboâs turn to look alarmed now. âIâm sorry, it was who?!â
Bilbo didnât know any Rugar or Halik. At least, he didnât think he did. Oh dear! What if there were two dwarves traveling with them, and Bilbo had completely missed catching their names? How terribly awkward! No, no, that didnât make any sense. Bilbo has certainly met all the dwarves at this point unlessâŠHe looked around once more at his surroundings, a chuckle of relief on his lips.
âOh! I see. This is a dwarven settlement then. Yes, very good. Iâm not quite sure why I was investigating with two unknown dwarves, but that is neither here nor there. Incredibly lucky we found the place given the state of our supplies or lack there of. What is the name of this settlement?â
Thorinâs expression was perfectly blank when he answered.
âErebor.â
Bilbo smiled and nodded his head when it dawned on him what Thorin said.
âWEâRE IN BLOODY EREBOR?!â
Thorin was like stone in the wake of Bilboâs declaration, his brows still furrowed and lips turned down, but Oin jumped like a warg was on his tail. Bilbo clutched his head in pain, immediately regretting the outburst as Oin stomped back over to them.
âWhat in the worldâŠ?â
âBilbo doesnât remember coming to Erebor.â Thorin concluded before Bilbo could tell him himself.
Oin blinked in surprise before turning back to Bilbo with an assessing look.
âIs that true, laddie?âÂ
Bilbo nodded.
âSo what is the last thing you remember?â
Bilbo knew his cheeks must be flushed as he tried to avoid looking at Thorin. Only perhaps the most magical moment of his life, thatâs what he remembered. A hug that made Bilbo dream of something more than friendship as the eagles that bore them danced in the sky.
âWellâŠwe had just reached the Carrock.â Bilbo answered.
Both dwarves stared at him. Neither saying a word.
âIâm guessing that was a little while ago.â Bilbo remarked weakly.
âA littleâŠâ Thorin gasped. âMaster Baggins, it has been almost a yearâs time since we reclaimed this mountain.â
Bilbo could feel spots dancing before his eyes. Faint. He was feeling a bit faint. Bilbo slouched a bit before realizing what he was feeling was not faint. Oin was at least quick to read the signs as he thrust a bedpan under his nose before he puked his guts up. Not that there was much there. Mostly bile, but still rather embarrassing to do in front of Thorin. Thorin, who still looked pained, as he absorbed what Bilbo had said. Thorin whoâŠ
Bilbo felt something squeeze at his chest, numbing him almost immediately. A year! Heâs been here for almost a year. That could only mean one thing. Bilbo shyly looked up at Thorin through his lashes, admiring how much the king had changed in a year. His beard was longer, his clothes were cleaner and of higher quality, and he wore additional braids in his hair. Didnât Gloin tell him that dwarves wore new braids when they got married? He swore he remembered that story as he was discussing his wife and pointing to his beard. That could only mean one thing then. Bilbo did it. He actually married Thorin Oakenshield.
To pass the time on long rides, Bilbo starts absent-mindedly braiding Myrtles mane. He does it almost subconsciously and is completely unaware of all the dwarf eyes keenly watching him.
Because they're good braids, some of them quite complicated and no one can understand just how he knows how to do that.
The only conclusion they could come to is that the hobbit must have a paramour back in The Shire, some long-haired lass who he spoils with pretty love-braids.
Thorins temper had been truly foul after Balin has proposed the theory out loud.
After weeks of Thorin sulking, it was ever curious: Ori, who finally asked where Bilbo had learned such intrecate braid work.
Bilbo then flushed and embaressedly explained that he'd learned it from competitive pie decorating.
If you remember my original post on the order, I mixed it up just a bit. (This one had been easier to finish editing.) Feel free to comment or reblog! This is the masterlist for all the links to the plot bunnies in case you miss one. Thank you so much for reading and being a part of this celebration with me.
That Which Cannot Remain Hidden
Rating:Â T
Warning(s):Â N/A
Words: 2079
Summary: The time has come for Thorin to take back Erebor. He has enjoyed the life he has built with his husband, Bilbo, but this chance stands too monumentally before him. It would be a boon to his people, and a chance to reveal his secret love. However, secrets cannot remain hidden for long.
Thorin felt relieved when he could finally get out of the rain and find a place to sit in the Prancing Pony. He let himself savor the moment of almost being home when the barmaid came by with his ale, promising his dinner out shortly. He thanked her with a smile, setting his pipe aside when he noticed the unfriendly eyes that had turned his way. There were two men, one in either direction that had slowly gotten to their feet. Their glare remained glued to Thorinâs person as they took a step closer.Â
His blood spiked with battle fever as he kept his gaze straight ahead, watching in his peripherals. His hand inched out slowly until it met the pommel of his blade. He did not know what they wanted, but they would find he was not an easy opportunity by any stretch of the imagination. He tensed as they took another step closer when a body came up behind him and draped their arms around his neck.
âWelcome back, Love.â Was murmured in his ear before a kiss was pressed against his cheek.
Thorin was so startled, he nearly lost his grip on his sword altogether as he grabbed at the offenderâs arm and pulled them into view. The hobbit looked surprised even if their grin was not tempered. Thorin, on the other hand, felt dread pool heavy in his gut as his gaze moved back and forth between Bilbo and the two men who had paused to watch the exchange.
âBilbo! What are you doing here?!â He demanded, his tone urgent but soft.
âWell isnât that a fine greeting!â Bilbo puffed up, his voice raising in volume. âCanât a hobbit come and surprise his husband after months of being gone!â
Thorin tried to shush him, but the damage was done. He could see the menâs eyes widen. A glint as they assessed Bilbo in a new light. A chink in the Oakenshieldâs armor. Thorin wasted no time in jumping to his feet and dragging Bilbo down the crowded hall. His muscles wound tight as he waited to be ambushed. Bilbo squawked his indignation the whole way, and Thorin realized his husband might have had a bit too much to drink before finding him. Even still, he managed to get them up the stairs and away from their pursuers before ducking into the room he rented for the night.Â
Thorin all but tossed Bilbo on the bed, making sure to use both locks on the door before leaning his head against it, taking in a deep breath.
âAre youâŠnot happy to see me?â A soft voice asked from behind him.
Once assured of their safety, Thorin let the pounding thrum of his blood die down just a bit as he turned around with a small smile plastered to his lips.
âOf course I am, amrĂąlimĂȘ (my love).âÂ
He walked over to the bed where his hobbit lay, more than happy to lean up for a real kiss as Thorin hovered over the top of him. Hands pressed on either side of his head as he reminded himself of the shape and taste of his husbandâs mouth.
âI forgot how suspicious you get when youâve been away from home for too long.â Bilbo murmured when Thorin eventually pulled away.
âWith good reason.â Thorin hummed. âNow what are you doing here? I thought you were going to be planning a big feast for my arrival in a week. Or did I misread your letter?â
âI have Holman taking care of Bag End and making sure it is stocked and ready for your feast. You did not misread, but when I realized with a weekâs worth of travel, I could have you to myself just a little earlierâŠâ Bilbo mused with a wicked grin.
Thorin let his head fall back as Bilbo sucked and nipped his way down Thorinâs neck. His hands tightening in Thorinâs hair, yanking it slightly before traveling down his back, over his buttocks, and resting heavily and inviting on his thighs. And really, how could Thorin say no to such an invitation?
***
Leaving Bilbo in bed, half-asleep, Thorin donned his armor and sword once more to see if he canât wrangle up the meal he missed at dinner. Not taking any chances with Bilboâs safety, he made sure to watch every darkened corner, every hallway before entering the dining room again. The rowdiness had died down a bit as most of the customers had cleared out, letting Thorin approach the bar freely. He was lucky enough to order a couple of plates to take back to his room, but not enough to avoid detection altogether. He just had to be thankful it was not either of the two men from earlier as the old familiar face smiled down at him from behind his long, gray beard.
âThorin Oakenshield. This is a fine chanceâŠâ
When Thorin finally managed to return to his room, it was to an already sleeping husband and a mind whirling with possibilities. Taking back Erebor. Reclaiming his homeland once and for all. When he came to the Shire eight years ago, when he met Bilbo and realized he had found his One, he thought that was all he would need. That he could settle into the humble life Mahal had given him after so many years of tragedy. The only caveat being that no one could know he was married to a hobbit.
It was not often that dwarves found their Ones outside of their race, and due to the vulnerable position they held, any dwarf who chose their One would be exiled from the mountain to live amongst their Oneâs people. For a few years, Thorin had tried to put his people first and be happy with the knowledge that Bilbo existed and was happy and healthy in his Shire. Dis was the one who pushed for him to be a little selfish in this regard, but they both knew that having already lost two kings in quick succession, the uproar of Thorin placing himself in self-exile would be too much for their outcast community to handle. So he married in secret, in the Shire. With only Dis and Dwalin showing up for him and a couple of cousins for Bilbo. His dear, sweet Bilbo who agreed a life together, even in secret, was better than one full of longing and pining. And while the fact that they lived together when Thorin was in the Shire was the worst kept secret in the Shire, the hobbits rarely spoke to races outside their own and with nothing more than rumors about their relationship to offer to any asking.
But now Erebor lay before him. The power and wealth that would be afforded him if he were to claim the Arkenstone once more would mean he no longer had to hide. No one in the seven kingdoms could say a word against his hobbit Consort that he could finally lavish and gift in gold worthy of his station. They could be together in the open. It was a dream, a possibility, that was too tantalizing to ignore for long. Only there was one small hiccup in the way. Gandalf spoke of needing a burglar, someone with an eye for adventure and a scent unknown to the dragon. Meeting this close to the Shire, Thorin had his suspicions, but he had not been fully prepared for the name the wizard uttered.
Turning his gaze to Bilbo Baggins now, he warred with himself over whether he allowed his dear husband to take up this venture. On one hand, it would be even more in their benefit if Bilbo had a direct hand in helping them reclaim their home. On the other hand, considering the danger that was surely to await them, he didnât know if he could handle the ache, the spine-stiffening fear he would feel at seeing his husband hurtâŠor worse. No, perhaps it would be better for them to return to the Shire, and Thorin to slip away quietly on another of his âbusiness meetingsâ as his husband so eloquently put it. Should the worst befall him, he would make sure his final words were delivered. Perhaps it was cowardly to consider leaving Bilbo the widower instead of himself, but he let his fear and experience justify his reasoning.
When they rose the next day, Thorin made doubly sure the men from the previous night were not skulking around as he rented a pony and rode them home. Bilboâs ramblings on all the Shire going-ons and gossip was a balm to his heart that he was making the right decision. It wasnât until six nights later, a mere day and a half from home, that they were happened upon by a couple of rangers, and Thorin felt his blood freeze in his veins with their news.
âWe caught bandits trying to cross into Shire lands not even two nights ago.â Galathir told them.Â
âOh dear!â Bilbo gasped. âWell we have been fortunate to not run into them ourselves.â
âHave you now?â Anorion asked, staring blatantly at Thorin. âThat is good fortune indeed.â
They turned to other news, and both men allowed Bilbo to cook for them in thanks, but Thorin could feel Anorionâs eyes on him the entire time. He made sure he was well out of Bilboâs hearing range before he caught the man to ask what he was not telling them.
âThey were not mere bandits. They were hunters. Carrying this.â He stated, holding out what looked to be some sort of leather with dark writing on it.
âWhat is it?â Thorin asked, staring at it intently.
âWe did not know for sure what it was, but a traveler in gray was able to translate it for us.â
Thorin would have snorted at how quickly Gandalf got around if it wasnât for Anorionâs next words stealing away any good humor.
âIt is a summons in Dark Speech. One that calls for the head of Thorin Oakenshield.â
Thorin looked up sharply at this as the man watched him with pursed lips and stony eyes. Thorin didnât know what he had done recently to stir up activity, especially in such dark places that relayed messages in Dark Speech. However, he was grateful for the rangerâs warning. It made his quest all the more clear in his mind.Â
âFear not, I will not be staying in the Shire for long. Hopefully I can spare the hobbits any unwanted visitors with my future travel plans.â
Anorion still looked grim as he stopped Thorin from walking back to Galathir and Bilbo.
âWe had to have this translated, remember? This was not the reason those men gave us for being so close to hobbit lands.â
Thorin raised an eyebrow as he waited for him to continue.
âThey were after âthe hobbit with the dwarven husbandâ.â
Thorinâs spine went ramrod straight as even his hands began to shake at these words. His eyes instinctively landed on Bilbo. His cheeks rosy from proximity to the fire, his eyes dancing, his smile large as he continued to regale Galathir with some sort of diddy he had created.
âDwarves donât marry outside our race.â He answered softly.
âAs you have told me.â Anorion answered, his gaze still piercing.
âThis was no chance meeting.â
Anorion shook his head as his gaze also settled on the other two, his eyes soft.
âYou stepped in to protect my husband when that starving, bedraggled band of orcs would have taken his life last year. If my warning could offer some measure of protection to youâŠand any you deemed worthy of it, I knew I must try.â
Thorin gripped the manâs arm in a silent thanks as they both returned beside their respective partner. Any measure of relaxation Thorin normally took at returning to Bag End was overshadowed by the endless perils that lurked to take away Thorinâs heart. In the end, it was the best choice he could make. He would rather have Bilbo with him, facing danger if they must, than apart. He waited until they were home in Bag End once more before he sat him down at their dining table, and told him of his quest and his wish for Bilbo to join him. It had all seemed so easy when he had planned it in his head, the only thing he didnât account for was his husbandâs stubborn refusal to join him.
Hooray! Here we go. First birthday plot bunny. đ Feel free to comment or reblog! This is the masterlist for all the links to the plot bunnies in case you miss one. Thank you so much for reading and being a part of this celebration with me.
Lois Lane Had It Easy
Rating:Â T
Warning(s):Â Spiders, Webs, Spider Deaths
Words: 1096
Summary: Bilbo was pretty sure the new hero of Ered Luin City hated him. Maybe he's reading into it a bit too much, but when he's saved from a ferry fire, only to get turned around and dropped in the ocean afterwards, he starts to have his doubts. It would make it so much easier if he wasn't also occupying the biggest crush on Oakenshield at the same time. Needless to say, Lois Lane had it easy.
Bilbo was grappling with understanding how this was his life. When he moved to Ered Luin City, he thought the worst he would have to deal with was ungodly traffic and sirens wailing in the night. However, as he lay upside down, trapped in a giant spiderâs web, he had to wonder if he shouldnât have taken that job in Michel Delving instead.Â
Bilbo weakly tried to struggle before flopping in the web once more. The past two hours had given him a chance to really speculate on his life. He was an insurance claims adjustor. That shouldnât be an exciting job. In fact, Bilbo rather thought it would be a boring way to earn a comfortable living with little to no overtime so he could go home and relax in his garden or with a novel. Instead, his first week, he had been investigating a food truck only to find himself potentially being the meal of three great lumbering trolls. His next month had seen him in a turf war between two rival gangs, and nowâŠgiant spiders.Â
It was perhaps a little odd to think that trolls and giant spiders would be a regular part of his daily life. It certainly hadnât been on the brochure when Bilbo had investigated the neighborhood at his flat. Apparently scientists had dug too deep in Mordor, reactivating a massive volcano, and releasing all of these creatures, previously believed to have been extinct back out into the world.Â
Luckily, Bilbo had avoided being anyoneâs meal or hostage or target dummy thanks to Ered Luinâs resident superhero: Oakenshield. Bilbo should be ecstatic, flattered even, that he had met such a super-powered individual not once, but multiple times. Rippling muscles covered in tight armor, iron helm and eye mask with ebony curls spilling out behind, and his namesake oaken-branch shield on his arm. Bilbo certainly wouldnât deny the fact that he might have developed a minor crush on the hero, but he couldnât shake the feeling like he might hate Bilbo.
Bilbo felt the web vibrate, and little hairs rose on the back of his neck. That canât be good. He hesitantly looked over to the side to see the spider had returned. Bilbo really began to struggle, crying out for help as the spider approached him. Wrapping its limbs around him to hold him in place, it carefully began to wrap Bilbo in a cocoon of spider silk. Bilbo felt tears streaming down his face as he did everything he could to avoid this dark, terrible fate. His limbs were quickly bound tight, and the webs went over his mouth, silencing his screams. The only part of him to remain free was his eyes which he did not consider a blessing as the dripping fangs inched down towards him. He squeezed his eyes shut, preparing himself for the inevitable when the spider suddenly screeched and backed up.
Bilbo slowly blinked his eyes back open to see Oakenshield had grabbed the spider by one of its legs, pulling it away from Bilbo. Sinking in his tightly wrapped prison, Bilbo drew in as deep of breaths as he could as he watched Oakenshield fling the spider against the opposite wall. The spider caught itself, screeching at the hero as he took a large jump forward, bashing the creatureâs head in with his shield. Ichor sprayed everywhere as it slumped to the ground, dead. Of course, that was only the beginning.
Bilbo squirmed and shouted as loud as he could behind the webs, doing his best to warn Oakenshield of the danger as three more spiders emerged from their den at the commotion. Oakenshield looked over his shoulder, ducking under the first oneâs potential bite, and throwing his fist straight up through the thorax causing it to fall backwards on top of the second one. While it was squirming under the dead weight, Oakenshield advanced on their third one.Â
It reared back, brandishing its many legs at him in defense. Oakenshield dodged the first one, and dodged the second one, only to nearly get impaled by its hidden sting had he not blocked it with his shield in time. Oakenshield slid back, nearly falling into a web trap himself had he not caught himself in time. He turned back to the spiders, now that the second one had freed itself, who advanced upon him slowly. Biding their time as they cornered their prey.Â
Quick as a flash, Oakenshield drew his sword and jumped towards them. The first spider was decapitated in an instant, and the second spider was split nearly in two. He sheathed the blade as both slumped over. Dead. Once assured that they would not return to terrorize them, Oakenshield made his way over to Bilbo.Â
âYou again.â He mused, his signature frown on his bearded face. âAre you alright?â
Bilbo nodded, trying not to burn at the judgmental stare as he asked the hero to cut him down. However, gagged as he was, nothing more than a handful of muffled sounds made it through.
âIâŠdidnât catch that. Do you need assistance?â The hero tried again, looking slightly exasperated.
Of course, he needed assistance! Did he think if Bilbo could magically get himself out of this he wouldnât have done so already? Bilbo continued to berate the dense being before him which didnât seem to improve Oakenshieldâs mood in the slightest. The hero shifted on his feet, but nothing to how he was feeling was given away by his mask, covering all but his bearded mouth. Sirens sounded in the distance, catching the heroâs attention even as Bilbo screamed at him to cut him down first.Â
âRight, well I probably need to go take care of that.â
Bilbo furrowed his brows, shaking in fury from inside his bindings. He couldnât actually be serious right now. Oakenshield took a step back, and Bilboâs eyes went wide. He was serious. He tried one more time for a desperate plea. Oakenshieldâs mouth opened in a gasp before he cleared his throat.
âMaybe this time you can actually go a week or two without needing my aid. Farewell, Citizen.â
Bilbo screamed and squirmed, but it was too late. The masked hero was already gone. Off to save someone else. Perhaps a damsel that would actually be freed of her entrapments and whisked away in his muscular arms. He gave a long suffering sigh through his nose as he leaned back in the web wondering how long it would take the clean-up crews to get here this time. Needless to say, Lois Lane had it easy.
