#hobbitsecretsanta

[hobbitadvent]

Secret Santa number 12

Hello! Tell me if this looks weird or turns up blank or something. I've had trouble getting it submitted

The Tales Don't Tell Of This "Help me break into the treasury." "Um...no." Kili blinked in surprise. Fili never told him no. Well, rarely. Sometimes. Mostly. When Kili just stared (using his best puppy eyes) Fili sighed a little. "Gold sickness, remember?" He asked his brother as if either could ever forget. "How would it look for Erebor's princes to get caught sneaking into the treasury?" "Then we won't get caught." Kili grinned. Fili might've rolled his eyes. Kili wasn't paying that much attention. "Not worth the risk. Just ask permission to go in." Fili said turning back to his swords. "Well where's the fun in that?" Kili pouted.  Fili kept sharpening his swords. "The last time you said that we had extra training time with Balin for a month, remember? Everything we never cared to know about court etiquette AFTER Dwalin trained us so hard it hurt to breath. Think of something else, Kili." Kili pouted, Fili ignored it and eventually Kili sighed dramatically before he left. "I need to get into the treasury." Kili dropped down in the chair across from Balin. The older dwarf looked up at him in mild amusement. "Why?" Kili grimaced. "Can I keep it a secret?" "No." Kili groaned and flopped his head back, arms flinging dramatically off the chair's sides. "Pleeeaase?" "No." Now Balin looked amused and picked up his quill again. Frowning, Kili sat up and bit his lip. "I want to get something for Thorin." Balin straightened and stared at him a long moment. "No, lad. The last thing Thorin needs is treasure." "I'm not giving him treasure! Just a-" Whatever he was going to say died out of frustration as Balin stared at him patiently, a little sad. "He doesn't need treasure, laddie, and he wouldn't appreciate it if you gave him any. He's still wary of the sickness." "Yeah, I know." Kili sighed, disgruntled, and thought about explaining to Balin but the older dwarf was already distracted by his work and Kili bit his tongue. "Then off with you." Balin said kindly. "I'm sure we both have work to be done." Kili left again, less dramatically than he'd entered and tried to think of what to do next. "Hey, Nori!" Kili popped up beside the dwarf. "Nooooo." Nori said, eyeing him. Kili grinned a little forcefully. "You don't even know what I was going to ask." Nori raised both brows at him and looked amused. "You want to get into the treasury for Thorin. I just don't know exactly what you're after." Kili shifted on his feet, face falling a little. No one else had asked, not even Fili. Of course they were all busy. There was lots of work to be done in rebuilding the mountain and even he should be working, but no one had asked why he'd want something for Thorin nor why Kili thought it was important. Nori eyed him a minute then slapped him on the back, tugging him out of the crowd of the market and into more privacy. "What is it you're after?" The older dwarf asked bluntly, his voice surpringly kind. "I won't sneak you into the treasury but I can...find things." Kili stared and wondered for a moment if he was being reckless dealing with the company thief. (Not to be mixed up with the company's Thief, as in Bilbo.) Then Kili gave a mental shrug. Nori would understand. He was part of the company, after all. "I was just going to get a couple of things. Nothing big or expensive. Just some beads." Nori's brows rose again, this time in curiosity."They sell beads in shops. You can make your own in the forges." "Yeah. I KNOW." Kili hissed, aggrivated, and bounced in place. "I don't have time to make some. Not yet. And I-" He sighed before looking earnestly at Nori. "Look- He's king, Nori. Our King. But have you seen him? He doesn't dress as a king. Since the battle he's...lost something." Kili looked into Nori's eyes and saw understanding. "I just want to give it back. Or at least...at least try." He finished clumsily. The two dwarves stared at each other for a long moment before Nori nodded. "Well, then I can help you." To Kili's never ending disappointment, there was no big heist. No sneaking or battle or, things may be getting a little quiet around the mountain because all that happened was Nori vanished for a while and at dinner that night the dwarf offered Kili a handful of choices. Fine quality, not extravagant, but nothing that could be just found in the marketplace. Kili murmured his thanks and Nori gave him a wink and both ignored the suspicious looks Dwalin shot them from the end of the table. Thorin didn't notice. And that was what all of it had been about. Thorin. Because it was Yule, the nights filled with feasts. Outside the winter was cold and wet, the land before Erebor a wasteland. It was still littered with the detrimous war leaves behind, blackened trees and funeral pyres. Most of all there was Thorin. It wasn't all bad. Thorin had survived, but he moved slowly through his kingdom's halls. He was thin from the quest and his injuries, but he also carried himself less...tensely than ever before and it wasn't Kili's imagination that the sadness that had always lingered in his eyes had faded. Yet something was wrong. He still wore the same cast offs as the other dwarves. His hair and braids were still bound with pieces of twine instead of the fine clasps he'd earned. While he still moved with confidence and determination, he'd lost...something. A kingly part of himself. Whether it was the battle or the gold sickness that had done it to him Kili could not say but he missed it. His Thorin. His uncle. His King. Thorin strode into the royal apartments, thoughts far away on things that needed done and plans to be made. He'd skipped half the feast that night in favor of getting work done and was tired and weary in a way he wasn't used to yet. He stretched going in the door expecting only quiet and solitude since the others had wandered off drinking together earlier then stopped in surprise at the sight of Kili standing in front of the fireplace, obviously waiting on him. Thorin paused, wary at the look on his nephew's face as Kili stepped forward.  "Thorin, I wanted to talk to you." He started and tried to look more confident than he felt. Thorin had never been a dwarf who took someone worrying about him well. As expected Thorin scowled a little, obviously wary. "What is it Kili? We've got a long day tomorrow. There's the Yuleday festivities with Dale and Mirkwood representatives and more dwarves coming in despite the bad weather..." Already Kili could see his uncle's thoughts wandering ahead to what needed done. "Yes, I know, but I have a present for you." Kili said quickly and moved forward opening his hand. The beads he'd chosen were there. Two matching for the front braids and two larger clasps for the back. They were silver which Thorin had always favored even before the gold sickness. The pattern was subtle, a little line of blue color patterned in the metal. The larger clasps were plainer, but the pattern was reminiscent of the Durin crest. Thorin didn't even look that close, though. He immediately started shaking his head and moved away. "No, Kili. No treasure. No jewels." "You're a king." Kili interrupted before Thorin could escape. "Our king. And we'd have you look it. Even in part." Thorin paused then turned and faced him. Kili looked so sincere, so worried. It wasn't just the pleading eyes that typically got him whatever he wanted, it was the earnestness. The sincere worry. Thorin closed his eyes against it but it did no good. Even if he could ignore Kili, even if he didn't have a soft spot for him, he knew his nephew wouldn't let it go. Taking a deep breath, Thorin put a hand on Kili's shoulder and leaned into him a bit. Kili leaned back, reveling in the affection, the quiet comfort of being close. "I don't want it to happen again, Kili." Thorin admitted, his voice low but strong. "How I treated Bilbo, how I treated you and Fili and everyone else-" He shook his head, eyes dark and pained when they met Kili's. "I don't want to lose what is important again."  "I thought you'd say that." Kili smiled a little and at Thorin's surprised, doubtful gaze, opened his palm again. "These aren't jewels, Thorin. They aren't treasure. They're us." Kili said proudly. Thorin looked puzzled and Kili dropped the beads into his uncle's palm one at a time. "Fili and myself." He said with the smaller, blue patterned stones. "And mother and Uncle Frerin." He said with the two larger clasps. Then he looked up and watched Thorin stare at the beads, face stark with worry and pain. "I know they're not traditional beads, but I also know you don't want to be tempted." Thorin looked up at him with raw, heartbreaking eyes and Kili smiled, grasping his Uncle's hand. "Just think of these beads as us. The line of Durin." Kili's smile turned wry, but he was just pleased Thorin hadn't pulled away yet. "We Durins may not be as fine as we once were, we may have been through a lot and some of us might be gone, but are still here." Kili said fiercely. "We're together. We won't let the same mistakes happen again. Not to any of us. But you, you need to be a king. Look like a king. Feel like a king again, and not like this... regretful leader." Kili closed his hand over the beads and peered up at his uncle, faces close. "Trust me. Trust us. Please." Kili whispered fiercely. "We won't let you stray again and together we can make Erebor great. Better than it ever was." Silence stretched a moment. Tense enough Kili barely breathed. "Why?" Thorin asked finally, his voice rough as his eyes searched Kili's face. Kili thumped his forehead against his Uncle's and held it there, closing his eyes and savoring the contact until Thorin started to relax. "Because we're family." He whispered in the space between them. Thorin leaned into his nephew for a long minute before wrapping him into a tight hug. It lasted a while but Kili found himself smiling, the mood around his Uncle lifting. That cautious broodiness turning into a much more familiar gruff affection. Then Thorin drew back and held the beads out to him. "Help me put them in." He said in his more normal, commanding tone. Kili smiled at it and resisted the urge to laugh with relief as he nodded. Thorin settled on the floor before the fire, still looking a little broody, but less...dark. Kili collected what they needed and silently unwound the worn threads that tied Thorin's current braids. Annoyed by them, he tossed them onto the fire and started brushing his uncle's hair out in smooth, companionable silence. The strands were thick and heavy, trying to curl once free of his braids but Kili took his time smoothing them, separating the pieces in preparation to be braided. Thorin leaned back into his legs, slowly relaxing, a low hum starting deep in his chest. Smiling, Kili picked up the tune as he started the first braid, both actions more home than the Blue Mountains or Erebor were. The first clasp went on easily, shining in Thorin's dark hair. The second shone in the firelight, a crow in flight rippling across metal. Then Thorin turned his head to do the front braids. Kili saw his face was relaxed, eyes half closed in contentment. The hum slowly grew into song as the braids wound to completion, first one, then the other, a bead capping each. Kili smoothed them with steady fingers but Thorin didn't move and neither spoke again. In the dim firelight the night grew darker and two voices sang contently together as Yuleday slowly came.

[hobbitadvent]

Secret Santa Prompt 11: Traditions

Note: This will also be published on AO3 in the next couple of days, at this account. 

Summary:

It’s been nearly two decades since the end of the Quest of Erebor: two decades since Thorin Oakenshield began his glorious reign as King Under the Mountain, two decades since the same Thorin Oakenshield was wed to the heroic halfling Bilbo Baggins. 

And now, just in time for the holidays, Bilbo thinks it’s about time for something new. Little does he know the chaos he is about to unleash, and the trouble he just might get himself into…

[See end note for Khuzdul and Quenya translations, and the sources for certain holiday elements.]

Traditions

It was the very end of the autumn in the 2961st year of the Third Age of Middle Earth, and cold winds were just beginning to blow round the slopes of Erebor, the peak which housed the great kingdom of King Thorin II Oakenshield. 

In the depths of the mountain, two figures were walking the stone corridors together: a short figure, a halfling, his bare feet moving doubly quick to keep up with his taller companion, a regal dwarf clad in a simple tunic of dark blue, with an ornate silver crown sitting on his greying head, whose deep voice echoed into the adjoining halls. 

“It is simply impossible for me to be away from my kingdom for that length of time, Master Baggins," Thorin said as he continued to stride along the path to the chambers of the court, “It’s a very long journey to Duban Felekulbizar – to Rivendell.” He watched his own boots scuff along the marble floor, until he realized the hobbit’s feet were no longer walking beside his.  

When Thorin turned around, he saw that Bilbo had stopped several yards down the corridor. 

Standing with his hands on his hips, Bilbo said, “Now don’t you go ‘Master Baggins’-ing me, Thorin, we’ve been married for nearly twenty years. I think you can afford to call me Bilbo.”

Thorin sighed. “Bilbo, this simply can’t be done. Who exactly is supposed to rule while I’m gone?” 

“Why, Fili of course!” Bilbo said, like it was a stunningly obvious answer: “you’ve been complaining since last Midsummer that he needs some real political work to dig into. Please, Thorin? I’ve been writing to Lord Elrond about it for years, now.”

Thorin hemmed and hawed, muttering into his beard, which gave Bilbo to the opportunity to kiss him soundly on the cheek and announce, "It's settled then. You and I and a small company shall go to Rivendell for Yuletide, Fili and Kili can keep an eye on things here, Balin can keep an eye on the two of them, we'll all have a grand old time, and be back here for the first feasts of spring!" 

And Thorin found himself swept down the hallway toward the council chambers, apparently with the intention of handing the throne to his nephews for the season, and going off to spend “Yuletide” with the elves instead of being with his people for Sulûn Kheled Kibil and the candle-lighting. 

Durin’s beard, Thorin cursed. How had it come to this? 

~

The day after the first whisper of frost began to grace Erebor’s highest point, the King Under the Mountain rode out the grand front gates, accompanied by his husband the Prince Consort, and a company, consisting of Lord Dwalin son of Fundin, Lords Ori and Nori, sons of Korin, and Lady Dís daughter of Thrain. Their ponies were the sturdy creatures now bred in Dale, built like the draft horses of men, with soft dark coats and thick white feathers about their heavy hooves. 

The company moved in relative safety through the Greenwood, quiet and frosted with winter's snow. The plains north of the Gladden Fields were similarly dressed in glittering ice, the long grass trailing its tips, dry and brown, through the thinner snow drifts. 

Through a pass high in the Mountains of Mist their paths led, and, wary of arousing undesired attention, the company were quiet, and they bound the feet of their ponies with cloth so their hooves would not strike the hard rock, and they made no fire despite the cold. The tall peaks and sheer cliffs passed this way on either side, until they came safely to the green western lands. 

There at the feet of the mountains they made their first real camp since they had left the shelter of the Greenwood, and Dwalin and Ori set a fire going, and there was roast meat and cooked apples all round. 

All was well – the Lady Dís was telling a story of her brother during their childhood and Bilbo was trying very hard not to laugh – until the company heard the sound of hoofbeats rapidly approaching. Everyone quickly jumped to their feet, and dust was kicked over the fire.

A company on horseback rode now swiftly toward them. Instinctively, Thorin pulled Bilbo behind him, and his fingers twitched toward his weapons. But Bilbo was unconcerned. He put a gentle hand on Thorin’s shoulder, and, stepping around him, called out to the rider on the foremost horse, a huge white stallion with grey threaded through his mane. 

“Is that Glorfindel and mighty Asfaloth I see?” Bilbo asked, a smile playing on his lips. 

“Indeed it is,” came the reply. The elf leapt down from his saddle and removed his helm. A joyous grin was on his golden face as he said, “Hail, Bilbo Baggins of Erebor. Hail Thorin King. You are most welcome in Imladris.  But why do you dwell in the shadows of the valley? You are long expected at the House of Elrond.” 

Again Bilbo spoke for the group, though now his hand had gone around his husband’s waist: “We did not know we were so close to the Last Homely House! We thought surely we had several days of travel ere we reached you – but come, Lord Glorfindel, let us depart from these woods and come instead to your starlit home.” 

In this way, a company of the Dwarves of Erebor entered Rivendell on the first night of Turuhalmë. 

~

They were given a short tour of the House of Elrond by a quiet, dark Elf whose dark grey robes only partly succeeded in hiding the ink-stains on his fingers. When Bilbo – still the only member of the group inclined to talk to the Elves – asked his name, he replied, “I am Erestor, a counselor of Lord Elrond. I was told my Lord’s Steward, Lindir, refused his duties today.” And Dwalin chuckled. Erestor gave him a look, but said nothing, and merely led them through the darkened halls of Rivendell, through which the sounds of merriment echoed. 

In this way their ponies were taken in at the stables, and their bedchambers were pointed out – Elrond, their guide told them, had presumed the company would need five rooms – for Dís, Dwalin, Ori, Nori, and a grand room for the King and his Consort – but if this was not the case, arrangements could easily be made. Dwalin and Ori looked to each other briefly, with small smiles on their faces, but said nothing, for they saw the connecting door between the two north-most chambers. The company was then given warm water so they could cleanse themselves before they exchanged their traveling clothes for robes more suitable for the festivities. 

With this done, Erestor led them to the Hall of Fire, where there was feasting and dancing and a great log-fire in the fireplace, around which many Elves sat listening to Lord Elrond tell of the deeds of Finrod Felagund in the First Age. 

The Lady Dís took her leave as soon as they reached the hall, saying, “Thorin, brother, I’m going to go explore – take good care of Bilbo, and do try to enjoy yourself,” before approaching the group of Elves who appeared to be hanging ornaments of silver and gold and glass from the bows of a tree which had been placed in the corner of the Hall. Bilbo could hear her introduce herself to a smiling Elf maiden, who bowed in turn and named herself Arwen Úndomiel, and handed Dís several ornaments to hang. 

But Thorin stood awkwardly in the doorway, and would not let himself be dragged to the myth-fire, or to the feast table, or even to the mistletoe – the purpose of which Bilbo explained with a giggle. 

Bilbo quickly realized something was wrong, as he watched Thorin’s brow furrow. He asked his husband, “Thorin, love, are you alright?”

The Dwarven King glanced at Bilbo with his piercing blue eyes and said under his breath, “This place is very strange – there are no candles, and the singing is in one of the Elven tongues so I cannot understand it. And I know none besides our host and our guide. Bilbo, I wish we had not come.” 

At this, Bilbo’s heart fell, and he lashed out, “But, but we’ve come all the way here – Thorin, why must you distrust everything? Why must you wallow in sadness when there is so much delight to be found here if you would only accept it?!” 

By now, Thorin’s mouth was a grim slash, and he whispered back angrily, “Because I have a home, and it is where my nephews and my people are, where we do things the way we have always done them, Bilbo! Why must that change, why must you feel the need to change it? It is not good enough for you?” And with this Thorin left the Hall of Fire without another word, storming back into the hallways from which they had come. 

Bilbo’s mouth felt sour and his chest felt empty. He left the Hall as well and wandered the corridors aimlessly, going up stairs and away from the parts of the House which he knew, until he found a quiet-looking room which turned out to be a library, full of grand stone shelves packed with heavy books.

Bilbo curled against the cold stone of one of the bookshelf, and told himself Thorin would forgive him, had always forgiven him. But images of the terrible time following the Battle of the Five Armies flashed through his mind. 

Thorin had coughed weakly, over and over, his body trembling on the furs of the sick-bed. “Marry me, halfling. I want to do something right for once,” he whispered, as loudly as his scratched throat would allow. 

Bilbo struggled to get any sort of word out. “Thorin, no–” he started, and then shook his head roughly, holding back tears. “Valar bless, I will not be a widower so soon after becoming a husband. No, Thorin, no. You cannot do this to me.” 

Thorin tried to lift himself up, and then fell back with a grimace. “Then marry me when I am well,” he replied, even more quietly, “and you will not have to fear that.” 

“Oh Thorin,” Bilbo sighed, running his hands through the tangles of Thorin’s dark hair which lay upon the furs. 

Thorin shuddered and Bilbo wrenched his hand away. Now the dwarven king was back to the horrid, ragged coughing – bad enough that he couldn’t speak. Thorin’s mouth was still moving, and Bilbo frantically leaned down toward him, begging, “Thorin, speak to me, what do you need? Thorin? Thorin!”

But Thorin could not speak. Bilbo read upon his lips, “B, b, – p, pro… promise, promise? b, b, b-m, me promise me – is that it, Thorin? I promise, I promise. What ever you wish, Thorin. Please, please be well, Thorin. Stay with me, Thorin!” 

As the last plea left Bilbo’s mouth, the last breath left Thorin’s. Bilbo was left with the weight of the king in his arms, staring down in horror as the seconds stretched out. Then he was up, sprinting for the tent’s entrance, screaming, “Gandalf! Gandalf, Oin, somebody HELP!” 

~

Several agonizing hours later, Bilbo, sitting on the cold rock with his arms wrapped tightly around his knees, saw Gandalf finally leaving the sick-tent, staff in hand, with his big hat crumpled in the other hand and his eyes to the ground. Bilbo’s heart sank. “Gandalf,” he croaked, his voice cracked from crying and disuse. “Gandalf, I – is, is he...?” 

“He lives yet, Master Baggins,” Gandalf said, though the sorrow did not leave his face: “but he will not wake.” 

“He will not–” Bilbo swallowed harshly, saying, “he will not wake… ever?”

Gandalf eased himself down next to Bilbo on the rocky ground. “He will not wake for me, dear Bilbo, and he will not wake today. He may wake someday, but that I cannot promise.” 

At the word “promise,” tears began running down Bilbo’s cheeks again, re-drawing their tracks though the battle-dust. Bilbo slumped over, muttering, “I promised him, I promised him, I promised…” until the wizard drew his grey cloak over the hobbit’s small shoulders, and held him as he sobbed. 

~

Through the many months of snowy winter following the battle, Thorin lay as one upon a grave. It was agreed that, not knowing whether Thorin would ever rise to claim the throne, Balin son of Fundin would serve as regent, until such a time as the throne much pass to Thorin’s heir, his eldest nephew Fili, who had been wounded in the battle himself, and – besides which – who refused to leave his brother’s sick-tent, where Kili was recovering from more grievous wounds. 

The passing of the year in the counting of Men and Elves came and went, unnoticed and unmarked by the company of Thorin Oakenshield – his friends, and his family, and the quiet halfling who came and sat beside the would-be king’s bed every day, and held the Dwarf’s unmoving hands between both of his own. 

Through the blossoming of the first flowers and the coming of the first fruit, Thorin refused to wake. Though the first brisk breeze of spring through the heavy heat of summer, Thorin spoke no word. 

It was not until the first blush of red kissed the trees of the Greenwood the following autumn that Thorin again moved, and muttered in his shallow sleep, “I need him, where is he?”  and Bilbo was brought to his bedside as Oin and Gandalf tended to the king once more. 

“Dwarves are strong, immovable as the stone from which they came,” Gandalf explained to the wide-eyed hobbit. “Thorin is very close to the surface now. You must reach for him, tell him to come back to us.” 

And this Bilbo did; he kissed Thorin’s hand, and said, “I promise, I promise,” until the king’s eyes opened and he smiled once more. And it felt to Bilbo that the smile did not leave Thorin’s face at all for many months, up through the first snow, when they were wedded in a grand celebration in the Gallery of the Kings and Bilbo could not remember being happier.

~

Bilbo was still sitting alone when Lord Elrond came into the library and found him in the corner. A look of great concern grew on Elrond’s kindly face, and he asked, “Master Baggins, are you alright? Is there anything I might do to help?” 

The halfling got to his feet and dusted off his breeches. “No, thank you, Lord Elrond, I am fine. I just – I think my husband is upset with me.” 

Elrond set a comforting hand on the hobbit’s shoulder and said, “This may be, but I think he needs your company more than he needs room to think. I know you find my halls homely and good, as I do, but King Thorin may not feel the same way. I think he finds this house strange, and I think having you by his side will help.” 

Bilbo smiled up at the grey-eyed Elven Lord and nodded. “I think I shall go and try to find him,” Bilbo said and politely took his leave, as Elrond returned the book he had been reading at the myth-fire to its proper place. 

~ 

Returning from Elrond’s library, Bilbo found Thorin waiting for him in the hallway outside the door to the chambers Erestor had pointed out to them. The Dwarven King was sitting on the floor stones, looking somewhat lost. 

Bilbo felt as though a great vice had closed around his heart. He knelt down next to his husband, and took up one of the king’s hands, and only then did Thorin look up at the hobbit – Bilbo thought it almost looked as though he’d been crying. Bilbo pulled Thorin up, and led him into their rooms. 

Then a silence fell, and Thorin moved away to look sadly out at the valley. 

“Do you remember that night – our night – the winter of year after the Quest?” Bilbo finally managed to say, feeling awkward. 

Thorin didn’t say anything in reply, but turned around and slowly nodded, his dark braids tumbling over his eyes. 

Bilbo gathered his courage and went on: “Remember how the feast hall was absolutely glowing with lanterns? And there was such music and revelry, for the winter celebrations and the wedding party were all wrapped up together?” 

Bilbo turned away from Thorin, trying very hard not to cry.  In a rough voice, Bilbo murmured, “And it was snowing outside – you could see the flakes waft in when the guests from the Iron Hills arrived.” 

Now, Thorin spoke. “Indeed, Bilbo,” he said, and moving close to Bilbo, he drew a strong hand over the halfling’s shoulders, and whispered close to Bilbo’s ear, “I do remember that.”

Thorin led him to the edge of the bed that had provided for them, and pulled the halfling down gently into his lap. Lifting his eyes hesitantly to meet his husband’s, Thorin said, “I do not understand these Elves, Bilbo, with their celebrations of garlands and trees the words of other tongues. But I love you, and if these things please you, we shall have them as our traditions, my treasure. I am sorry I upset you.” 

And Bilbo twisted in the dwarf’s lap, and kissed his lips reverently, and replied, “Oh my love, my king, I am sorry. I love you, and I did not mean to prevent you from your traditions and your family and your home. I love the candle-lighting for the new snows. I love Fili and Kili’s antics during the singing. I just – I have always felt about your winter celebrations the way you tell me you feel about the customs of the Elves. These years, I have been writing to Lord Elrond, and his descriptions of Turuhalmë sounded so like Yuletide that I do believe I got a bit homesick.”

“Bilbo, my love,” Thorin said, hugging Bilbo to his chest, “I did not know this. We can have a Yule celebration in Erebor – it is not a hardship to hang mistletoe and build a myth-fire in the great fireplace! Would this please you?”

Bilbo nodded. “I would love that,” the hobbit said, “but also – I know that it is not permitted for me to learn the meanings of your songs, or the words of Khuzdul beyond the names of places, but I still feel a bit… left out when the rituals of the winter celebrations come along.” 

Running a gentle hand through Bilbo’s curly hair, Thorin agreed, “I understand how unpleasant that must be. I suppose I can tell you about the reasons for our celebrations, and a few words –  but these you must not repeat. Would this help?” 

Bilbo nodded, so Thorin continued, “We call the lighting of seven candles Sulûn Kheled Kibil – the Falling of Silver Glass, and it commemorates the first snowfall upon Azanulbizar – the Dimrill Dale – after the founding of Khazad-dûm. Lines of candles were set upon the ridges of stone and one of the forefathers of Narvi, the great craftsman who built the Doors of Durin, carved a great candelabra in which seven candles were set – one for each of the seven houses of the dwarves. And so Khazad-dûm was lit as with the brightest of stars through the falling snow.”

“It sounds beautiful,” said Bilbo softly. 

Thorin made a sound of agreement. “It was. Khazad-dûm, lost though it is, and bloodied from battle, is a symbol of my people, and the peace we had there those early days. This is why we light the candles – to remember those halls and the joy our people once found in them.”

“Thank you,” Bilbo replied, “for giving me this.” And he kissed Thorin’s brow and then his lips, and Thorin laid them both down upon the bed as they caressed each other happily. 

~

When they had finished, Thorin pulled the enormous quilt from their bed, and wrapped himself and his husband together up in it, and they sat, thus blanketed in soft Elven silk, on the windowsill. From their perch, Thorin and Bilbo could see the balcony and the Hall of Fire, and the members of the company conversing happily with the Elves. 

Dís seemed to be continuing her conversation with the Lady Arwen, though the pair of them had now moved to the railing of the balcony, where Arwen was gesturing to the sky as if pointing out the patterns of the stars. 

Ori was speaking to Lord Erestor, who had led the dwarven scribe to the edge of the balcony where snow drifts had begun to pile up, so that the two could practice drawing tengwar characters in the soft flakes. Dwalin sat quietly next to these two, watching them closely, a bit of suspicion still on his face. 

Nori had struck up a conversation with Lord Glorfindel. From their gestures, Bilbo presumed they were talking about ways to hide weapons within one’s garments. Eventually, Dwalin seemed content that Ori was safe with Lord Erestor, and went over to join Nori and Glorfindel. He listened for a few minutes, and then said something that made the tall golden Elf roar with laughter. 

And Thorin and Bilbo smiled, and all was well. 

   A/N – According to Tolkien, hobbits did in fact celebrate Yuletide, and the Elvish holiday I co-opted, Turuhalmë [Note: Quenya for “log drawing”] was celebrated by the Elves of Tol Eressëa long after the end of the Third Age. [Note: Information about Turuhalmë can be found at the website of the Silmarillion Writers Guild.] It’s not completely implausible, however, that a version of this holiday may have been celebrated by the Elves of Imladris, especially given what we know of the celebrations held in the Hall of Fire. 

  Sulûn Kheled Kibil, as Thorin explains, is Khuzdul for “The Falling of Silver Glass.” [Note: I have limited experience with Khudzul; if you think I may have made a grammatical error, you’re probably right! Please message me with any corrections. For vocabulary reference, I used Henry Kånge Fauskanger’s notes on Khuzdul, which can be found at his website Ardalambion.] I have completely made up this holiday, and the traditions associated, though some of them are based loosely on my knowledge of Hanukkah traditions. [Note: Similarly to the above note, I was raised in a Christian family, so if I have been in any way offensive in my use of Jewish cultural elements, please don’t hesitate to let me know.]

Duban Felekulbizar is Khuzdul for “Valley/Dale Which is Hewn/Cut,” essentially “Rivendell.”

[hobbitadvent]

Prompt fill: Midnight

„Are you sure you wish to go through with this?“ - asked Balin in a concerned tone.

Thorin remained silent for a long while, simply staring into the sky full of blinking stars above. His countenance slowly changed from uncertain to determined.

„If not now, then when? I have no choice, Balin. I have to do it tonight or else who knows what the next days of this journey shall bring.“ - the dwarf sighed and shifted his gaze to his old adviser, - „It’s almost midnight. Can you bring him to me?“

„Aye,“ - nodded Balin and turned to leave. However, after a few steps he halted and glanced back at his king, - „Good luck, Thorin.“

When the dwarf was left alone, save for the distant sound of laugh of his company, did he allow his shoulders to slump a bit and his eyes to lose that spark of surety.

„I’ll definitely need it,“ - he murmured sadly under his breath.

„For what is a king without his kingdom?“

...

The company was preparing to rest when Balin came back. Some of them were already laying in their bedrolls, while the others were smoking the pipe-weed they’d been given by Beorn and talking in merry voices, since their supplies had been restored and the darkness of Mirkwood they were to enter tomorrow didn’t seem as threatening in the warm light of the fire, casting gentle glow upon their camp.

The company’s burglar was sitting on an old fallen tree and discussing some of Ori’s notes with the dwarf. There was a cloud of smoke around them and from time to time there could be seen a smoke ring, that Bilbo was so very fond of making. 

The scribe was the first one to notice the elder dwarf’s arrival and almost dropped all of his loose pages when he jumped to his feet with a little too much excitement.

„Is it yet, Master Balin?“ - he inquired curiously, earning a strange look from the dwarf - something akin to sternness blended with amusement. It was a somehow knowing look, that spoke enough for itself to make the younger dwarf’s face brighten up with mirth.

Bilbo, seeing the suspicious exchange between his friends, blew out a particularly huge smoke ring and frowned, trying to think out their motives. He was a very specific hobbit, since he was of a curious heart, so he instantly knew something was up when Balin walked up to him without vocally answering Ori.

„Master Baggins,“ - the dwarf began, smiling softly, - „Thorin requires your presence. Come with me.“

The hobbit’s brows shot upwards in question, but he wasn’t given any time to ask about the reasons for this happening, since Balin had already turned and was slowly walking through the camp, in the same direction he’d first come from. 

Bilbo looked curiously to Ori but the dwarf only smiled at him, definitely not willing to answer any of the hobbit’s doubts, even under his questioning gaze.

Therefore, he could do nothing else but follow Balin with a sigh. 

Before he catched up with him, the hobbit put out his pipe and put it inside his pocket. 

„What’s up with all of this?“ - he asked curiously once they were out of the campfire’s light.

The dwarf glanced at him, surely at a loss for words and only after a while decided to reply with a simple „You’ll see.“

Soon, seemingly without a reason Balin halted his steps. Bilbo looked around in wonder but couldn’t find anything indicating they had come wherever Thorin choose as his place for brooding, being the grumpy dwarf - the hobbit chuckled at that thought, earning a questioning look from his friend.

„Ow, it’s nothing,“ - he said simply, waving a hand.

Judging by Balin’s face he didn’t quite believe that, but he let it go with a knowing smile and pointed at something ahead. A few steps ahead, under the gloomy light of the half-moon, barely visible behind ragged clouds, there could be seen a dark silhouette. Now that Bilbo had noticed it, he was certain it was Thorin. But he was also sure that without Balin’s help he might had problems finding the dwarf.

The hobbit glanced to Balin, looking for any words of advice, but when he got none, he simply decided to face whatever the leader of the company required of him. 

He slowly walked up to him and quietly called by the dwarf’s name. 

Thorin glanced at him and Bilbo had a feeling he saw something akin to uncertainty flicker upon the dwarf’s face, but in such a feeble light he couldn’t be sure he hadn’t just imagined it.

„What’s going on?“ - he asked with a bit of irritation in his voice, - „Why are you all being this- ...this mysterious?“

Then Thorin turned to him fully, his face adorned with might reminding Bilbo of a true king from legends he’d heard as a child.

„Bilbo,“ - he began, in that low voice, always making the hobbit feel very insignificant, - „I wish to ask...“

...

„Why does uncle insist it has to be midnight?“ - asked Kili with exasperation, looking from each dwarf to another. His brother was wearing almost the same look of confusion and stood beside Kili giving encouraging looks to the others.

„Alright, lads. Wait till Balin’s back, he’s best with explaining things to such thick-heads as you two.“ - grunted Dwalin, earning nods and words of agreement from the others.

Both Fili and Kili whined loudly in protest but not even a minute had passed when Balin was back to camp.

„Master Balin!“ - the two brothers called and run to the confused dwarf.

„Brother,“ - addressed him Dwalin, - „you’ve been given the role of a teacher for those two.“ - he said with amusement, pointing at the princes.

„Please, master Balin!“ - whined Kili, seeing the tired expression on the older dwarf’s face.

„Alright, alright. What don’t you two understand?“

„It’s about uncle Thorin,“ - began Fili, -„Why did he exactly choose midnight?“ 

„Is it because Bilbo’s sleepy now and more likely to ignore his old age?“ - added Kili with a laugh.

„Kili!“ - Fili looked at him with amusement.

„What? But it’s true. He’s not exactly young.“ - pointed out Kili.

„Lads, calm down.“- interrupted Balin, seeing that if he wouldn’t interfere the two would soon start arguing.

That, finally, got him the brothers attention.

„Alright, listen up.“ - he said, - „Back in the days, when Durin’s line ruled Erebor, there was one place in the mountain said to be the most beautiful of all. The starlit chamber. It was a huge cavern deep in the roots of the mountain, but with numerous small tunnels letting the light in. There was a small lake in the middle, filled with crystal clear water. During a day the chamber would be bright and looked like an usual cavern. But at night...“ - Balin sighed at the memory, - „It was probably one of the most stunning places in the mountain. On particular days, exactly at midnight, the moonlight would be let in by a system of natural holes and mirrors. Then it would be reflected on the surface of the lake and reach the ceiling of the chamber, that was full of the most precious of gems. What a sight it was! It looked a hundred times better than a clear, starry sky on the darkest of nights. And, going back to your question,“ - here he looked at the brothers’ curious faces, - „If a king wanted to take a spouse, he’d have to declare the will to court them in that chamber, exactly at midnight. It was tradition, probably as old as our kingdom. And your uncle apparently wants to stick to it.“

...

„Bilbo,“ - he began, in that low voice, always making the hobbit feel very insignificant, - „I wish to ask...“ - Thorin took a deep breath, like if he wanted to postpone the moment of confession.

„I wish to ask for your permission to let me braid your hair.“ -he uttered in a low whisper, giving Bilbo such a fierce look, the hobbit felt as if he would be better off, swallowed by the ground.

„Ugh, is that why you had me come here?“ - he asked with hesitation, and seeing the dwarf’s furrowing brows quickly added, - „Because it’s fine, and you can, you know, braid my hair and all.“

„But I’m simply curious why couldn’t you do it in the camp?“ - he said after taking a breath.

The dwarf was at a loss for words. He stared confused at the halfling and after a very long (and awkward for Bilbo) while inquired - „Is it not customary for hobbits’ to first ask permission in private and only afterwards announce it officially to everyone?“

„Permission?“ - queried Bilbo with confusion coloring his voice, - „like, permission for braiding hair? Well, we hobbits usually keep our hair loose, so I don’t see why...“ - he went silent and frowned.

„Wait, Thorin.“ - he addressed the dwarf, going a bit red, - „do you mean like, permission to- ...to court?“ - the hobbit asked, avoiding Thorin’s gaze.

The king’s expression lost all it’s fierceness and for a second the hobbit had a feeling he stood not before a highly born dwarf but before one lost and lonely, completely unsure of his purpose.

„And if that’s what I meant, what would you say?“ - asked the dwarf with resignation, seeing his failure.

Bilbo once again blushed and looked everywhere but at Thorin.

„Well, I’ve been a bachelor for all my life. I don’t really know...“ - he stuttered, not feeling brave enough to admit to the looks he had been casting just from time to time at the king in exile. 

„I see how it is.“ - said Thorin sadly, once again putting on the mask of indifference, - „you can go back to camp, master burglar.“

Bilbo’s shoulders slumped and he felt utterly lost, but Thorin couldn’t see this since he’d already turned away from him. 

The hobbit absent-mindedly made a few steps in the direction of the camp, but then suddenly came to a halt.

It could be his only chance, for if not now then when? - he thought as he gathered courage to go back.

„Thorin,“ - he prompted, quickly nearing the dwarf.

And when the king turned to him with confusion the hobbit couldn’t stop himself, went up to him, stood on his tiptoes and gently brought their lips together.

He felt the dwarf’s beard scrap against his skin and his warm arms encircle him. Bilbo was like drunk with the kiss and didn’t want to end it but when they finally parted he was met with icy blue eyes, sparkling with joy.

„May I braid your hair now?“ - asked Thorin with a smile.

„Of course, you silly dwarf.“ - chuckled Bilbo, seeing how ridiculously beautiful the dwarf looked with such a bright smile.

Author's Notes: I hope you liked it :) I haven't yet seen the Desolation of Smaug so let's assume it's set in the book verse. Merry Christmas!

[hobbitadvent]

Secret Santa, theme 2: Snowball Fight

Bonus:

Another Kili’s victim:

[hobbitadvent]

Secret Santa #8 - Candlelight

Hello my dear Secret Santa,

I wish you a Merry Christmas and all the luck in the world for 2014. My it be a great year for you *hugs*

Kisses

___________________________________________________

Thorin looked at Bilbo who was sitting opposite of him on the great banquet table they had sat up in the Great Hall of Erebor. The hall had been decorated with countless candles which spread their soft light and softened even the hardest edges of the old dwarven walls.

It had been one year since they had been retaken Erebor, slain a dragon and defeated an army of Orcs.

The reconstruction of the old dwarven kingdom went slowly but with great care and with every detail that was necessary to let it shine again in its old greatness. Right before the battle he had not been at his greatest. He had been mad for the gold inside the treasury.

The first time he had laid eyes on it after long decades he was overwhelmed by the sheer amount of it. It was all his. He did get clear again after he saw the dragon approaching. But after that the episodes of the gold sickness had become longer and longer. It had taken a battle and his nephews deeply wounded to set him entirely free from the influence of the gold.

His nephews, Fili and Kili, the Golden Lion of Erebor and his brother the Fierce Wolf, who had just shortly before the quest discovered their feelings for each other, had nearly paid for his stupidity. Now they were sitting next to each other, flirting shamelessly while feasting. Thorin smiled when he saw them like that. He was glad they had gotten back to their old spirits.

He looked over the table, his eye catching Dwalin who was sitting next to Ori. They were such an unlikely couple but yet they complemented each other perfectly. Where Dwalin was big and strong Ori was small and soft. It had taken long for them to allow the mutual feelings they shared, in Dwalin's case the fact that Ori was the brother to Nori, a thief he had tried to catch multiple times in Ered Luin. It had taken a long while for them but finally they had admitted their feelings for each other and would even marry in a few weeks.

Thorin looked over the table to Bilbo. He was basked in candlelight and looked more beautiful than ever. Candlelight suited Bilbo, as did every light, Thorin scolded himself, but it had been candlelight Thorin had gotten the first proper sight of his Hobbit. He immediately thought him beautiful. Even more beautiful than every gem and gold he had set his eyes on. Bilbo's hair shone like the purest of gold while his eyes twinkled like emeralds.

“-rin. Thorin! Are you even listening?” He must have been deeply lost in his thoughts because he only just noticed that Bilbo had asked him a question.

“Yes, yes. I am listening.”

“Well then ...what did I just say?”

“That you … like the roasted meat?”

Bilbo had to laugh. “I never liked that. Why should I now?” Bilbo stood up and walked around the table to Thorin. He laid his hand upon the dwarfs arm. “What troubles you, my King? The last I saw you that thoughtful was right after the battle.”

“Nothing troubles me, my Bilbo, my dear Bilbo. But one year ago I hadn't dared to think that we would sit this peacefully in that hall. One year ago I nearly lost everything that was dear to me.”

“Shhhh, don't talk any more.” Bilbo laid a finger upon Thorin's lips. “Everything is well now.”

Thorin smiled at Bilbo. He nearly had killed the kind Hobbit and yet he was loyal to him and supported him where he could. Bilbo had really to be in love with him. As he was with Bilbo.

“Did I ever tell you what I was thinking when I first saw you?”

“Yes, you told me that very clearly and in a mocking way. You thought me a grocer.”

Thorin had to laugh. “You will hold that against me for the next fifty years, won't you?” The King said softly.

Now Bilbo had to laugh. “Maybe.”

Thorin pulled Bilbo into his lap. It was just them and the company, so he didn't care to show his affection for Bilbo besides touching and linking their fingers as he did in court.

“I thought, all those month ago and half a world to the west, that you had to be the most kind and beautiful creature in the whole of Middle Earth. The first real look I got on you was in candlelight and it suited you so very well. You looked like an angel, like a saviour. My saviour.”

Bilbo had gotten red and looked up under heavy eyelashes. “Am I that? Your saviour?”

“That and so much more.” Thorin leaned in and kissed Bilbo deeply. He took all the time in the world and ignored the hail of catcalls from the company.

As he parted from Bilbo's lips he looked his Hobbit deep in the eyes. “Will you do me the honour and marry me, Bilbo Baggins? Will you do me the honour and become my Consort?”

Bilbo laughed and smiled brightly, the candlelight turning his hair in the purest gold. “Yes, yes I will.”

[hobbitadvent]

Midnight Traditions

Title: Midnight Traditions

Author: sra_danvers

Prompt: Written for prompt #7

Pairings: Bagginshield

Rating: PG

Content/Warning(s): Meddling with Tolkien cannon.

Summary: Thorin wants to share a dwarf's tradition with Bilbo.

A/N: Sorry for the bad use of language, English is not my native language.

Bilbo was wandering around Erebor, escaping from the noisy dwarves celebrating Mahal’s day. There wasn’t a lot of food —it was barely a few weeks after the battle, after all— but the wine was running freely. Nori had found an intact wine cellar, and Thorin had ordered for some bottles to be opened for the occasion.

  They had so many things to celebrate; First of all having survived the battle, all in one piece though not unscathed. Fíli still couldn’t walk, and Kíli had his arm in a sling. The other dwarves had sustained from hits and minor wounds, but the hobbit was the worst of them. Trying to save Thorin, he had confronted Azog, again.

  This time he hadn’t been as lucky as the first one. Though he had been wearing the ring at the moment, the Orc managed to stab him in the thigh, dangerously close to the femoral artery.

  He had been saved only because Thorin had seen Azog receiving a wound that opened itself on his leg. After finishing his old enemy, Thorin had looked for Bilbo and had found him. He had known about the ring since the hobbit had appeared repeatedly out of nowhere in front of him, in Mirkwood’s cells.

  Thorin had found him easily, following the blood drops that appeared on the floor. Even when the battle was not over, the King had grabbed the hobbit, after removing the ring, and carried him on his shoulder to the mountain, still fighting with his sword on the other hand.

  After three days of fever and delirious dreams, Bilbo Had pulled through, just to find himself again into the mountain, under the care of Dáin’s healers. Thorin was there, sitting at the food of the enormous bed.

  Bilbo hadn’t known what to expect then, after the last time they had talked. Thorin could as easily call him a thief and exile him as he could thank him for saving his life. Again.

  Thorin did neither, he just asked if he was well, as if he hadn’t been about to kill him for giving away the Arkestone.

  Trying to ignore the fact that the King seemed not have cleaned himself after the battle, Bilbo had answered with polite words, even when he was fearing Thorin’s reaction.

  The lack of trust was all on his side, though. Thorin had offered him new clothes, even when he was wearing the battle ones. Thorin had even talked about giving him a room close to his one, not asking him whether he was going to stay at Erebor.

  Bilbo had thought Thorin had forgotten what happened with the Arkenstone, but after days together, the dwarf was looking at him with such remorse, that it could only show his regret.

    <center>******</center>

    Dáin and his people were celebrating Mahal’s day too, before departing for the Iron Hills.

  Bilbo liked them, especially the dwarf Lord, but they were nosier, if possible, than his friends. So he decided to skip the last part of the celebration, retiring to his rooms. But before he arrived there, Thorin called him.

  “¡Bilbo! Are you well?”

  “Yes, yes, I am.”

  “Then, why did you go away before the end of the party?”

  “I’m just tired,” Bilbo lied.

  “ You’re still weak; you must not to walk without your walking stick.”

  “I’m not weak, thank you very much,” Bilbo said, infuriated.

  “Calm, my friend, I know you’re brave enough. But even Fíli knows the magnitude of his wounds. Would you go with me?” Thorin said suddenly, extending his hand to Bilbo.

  “Go with you where?” Bilbo asked, His voice filled with suspicion.

  “I had a Mahal’s day tradition, when I lived into the mountain. Don’t you want to witness it?” offered Thorin, with a kind smile and hopefully eyes.

  Bilbo gave him his hand, sighing deeply. He still didn’t trust Thorin completely, but he was always helpless faced with the dwarf’s smile.

  Thorin lead him up the mountain, not where Bilbo thought they were going, to the treasure hall. Instead, Thorin showed him a room in the part of Erebor not yet cleaned.

  Dust and ashes covered all the surfaces, but Bilbo could see a bed, so similar with the one he had in his room. In fact, close to the bed was a space cleaner than the rest of the floor of the room.

  “This was my childhood room,” said Thorin, startling him.

  “Then, my bed…” Bilbo knew his bed was small for a dwarf, though was perfect for a hobbit size.

  “Yes, it was my bed. This one was my brother’s,” he said, siting on it, not minding the dust of years on top of it. He signalled for Bilbo to sit by his side. The hobbit looked more proper for the small bed than the big dwarf did. “Frerin and I loved Mahal’s day. At midnight, our mother used to come here with Dís and she told us the story of how Mahal created The Seven Fathers of the Dwarves.”

  Bilbo was touched that Thorin had shared such an intimate memory with him. And so he told him.

  “It’s a beautiful thing to remember. I myself treasure some pleasant memories of my father’s tales. Thorin, why did you want to share this tradition with me?”

  “Because I treasure the moments I spend with you, halfling,” answered the dwarf, staring at Bilbo with expectation. “I didn’t ask for forgiveness, nor have thanked you for saving my life, again.”

  “No, you didn’t,” said Bilbo, astonished. He hadn’t expected these words, even though he wanted to hear an explanation about Thorin’s deeds.

  “Are you waiting for these things, before you return to the Shire?” Bilbo nodded without hesitation. He was eager to know what the king thought about him, if he still saw him as a thief or as a friend. “Then I’ll never say anything to you, for I don’t want you to go back to your home.”

  Hearing that, Bilbo first reaction was outrage. But then, he felt Thorin’s eyes on him, and he realised the dwarf was too close. In fact, the next heartbeat he felt Thorin’s lips on his own. That was really unexpected. And exquisite.

  “Your plan was to seduce me in your childhood room?” Bilbo asked with a happy smile in his face.

  “Maybe. Did I do it well?” Thorin said mockingly.

  “You did amazingly,” Bilbo asnwered, reaching again for the King’s lips.

  They kissed for a while, until they ended up lying on the old and dusty bed. Thorin finally told Bilbo his old mother’s tale about his forefathers, while he was absently caressing the hobbit’s hair.

  Certainly he had found another tradition that he hoped to last for years to come.

[hobbitadvent]

secret santa submission for prompt candlelight (#5)

A cold draught whistles through Erebor’s stone hallways as the days turn darker and colder. A myriad of torches and lanterns fight the darkness inside the mountain, and great heaters, powered by the forges deeper down, combat the cold in the main halls and the dwarves’ living quarters.

The royal chambers especially are being kept as meticulously warm as possible, with a roaring fire to boot, and yet, for the one Hobbit in the Lonely Mountain – who thankfully isn’t lonely at all – a pervading sense of ice in his veins remains, be it physically justified or not.

Bilbo fights the chill by stuffing himself into more and more layers until he might as well be a dwarf  whose tendency to wear a ridiculous number of layers he now finally begins to understand if winters are usually this cold in their mountain halls – so far has he deviated from common Hobbit fashion.

(Though there have been some unexpected benefits to said necessity, as Thorin seems most appreciative of his changed attire. Trust a dwarf to be possessive enough to have heat flaring in his eyes every time he sees his lover clothed in the traditional garments of his own people.)

The end of the year and with it solstice is nearing, and where usually Bilbo would’ve been full of cheer and energy to prepare for the holiday, he now spends a lot of time in his and Thorin’s chambers, burrowed under a mountain of furs and blankets. He has never particularly liked the cold, even as a little fauntling and memories of the coldest winter the Shire had ever seen, bringing with it death on silent paws don’t exactly help.

The first time Thorin found him huddled in their bed, shaking miserably, the dwarf went into a fretting fit worthy of Dori – Bilbo was too worn even to feel bad about worrying him so much. Within the hour he found himself with more blankets than he knew what to do with (Fíli and Kíli may have been a little overenthusiastic when having been told to get their Uncle something to warm him up) and a very warm dwarf next to him who refused to move for the whole day and threatened to do so indefinitely until Bilbo felt better again. Bilbo is sap enough to say later on, that that warmed him more than anything else.

*

Bilbo burrowed deeper into the blankets covering their spacious bed, hiding the trembling of his limbs beneath furs and wool. Dimly he thought he heard a wolf’s howl drifting in from the outside and shuddered once.

Too preoccupied with the cold and his unreasonable dread he didn’t hear Thorin’s approach and jumped when a familiar deep voice sounded next to his ear, filled with worry and concern.

“Bilbo? What is wrong?”

In response Bilbo only turned his face farther into the blanket, imagining his lover’s distressed frown rather than looking upon it.

“Kurdel? Talk to me, my heart, what is the matter?” Thorin sounded even more worried now, a large hand coming down to rest gently on Bilbo’s hair, the only part of him that peaked out from his warm nest.

It takes another pleading whisper – “Please, Bilbo” – to make him gather enough will to turn up his face and look at Thorin. He had never been able to resist the stubborn dwarf when he said that word, rarely as the King used it.

For a moment Thorin simply studied his face, brow drawing together even further as his concern increased at what he saw in the hobbit’s face.

“Tell me,” he simply said.

Bilbo looked into warm, warm blue eyes – he remembered them being cold once, but not anymore, not for a while – and opened his mouth. He meant to say ‘I’m fine’ or maybe ‘don’t worry about me’ but what comes out instead is, “It’s cold.”

Thorin’s face instantly softened in understanding. They’d talked some about painful histories and private fears and Bilbo must’ve mentioned the cold and that winter at some point.

A moment later the bed dipped with Thorin’s added weight as the dwarf wriggled under the blankets until his body cocooned Bilbo’s from behind. A hand came to rest on the hobbit’s hip while another found his hair again, stroking slowly and languidly and Bilbo could feel himself melt into the heat Thorin’s body radiated.

“I’m here,” Thorin murmured, “the mountain is safe. It’s warm. You’re warm.”

The shakes began to subside.

*

The armchair next to the fire soon became Bilbo’s favourite place and he would often sit there with a blanket and a book in his lap, and a cup of tea in easy reach.

Today is no different, as he waits for Thorin to return from yet another council meeting, though he has given up on his reading after the fire has burnt so low as to only leave a few glowing embers. A single candle flickers lazily next to him in the cosy darkness and he may have drifted off for a while until the sound of the door closing startles him awake again.

He leans around the back of the armchair and has to stifle a giggle at the rather comical sight of Thorin attempting to tiptoe towards the bedroom in his clunky, furry boots.

Bilbo must’ve made some noise for Thorin freezes, turning his head towards Bilbo, and then slumps, a rueful smile tugging at his lips.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” he says, voice slightly raspy from talking all afternoon.

Bilbo only smiles at him with the simple joy of having his beloved home for the night. “It’s all right, I was only napping anyways. Join me?”

Thorin apparently doesn’t need to be told twice for he’s moved across the room and slumped down into the chair next to Bilbo’s with a weary sigh before the hobbit can do much more than blink.

He reaches out with one hand, content to feel Thorin’s enveloping it promptly. “Long day?”

Thorin only groans in response, his eyes closed. Bilbo can’t help but stare a little at the play of shadows on the planes of Thorin’s face, the golden candlelight caressing the dwarf’s face in a loving way that Bilbo can understand entirely. Dark lashes throw delicate shadows on his cheeks, regal nose accentuated sharply by the occasional flickers and when Thorin opens his eyes their piercing blue reflects pinpricks of light.

Thorin’s lips curl up in amusement and Bilbo would’ve been more embarrassed to have been caught staring if he didn’t have the right and reason to. His dwarf’s profile his striking on a bad day, but with the light playing over the smooth expanse of skin… well, fluttering butterflies in his stomach it is.

“See something you like?”

The only time that Thorin’s smooth, velvety voice can be any more joyous to listen to than usual is when amusement tinges its rich timbre.

“Always,” he answers frankly, and is rewarded by a soft kiss on the back of his hand and one of those rare, almost blinding smiles.

For a while they sit in content silence, revelling in each other’s presence. Thorin’s unoccupied hand has come up and is lightly stroking Bilbo’s hair, thick fingers carding through slightly messy curls with infinite gentleness – and it’s all Bilbo can do not make embarrassing noises.

Finally Thorin speaks once more, his gaze on the embers in the hearth. “Do you want me to stoke the fire?”

“No, leave it be.” Bilbo glances at the lone candle. Admittedly, it doesn’t do much in the shedding light department, but it flickers so merrily, reminding him of times when he was young and his parents still alive, telling stories by golden candle-light. “This is rather cosy, isn’t it? I haven’t encountered much solstice cheer in this mountain yet.”

Thorin looks faintly regretful, his fingers tightening a little around Bilbo’s hand. “We’re still rebuilding.”

“All the more reason to take at least a day off and celebrate. Yavanna knows we can all use it.”

Thorin hums thoughtfully. “You may be right. At the very least, we can decorate these rooms to look more festive. Fíli and Kíli would love the chance to make a mess.”

“Do you mean you’re intending to let them anywhere near the tinsel?” Bilbo asks in mock-horror, and the candle-flame flickers with the gusts of Thorin’s quiet laughter.

“It would take a greater might than mine to keep them from it.”

Bilbo’s smile turns teasing. “What, you mean the King under the Mountain cannot control his own nephews?”

Thorin nods solemnly. “That’s exactly what I mean.” He leans closer conspiratorially. “Don’t tell anyone.”

“Not even Fíli and Kíli?”

Thorin leans even closer, his face inches from Bilbo’s own so that he can see the slightly predatory glint in those blue eyes. “Especially not Fíli and Kíli.”

Before Bilbo can come up with a suitably cheeky reply, warm lips touch upon his and he isn’t ashamed to say that he loses the plot for a while.

And who could blame him, when kisses by candlelight are the best kind there is?

[hobbitadvent]

EDIT: All requests have now been claimed, thank you everyone!

Secret Santa Request Post now up

For all of you taking part: First of all, thank you very much for signing up! Hopefully we'll make it a very hobbit-y Christmas for everyone involved.

Please bear in mind that we may need to contact you during the event. It'd be really helpful if your askboxes are open, or if you pass on to us an email address if that's not possible.

To keep this anonymous, each request has been assigned a number. Please message us with a number you would like to fill. This operates on a first-come-first serve basis, so message us quick! We'd like everyone's request to be filled!

Because this is such a long post, the requests have been put under the cut. Clicky clicky to see!

As ever, if you have any quibbles or queries, just drop us an ask.

1. TAKEN

Prompt: Crackers

Preferred pairings: preferably Gen

Extras: I would love love love it to be Gen with no romantic pairings (or at least have them only in the background), maybe a first big yule celebration for the youngest of the dwarves: Ori, Kili, Fili (+ baby Gimli please with a cherry on top). I just ask that if there are pairings involved, none of them include the younger dwarves (since, presumably, they will be very little).

2. TAKEN

Prompt: Snowball Fight

Things to avoid: no NSFW or m/m or f/f pairings

Extras: this person has requested art!

3. TAKEN

Prompt: Mulled Wine

Preferred pairings: Boffins (Bofur/Bilbo)

Extras: “Bofur is windbag even without alcohol but after having too much of wine he just start to throw up plenty of words at Bilbo. And even if it's cute at first Bilbo is getting embarrassed pretty fast. There is so many people with them! So yeah something like that. Basically Boffins. Any rating!”

  4. TAKEN

Prompt: Carols

Preferred pairings: can be gen, Bilbo/Thorin, Bilbo/Bofur

Things to avoid: angst

Extras: “I'd love to see the "Carols" prompt filled. I'm fine with either no parings, Bilbo/Thorin or Bilbo/Bofur, and young hobbits (Frodo&Sam Merry&Pippin) plus background/obscure Tolkien lore would be greatly appreciated. NSFW / adult content is fine, minimal angst please? Thanks!”

5. TAKEN

Prompt: Candlelight

Preferred pairings: Bilbo/Thorin

Things to avoid: NSFW

Extras: “I would like to have #12 Candlelight filled). Um, my favourite pairing is Bagginshield, and I really wouldn't like to have NSFW, because it's Christmas, you know)). Anyway, this idea is amazing and I love the concept of Christmas in Middle Earth, and it will be really amazing to fill in someones prompt)).”

6. TAKEN

Prompt: Traditions

Preferred pairings: gen, any

Pairings to avoid: none

Extras: “I'd like to see the prompt 'traditions' filled. My only request is that it features the Durin family in some way, especially Thorin, Fili and Kili, with optional Dis. (Pairing of your choice - seriously, I probably like all of them, and I would be perfectly happy with gen as well.)”

7. TAKEN

Prompt: Traditions

Preferred pairings: Thorin/Bilbo

Extras: “I like the traditions prompt. My preferred pairing is Thorin/Bilbo but I love having Fili and Kili around as well. It can be NSFW if you like, but doesn't have to be. I would love to see what kinds of traditions the dwarves might have if that gives any ideas to anyone. Thanks!”

8. TAKEN

Prompt: Candlelight

Preferred pairings: Thorin/Bilbo (with possible secondary pairings Kili/Fili, Dwalin/Ori)

Pairings to avoid:

Extras: “As the prompt I choose "candlelight", and the main pairing would be Bagginshield. I don't mind other (secondary) pairings such as Fili/Kili or Dwalin/Ori or others. However I really wouldn't like it if Thorin or Bilbo were also paired up with someone else than each other. I suppose there's nothing triggering for me so that'll be all”

9. TAKEN

Prompt: Jumpers

Preferred pairings: any pairings, but Tauriel/ofc would be cool

Pairings to avoid:

Extras: “hey id like to request prompt 16: jumpers to be filled and i dont mind any pairings but tauriel/ofc would be cool but not necessary.”

10. TAKEN

Prompt: Midnight

Preferred pairings: Bilbo with any of the Dwarves. Order of preference: Thorin, Dwalin, Bofur, Fíli, Kíli, Balin, Nori, Dori

Things to avoid: het, crossgen, noncon, sad endings

Extras: “I choose the prompt: Day 14: Midnight. I like my hobbit with any of the dwarves ^^ Order of preference: Thorin, Dwalin, Bofur, Fíli, Kíli, Balin, Nori, Dori... I love all my dwarves with Bilbo ^^ No het or crossgen please. I don't like noncon or sad endings. Thanks so much!”

11. TAKEN

Prompt: Traditions

Preferred pairings: Thorin/Bilbo

Things to avoid: fem!Bilbo or fem!Thorin

Extras: “The prompt I would like to see filled is "traditions" with a nice little Bagginshield (my guilty pleasure ;)) - it shouldn't include any fem!Bilbo or fem!Thorin, with everything else I would like to be surprised :) Thank you!”

12. TAKEN

Prompt: Family

Preferred pairings: Thorin/Kili or Thorin/Dis

Things to avoid: partner betrayal, serious angst

Extras: “For the prompt I'm going to go with "Family", and pairing wise? Thorin/Kili or Thorin/Dis please and thank you! I'm pretty much good with anything fic wise with the exception of partner betrayal (of any kind be it implied or otherwise) and serious angst.”