Thorin carrying their baby around attending to kingly duties -
Self-indulgent lil fic because MORE GIRL DAD THORIN AND BILBO! I WILL SPREAD THE AGENDA
Entering the lively world of parenthood had been the greatest unexpected gift they had received. Little Evîrdeen had become the newest princess under the mountain, though she had already tired out her fathers quite a bit at only a few months old. Thorin had a good amount of experience helping to raise Fili and Kili since they were born, and Bilbo having to deal with tricky hobbit fauntlings stealing from his garden. Though a child of their own had promised to be a completely different thing entirely.
She was a gentle being, sharing all sorts of traits from the both of them---including a bit of a short temper. She would wake up at various hours of the night, either hungry or needing a change or simply wanting to be held. Thorin had been taken up by his duties as king, spending early morning's out and late nights sleepless, so Bilbo offered to help out the best he could and keep care of Evîrdeen on his own for a while. He insisted on being able to handle her on his own, regardless of the company's desire to lighten his work. That had caught up to him rather quick, unfortunately.
One morning Bilbo tossed in bed, feeling the aches of the past few days getting to him. He laid on his side, eyes still adjusting to the early light as he watched Thorin dress for the day. More formal than usual, as he had a meeting with ambassadors from across the land to discuss potential allyship. Bilbo smiled his way fondly, enjoying the sight till he was reminded by soft baby coo's that he should've been out of bed already. As he sat himself upward, he was put to a stop by a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Rest, Amrâl." Said Thorin. "I won't let you wear yourself out for my sake."
"You're sure? You've got a full plate for today; I could pull through..." A telltale yawn waved over Bilbo's words, and his head found its way to lay on top of his husband's hand. "Hm, staying in bed does sound rather nice. Would be better if you could as well." Bilbo certainly would have put up a better excuse for him not to go if his energy hadn't been melted to the end of its wick. Long gone had the lazy mornings of the two of them cradled in each others warmth for as long as they desired---at least for the time being, till Evîrde was more on their hour of wake. (Hopefully)
"I'm all yours tonight," Thorin planted a kiss to his forehead. "If you can wait."
"I suppose I'll have to," Bilbo's head fell back onto the pillow, sighing. "Does that mean you'll be making us dinner as well?"
Thorin should have seen himself walking right into that one. "If you'd like?"
"As long as you're not planning on re-heating the soup I made."
Thorin decided to take his leave then before more of his plans were exposed. Evîrde had been rolling about in her crib, laying on her stomach making burbled giggles. Thorin grabbed the cotton sling and fastened it across his chest, scooping her up and into the carrier. It was far easier to go around with both your hands at the ready, whether if danger should arise or, in Thorin's case---various papers to surely be skimmed and signed. Bilbo had tried out the sling a few times himself, though he preferred to use an arm. (and quite frankly enjoyed watching Thorin tote their daughter everywhere far more) He remembered rarely spotting such a useful tool in the Shire, a basket strapped to your back to help with two or more fauntlings at once, if any at all. Evîrde had seemed to grow used to her trips, aside from the occasional fussing to signal she had grown tired of it.
"Oh, would you look at her," Balin grinned as the baby reached her arms out wide to grasp the ends of his beard curiously. "Sweetest one there is. And how is Bilbo? Getting some shut-eye, I'd hope. Ran into the poor lad the night before rummaging about the kitchen completly jumpy."
"All he's been drinking as of late is that remedy Dáin introduced him to. He swears by it,"
"Ah, that.. coffee, I believe it was? Strange thing, but no less expected from Dáin Ironfoot."
Evîrde, incredibly intrigued by the odd rumble of indistinguishable words flowed between the two, listened silently before a sneeze jarred her. A second one followed and she seemed confused, tucking her head back under Thorin's chin to drift away to sleep again. "Have they arrived?"
"That they have. You'd best be on your way," Balin nodded. "Fíli's already greeted them."
One of them, at the very least, when Thorin found him. Just around the corner of the meeting hall he'd spotted his nephew necking with the Mirkwood ambassador. Suddenly he wanted to take Evîrde's non existent sleep schedule over Fíli and Kíli's inconvenient affairs any day of the month. The two quickly separated after noticing his appearance. "I believe we'll be discussing this later." He spoke lowly as Fíli passed him by, who only sighed accepting his fate in reply. The Mirkwood elf (name of Greglorindel, as he told. A victim of Thranduil's bidding, no doubt) offered many apologies and politely took his seat at the table.
Along with Mirkwood's ambassador had been Bain, son of Bard the Bowman, though still a young boy in the eyes of men. He had shown interest in taking up charge of Dale, helping his father in its reconstruction and allyship with Erebor. Out of them all, Thorin had grown rather fond of the boy and his resilience. He had gifted Evîrde a wooden toy not long after her birth.
"Hail Thorin, son of Thráin. My lord offers his greetings to you," Said the ambassador of Rohan, bowing a head to the dwarf, though quirking a brow at the sight of the peaceful baby strapped to his chest. He kept whatever immediate comments he had brewing in his head to himself.
"And what does the Mad King truly wish to gain under his greetings?" Thorin eyed the ambassador and his accompanied men with a stern glare. The men looked amongst themselves with wavering concern.
"I can assure you, my Lord Fengel wishes nothing more than to seek allies here in these great mountains and woods. Whatever stories you may have heard, they are surely false..."
"But it is true!" Bain exclaimed, startled by the boom in his voice, quickly shrinking back. "Sorry. If I may speak?"
Thorin signaled the boy to carry on with a nod.
"My Da and I had spoke to a family that said they fled from your land, to get away from the King. They said he was a gold stealer, taken by greed. That's why they call him the Mad King, isn't it?"
Gold stealer. Thorin's chest tightened at the word; he knew Bain nor his father would lie of such accusations. What he did not know for certain was where King Fengel's desires lay in regards to not only the shared wealth of the mountain, but of his people, their neighbors, his family. Evîrdeen. Bilbo. The greed of men knew little of when to stop. He brought a hand to rest over his daughter's back to soothe her fidgeting.
"And we are supposed to believe the words of a child?" The man of Rohan spat.
"The boy speaks true. And I can say my lord Thranduil would neither like to forage an alliance with those of thieves who steal from their own people." Said Greglorindel. "Tell us what you seek in these hills and forests."
"I say, we were hardly expecting to be lured here just to be insulted---"
"You came here with your own free will. Do not mock those who I trust at my council, if that is all you sought to do." Thorin's voice trickled with promising venom, though it was drowned out by the other's beginning a fierce argument. The loud shouts startled Evîrde from her nap, and she grabbed at her father's braids, somewhat having learned it got his attention. When all he did was move her hands away she squirmed, fussing uncomfortably.
"Outrageous, these claims!"
"We can't let a Mad man into our homes--!"
"Utterly uncivilized---"
Thorin blew out some air as he paced the room, gently bouncing Evîrde in an attempt to calm her. "If all you intended to bring to us was ill tidings, then I suggest you leave." He peered at the men, who continued to show him little respect. Evîrde tugged at his braid far more aggressively the second time around, but it kept her distracted. "You may tell your King he will not find what he wants here. Least he come to speak to me himself."
When the meeting had met its swift end not long after, and the men of Rohan left bitterly---surely telling their king of the stubborn fashion dwarves wore. Bain and Greglorindel had promised to spread the message to keep an eye out for Rohan and its King alike.
Thorin walked along the halls as Evîrde cried from the whole ordeal. He spoke to her softly and cradled her close, though it failed to comfort her entirely. When he tried singing it slowly started to chip away her sadness; it had worked in the past, as Thorin would often sing to her as his own mother had done when he was a newborn. Bilbo had admitted his fondness of his singing voice as well, which the hobbit immensely regretted---as that led to Thorin teasing him for an entire week.
When Evîrde had calmed later on Thorin brought her to the kitchen in search of a morning bite. He offered her small spoonfuls of the mashed berry medley Bombur had concocted. The kitchen had become an odd sort of gathering spot for the company, and it was easy for Fíli and Kíli to find their way to it. Thorin was certain they had just been following him.
"It was really that bad?" Kíli asked as he booped Evîrde's nose with a finger.
"Oh, it was." Fíli practically cackled. When Thorin flashed him a silent stare as in 'you're still in trouble', he coughed back his words. "At least I think. I wouldn't know."
"Well, what did the men say?"
"They shared word of the Lord of Rohan and his interest in Erebor and the surrounding land. I know enough of that man and his greed to say our doors will not be open for him." Thorin scoffed.
"Greed? So he's---ow!" Kíli pulled his hand away when Evîrde decided to bite his finger. "He's what?"
"He's a gold hoarder, isn't he? Can't say I haven't heard a few stories myself. Word travels far when your whole land hates you." Fíli shrugged, patting his brother on the back as he held his wounded finger.
"That it does." Thorin wondered if he would have become like Fengel, or something worse if he hadn't been freed from his sickness. To be entranced without escape for the rest of your days, fed by gold, by fear, by power. To turn you cold and heartless, a monstrous thing hidden under the mask of a man. Pain still struck him for all he had done under such vile influence; no good soul deserved to be trapped by such horrible curse, not even the most egregious elves.
Evîrdeen pawed at the intricate beads lacing his hair, and her glimmering brown eyes---ever so much like Bilbo---looking up to him, made him smile against the thoughts batting his head. He did not know how he became worthy of such incredible blessings, but he would not waste them for a moment of his coming life.
"So, we're not getting free horses then?" Kíli frowned. "That's their whole thing, isn't it? The ro... rohrrm? Rohim? Close enough."
"Pretty sure it's rohimmer." Fíli corrected.
"Sounds right to me."
"You can find your own horses," Said Thorin. "Whatever misshapen peace offerings King Fengel has to offer, he can shove it straight to his---"
"Excuse me! What did I say about swearing in front of the baby?" Strangely on cue, Bilbo was standing behind them all. Clad in his checkered robe and hands on his hips.
For a moment Thorin stared back at him cluelessly. "I wasn't--?"
"Yes, yes you were. I can tell when you're about to."
"She can't even understand a word we're saying!" Kíli raised his hands up defensively.
"She will eventually!" Bilbo stomped over and waved Fíli and Kíli away, reaching out a hand for Evîrde to grasp once she spotted him. "You may be half dwarf, but good manners come first and foremost."
"Ouch. When did we ever have bad manners?" Fíli looked to Kíli, who raised his shoulders unknowingly.
"Aren't you supposed to be resting?" Asked Thorin.
"Well, I was, but I got peckish and drank up the last of that coffee, and now I can do everything but sleep. Not mention all the racket that's been going on." Bilbo wasn't going to touch on the absolute atrocity of Nori 'borrowing' his favorite mug for the third time that month. He grabbed an orange from the fruit bowl and aggressively tried to peel it, only to realize it was fake. "Why do we even have this!?"
"Dori says it's nice decor, or something." Kíli grabbed a handful of the faux food himself and went on to juggle it as Fíli cheered for his act.
"Well, how has your morning been? From the sound of it not very... fruitful." Bilbo gestured with the orange in his palm.
"To put it simply, we will not find ourselves allied with Rohan." Thorin explained, lifting Evîrde up and out of the sling when she had begun to wave her hands at Bilbo to hold her.
"Suppose it was worth a try---oh, hello darling." Bilbo's spirits lightened back up as he took her into his arms. "You've had quite the day so far, haven't you?" He took her grabbing at his ears and curls for a 'yes' of sorts. Thorin certainly looked as if he'd had an anvil dropped on his head, as far as he could tell by his unamused stare. Fíli and Kíli were hardly helping by trying to get him to juggle fake fruit with them. "What else have you got for today?"
A telling grin spread across Thorin's lips. "As the meeting was cut short, I believe I have time to spare till the next."
And that was how all three of them ended back in bed, snug and warm under the layers of blankets and fluffed pillows to max relaxation. Evîrdeen wouldn't complain about the chance of another quiet nap, curling up to Bilbo's chest. Thorin linked an arm over them both, spooning Bilbo from behind, applying soft kisses to the crook of his neck every now and then. Each found themselves falling asleep easily. Strange men, fake fruit, Elven affairs and missing mugs be damned---they decided to take a royal day off.
