Post-BOTFA Persuasion Au: Bilbo returns to the Shire after the Quest, having rejected Thorin’s proposal of marriage. For years after, he struggles with regret. When he and Thorin meet again, he knows better than to hope.
Also available on AO3.
Bag End was the finest Hobbit smial to have ever been built, not only in Hobbiton but in the whole Shire. It was a large, comfortable home, with spacious corridors, many rooms, and luxuries such as windows and plumbing. The smial was greatly admired by all hobbits, though it also became a point of envy to many, as well as a source of pride for the one who constructed it, Bungo Baggins.
Bungo, the heir to the esteemed and rather rich Baggins family, gifted Bag End to his wife, Belladonna Took, the “remarkable daughter” of Gretonius Took, the Thain of the Shire. Belladonna was an exceptionally wild and curious spirit, known to have befriended a wandering wizard and even ventured outside the Shire in search of adventure. Her nature sat in stark opposition to her husband’s, who everyone regarded as perfectly respectable and home-dwelling, but overall unremarkable.
Indeed, Bungo and Belladonna seemed a mismatched pair. The idea of them marrying was thought to be brought about by little difference in station – and perhaps an attempt to temper Belladonna’s character with the influence Bungo’s – rather than genuine affection between the two. In truth, however, just as opposites attract, so Bungo and Belladonna were drawn to each other due to their contrasting natures. Yet, unlike complete opposites, Bungo and Belladonna turned out to have some core qualities in common: both were of bright and quick mind and enjoyed mental stimulation. These shared traits not only made their connection secure but also yielded the delight that they found in each other’s company. Soon into their courtship, the two discovered that they liked nothing better than to hold long and lively discussions during which they debated each other’s opinions and looked for ways to outwit one another, or to play a game of riddles together.
And so, against all odds, their marriage blossomed into a very happy union. After getting married, the couple lived in Tuckborough, a property owned by Belladonna’s father, but soon found the place too crowded and lacking in the privacy they desired as newlyweds. The issue became especially bothersome for Belladonna; fed up with being surrounded by nosy family members, she threatened to pack all her things and lead the life of a wanderer.
“Having a tent or even a bedroll for a home seems more appealing than living here,” she grumbled. “At least I’d be able to do whatever I want! I wouldn’t have to explain myself to anybody, how splendid would that be!”
“Then I shall build you a smial, my Bella,” Bungo told her in response. “I shall build you a smial where you’ll be the mistress and where they’ll be such comforts that you won’t want to sleep in a tent or a bedroll ever again.”
Belladonna laughed and kissed him sweetly. “I doubt the latter, my Bungo,” she said then, “But I’d dearly love to see you try.”
It seemed that Bungo took his wife’s remark as a challenge. Taking his wife’s sizeable dowry, he made very good use of it and brought Bag End into being. Belladonna received his gift with the deepest joy and did almost forget about tents and bedrolls. Admittedly, her not wanting adventures so much was in large part not due to Bag End itself but the fact that, a year after moving into their own smial, their love bore another fruit: they were blessed with a child. Belladonna, after a rather complicated pregnancy and labour, bore a healthy son, who she and her husband named Bilbo.
Bilbo was the talk of the Hobbiton and beyond since the very day he was born. Everyone wondered which parent Bilbo would take after. Would he be more of a Took or a Baggins? Would he share his mother’s love of the unexpected or his father’s dislike of it?
As a fauntling, Bilbo clearly showed to lean more toward his mother’s side, much to the disapproval of many in Hobbiton, including his own father. Bungo tried his best not to outright show it to his son, but he did argue with his wife about how she encouraged their son’s Tookish behaviour. Indeed, the issue of raising Bilbo was the most serious marriage strife they faced.
“You tell him all about adventures and elves,” Bungo said to Belladonna, one of those times he confronted her, “And then he comes back home after dawn all dirty. And that wooden sword you’ve given him! Not to mention you introduced him to Gandalf. He’ll end up hurting himself one day because of all this nonsense!”
“It’s not nonsense!” As she said this, her gaze was ablaze with deep, unshaken conviction. “It makes him happy! Can’t you see it brings him joy? How could I deny him stories of adventures when he asks for them?”
Bungo sighed heavily. “I do understand that, but be reasonable. He talks about looking for faeries all the time! Can’t you see that everyone thinks him odd? Other fauntlings won’t play with him!”
“My siblings’ little ones do!”
“And how often are they in Hobbiton? A few times a year? It’s not enough, Bella! He plays alone most of the time. He has no friends around here, and I... I just worry! A fauntling should have other fauntlings to play with!”
The last remark reopened a wound of theirs that had never fully healed. In the decade of their son’s life, there had been three times so far when they were justified in thinking that Belladonna was in the family way once more, only to have these hopes crushed. After such immense heartbreaks, they found themselves at the point of giving up trying for more children. Instead, they were left with the unbearable ache of failure to provide Bilbo with a sibling (which some of the unkind hobbits claimed to be proof of their incompatibility).
Bungo could see that his words caused his wife great pain, so he gathered her into his arms and murmured apologies and reassurances to her in a comforting tone. “I neglected to mention that our Bilbo already has a playmate in you, didn’t I?” he said. “The finest playmate any little one could ask for, indeed. The finest mother, too.”
Belladonna stayed in her husband’s embrace, letting his closeness and words soothe her, and spoke once she stepped away from his arms. “I do know your worry, Bungo. I wonder what will happen soon when he grows up and would rather have his peers for company than me, but we must have faith in him. I’m certain that he’ll have people who will love him just as much as we do.”
“I pray that you’re right,” he replied. “But I fear that love of adventure won’t endear him to many.”
“Then it will endear him to the right ones! He should never change himself just to be accepted.”
“About that, at least, I’m not worried. He seems as spirited and stubborn as you, I don’t think he’ll ever change just to bend to the wishes of others.”
“Stubborn as me?!” Belladonna exclaimed. “He gets the stubbornness from you! There’s no creature under the sun more stubbornly set in their ways than a Baggins!”
The origin of Bilbo’s stubbornness was, at least, only ever a point of good-natured bickering between his parents.
As Bilbo grew, his behaviour did change – he no longer sought out his mother, just as she had predicted. However, contrary to her assumptions, Bilbo preferred to spend time on his own rather than among his peers. He would stay inside more and more and took a lively interest in books. When he entered the age of seventeen, his father taught him reading, writing and calculations, which he all grasped in no time, and afterwards, Bilbo could only be found sitting with his books, genealogy trees and maps, or enjoying tea in the armchair by the fire together with his father. It overall seemed that his unruly Tookish spirit quietened considerably, much to the relief of his father and the dismay of his mother. It did seem Bilbo’s fate that when he did something that gained him one parent’s approval, he simultaneously displeased the other. Now, it was Belladonna who was not happy, for Bungo expressed approval at the change in Bilbo’s behaviour, but she suspected that Bilbo didn’t choose books as his most frequent companions of his own volition. Rather, she feared that it stemmed from Bilbo’s general unpopularity among his peers (although some of the children of his aunts and uncles on both sides of the family did like him). However Belladonna tried to encourage her son to go outside, he either refused or left only for a short while, set on doing solely what he wished with the stubbornness his parents loved him for.
When Bilbo began approaching adulthood, it became clear that he had taken more after his father in the end. He matured into a well-mannered lad, if a touch aloof, but his reserve did not taint his emerging spotless reputation. He was still as respectable as any hobbit should be, and was an heir not only to the esteemed Baggins name but to Bag End as well. Indeed, his standing and wealth made him a most eligible bachelor, as there was many a lass who wished to call herself Mrs. Bilbo Baggins of Bag End. Bilbo himself, however, showed no interest in marital affairs; once he reached the age of thirty-three and could officially enter a courtship, he rejected all matchmaking attempts. Such dismissal was met with a lot dismay, and more than one matron swore to find Bilbo a wife. Unfortunately for them, they soon had to abandon their efforts, for a tragedy struck – Bungo Baggins passed away only in the third year of his son’s maturity. It was a very early age for a hobbit to lose a parent and Bilbo went into deep mourning together with his mother.
Bilbo and Belladonna could not come to terms with Bungo’s early death for a long time. Overcoming their grief was not made easy by the fact life went on despite their loss. Bilbo had to adjust to the new role as the head of the Baggins family and the Master of Bag End, which was a challenge for him, as his father had not yet managed to teach him many ways of his business. Belladonna, though she tried to support her son as much as she could, was so stricken with sorrow that she struggled with merely carrying on from day to day.
In the end, Belladonna never managed to heal from the grief. Year by year, her once strong spirit faded, and so did her health. She fought her progressing weakness for years, wanting to be with her son for longer and wishing to see him settle into a happy life. Bilbo always assured her that he was perfectly content but she never believed him.
"But Bilbo,” she would say, "You surely can’t be happy with having only your old mother for company! There must be someone else you like to spend time with!”
"I’ve always liked your company the most,” he would reply. One time, he then argued, "Why does there have to be someone to like anyway? Why can’t I just like myself and let it be enough for me?”
"If you like yourself, that is very good, but... you might think so only because you don’t feel like the need for companionship right now. When I’m not here anymore, are you sure you will be happy on your own?” Bilbo did not reply right away, so she said to him, "Bilbo, I promise that life is lived so much better with a friend. By that I mean a good friend, someone with whom you can talk about much more than daily affairs and the weather. Someone who you can open your heart to, someone you can grow with. It’s worth having someone like this.”
"You say that but I see you suffer because you lost papa. You suffer and you still say that.”
"Because I know what I’m saying, my dearest flower. It was worth it because he gifted me with so many good things. He gave me joy, and this smial, and you! Oh, Bilbo, I wish you to know the same happiness. I wish you to have someone who makes you smile brighter than the Sun.”
"What if there isn’t someone like that for me?”
"There is, I know it. I’ve always known it.”
Bilbo did not seem convinced but he once again reassured her that he was happy. She did not end up ever believing him. After all, his current situation could hardly be a source of joy: when he managed to reconcile with the passing of his father, it became evident that his mother would not live for long.
And so it happened that Bilbo became an orphan and the sole Master of Bag End at the age of forty-four. Grieving his mother took him a few more difficult years and once he went out of mourning at last, Bilbo was close to the age of fifty. At this point, the matchmaking matrons had written him off as a lost cause and his continued disinterest in matrimony gained him the status of a confirmed bachelor.
Belladonna did not think that her son could be happy with such a life but Bilbo did seem quite content. He lived in good relations with everybody, though he upheld few close connections, and was overall a highly respectable hobbit. It was decided that he was a Baggins to boot in the end: a hobbit who never did or said anything unexpected. The only surprise that anyone anticipated coming from him was who he would name as his heir, which would have to happen eventually.
That is why the whole Shire was flabbergasted when one day, Master Baggins showed to be more of a Took by storming out of his smial, running off and vanishing. He hadn’t written any letter to explain his sudden disappearance before or send any after leaving. Everyone could only scratch their heads and wonder what on earth had happened. There remained no explanation as to why, where, and with whom Master Baggins had left, while his absence extended from a fortnight to a month, then to many months. Eventually, as the one-year mark of his vanishing approached, it was agreed by most that Master Baggins should be presumed dead.
What emerged even before that was the question of what to do with Bag End. Master Baggins had no heir, so it was unclear who was to inherit the smial. Since all hobbits were knowledgeable about genealogy and because one could always prove relatedness to someone at some point in the past if they tried hard enough, everybody believed that they were entitled to Bag End to some extent. With so many hobbits staking their claim, the issue of Bag End’s ownership gave rise to so many bitter disputes that an extreme measure had to be taken to settle them: there was to be an auction so that all claimants could have something of Bag End to themselves.
When the eagerly-awaited day of the auction finally came, it naturally caused quite a stir. A large crowd gathered before the front door of Bag End, the shouts of the bidders could be heard in half of Hobbiton, and those who already won were carrying out their prizes happily. Then, there was another reason for a commotion: a hobbit claiming to be the deceased Bilbo Baggins appeared right then. No one could say for sure if it was Bilbo Baggins, however: the hobbit, dressed in some odd and foreign clothing, looked very different from what one would expect any hobbit to look like. Yet, when the auctioneer asked for a document that would confirm his identity, he did produce one - a contract between one Bilbo Baggins and Thorin Oakenshied.
“Who’s this person you pledged your service to?” the auctioneer asked. “Thorin Oakenshield?”
“He... ” Bilbo found himself unable to say more, for hearing the name of Thorin Oakenshield had him overwhelmed by a heartache so painful that it took away his ability to speak. When he finally regained his voice, he said little but revealed a lot, if only to himself.
“He was my friend.”
With that, Master Baggins entered Bag End. The grand smial was empty like never before, just like the heart of its owner.
Why this phrasing? If this is silly, I blame you. Uh. AU: Everybody Lives.
Explicit? | ~900
Maybe Bilbo has had a bit too much of the Gaffer’s homebrew…or maybe it’s the simple fact that the King Under the Mountain had shown up to his silly little birthday party.
Either way, Bilbo is giggling like a fauntling and trying not to show everyone in the Shire how excited he is to have Thorin back in Hobbiton, and perhaps to not draw too much attention to having Thorin back in Bag End.
It’s not like there’s necessarily anything untoward in having Thorin over in his smial as the party dies down and all his neighbors return home.
He’s just visiting with an old friend who happens to be a dwarf.
And his old friend just might spend the night in his cozy little hobbit-hole.
Alright, alright. When phrased that way, the glow of Bilbo’s blush could light the way for weary travelers and it’s not what he means–
Who is Bilbo trying to fool? It’s exactly what he means.
“Happy birthday, Bilbo,” Thorin is saying as Bilbo ushers him into his bedroom.
Dwalin and Balin had accompanied Thorin as the others held down the keep in Erebor and that was all fine and good, so long as they were as tired as they had said they were. (After they had returned to Bag End and Thorin and Bilbo had been talking–just talking–Balin had suggested that they might need to rest and who would Bilbo be not to accommodate his guests swiftly and definitively?)
“I’m so pleased to see you.” Bilbo lights a couple of candles by the bed and wonders if Thorin had grown more handsome since last they met or if it was simply his absence that made him now so irresistible.
Thorin smiles, and it’s so gentle Bilbo could faint. “I have missed you, Master Burglar.”
“Well,” Bilbo starts. “I could say the same, Your Majesty.”
Chuckling, Thorin shakes his head. “Is such formality necessary between us?” He steps in close. He hasn’t actually tried to so much as kiss Bilbo’s hand yet and Bilbo is vaguely worried.
Bilbo hums. “I’ll leave that up to your judgment,” he says, and then he’s waiting–waiting desperately–for Thorin to give him a sign.
“Thank you for allowing us a place to stay.”
Bilbo shakes his head. “Of course. No, it’s nothing. I’m glad to have you here.” He hesitates. “All of you.” Does he mean the three dwarves? Does he mean the entirety of Thorin’s body? Bilbo doesn’t even know anymore.
Thorin seems to finally take pity on him. “Is this your bedroom?”
“Yes.” How had he made one word sound so lewd?
“And,” Thorin asks, as Bilbo’s breath catches, “is there a reason, Master Baggins, that you have brought me to your bedroom?”
Bilbo’s mouth opens and closes a couple of times.
“Does that mean yes?”
“Yes.”
Thorin hums. “What reason might that be?” He’s standing so close.
“Thorin,” Bilbo starts, but he doesn’t know how to continue.
“Is something the matter?” What a tease.
With a huff, Bilbo grabs Thorin by the beard. “Oh, come here.” And then he’s kissing the King of Erebor and tugging him toward the bed.
Thorin presses his lips to each inch of skin uncovered as he undresses Bilbo, helps Bilbo unwrap his birthday present.
“Do you want me to take you?” Thorin asks, voice deep and dark and verging on desperate.
“Eru, yes.” Bilbo spreads his legs, reaching down to stroke Thorin’s cock between them, imagining it in him.
Thorin does not laugh, as Bilbo almost expects, but lets out a shudder and a groan. “Don’t let me hurt you.”
Bilbo begins to nod but then Thorin is sucking his own fingers, is pressing them to Bilbo’s entrance and Bilbo is hungry for more with each second until finally he clutches Thorin’s shoulder and the king understands.
Thorin stares into his eyes as he presses into him, searching for any hint of pain, slowing as he sees it. Thorin’s palm is large and warm on his cheek. “You’re the most magnificent creature in the whole of Middle-earth,” he murmurs, and he begins to move.
There is no way to truly respond to that, but Bilbo says his name. “Thorin, Thorin.” He clutches Thorin’s back as Thorin moves in him. “Oh.”
Thorin’s hand slides down from his cheek, over his chest, his stomach, and down to his cock. “Tell me what you need.” He mouths Bilbo’s jaw, his throat.
Bilbo nearly chokes, hips thrusting up into Thorin’s hand and down onto Thorin’s cock. “You,” he gasps. “I need you.”
“Bilbo.” And Thorin is coming undone, his rhythm turning to a mess of stuttering speed and gasping breaths until Bilbo is falling with him and he’s spilling his release into the hobbit beneath him.
Thorin does not disconnect their bodies, just clutches Bilbo close. Bilbo’s fingers twine into Thorin’s long hair as Bilbo catches his breath. Their foreheads press together.
“Come back with me,” Thorin whispers.
Bilbo must’ve misheard him. “What?”
Thorin kisses him, slow and sultry and sated. “Come back with me to Erebor, my treasure.”
Bilbo hasn’t been home all that long. He has obligations. He has things to do around the house. He has–
He doesn’t have Thorin.
Bilbo nods, pushing his face into Thorin’s shoulder. “Yeah,” he says. “Alright.”
Now, Thorin chuckles, light like he’s never been. “Truly?”
Bilbo smiles. “For you.”
At least Bilbo’s last birthday in the Shire is a memorable one.
Thorin’s fingers are larger, clumsier. He is inexperienced with such delicate work, but each time he pictures the expression that might come to Bilbo’s face, he presses on.
It takes him a dozen or more attempts to create something halfway decent and then more care than he’s ever had to exert in order to reach his destination without crushing it.
“Close your eyes,” he instructs, and Bilbo opens his mouth--surely to ask why--but he trusts Thorin and he does as he’s told.
Ever so gently, Thorin places his masterpiece atop Bilbo’s golden curls.
When the task is complete, Bilbo smiles, his curiosity piqued. “Shall I take a look then?”
Thorin gestures acquiescence, although worry creeps in around the corners of his mouth. He follows Bilbo to the mirror and smiles to himself.
The very moment Bilbo sees it, his face breaks into soft contentment and surprise. Delicately, he touches the flower crown: some of the flowers are missing petals, have been crushed, the links barely holding.
He turns to Thorin. “Thank you.”
The anxious lines of Thorin’s brow and mouth ease and he cups Bilbo’s face. “I hoped you would like it.”
“It’s simple,” Bilbo says, and he’s up on the balls of his feet to get closer. “Like me.”
Thorin chuckles and presses a kiss to Bilbo’s lips. “You are anything but simple, my treasure.”
Fandom: The Hobbit
Pairing: Bilbo Baggins x Thorin Oakenshield
Words: 3,055
Note From Author: So, this one turned out to be a bit longer than I had originally thought. Hope you don't mind a few extra paragraphs for this one! :)
After Thorin had Bilbo pressed up against the ramparts, it is not Gandalf who stops him but The Company. Thorin wakes up from his dragon sickness for a moment as he sees what he has done and runs off, as does Bilbo. What will become of the two?
~x~
Bilbo’s chest heaved and shook as he was pressed against the sharp, rough surface of the ramparts. He was pinned down by a large pair of hands, pressing down on his shoulder roughly. The owner of his hands, however, was not someone that Bilbo Baggins would’ve expected to have done such a thing.
Thorin Oakenshield glared down at the hobbit as he had him pressed against the stony surface. The sickness inside him had him to throw the burglar over the side and the hobbit would surely die. Fear flashed through Bilbo’s body and his lips parted in a gasp as he looked into the eyes of the dwarf king. For this was not the same king whom he had journeyed with. This was not the same king who he had stood up for in Laketown and saved from the Orcs.
No, this was not the same king whom he had found himself in love with. Thorin’s blue eyes had grown cold and unexpected, his eyebrows forever furrowed in fury and darkness. His face twisted with anguish and a sense of angst. For Bilbo used to look into those same eyes and feel warmth and everything of home, something that the dwarves had not felt in a long time.
Part of the hobbit questioned himself as to why he had truly stolen such a jewel as the Arkenstone. He knew it was the kings jewel and the dwarf had them looking through Erebor in search of this treasure. He had kept it from Thorin and had given it to men and elves. Bilbo had thought it would’ve persuaded the king to stop when they were clearly on the brink of war. The thought of a great battle had Bilbo come to his senses and had come to Bard and Thranduil in Dale to seek a way to rid Thorin of his sickness by making him realise that war was not the answer they were looking for.
But that had caused nothing but more anger in the king and it seemingly had his blood boiling as he realised that the one person he had trusted was the one who ended up giving the men of Laketown and the elves of Mirkwood the Arkenstone. Bilbo. The hobbit had seen it all at once in the dwarfs eyes as he had turned to the small burglar. Emotions of pain, betrayal, heartbreak and anger.
Thorin’s voice had cracked and his eyes had blurred with tears as he had seen what Bilbo had done. But Thorin hadn’t realised that he had done it for the king himself. He had only seen an act that suited his title of a burglar. He was a thief and he had stolen what belonged solemnly to the dwarf. Anger boiled in his heart which lead to what was happening now. Bilbo struggled slightly under Thorin’s hands as his fingers dug slightly into his shoulder.
And then something happened. Something clicked in the mind of Thorin and his grip softened. Instantly, Kili ran forward, grabbing Bilbo by the arm and tugging him out of Thorin Oakenshields’ grasp with the help of Fili and Balin.
The king turned from the ramparts and looked at the dwarves and hobbit that stood before him. His breath shook and he raised his hands. They wrapped around the crown that sat atop his head and he pulled it from his head and glared at the shiny, decorated metal. He growled deep in his throat and threw it on the ground. It rolled and bounced with a loud clank and the king fled, pushing past Gloin and Ori quickly, disappearing around the corner.
And here Bilbo stood, his eyes following after Thorin until he left his sight. The dwarves stood still, unsure as to what they could do at this point. Kili and Fili still had their hands on Bilbo’s arms, and he softly peeled himself away from them, taking a step back. His eyes trailed down to the ground, his mind spinning. It took him a moment for his mind to take in what had just happened. The coldness of the look that his dwarf had given him, the pain on his back as the sharp edge of the wall had dug into his shoulder-blade and the urgency the dwarves had when they had pulled him away from Thorin.
It came to his mind all at once and brought with it an overwhelming sense of pain. Pain that struck through his body and through his heart. “How could he..” Was all that Bilbo croaked under his breath, almost a whisper. He stumbled back a few steps, before turning on his heel and running in the opposite direction that Thorin had ran. He pushed past Bofur, even after he had tried to grab Bilbo by the collar to stop him from running. The hobbit slipped past him and stumbled quickly down stairs that twirled and turned into the halls of Erebor.
~x~
He wandered through the mountain for what felt like hours. The cool breeze of the howling wind rushed into Erebor and pushed past the hobbit, making him shudder. The gleam of the dwarf gold shone beneath the pathway that Bilbo was walking across, far below him. The sickness that it held hadn’t taken the mind of the small hobbit, but it had given him a wary feeling and he walked quickly across the path and down some steps.
He came across the rooms of the mountain. It was kindly decorated, with carpets and intricate designs on the walls and door frames. Many doors stood on either side of the hallway, some open, revealing cushioned beds and wondrous paintings. Even with the dragon sickness hanging in the air like a heavy fog, the sight of such rooms were welcoming to the hobbit as they brought a sense of home to his mind.
Bilbo managed a smile as he wandered past the rooms, the thought of the previous acts leaving his mind. He trailed his hand lightly on the walls, outlining the designs that swirled and spiked. His eyes trailed upwards as he walked past the hallway, spotting beautiful lights that hung from the ceiling, gleaming with gems. The dwarf kingdom of Erebor was plentiful with their gold and jewels, and they seemingly made sure they had shown off their riches.
He made his way past multiple rooms, hallways and paths that eventually led him outside, to a balcony that resembled the ramparts that he was to be thrown over previously. However, that had left his mind as the cool wind pushed against his face and the golden light of the setting sun shone in his eyes. The golden light carried a sense of warmth, which he welcomed gladly. Bilbo closed his eyes for a moment, inhaling as a moment of silence hung across the land of Erebor.
Opening his eyes, he stepped forward, placing both hands on the rough, stony wall that stopped him from falling over the edge. Bilbo peered over the edge, his eyes meeting the sight of the golden army of elves that stood armed at the mountain door. War was amongst them, and it was clear to Bilbo that there was nothing in his power that could stop it. No matter how hard he tried, it seemed that Thorin had his mind set on not parting with a single coin of the treasure that lay in the towering piles in the mountain.
“Oh Thorin..” He mumbled aloud, his eyes fluttering as he felt tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. “If only you could see what you have become” Bilbo Baggins breathed into the air, the wind almost carrying his weak voice instantly.
It was true to the hobbit that he had fallen in love with the brooding dwarf. Of course, they were nothing alike. In fact, they were almost completely opposite. Thorin Oakenshield was bold, brave and carried the courage of the greatest warrior within him. Whilst, Bilbo Baggins, to himself at least, was nothing more than a common hobbit who happened to be in his hobbit hole at the right time.
Despite their obvious differences, Bilbo Baggins had found himself truly smitten with the dwarf king. When he had realised it in his heart, he did not know. But he knew it was there, nonetheless. He had caught himself gazing apon the strong body of Thorin many times and often had himself shaken awake by another member of The Company. For it was obvious to the other dwarves that Bilbo felt something for the king, and they found themselves seeing the same love in the face of Thorin Oakenshield himself.
But it was unknown to each that the other had replicated the same feelings to one another. They were both seemingly blind in love, and it would seem that they would have to let their feelings known through words, perhaps it could take only three words. However, the hobbit did not see himself saying such words to the great dwarf anytime soon, for his shyness was a great obstacle in his way.
But, how could one expect the hobbit to say such a thing after what the dwarf had done just a mere hour ago? Bilbo had looked into the familiar blue eyes of Thorin and had not seen the same dwarf he had fallen in love with. The sickness of the gold had taken over his mind and had caused him to perform such actions, so Bilbo knew in his heart that it was not his Thorin that had done such a thing. But nonetheless, it still hurt like it had been him.
His heart ached and he bit down on his lip as he tried to bite back the tears that swelled up in his eyes, blurring his vision. A quick and sharp breath escaped his mouth, carrying with it a small yelp. He blinked and the tears started flowing down his face. Bilbo leaned against the rampart, burying his face in his hands. His breath was shaky and his sobs were muffled, but strong and from heartache. The hobbits’ face flushed red from the tears that didn’t stop trailing down his cheeks, dripping on his palms. He withdrew his hands and tilted his chin up, his eyes gazing at the sky as he continued to cry. The burglar had never cried with such agony and pain before in his life, as it was a new feeling to him that was not welcoming.
The young hobbit did not bring an end to his crying, however, when the heavy footsteps on rough ground came from behind him. They stopped in place just behind his small frame and he did not make himself turn around. He would not be able to bare to look into the pained expression of one of the dwarves of The Company as they saw him cry. However, as the hobbit breathed in, he recognised the familiar scent of sweat, the groggy smell of fur and wilderness that washed around him as he felt a strong, warm hand rest on his shoulder.
He knew that it was not one of the light-hearted dwarves of The Company that he had joined on this company that he had grown to be friends with, for only one belonged to that warm scent. And this only made Bilbo cry harder as he turned around to face the dwarf that had threatened his life an hour ago.
The sun casted a golden light on the face of Thorin Oakenshield, bringing out his features that he had come to love. His lips, his beard, his jawline, his sharp nose. A soft breath escaped Bilbo’s mouth as his eyes came to rest apon the beautiful, blue color of the eyes of the dwarf king. Before, he had seen nothing but a dark and cold gaze from the dwarf. But now, they held the familiar warmth and love that Bilbo found himself getting lost in countless times before they had arrived to Erebor.
Thorin warily raised a rough and calloused hand from his side and rested it against the wet cheek of his hobbit, softly stroking his tears away. Bilbo’s breathing eased and his crying had calmed down, but he could do nothing to stop the tears from falling from his eyes. Thorin leaned closer and dipped down his head, resting his forehead against Bilbo’s.
The dwarf closed his eyes and inhaled, his eyebrows furrowing as he seemed to silently apologise for his previous actions. The hobbit nodded as if to accept them, before he peeled his forehead away from Thorin’s and burred his face in the dwarfs’ fur coat, his tears still leaving his eyes as to never stop. Oakenshield sighed into Bilbo’s golden curls, before wrapping his strong arms around Bilbo’s back, bringing him in closer. They slid down against the ramparts, until they hit the ground with a soft thud. Thorin sat with his back against the rough, stone wall and his legs lay open and stretched out. Bilbo sat in his lap, his arms curled to his torso and his head resting against Thorins’ warm chest. His breathing slowed and his tears finally seemed to subside, drying on his face.
The pair sat that way for what seemed like hours, their chests falling and rising together as they breathed in unison. The sun had set and the dark blue sky was dusted with stars and a moon that beamed down on the two. Bilbo sat with his eyes closed, his head nestled against Thorins’ jaw. Thorin too, sat with his eyes closed, his mind thinking only of his hobbit. Bilbo felt a wave of exhaustion hit over him and he struggled to open his eyes and gaze at the dwarf that held him.
“Thorin..” The hobbit whispered, his eyes searching the face of his dwarf. The king opened his eyes, looking down at Bilbo lovingly. “Shh..” Thorin mumbled, placing a long, soft, warm kiss on Bilbo’s forehead, earning a warm blush to spread on the hobbits’ cheeks and ears. A subtle gasp left his mouth as Bilbo felt the warmth of Thorin’s kiss against his skin. “I am sorry for what I have done” The dwarf whispered against his skin, before placing a kiss on his nose. “I was too blind to see it” He mumbled, pulling back softly. Bilbo gazed into his eyes, smiling softly as the small hobbit raised a hand to rest apon Thorin’s rough skin.
“You have changed” Bilbo whispered, noting his selfish and dangerous actions that the dwarf had shown for the past few days. “I kept thinking to myself..” The hobbit began, taking a breath as he looked at Thorins’ lips and then back to his eyes. “That if anything were to happen, you would be forgiven. For the dwarf king that held me from the wall back there was not the same dwarf I met in Bag End” Bilbo said, nodding to himself as the words of love flowed out of his lips without him thinking of it. “For that dwarf was not the same dwarf I fell in love with” He hesitated before he concluded, a small smile playing apon his lips.
Thorin looked down at the young hobbit with confusion and shock. For all he had done to this burglar was nothing but talk of him as a burden, that he had no place amongst The Company. What had he done to deserve the love from this hobbit was unknown to him. A word did not leave the dwarfs mouth, but a new expression played on his face. Something of love, but perhaps even greater.
Thorin leaned down, his eyes closing softly and his lips met Bilbo’s. The hobbit shut his eyes and welcomed the warmth of Thorins’ kiss. The dwarfs’ lips felt rough, but moved softly against his. Bilbo had never felt more love within him, and couldn’t stop a wide smile crossing his face as Thorin reluctantly pulled back.
Beneath his beard and hair, Bilbo could’ve sworn he saw the dwarfs’ face flush red. The king smiled a wide smile, a low laugh rising in the back of his throat. The two beamed up at one another for a moment, each sharing a small laugh. Thorin’s smile dimmed softly as he raised a hand to Bilbo’s face.
“Amralime, I love you” Thorin cooed, his low voice rumbling in Bilbo’s chest. His heart melted and Bilbo raised his head to place a soft kiss on the kings’ nose.
“And I love you, my king” Bilbo mused, his emotions dancing.
They sat for a while longer, Bilbo twirling Thorins long hair softly as the king hummed a dwarvish tune. It took a bit for the hobbit to realise how long the two had been gone from the company of the dwarves.
“I’m afraid we should get back. Don’t want them worrying about us” Bilbo smiled, against Thorins’ chest, pushing himself up. Thorin followed, stretching his back softly.
“A grand idea, master burglar” The dwarf smiled, extending a hand towards the hobbit.
Bilbo looked up at Thorins’ handsome face and grinned lovingly. He could not believe what a day this day had been. The same dwarf who had almost thrown him off the ramparts now stood in his company, his eyes full of a warm love that Bilbo now cherished deeply. The hobbit grabbed his rough hand, and the two walked past doors, hallways and paths that Bilbo had only just passed hours ago, when he had felt alone and broken.
He laughed to himself. Pre-adventure, Bilbo Baggins would never have thought that such a silly thing as an adventure could turn into something even greater than the greatest of treasures.
An unlikely couple, no doubt. For one would’ve thought the last person that a great king like Thorin Oakenshield would fall for would be a common hobbit from the hobbit holes of The Shire. For the two bore very different backgrounds and different traits. But they both had the same love in their eyes and smiles, that they could almost be seen as the same. And such a love it was, for it could be felt from the dwarves when the two returned to The Company. It was a strong love that would last them all their lifetime.
…
And that love would never falter.
~x~
Fandom: The Hobbit
Pairing: Bilbo Baggins x Thorin Oakenshield
Words: 1,730
Note From Author: After their run in with a pack of orcs, the hobbit excuses himself and goes to the river. Thorin follows and Bilbo doesn’t expect how the dwarf reacts to Bilbo’s actions.
~x~
Bilbo shook as a sharp and cool breeze blew through the camp, pushing his short, curly hair in front of his eyes. He shook his head, flicking the locks out of his view. He sat with his back leaned against the trunk of a great pine that stood overlooking the fire. The rough bark scratched his back when he adjusted himself, so he tried not to move much.
His arms were wrapped around his legs, protecting himself from the cold. It had been a long day of travelling. For the past few days, in fact, the weather had been downright terrible for walking; either raining or windy, and they were walking through difficult terrain. Walking up and down rocky paths and into muddy grass and slipping down slopes.
Cuts and bruises were now a regular thing for the hobbit to find on his arms and legs, so he merely ignored the stinging as his pants rubbed against them while he walked. The Company had been feeling groggy and grumpy, with little laughter and chatter. The nights were quiet and wary, especially now with the knowledge that orcs apparently roamed this lands.
And earlier that day, in fact, they had fought of a group of them. Bilbo had been snatched up by his jacket and had yelped as he looked into the dangerous eyes of an orc. Ugly of face but fierce and dangerous of heart. He had been scared for his life. Of course, the hobbit had never seen an orc- only had heard about them in myths back at The Shire. He had never suspected that such creatures existed and yet there he was, struggling to free himself earlier today. To his relief, however, Thorin had come to his aid and he was set loose of the hold. The stench of orc had left his nose hours later, but his jacket still seemed to reek.
Bilbo was shaking. If it was from the cold, it was hard to tell. In his mind, all he could see was the terrifying face of the orc that had took him and the warg which had growled in his face, baring it’s sharp teeth. Perhaps he was shaking from fear, a more likely factor for the little hobbit. They had found camp under a cluster of trees, which barely kept out the strong gusts of wind that came regularly at night. Bombur was preparing some type of soup, which they had almost every night. Ori and Gloin were discussing about how to dry clothes and that sort of stuff. Fili had jumped out at Dwalin, causing him to drop his weapon. Kili had laughed but almost instantly regretting it as the large dwarf had yelled at them.
Bilbo’s gaze slowly turned to the king, who sat on his knees tending to the fire. His back was to Bilbo, and his damp shirt hugged his body, exposing his back muscles through the blue material. A warm blush turned Bilbo’s face red as he caught himself staring. He wasn’t sure if he was to trust the dwarf before, but as their journey continued they had grown close.
Close as friends, no doubt. But something else had bloomed between them. What it was, Bilbo did not recognise. But he would in time to come. He had been grateful for Thorins' aid when he was to face the orc earlier today, but fear still ran through his mind and his body. He stood up abruptly, catching the gaze of Bofur who was on watch.
“It seems I’ve had a bit much to drink today” Bilbo huffed awkwardly, clenching his fists nervously before turning on one heel to walk away from the camp.
“You needn’t to be sharin’ that, but don’t go far, laddie” Bofur called out, before switching his gaze back to the forest in front of him once more.
Bilbo walked through dense forest for about two minutes, before he hit a clearing. To his relief, there was a river, big and deep enough to go for a swim in. It’s flat water had drawn insects to the surface and some certain type of bug glided on it’s surface, making small ripples in the water. Bilbo crouched at the edge of the river and dipped his hands in. It was cold enough for Bilbo to feel the freezing temperature prick at his fingers.
He cupped his hands, trapping water like a puddle and splashing it on his face. It was fine to wash up every once in a while, he thought. Sitting back, he put his hands behind him to support his back and stretched out his legs, a sigh escaping his mouth.
And for the first moment since he was new to the dangers on this journey, he felt the heartache of one being homesick. He longed for his warm fireplace, his safe town, his comfortable arm chair, even the pesky birds that would tap on his doors and windows in the mornings. His mind wandered to his filling meals and the folk music of the hobbits which even he would tap his feet to. And now here he sat, his legs aching and his eyes itching with tears. He sniffed, attempting to contain his sadness. I am alone, however. He thought to himself. And with this, he placed his head in his hands and began to weep. It was such a cowardly thing to do, he would think. To cry on an adventure. He needed to be strong, but strength wasn’t one of the hobbits’ greatest abilities.
“Master Baggins” A familiar, low voice came from behind him, startling him only for a moment.
Unlike he would’ve done in the past to prove himself, he didn’t stop crying. He brought up his knees and rested his head on them, breathing in shaking breaths, coughing as he tried to even his breathing. He felt a sudden warmth of a large hand press against his back and heard the rustling of grass beside him. Lifting his head out of his hands, he saw Thorin sitting next to him, his eyes showing of worry and symphony. His eyes were strikingly blue in the moonlight, shadows enhancing his sharp features. He was handsome, no doubt. But he was not used to seeing such emotion in his face. He was so used to him being locked away from the others, distant and concentrated on getting to Erebor.
“What is troubling you?” He persisted, his hand moving from his back to his shoulder so that the dwarf had an arm slung behind Bilbo’s neck.
“I am sorry. I shouldn’t be crying” Bilbo croaked, shaking his head.
He was determined that he would not show weakness to the dwarves, to prove that his company was something worthwhile. Especially to the leader of the group.
“Cry if you must. It is not a fault” Thorin assured, shuffling closer so that his side pressed against his.
Why was he being like this? So forgiving? Bilbo did not understand, nor know the answers to these questions. Instead, he coughed and allowed the tears to roll down his cheeks and onto his hands and knees. Thorin adjusted himself so that he could rest his forehead against the side of the hobbits’ head. He wasn’t used to the dwarf being this close and comforting to him. It felt warm. Really warm and safe. He hadn’t felt such feelings since their visit to Rivendell weeks ago. But this was something different, something more intimate.
Bilbo began to sob and the small hobbit turned his body quickly so that he was facing Thorin. He leaned forward so that his chin rested on the fluffy coat of the dwarf. He brought his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around his neck. Of course, Thorin was surprised at the sudden closeness of the hobbit. He, too, felt the warmth from the hobbit nothing less than comforting and homely. For that, he was grateful for the halflings’ presence. He smiled against Bilbo’s golden curls and wrapped a heavy, strong arm around the back of Mr.Baggins, pulling him closer into the embrace. Bilbo’s chest shook as he began to calm down, his breathing turning from rugged and fast to slow and calm.
They sat like that for a long time. So much of a long time that Bilbo felt as if they were there for hours. Bilbo took a deep breath and leaned back from the dwarf, sniffing with a slight shudder and looking up into the blue eyes of Thorin. The king smiled softly, before raising a calloused hand and wiping a stray tear from the corner of Bilbo’s eye. The hobbit blushed at his touch, feeling the rough skin on his was unfamiliar, yet he didn’t wish it to stop.
“We should get back. They’ll be wandering where we’ve gone off to” Thorin hummed, drawing his hand back from Bilbo’s face. He placed them on his knees and stood up with some effort, as his coat was slightly damp from the earlier rain and put on weight on his back. He offered a hand to the burglar and Bilbo happily took it, standing up as well.
“Thank you, Thorin” Mr.Baggins said, looking up at the dwarf as they were making their way back to the camp. Bilbo spotted the orange glow of the fire and heard some of the first rounds of laughter since their previous days of good-weather. Thorin looked down at the hobbit, catching his eye before quickly looking away. He nodded to himself, before he walked around a tree and into the sight of the dwarves.
Bilbo followed quickly after, returning to his spot against the strong bark of the tree that towered over the camp.The dwarves, hobbit and wizard had seen the lonely mountain from the rocky towers only days ago, and a new sense of hope had filled The Company.
What was to come, was unknown to them. But they would make it worthwhile, while they could. Bilbo Baggins needn’t worry about being homesick anymore. Somehow, he knew that he would soon forget about Bag End and would be excited to continue his adventure, for it was soon to come to an end. For he had found another meaning of warmth and felt the familiarity of home in another way, other than his hobbit hole.
...
That was of Thorin Oakenshield.
Fandom: The Hobbit
Pairing: Bilbo Baggins x Thorin Oakenshield
Words: 1,396
Note From Author: An AU where Thorin lived after the great battle of the five armies and chose to live with Bilbo back in The Shire. Many months have passed and Bilbo wakes to find Thorin and Frodo playing around together.
~x~
A soft buzz past Bilbo’s ear woke him from his deep slumber and he lazily lifted a hand to swat away whatever insect had flown past his ear. Drowsily, he opened his eyes and pushed himself up with his elbow. Blinking a few times, he took in his surroundings. He was not surprised to find himself in his familiar and warm hobbit-hole.
For a few months ago, he would’ve woken to quick and frantic breathing and would be surprised to find himself back home. But months had past since Bilbo’s return to The Shire and he couldn’t be more happy. Especially now because he was not alone. Yes, he had Thorin.
Thorin Oakenshield the great and majestic king who had travelled long and far to reclaim his homeland- only to leave it for someone he loved. Such a surprising act that the king had made, but Bilbo had made such a little argument. Only he had persisted for Thorin to stay in his kingdom, but he knew the stubbornness of dwarves and it didn’t take long for the hobbit to give in to Thorin’s decisions. They had traveled as only the two of them back home, spending their time together as one would think two lovers would.
Those were only memories, now. Bilbo inhaled slowly, recognising the sweet honey-filled scent of flowers and the town of Hobbiton. A soft wind blew through an open window in the bedroom that Bilbo lay in now, which would explain why a bee had flown in only moments ago, past Bilbo’s ear.
It was the doing of Thorin. Unsurprising to the hobbit, since he would constantly be telling his lover to close the windows at night. But the dwarf was used to the wind and the outdoors and hardly spent his time inside of Bag End. He normally wandered about, going for walks or exploring areas that he hadn’t already of The Shire. Of course, Bilbo would normally go with him. Thorin was one of a person to almost never leave his side- but the young hobbit never complained about his constant presence. It gave him a sense of security.
However, today wasn’t like most days. A few days back, Bilbo’s nephew, Frodo, had come over to stay with them. He had steered clear of the dwarf ever since he had glanced up at the huge and bearded dwarf. Young Frodo had never seen such a strong and threatening person before in his few years, so he had been nervous about Thorin.
But eventually the two had warmed up to one another, and now Bilbo could hear the deep laughter of his king and the light giggles of his nephew. Bilbo smiled a deep smile, before standing up in a sluggish-manner, scratching his elbow before trudging out of the bedroom. It was late-morning, the sun had a couple of hours before it reached it’s peak in the sky. Bilbo trudged down a hallway and stood just outside of the circular-door that still had some mark that Gandalf had put before The Company had left for their adventure. It always made Bilbo smile.
Flowers were bunched in bushes around Hobbiton. They decorated the town heavily, along with trees and other plants. Of course in this time, the town was buzzing with hobbits. This was a time to stock up on flowers, clothing, food, supplies. Anything that a hobbit could possibly need for living. A small giggle caught Bilbo’s attention, and he turned his head to the left. His eyes trailed down his path, past his bench and a little further down to where a small oak tree grew.
Underneath it’s growing branches, heavily armed with leaves, was a flower bed that Thorin and Bilbo had planted only weeks ago. The sight that now lay before Bilbo made him draw a whole-hearted smile.
Thorin had a large had planted on Frodo’s small and frail back lightly, big enough to cover the whole of his back. The other hand was digging a small hole in the soil. Bits of soil was already on his arms and legs, some even tangled in the ends of his hair. Frodo held both hands cupped together, dirt stacked up in a pile. Just on the top of the dirt was a small green plant just popping out of the top of the dirt. Frodo placed it slowly in the hole that Thorin had finished digging and patted it down roughly.
“Easy now, master hobbit. A flower needs gentle care in order for it to grow” Thorin hummed softly, adding a deep laugh.
Frodo giggled too and instantly softened his patting on the bed of dirt. A sneaky grin suddenly appeared on his soft face and he quickly turned to a pail of water that was on the grass next to him. He dipped his hands in the water, whipped around and flicked it at Thorin’s face.
“Gotcha, Uncle Thorin!” Frodo yipped, before rolling on the grass in a fit of giggles.
“Ohh, did you now, hobbit king?” Thorin teased, before crawling on his knees to face the small hobbit. Frodo’s black curls bounced as he hopped up, grabbing a stick and swinging it around as if it was a sword.
“Brave hobbit king!” Frodo corrected him, before lunging at him with the stick. He jumped on the broad dwarf, grabbing the fur of his coat in his small hands and poking him with his ‘sword’.
Bilbo laughed as Thorin fell backwards, gently swatting the younger hobbit on his shoulders and arms.
“You two kings are going to have to clean up before you go wandering back into your castle” Bilbo called out, nodding towards the hobbit hole. He smiled as Frodo popped his head out from under Thorin’s coat and ran over to Bilbo before wrapping his arms around his leg. The burglar leaned down and rubbed a hand on his head, earning a playful swat from the young hobbit.
“Aye, Master Baggins” Thorin’s low voice said from the garden.
The dwarf stood up, a small smile played apon his lips. “You’ve got yourself a real fighter here” The king nodded towards Frodo before looking back up to Bilbo. “Just like his uncle” He winked, before he leaned down to place a chaste kiss on the hobbits warm cheek. Mr. Baggins looked up at his dwarf and smiled, a warm blush of crimson arriving on his face.
“Oh, look! Look! Gandalf’s here! Gandalf’s here!” Frodo piped up, jumping excitedly as the small hobbit spotted the familiar, tall grey figure of the great wizard who had just hopped off a cart which was led by a hobbit and his donkey. “Can I go meet him? Oh, please please pleeasse?” Frodo beamed up at Bilbo, giving him puppy-dog eyes and pushing out his bottom lip.
“Alright, little hobbit. Off you go” Bilbo patted his head and the small hobbit ran off to greet Gandalf the Grey. Thorin turned to the hobbit, his eyes full of love and happiness.
“You’ve gotten to be quite close with the fellow, haven’t you, my king?” Mr. Bilbo Baggins smiled up at the dwarf, leaning against his shoulder as he watched Gandalf greet the young halfling. Thorin slung an arm across his shoulders, bringing him closer to his side. The hobbit nuzzled his face slightly against the soft fur that decorated the coat of Thorin Oakenshield.
“He’s not all that bad once you get to know him” He said, smiling one of his rare smiles which were full of emotion and love.
Bilbo looked up at his dwarf and for merely a moment, he could see nothing but Thorin. His deep blue eyes that Bilbo could get lost in for hours, his sharp figures, his low-voice, his beard, everything about Thorin to him was all that he could think of and see at that one moment. If he had died in battle, Bilbo would not have known what to do. Suppose he would go back to living a life of comfort, alone. Bilbo shook his head. No. No he must not think of it.
“What is it?” Thorin mused, raising an eyebrow as he had caught Bilbo staring at him.
“Oh, nothing” Bilbo paused for a second.
…
“You should smile more often, Thorin Oakenshield. It suits you”
