It was not so long ago that you had fallen and landed on your arm in a rather unfortunate way. It was the reason that your arm was now in a sling and almost unable to move, or at least the doctor did not want you to; it needed to rest, which meant no unnecessary strain. It left you incapable of properly washing your hair on your own, unlike the rest of your body. Luckily for you, there was a husband as kind as Bilbo in your life who was quick to offer a helping hand, and did not accept any way word.
So here you were, seated on a stool at the edge of your tub. Bilbo had just wet your hair and was now massaging in the bar of soap he was holding, cleaning up your roots and relaxing your body on the spot. His fingers were true magic as he cleaned your hair thoroughly, not leaving a strand untouched. "Almost done," He spoke up. "Just need to rinse it out."
You hummed as he grabbed the bucket filled with water close and began slowly rinsing the soap out with a cup before drying it with a towel.
Notes: What will Bilbo's reaction be when he discovers that someone has bought his house without him knowing?
Warnings: Bilbo x gn!reader; a little scary with a little plot; soft angst; SFW.
Bag End was a peaceful place to live, the hobbits were friendly and rarely started fights, the grass was green, there was a sparkling lake behind the hill, there were no wolves or dragons around... It was all the peace you needed after so many adventures. All the gold you got throughout your life, you spent to buy that house at the top of the hill, it was a difficult bargain, but it was worth it. The house was beautiful and huge, the coziest den you've ever been in, with round windows that allowed you to see the entire length of Bag End.
The house was perfect, the only problem was that strange things happened. First, your paintings kept falling off the walls, then you started losing things that were right under your nose, they suddenly disappeared and appeared in another place you hadn't left them, but the strangest thing was when started knocking on the door in the middle of the night and whenever you went to see there was no one. You tried to ignore it, coming up with an explanation for everything, hobbits love jokes like this, they must have just been trying to scare you into laughing a little. But the problem was when you started hearing footsteps and voices inside the house when you were sure there was no one there but you.
One afternoon, you were in the living room reading a book when you heard a loud bang coming from the kitchen, as if all the pans had been knocked over at the same time, glasses were being knocked down one at a time, the sound of glass breaking gave you goosebumps, but as soon as you arrived in the room, ready to catch the person who was tormenting your days, you were floored by the vision you saw. There was no one in the kitchen and there wasn't a single cutlery on the floor, all the dishes were stored in the cupboards and drawers as you had left them, was it all a figment of your imagination?
- Who is doing this?! Show up! You don't scare me, I'm not leaving! - you said, turning around and looking everywhere.
- This is not your house! - an enraged voice shouted from behind you.
When you turned around in fright, you found a small hobbit, wavy red hair and an angry face staring into the back of your eyes, how did he get in? Where did he hide? Or how did he pass by without you seeing him? And better: who was he?
- Who are you?
- The real owner of this house, Bilbo Baggins, and I should be asking who you are, intruder!
- I bought this house! I'm not an intruder! Get out of here!
- You get out of here! Now!!
Bilbo screamed and the walls and floor shook, you felt much smaller than the enraged hobbit, the residents of Bag End were usually peaceful, but that man seemed different, something told you that you had no idea what he was capable of.
- Look, there must have been a misunderstanding, I spent all my money to buy this house, and it was completely empty when I entered, I don't know if they lied to me, but if that was the case, they deceived us both.
- Sackville-Baggins, they must have been the ones who did this, those damned gold-thirsty... - he looked away from you and cursed under his breath.
- ... Well... And what do we do now? I have nowhere to go... - you started, afraid of irritating him again.
Bilbo was silent for a while, he shook his nose and walked past you to the living room, still silent, you followed him and when you arrived he was already sitting in an armchair with his back to you. A cloud of smoke beginning to form on the ceiling from the pipe he was smoking, the fireplace crackling in the background. He was fast.
- Bilbo...? - you called and he sighed.
- I don't know, it's not fair for me to kick you out when you were as deceived as I was... - he thought a little more and you waited - Stay, the house is big, we can share - he looked at you and smiled, now looking like a hobbit very different from what you had meet.
- Thank you, Bilbo.
[...]
The days passed and, to your surprise, it was very easy to get along with Baggins, after the anger disappeared, he revealed himself to be very friendly and kind, he committed himself to helping with the tasks and was very attentive, you never imagined you could have such deep conversations feelings with someone you had just met, but with Bilbo it was so easy, it was so comfortable to talk to him, you soon developed a deep affection for him.
- I never wanted to share my peace of living in Bag End with anyone, so I find it very interesting how you ended up becoming an extension of that feeling, and not a division, Y/n - he told you one night, a little before of you sleeping, taking you by surprise.
- You also brought me peace, Bilbo... - you smiled at him and, without thinking too much, kissed his cheek - ... Thank you for everything.
- Good night, Y/n - he said with the happiest smile you've ever seen on his face.
The next day you woke up early, Bilbo was already in the kitchen making coffee, you managed to get close enough in silence to scare him with a hug, he smiled when he saw it was you.
- Good morning, sleepyhead, did you have good dreams? - you confirmed without opening your mouth, still sleepy - I know you're sleepy, but can I ask you a little favor?
- Say...
- We ran out of nut cakes and I don't even have flour in the pantry to make another one, could you buy it at the market? People don't like me and the more I avoid them the better I get - you laughed and stretched.
- Okay, I'll go, but don't start eating breakfast before I get there! - you demanded.
- No way! - he joked.
At the market, you stared at the cakes in the window, unsure of which one to get while the bag of flour weighed under your arm. You didn't like nut cakes, but Bilbo did, so here you were.
- Can I help you? Oh! These were baked this morning, would you like to try a piece to choose? - the baker said.
- Oh no, it's not for me, it's for Bilbo, I don't particularly like walnut cake.
- For whom? - the baker asked with his eyebrows now drawn together.
- Bilbo, Bilbo Baggins, he's still living in the house on the hill - you were confused when the baker turned pale.
- I'm sorry but you must have been confused, as Mr Bilbo Baggins died decades ago.
- What? - now it was you who was confused.
- Yes, that's why the house was for sale, I don't know why Sackville-Baggins didn't keep it, as they always wanted it, but Mr. Baggins passed away and his grandson moved out, so the house was empty.
You left the bakery without saying anything else and without buying any cake. It wasn't possible, surely the baker had gotten confused, you had just spoken to Bilbo, touched him, he was making coffee in your kitchen, you were sharing the same house, how could he be dead? You entered the house, opening the door with force, causing it to slam against the wall announcing that you had arrived, the sound echoing throughout the house.
- Bilbo?!! - you called.
The house was silent, nothing, no one responded. You dropped the bag of flour at the entrance and started looking for the hobbit, the house becoming almost a maze for you. It seemed like every time you called his name it was like you were denying the reality that haunted you, it couldn't be true. When you entered his room, the room you left last, without even bothering to knock on the door first, it seemed like the truth was forcing you to accept it. He was gone. No, he had never even been here with you.
When hot tears came to your eyes, looking at the now emptier room, an item caught your attention, it was a red book on his desk. You picked it up and read the title: "There and Back Again". When you opened it, a small piece of paper that was inside fell out and landed on the bedroom floor, near the trunk. You took it and the tears finally fell when you read what was written.
“You were my best adventure, Y/n.
Love, Bilbo."
It was the only proof you had that everything you had experienced was real and not a lucid dream.
🧡 This is the last one, I just really love this gif of Bilbo.
After a week of not being able to write no matter how hard I tried, I was able to write this little thing. So thank you for helping me get out of my writing slump!
Hope you like it! 💚 💚 💚
*
"Do you need help?" you asked, your hand outstretched to the Hobbit in front of you.
"No, I'm perfectly fine thank you," he answered, waving his hand towards you in an attempt to usher you away. The barrel he was holding on to almost tipped over and he hurriedly grabbed it for support.
"You don't look alright," you said, putting your things down at the riverside, next to Bilbo’s tipped basket with tomatoes and the remaining barrels. "And since I know for a fact you can't swim, I am right to assume you fell in?"
Bilbo stuttered and huffed, appalled at the assumption you just made. Proper Hobbits didn’t fall in water, if they found themselves in a river or lake it was entirely by choice, thank you very much.
“If you must know, I saw this barrel floating away and I jumped in to try and retrieve it,” Bilbo tried his best to convince you. He would have gotten away with it if he didn’t look so panicked and if he didn’t have his fingers clutched around the edge of the barrel as if his life depended on it. Which was probably true, since he couldn’t swim.
You felt the corners of your lip twitch and you had a hard time keeping them from turning into a smile.
Bilbo closed his eyes.
“You saw me fall into the water didn’t you?” He sighed.
“Are you asking me if I saw you trip over your own feet? Or if I saw you throw your basket with tomatoes to safety while you tried to grab onto one of these barrels as a last resort to keep you from falling? Or if I saw you tumble into the water with barrel and all because you didn’t know it was empty, so it toppled over the minute you grabbed it?” you said, surprisingly keeping a straight face while you helped Bilbo climb onto the edge.
His clothes were soaked, his hair stuck to his forehead and he looked very, very embarrassed, poor thing.
“Because in that case... No, can’t say that I have,” you laughed.
You sat in a chair in the empty Bag End, wrapped in a blanket as the light quickly faded from the house – unable to will yourself to stand and light a fire or lamp nor cook dinner for Bilbo, who would be returning home soon. You knew he didn’t mind cooking, but you had told yourself the home would be welcoming when he arrived. That plan had gone out the window, though, with a visit from the midwife, who had confirmed the fears that had been making their way into your mind: you were with child. Your fears did not lie in Bilbo’s reaction nor in whether or not he would make a good father, but in what would happen after the child was born. Would it be like you? You certainly hoped not because you could not stand the child suffering as you had.
You heard the door open and heard your husband trip as he walked into the darkening hobbit hole. “Y/N?” he called out in confusion, wondering if you had left the house and why. Bilbo wandered through Band End, lighting lamps as he did so, eventually finding the sitting room. As he lit the lamp and the room was inundated with light, he saw you and started. “Y/N?” he asked quietly. “Dearest, why are you sitting in the dark?” The tears you had been holding back all day as you sat in numbness suddenly came as you let out a sob, which caused Bilbo to go into an absolute panic. “What’s wrong?” he asked, fear laced in his voice as he fought the urge to run screaming for help through all of Hobbiton. You shook your head, unable to answer in your state of distress. Bilbo took deep breaths and announced. “Nothing a good cup of tea can’t help.” He figured, at the very least, a cup of tea couldn’t hurt anything and it may at least calm you down enough so he could find out what was the matter.
He scurried to the kitchen and soon enough you both heard the kettle singing and he brought two steaming teacups full of chamomile into the sitting room. “I made your favorite,” he offered weakly as a beautiful teacup intricately styled with little, hand-painted flowers – an old family heirloom – was held out to you.
You eventually took it and began sipping the tea once it was cool enough to bring to your lips. Unsurprisingly, Bilbo had known precisely what to do to calm you. His kind gesture was enough to put an end to the tears and steady your breathing. After a short while, he set his cup down and you did the same, knowing full well he wanted to have a conversation now that you weren’t as obviously distraught. As he wrapped his hands around yours and brought a tender kiss to them, he gave you a devastated look. “My dearest, whatever is the matter so as to put you in such a state?” Bilbo knew you were not the type to become hysterical – and most certainly not over nothing.
“I’m so sorry,” you whispered. “I didn’t mean for this to happen.”
“For what to happen? Y/N, you’re giving me quite a fright.”
“We are to have a child, Bilbo, and I simply can’t bear it.”
The array of emotions that crossed Bilbo’s face in quick succession were as follows: delight, confusion, then rejection and devastation. He, of course, did not understand your reasons for not wanting a child and could only assume you did not want a child because of him. “I’m sorry you feel that way,” he squeaked, trying to hold back his own tears now as he felt every form of hurt imaginable.
“I’d been so careful so this wouldn’t happen,” you whimpered, “And I’m so sorry. You must hate me.”
“I don’t hate you.” He could never hate you. “Though I do wish you felt differently.”
“How could I feel any differently with the way things are?”
Bilbo mistakenly believed you were referring to your marriage. “I didn’t realize we had any problems.” Now he was more confused than ever. Were things really that bad?
It was your turn to be confused. “We don’t have problems, Bilbo, I have problems. You know how I am sometimes.”
He knew you suffered from depression and did everything in his power to help alleviate symptoms when you were having an episode and having difficulty keeping it under control yourself. In truth, you didn’t know if you would still be around if it weren’t for Bilbo. He had stuck with you during your darkest, most severe episode and gave nothing but loving support when you needed it. “But what does that have to do with anything?”
“My mother had it, too,” you informed him. “It’s just like it was with her, but worse. What if we have a child and they have it even worse than I do? I would not wish this on my worst enemy, least of all my own child.”
It all suddenly clicked for Bilbo. You were scared. “I thought for a moment you didn’t want a baby because of me,” he informed you shakily, desperately hoping that was not the case.
“Oh, Bilbo. Since even before we were married I have wanted to fill Bag End with your children. I love you so much and that’s why I’m so angry with myself. If something is wrong with our child, it will be all my fault that they hurt the way I have.” You once again began to sob at the thought of your child suffering all of that pain when you felt Bilbo wrap his arms around you in a comforting hug.
“If they are like you in that way, then I shall do with them the same as I have done with you: give nothing but unconditional love. I love you Y/N and I love our child so much already. We cannot change whether or not they have the same melancholic periods, but he or she will always know how loved they are and they are not alone. Besides, we don’t even know that they will be like that, so there is no reason to fret until we know. For now, can we not cherish that we will be parents?”
“Bilbo Baggins, you always know what to say. I’m still worried, though.”
“As am I, but we cannot let it consume our thoughts. Please, dearest, let’s celebrate for now.”
“Alright,” you allowed. “Let’s celebrate that, in a matter of months, we’ll have a little baby to dote on.”
Bilbo paced outside the door of your bedroom, trying to hear what was happening as best he could, and all he had heard so far were encouraging words from the midwife and your groans of pain. How he wished he was allowed in there with you. Suddenly, he heard the unmistakable cry of a baby that made his heart flutter. What was probably only moments – but what felt like an eternity – later, the smiling midwife stepped out of the room. “Mother and child are both wonderful,” the older hobbit woman announced. “Go on in, lad.”
Bilbo swiftly entered the room to see you cradling your child. “Oh, Bilbo, she’s perfect,” you informed him, amidst tears.
Bilbo’s own eyes flooded as he walked over and sat on the edge of the bed. “Of course she’s perfect. She’s our daughter.”
After writing a five page narrative for my online class, I realized I much prefer writing drabbles.
Interesting, isn’t it?
Songspiration (obvs): Shut Up and Dance by Walk the Moon and actually that video, too.
Word Count: 1889
“Bilbo Baggins, would you please stop sitting in the corner and come join the dancing?” Bilbo glanced upwards from the drink he was holding in one hand and found Gandalf standing before him. The wizard was frowning. “Pick up your feet and do a jig,” he ordered once he knew he had Bilbo’s attention.
The Hobbit sighed to himself. “I don’t want to,” he said.
The Shire was having its yearly Midsummer’s Eve celebration. Hobbiton was aglow with the lights of candles, and cheerful music was being played by the band that had gathered with their fiddles and other instruments. Of course, several tables piled with food were pushed off to one side of the main gathering point, and the Hobbits had taken to dancing in the middle of the field.
It was a merry gathering, but Bilbo was not feeling particularly merry.
“Why ever not?” Gandalf asked him, moving to sit down on a rock nearby the one Bilbo had claimed as his own perch.
Bilbo gestured, and Gandalf followed the wave of his hand. The wizard exhaled on his own accord when he saw what was bringing Bilbo down.
“I see.”
“You know that... my dancing isn’t very good,” Bilbo said. “I don’t want to embarrass myself.”
He returned his gaze to you, watching as you laughed and twirled under the arm of some Hobbit, before being passed onto the next dance partner in the line of those who were waiting to join you.
Before the journey he had disappeared on for almost two years, the two of you had been very good friends. You often had tea with Bilbo, and, when the two of you were younger, you went out into the woods together and spent all day exploring. Gandalf remembered coming to the Shire a long time ago, to find Belladonna, Bilbo’s mother, scolding the two of you for getting into some kind of trouble.
Needless to say, you had been great friends, until Bilbo had gone on his adventure. The fact that he had left you behind had hurt, and the fact that he had changed, and not entirely for the better, hurt even more. You had tried your hardest to rekindle the friendship, but Bilbo didn’t seem to want it back.
Little did you know, however, he didn’t want to scare you away with just how much he had changed.
Gandalf, it seemed, would have to be playing matchmaker.
The wizard glanced at the downtrodden Hobbit sitting on the rock next to his own. “You don’t dance that badly,” he said in an effort to make Bilbo laugh. The Hobbit didn’t even glance in his direction. Gandalf rolled his eyes upwards for a moment. “If you decided to join the festivities, I’m sure Y/N would be more than happy to dance with you.”
Bilbo shook his head, and Gandalf stood up from his rock to rejoin the party. He had to spin to avoid dancing Hobbits, and to cross the field to get to where you had moved away from the dancing to get something to drink.
You beamed up at the wizard as he joined you at the refreshment table.
“Hello, Gandalf!” you greeted cheerfully. “Your whiz-poppers this year were wonderful. They always are, though!”
“Thank you, Y/N,” Gandalf said. “I appreciate that.” He considered the best way to phrase his request as you took a drink. “I actually have something I would like you to do for me.”
“Really? What is it?” Like Bilbo had pointed to you minutes before, Gandalf now pointed to Bilbo, who was still sitting on his rock at the edge of the party. You frowned as soon as you spotted him. “He would be sitting there and pouting.”
“He wants to dance with you,” Gandalf said, his voice rising as the band struck up a new tune.
“Does he?” you asked, pretending to be surprised. Gandalf nodded, and you snorted. “Well, have the stubborn Hobbit come and tell me that himself, then.”
“Y/N,” Gandalf said patiently. “Please, go dance with him.”
“But Gandalf -”
“He’s making me feel sad, and no one should be feeling sad,” Gandalf interrupted before you could argue. “I know you miss how things were before; perhaps this will bring him back.”
“I’ve tried other things.”
“But have you tried dancing?” Gandalf queried. You had no choice but to shake your head, and the wizard once more gestured to Bilbo. “Go try it, then.”
Rolling your eyes, you made your way around the circle of dancing Hobbits towards were your ex-friend was seated on his rock. He glanced up at your approach, his eyes widening, and you forced a smile.
“What’re you doing, sitting here on your lonesome?” you asked him. “Come dance with me!”
“I don’t -”
“You danced plenty before that stupid adventure of yours,” you informed him, grabbing for his arm. “Shut up and dance with me, Bilbo Baggins.”
Bilbo didn’t know what to do, so he set his drink down on the rock and allowed you to pull him to the middle of the dancing Hobbits. He stared at you for a moment, acting as though he had no idea where he was or what he was doing.
You exhaled, and reached for his hand. “Come on, Bilbo.”
“I don’t remember how...”
“Well, then just keep your eyes on me, and follow my lead.”
Thankfully, a new tune was struck by the lead fiddle player just then, and it was one that had a dance that was supposed to be done along with it. You had to grin, and you scooted towards Bilbo.
“Surely you remember how to dance to this one,” you said into his ear, which you noticed turn extremely red as you pulled away. You waited to see what he would do.
Deep in her eyes
I think I see the future
I realize this is my last chance
Bilbo managed a grin, and he placed one hand on your waist, and his other hand took hold of yours. Then, thankfully, the two of you fell into step with the other Hobbits, who were all dancing around in the circle that was meant to be formed by everyone partaking in the dance.
You laughed as you were spun about, hopping along in time with the music.
“Are you laughing at me?” Bilbo asked worriedly, and you shook your head.
“Not at all. You’re doing fine.”
Much to his surprise, Bilbo found that he was actually enjoying himself, especially as you giggled while he twirled out outwards away from him, and then spun you back in.
Unfortunately, that was the final move of the dance, and the song ended with your back to his chest, your head lolling back against his shoulder. Before Bilbo could fully appreciate the position, however, you cleared your throat and pulled away from him.
“Good dancing with you, Mister Baggins,” you said. “I missed it.”
“Y/N...”
“Maybe you can come find me if you want to dance together again,” you went on, not letting him finish. With that, you nodded, and then skipped off, leaving Bilbo to stare after you, more confused and upset than he had been before the dance.
Gandalf reappeared then, smiling widely. “Well?” he asked Bilbo.
The Hobbit glanced up at him. “I think I lost my chance,” he said quietly before walking away.
Gandalf remained where he was, his grin fading into a frown. That wasn’t how things were supposed to have gone whatsoever.
The party was still going strong when you snuck away to get a breather from all the Hobbits who were waiting to dance with you. The place that you knew would hide you the best was the woods where you and Bilbo had so often gone as children.
You found yourself in a clearing where the two of you had spent many days, climbing up the trees to reach the highest branches, where you would tell one another stories, or read to yourselves from books. Lovely memories of companionship that had slowly disappeared as the years went past, and Bilbo had become more of a homebody.
“Do you think the carving is still here?” You jumped slightly at the voice, and turned to see Bilbo standing behind you. He was lit up from behind by the lights that were coming from Hobbiton, and he had his arms behind his back. “The one in the tree, I mean.”
“I’m sure it is,” you said. “Trees don’t regrow bark.”
The carving he meant was the one he had put into the tree where the two of you had spent the most time. He had done it with a rock, when the two of you were no more than teens, and the world had seemed to be waiting for you to journey into it together.
You crossed the clearing to get to the tree, and walked around it, feeling with your hand for the carving. Your fingers passed over the place on the trunk where there was no bark, and you smiled to yourself, leaning around it to speak to Bilbo.
“It’s here,” you told him.
He came over to where you were, and laughed to himself. “BB loves Y/N.” He glanced over at you. “Not very subtle, was I?”
“Nope,” you agreed, chuckling as well. “At least you didn’t keep it to yourself. Besides, the affections of a young hobbit are often just that.”
“What do you mean?” Bilbo asked as you walked away from the tree.
“I mean that... whatever you felt for me that long ago was just the affection a friend feels for a friend,” you explained. “You know?”
Bilbo frowned, and shook his head. “I’m pretty sure that wasn’t all it was,” he said. “I had the plan to marry you from the time we were both able to go out into the woods on our own. We would wed, and then we would spend our days traveling through Middle-earth together.”
You turned to look at him in surprise, before concealing it and glancing down at the ground.
“Yes, well, that was a long time ago.”
“Y/N, I’m sorry,” he said quietly.
“For?”
“For... being the way I was when I got back,” Bilbo said. “For not... telling you where I was gone, let alone not asking you to come with me. I just... I feared I wouldn’t be coming back at all.”
You raised your eyes to meet his. “So you let me think you had just up and left without considering my feelings about it. You... left me behind, Bilbo.”
“I know,” he answered, taking a step towards you.
“We promised we would never do that to one another.”
The two of you stared at one another for a moment, and then Bilbo looked away.
“I won’t do it again,” he said. “I swear it, Y/N.” He closed the distance between the two of you even further. “Can’t you forgive me?”
You tilted you head, studying him, and then you sighed and took his hand. “I did miss dancing with you,” you admitted with a roll of your eyes.
Thankfully, Bilbo laughed, and you hugged him. “I just missed you, Y/N,” he said.
“Well, you won’t have to worry about that now,” you told him, “because you’re not leaving me behind again.”
The next day dawned sunny and cloudless. The slight breeze chilled each Company member, all waking up soaked from the night’s rain.
Thorin took one look at the state of his companions and ordered that everyone was to stay put until the sun had dried them off. The command received sighs of relief, and the Dwarves shuffled around to find the brightest area of the clearing they had made camp in.
You made your way over to the only Company member that didn’t move from his spot, and you plunked down beside him.
Bilbo glanced up at you from his task of pulling small white flowers from the grass, but only made eye contact briefly.
“You look like a drowned cat,” he commented after a moment.
You had to smile. “I could say the same of you, Hobbit.”
“Why are you talking to me? Did something miraculous happen overnight?”
“You could say that,” you said after a moment’s thought. You glanced past him and saw Thorin watching the two of you, only instead of glaring, he had a sort of smirk on his face.
You stuck out your tongue at him, and Bilbo noticed, looking from you to Thorin and back again. “What was that?” he queried.
“A bit of common ground,” you explained, turning your eyes from Thorin’s to meet Bilbo’s. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“For acting the way I have been.” Bilbo started to shake his head, but you reached out and placed your hand against his cheek. “Just listen for a second. I thought that there was a problem involving my affections for you, but I learned last night that there is nothing other than my own incapability of showing you love.”
“You show love just fine,” Bilbo said, blinking.
You offered him a smile. “You know that’s not true, but I aim to fix that.”
“Why now?” Bilbo asked. “I don’t... I don’t have anything to offer other than... well, my own love, I suppose.”
“Which is more than enough for me.”
Bilbo gazed at you a moment longer before he chuckled and took your hand in his. “What a pair we make,” he commented. “A Hobbit and a human.”
“Do you have cause to question it?” you questioned, a small tinge of worry beginning to break through the happiness you felt.
“No!” Bilbo said quickly, seeing the look on your face. “No... I don’t.” He grinned. “Why else do you think I tried so hard to make the Company invite you to join us?”
“Bilbo Baggins!” you exclaimed, laughing.
“I thought you were beautiful,” Bilbo went on. “I... I wanted you to be with me - with us, I mean.” His cheeks flushed a deep red. “That was extremely forward. I apologize.”
“Don’t,” you said softly, using your fingers to cup his chin and lift his head. “I want to be with you, too, sweet Halfling, who longs for the comfort of home.”
The corner of his mouth raised in a smile. “I have no need for home with you here,” he said.
You giggled despite how serious he looked, which, you supposed, added to the outburst. Bilbo furrowed his brow. “What?”
“Nothing,” you told him, chuckling. “Just... do try to keep your lamentations to yourself.” You nodded towards Thorin, who had a very clear look of disgust on his face. “Some aren’t used to affection.”
Bilbo joined in your laughing, and the two of you settled back to dry off in the warm sunlight, fingers intertwined.
You left as soon as the sky turned dark and the Company turned in for the night, curled up as close to the quickly diminishing fire as they could get. It was very, very dark, probably due to the thick clouds floating before the moon, but, being a hunter, you could find your way through even the thickest darkness, blindfolded.
At least, you could do that, without rain in your way.
You’d gotten no more than a half-hour’s worth of walking away from where camp had been set up before it started to pour. The thunder and lightning came first, of course, but only for a few minutes. Seconds after the rain started, you were drenched from head to toe, your clothing sticking to your body. It was cold rain, to boot, and so you were shivering violently, your teeth chattering loud enough to startle small creatures in the undergrowth around you.
Still, you had to get away from camp, so you marched on, your shoulders hunched and your head bowed against the worst of the downpour, doing your best to keep your focus on the ground so that you wouldn’t trip over a rock and fall face first into a mud pile. That would just be the highlight of your evening.
You were so intent on not falling that you didn’t realize you were being followed. Of course, your tracker was staying well enough behind you that it would have been hard to notice even if you hadn’t been staring at the ground, the rain and thunder filling your ears.
No, it wasn’t until you reached a clearing filled with water and you stopped and lifted your head, that you felt eyes on your back.
You looked fruitlessly over your shoulder, for some reason thinking you might be able to see whoever was following you. You couldn’t, and so you shook your head, blinking water from your eyes.
“Listen, I’m not really in the mood for a fight, so if you want to kill me, go ahead,” you declared above the sound of the rain. You let the bag you’d taken drop from your shoulder, and you held up your hands. “If you don’t do it, the cold will.”
“I have no intentions to kill you, huntress,” a voice returned in the break between thunderclaps. Much to your surprise, Thorin pushed his way out of the trees and stood before you, arms crossed. “That would do you, nor I, any good.”
“Master Oakenshield.” You straightened your shoulders despite the still pouring rain, and tilted your head. “What are you doing out here?”
“Out here is no different from back there, so I should ask you that same question,” Thorin answered, stepping closer. It was rather hard to tell, but you thought there was a hint of worry in his eyes. “Why did you leave?”
You glanced upwards at the sky, wincing as cold rain pattered against your face. “This really isn’t the best time nor place to have a discussion on the matter,” you said after a moment, cringing as thunder crashed and lightning flashed. “Perhaps you should return to camp, and I should return to my own journey.”
“You would so easily leave behind the halfling you are in love with.”
You stopped walking and glanced over your shoulder. The added distance between the two of you made it more difficult for you to determine what his feelings on the matter of your love were.
Sighing, you turned around fully. “So you do know why I left.”
“I know that Master Baggins is at least part of the reason,” Thorin agreed. He closed the remaining distance between the two of you. Though he was a good three inches shorter, you felt like you had to look up at him in order to reply.
“I know that my feelings for Bilbo directly affect yours,” you said, unable to keep your voice steady.
You could see Thorin’s brow furrow. “What do you mean?” he asked.
“I know that dwarves have their One true love thing that they have to deal with, and if Bilbo is yours, I don’t want to be the cause of heartbreak for you.”
Thorin was scowling. “You think that the halfling is my One?” He snorted. “Humans are ridiculous. No, huntress, that is not the reason I have been glaring at you these past weeks.” You frowned, and he sighed. “The burglar is smitten with you, and I feared that his affections would draw him away from what he is supposed to be worrying about.”
“But -”
“You leaving would break whatever will he has,” Thorin continued, ignoring your attempted interruption. “The cost of you leaving is much heavier than the cost of you staying.”
The sky lit up with unannounced lightning, and you saw Thorin had something on his face that maybe resembled a smile. “Please, come back to the Company,” he said. “For Bilbo.”
You lowered your gaze to the ground and studied the toes of your boots for a moment, weighing your options. Here was the one person who you had thought opposed your feelings for Bilbo, telling you to act on them. What other sign were you waiting for?
Smiling to yourself, you lifted your eyes and met Thorin’s. “Bilbo doesn’t need to know I left, does he?”
Thorin shook his head. “He won’t be hearing it from me.” You nodded, and he gestured with his head. “Come. You’re better suited to finding our way back to camp in the downpour than I.”
You chuckled and took the lead as directed, looking forward to the next morning. If you could wait that long.
This imagine has been sitting in my Likes for far too long. It’s about time I gave it a story arc. And yes, that does entail a part one through three, probably.
Word Count: 782
Kind of short, but think of it as a prologue, sort of. I JUST WANT TO WRITE THE REST OF IT, MAN.
Let me write my Bilbo love.
(I also wrote this while I was watching Fellowship. Inspiration?)
It wasn’t planned. Of course it wasn’t. It just... sort of happened, and once it started, there was no stopping it.
The Company had discovered you in a roadside tavern, a huntress down on her luck and with no one needing your skill. No one, at least, until this group of dwarves and a hobbit and a tall wizardly fellow strolled into the tavern, and you started talking to the hobbit.
At first, the dwarves hadn’t necessarily agreed with the hobbit’s insistence that they needed someone like you. A lot of ale later, however, you were leaving the tavern with them, on the back of your own horse.
As time went on, traveling with this odd group of companions, you came to appreciate each and every one of them for little things. The littlest member, however, you came to appreciate the most.
You couldn’t stand it. He was too cute for his own well being, and it killed you every time he offered to help with a task more suited for someone bigger than him. His determination to see the expedition to the end, despite missing his home in the Shire, which he spoke of fondly to you, made you long for his return as well.
Not to mention that thing he did with his nose. Good Gods.
During the attack in the trees, when the brave hobbit had scurried out of the tree and run to the aid of the Company’s leader, you didn’t know whether to panic or be extremely proud and... something else. Unfortunately, the panic won out, and you screamed out his name, willing him to stop and turn, and run back to you with reassurances that he was fine.
Of course, he was fine, and he didn’t need to give you any reassurance. Bilbo stood his ground, aiming to protect Thorin’s life with his own, and once again, your feelings for the hobbit grew, loving the courage that had blossomed within him.
You weren’t just in love with his courage, or his determination, or his wish to return home. You were in love with Bilbo.
It seemed, however, that you were not the only one who had noticed the strength in the hobbit. Thorin had suddenly taken a much higher interest in him as well, and whenever he’d see you looking at his burglar, a sharp glare from the dwarf would turn your eyes away immediately.
And poor Bilbo had no idea why you were suddenly avoiding him at all costs. He’d come to you, holding a flower he’d found, wanting to ask you if you thought it was pretty or just plain gaudy, but it was very hard to do that when you ducked into a nearby wood to hunt and hide, concealing your feelings from him, and trying to get rid of them from yourself.
One evening, however, you didn’t get away fast enough, and you winced as Bilbo said your name from directly behind you, his voice quiet, and, much to your despair, riddled with hurt.
Slowly, you turned your head so you could look at him from over your shoulder. The hobbit was looking up at you, hands clasped before him.
“Why are you hiding from me?” he asked, brow knitting together. “Did I do something wrong?”
Your heart twisted, and you rotated around fully. “No, Bilbo. You could never.”
“Then what’s... what’s keeping you from me?” Bilbo winced. “That didn’t come out the way it was supposed to. What I meant was... why do you avoid me like I am an illness you do not want to catch?”
Because I have already caught you, and someone else has as well.
Your eyes drifted past the hobbit and met Thorin’s, who was watching your interaction with Bilbo through a narrowed gaze. You took a step backwards, and Bilbo gaped up at you, distraught.
“What’s the matter with me?” he questioned, his voice breaking.
You wanted nothing more than to get down on your knees, draw the hobbit into a tight hug and never let him go, but you couldn’t do that. It wasn’t right. Not for him, not for Thorin, and not for you.
There was only one thing that would work, for all of you. You needed to leave, to race away from your feelings and from the Company. From Bilbo.
So, instead of hugging him and placing reassuring kisses all over his face, you merely took another step backwards and shook your head. “I’m so sorry, Bilbo,” you whispered.
Before he could speak, you turned on your heel and ducked into the trees directly behind you, the sounds of the wood silencing your sobs from the ears of hobbit and dwarf, but not from yourself.
