Bagginshield Bingo- Arranged Marriage
Sorry about not getting this in yesterday! I had a shit Monday at work, but a much better Tuesday and I could not get this one to end! I legitimately want to turn this into a full length fic, but I already have so many WIPs...
Still taking asks for this. Feel free to make a request because it’s now very apparent which bingo I’m going for. Please enjoy!
Title: Trapped by Blue Eyes
Summary: Bilbo thought it was his chance to be an ambassador to one of the greatest kingdoms in Middle Earth. He should have known it was a ruse and run while he could. However, a dwarf prince’s plea and beautiful blue eyes trap him in what will be an insane adventure in marriage.
When Bilbo had been asked to represent the Shire in Erebor, this wasn’t at all what he had in mind. Dreams of being an ambassador in the wealthiest and most influential kingdom in all of Middle Earth was quickly dashed by the reality of the situation. He was presented as a suitor for their prince along with twenty other representatives. Bilbo still didn’t know if his grandfather knew ahead of time and didn’t tell him, or if he had been deceived the same as Bilbo. That the Shire mattered enough to this eastern dwarf kingdom to encourage trade between their lands. Either way, he had been made the fool.
He stood at attention amongst willowy elves, strong dwarves, and youthful men. Males and females amongst all their races as he remained the lone hobbit. It was a jest. He stood no chance of winning the affections of a prince. He was merely there for the propriety of not excluding a member of the free race. It was a waste of his time, and he was certain, a waste of the prince’s time. Yet, he remained in line waiting until his name was called to enter the conference room and present his candidacy. He hoped he would at least have time to tour the mountain before they threw him out.
“Bilbo Baggins, Grandson of Thain Gerontius Took of the Shire.” The herald announced.
Bilbo resisted the urge to sigh as he stepped forward. The white haired advisor who had been leading the others in one at a time raised an eyebrow at Bilbo.
“A hobbit? How unusual.”
Bilbo crossed his arms behind his back as he held his head high.
“I believe there is quite a bit about this situation I would label unusual, but I am not one of them.” He answered coolly.
The dwarf’s eyes widened in surprise, but there was a twinkle to them showing he was not offended by Bilbo’s retort. Which was good news for Bilbo. He had a bad habit of letting his mouth run away from him.
“Right this way, Master Baggins.” The dwarf instructed bowing, rather unnecessarily, before him. “The prince may ask you a few questions. Just answer honestly. This is not a game of politics, just a dwarf looking for his match.”
“Yes, of course.” Bilbo answered brusquely as he tugged at his best receiving jacket.
The burgundy clashed beautifully against the pea green of his waistcoat with it’s golden embroidered vines. His grandma Laura used to tell him all the time that it was his best outfit for highlighting the Baggins brown in his hair and eyes. While desirable in the Shire, he knew it made him look a bit plain elsewhere in the world. Perfect for getting an eccentric prince to pass over him as husband material.
It was a mere few paces before Bilbo got his first good look at his potential husband to be, and it was almost enough to stop him in his tracks. The dwarf before him stood regal and proud with his flowing ebony locks flashing with silver beads and crown. His nose was straight and small when compared with other dwarves Bilbo had met, but his eyes. It was as if Aule captured the sky above and pinned it into those fathomless depths.
“Bilbo Baggins, grandson of Thain Gerontius Took, may I present Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thrain, son of Thror, Prince of Erebor.” The older dwarf introduced.
Bilbo blundered through a bow, almost forgetting it entirely in his stupor. Thorin approached him, an appraising hand on his chin as he circled Bilbo. The hobbit was taken aback by the blunt sizing up, but he held his silence as he awaited the prince’s verdict.
“Tell me, Master Baggins, why should I pick you as my husband?”
Sweet Yavanna, his voice was just as sinful as his eyes.
“I’m sorry?” He tried to clarify, his tongue feeling clumsy.
Thorin looked seconds away from rolling his eyes as he retook his place in front of Bilbo with his arms crossed.
“I’m asking, what could the Shire offer Erebor out of this union? Flowers?” He mocked.
Bilbo’s eyebrows furrowed as heat rose from his chest to pool in his cheeks. He cleared his throat as he fought to maintain control of his voice. Clearly, his earlier musings at the dwarf’s beauty was merely surface deep.
“I did not come prepared to make any negotiations on behalf of my homeland, Your Highness.”
The dwarf’s eyes narrowed as his chin jutted high. “So you came merely to take advantage of Ereborian hospitality.”
“I came on behalf of my Thain after being summoned by your king!” Bilbo snapped, unable to reign himself in any longer.
“Be careful how you speak, Hobbit!” Thorin growled.
“I do apologize, Your Highness, and I certainly mean no disrespect to your grandfather,” Bilbo continued, unable to stop the growing tirade. “But this entire farce has been the epitome of wasted time. What can the Shire do for you? How about bellies full of good food because it is clear to me, there isn’t rich farmland for miles! The better question is what can Erebor do for us? You may be rich in gold, but we have no need for it out west. I had hoped to at least get a good story out of this venture, but you have done a decent job of dashing that hope! Now we both have known from the moment I walked in that you weren’t going to pick me, so let’s end this with our dignities still mostly intact.”
Bilbo finished with a nod as he tugged on his jacket hem once with finality. It was only then he was aware of Thorin’s raised eyebrow and slack-jawed expression. The advisor looked similar gobsmacked, and Bilbo found himself embarrassed for an entirely new reason now.
“Yes, well, thank you for your time, Your Highness.” Bilbo mumbled, fumbling through another bow.
Neither dwarf reacted, and Bilbo awkwardly excused himself from the room. Bilbo kept his head down as he passed the entrance where the rest of Thorin’s potential suitors still stood, hurrying back to the guest halls. He’s had quite enough of dwarven kingdoms, and he figured he was about to be thrown out on his bum. He only wished Gandalf was still around to escort him back home. Oh well, he would wait for him in Dale if he had to, but by Eru’s will, he was leaving Erebor tonight!
Once back in his room, Bilbo had to lean against the stone door to fight the jelly sensation traveling up his legs. Did he really just yell at a prince? It didn’t matter how they chose to look at his grandfather’s position, he certainly did not hold enough power and influence in the world to be able to get away with that. His need became that much greater, and he swiftly threw his belongings in his pack. A few wrinkles here and there was a sacrifice he was willing to make to stay clear of the dungeons.
He had just finished tying the drawstrings when there was a knock on his door. He froze debating on whether or not he should answer. He could fake his absence, but the guards standing in the corridor would know he had not vacated. Cold sweat dripped down the back of his neck as there was another knock. He twisted his hands around each other as he slowly crossed the room and answered with shaking nerves.
“Good evening, Master Baggins.” The advisor from before greeted with a bow.
“Master Dwarf.” Bilbo nodded in return. “Before you say anything…”
“Balin.” The dwarf interrupted with a wide grin.
“Pardon?” Bilbo sighed.
“Balin, son of Fundin, at your service.” He introduced. “Might I borrow a moment of your time?”
Bilbo looked around him, more than a little surprised it was only the older dwarf outside his room.
“I’m afraid our Prince is not with me.” He explained, trying to guess Bilbo’s thoughts.
“No, no! I didn’t think...please, come in.” Bilbo stepped aside wondering how many ways he could look like an idiot that day.
“Is the room not to your liking?” Balin questioned upon entering.
“It’s quite comfortable.” Bilbo reassured.
“I only asked because you packed up as if you were hoping to transfer quarters?”
His nose twitched under the older dwarf’s knowing stare.
“Yes, about that…”
“I thought you handled yourself well today.”
Bilbo’s head gave a light thrum as the conversation continued to twist in circles.
“You...do.” Bilbo concluded dryly.
“Yes, the bluntness of a dwarf, but still retaining an air of manners. Fine qualities when looking for a consort.”
Bilbo replayed that last line over in his head a few times with a sickening realization.
“Master Dwarf…” Bilbo began once he found his voice.
“Balin.” The other reminded him gently.
“Master Balin,” Bilbo started again. “Prince Thorin isn’t putting serious consideration in the idea of...me? Right?”
The soft smile and the twinkling gaze was far from reassuring.
“Our prince would like to extend the invitation of dinner tonight to make amends for your first meeting.”
“Why?” Bilbo asked in morbid curiosity.
“He feels you may have gotten the wrong impression…”
“Master Balin.” Bilbo interrupted him this time. “You know clearly what I meant.”
Balin nodded his head, his grin still wide as if pleased with Bilbo’s wit.
“Ask Thorin. Tonight. We will send a runner when it’s time. Please, let us know if there is anything we can do to make your stay more comfortable.” Balin declared giving a final nod to Bilbo’s packed bag.
With that, Bilbo was left alone, and a thought that hadn’t quite occurred to him before seeped into his very being, filling him with dread. That damned, arrogant dwarf was actually about to pick him. And for what reason? Spite? Furthermore, if that was the case, he would be stuck here in Erebor. Never again to see his Shire, his beloved Bag End. What started off as a high-spirited adventure to distant lands was quickly morphing into a bleak, stony prison.
His gaze wandered to his pack. How far could he make it before he was caught? Would they even bother or would Thorin just move onto the next suitor in line? The temptation was only subdued by his duty to the Shire. It would reflect poorly if he left without giving the dwarf a second chance. Besides, surely, there was no law that would force him to marry? He heaved a heavy sigh as he unpacked his next best outfit for dinner.
***
By the time the runner came for him, Bilbo had smoked two pipefulls of Old Toby, changed his clothing three times, and marked a path in the fireplace rug from his pacing. For once in his life, Bilbo’s stomach rejected the mere idea of food, and his desire to run was all but reality. Still, his sensibilities and courage took hold, leading him down the hall after the servant, and into the most gorgeous dining room Bilbo had ever seen.
The table was long and stone like most dwarven furniture, but there was a solid gold inseam that ran like a stripe straight down the middle. Lavish tapestries and weaponry decorated the walls, and right in the center was a massive chandeleur that Bilbo was willing to bet was made with real diamonds. It caught the candles within, and bounced the light a hundred different ways making the room practically sunlit in spite of the hour.
Thorin, himself, was dressed in deep blue and dark furs, contrasting against the fireplace at his back at the head of the table. Even without his crown, there could be no doubt that he was a prince, hell a king in his element. The dwarf rose to meet him, and the palpable tension that he carried earlier was gone. His guard was still up though, and Bilbo found that just made him even more unreadable. The prince nodded his head mere paces from him.
“Master Baggins.” He greeted evenly.
“Your Highness.” Bilbo returned with probably his most natural bow of the day.
Thorin reached out his hand, and Bilbo hesitantly gave his expecting a handshake only for his ears to burn when Thorin’s lips grazed his knuckles. He was staring at Bilbo now, his eyebrows furrowed just slightly as his mouth open and closed a few times as if unable to decide on his words.
“Your...vest...thing is very nice. It highlights your...feet.”
That was quite easily the strangest compliment Bilbo had ever received. He had to glance down to make sure there wasn’t something wrong with his appearance.
“Thank you?” He finally offered.
Thorin nodded again, a little relief bleeding into his countenance. He swept his hand out indicating a place setting next to Thorin’s own. Bilbo moved towards his seat, pausing as Thorin pulled out his chair for him. His gaze settled on the empty plate before him as he struggled to make sense of the prince’s change in behavior. A silence pressed on them both as Bilbo tried to find a polite way to ask after his purpose in being there.
“So…” They both started at the same time.
“No, please you first.” Bilbo insisted.
“Please, go ahead.” Thorin offered at the same time.
They gave an awkward chuckle before Thorin decided to speak again.
“How are you finding Erebor?”
“The mountain is very lovely.” Bilbo answered stiffly. “I must confess, I haven’t had much time to explore.”
“That...is a shame. I will have to give you a tour soon.” Thorin mumbled in response.
“I would hate to impose, Your Highness.” Bilbo politely declined.
Thorin looked a little crestfallen, and Bilbo found it tugged at his chest in a way he didn’t understand.
“But if you did, where would you take me? What are your favorite aspects of your kingdom?” Bilbo blurted.
Thorin blinked in surprise before a small, but genuine, smile spread across his face. Bilbo’s throat felt clogged and he was thankful when the servants brought out their first course to hide his burning face behind a spoonful of soup.
“These are all things that wouldn’t be on an official tour.” Thorin explained with a smirk. “But I love to walk deep into the diamond mines with nothing but torchlight and watch the room glitter like stars in the sky. I love being near the forges with the sweltering heat and the pounding of hammers on the anvils. But my favorite place is the ravens’ roost. There is a spot up there where you can see for miles, and it feels like all of Middle Earth is before you.”
Bilbo felt himself smile, enthralled by Thorin’s passion for his home. He paused for a moment, just soaking in the images described to him that were so different from his home, but somehow just as beautiful.
“What about the Shire, Master Baggins? Tell me about your own home.”
Bilbo clumsily began to talk about the rolling green hills, the sun-kissed summers, the gardens and farms, and an evening smoke filled with a field of fireflies. Things he was certain held no interest to a dwarven prince, but if Thorin was bored by his narration, he never showed it. After that, their conversation seemed to be a little easier, if not still polite and distant. They were closing out the evening when Bilbo finally had to ask.
“Your Highness, with all due respect, why me?”
Thorin blinked before his expression slowly closed off once more.
“You were the strongest candidate that I felt I could have a...relationship with.” Thorin explained, his words practiced even as he stumbled over the word relationship.
Bilbo felt ice drop into his stomach. Even after what he considered a lovely evening, this was all still a ruse. A political maneuver of some kind.
“Prince Thorin,” He barked, as surprised as Thorin by the hard edge to his words. “If I may be frank, I came here tonight with no intention of staying in Erebor through the night. I will be leaving for the Shire, unless you can give me a real reason to stay.”
Thorin’s hands tightened into fists, and for a brief moment Bilbo feared Thorin would order his guards to lock him in his room. His expression pinched, and he released a breath through his nose as the tension slid out of him once more.
“I hate it when Balin is right. He told me you would not be idly swayed, but I chose to ignore him.” Thorin mumbled more to himself than to Bilbo.
Bilbo narrowed his gaze. “Sorry, I was not stupid enough to be tricked.”
“No!” Thorin gasped. “I...it’s just…”
A hand rubbed down his face, and Bilbo found he looked far older and more tired than his initial impression. A sympathetic tug at his heart held him to remain and hear Thorin out. The prince stood up and led the way to a different doorway than where Bilbo entered.
“We can’t talk here.” Thorin explained when Bilbo merely stared at him in confusion.
Heaving his own sigh, Bilbo got up and followed the dwarf through the new passage. It wasn’t long before Bilbo was completely lost on how he would find his rooms from here. Maybe that was Thorin’s plan to keep him here. He would be a prisoner of the mountain, lost in its labyrinth. They finally reached Thorin’s destination, and Bilbo entered after the prince. He was a little confused as to the nature of this room. It opened into a sitting room with expensive furniture and what appeared to be a personal armory. However, there were several doorways that branched out, and peeking down one Bilbo caught a glance of what appeared to be a bedroom.
“Where are we?” He asked curiously.
Thorin had immediately gone to the liquor cabinet in the corner and poured them both a drink.
“These are my chambers.” He answered.
Bilbo jumped and took a step backwards. He was torn on how he should feel: outrage at the dwarf’s presumptions, indignant at being tricked into the prince’s bed, or the small part of him that wanted to be just a little exhilarated at the fact that Thorin chose him.
“Now see here!” Bilbo began.
Thorin rolled his eyes as he interrupted what was about to be an impressive tirade on Bilbo’s part. “Peace! I merely wanted to speak away from prying ears and eyes.”
Bilbo’s jaw clicked shut. Thorin invited him to sit on the settee, and it was with stilted movements that Bilbo perched himself on the edge of the seat. He took the glass offered to him, but made no move to drink. Thorin on the other hand threw back the strong brew in one gulp glaring down in the empty glassware. The air was heavy as Bilbo waited for Thorin to give his reasons before he threw the drink in his face and marched out.
“My grandfather is unwell.” Thorin whispered.
Bilbo almost wasn’t certain he heard him correctly at first until Thorin pinned him with a desperate and intimidating glare.
“Your grandfather...I don’t understand. Does he need a healer?” Bilbo finally asked.
Thorin snorted staring off to the right with a dark look.
“It’s not a physical illness, but one of the mind.”
Bilbo nodded, still relatively unsure what this had to do with anything.
“I’m afraid I don’t know much about how to help with that.” Bilbo finally stated.
Thorin gave a mirthless laugh, his eyes softening some when he looked back at Bilbo.
“I shouldn’t think so, Master Baggins. None do. He has been consumed with his riches, Dragon Sickness, they call it. My only hope now is to soften the effects of his rule until I can inherit the throne. My father and I were ruling Erebor together behind the scenes until his…passing.”
“Please, don’t think me uncaring, Your Highness. But what exactly does this have to do with me?” Bilbo sighed.
Thorin was silent for another long moment, and Bilbo was afraid he had overstepped when Thorin spoke once more.
“I love my grandfather. I mean, I want to love my grandfather, I loved him once long ago. But he has become...cruel and careless, and I fear for Erebor. I have sent my sister Dis to live with her husband and sons in Ered Luin years ago because I don’t know how he will react to having more heirs.”
“Surely, not his great-grandsons.” Bilbo tried to protest, but Thorin’s somber look stopped him.
“The war I fought in that earned me the title Oakenshield, I was supposed to perish along with my father and brother.”
Bilbo’s heart clenched as his hands tightened around his glass. These were secrets he shouldn’t be hearing. There was no way he, a simple hobbit of the Shire, was to know of royal family plots and shame.
“Thorin...why don’t you leave? Go to your sister and nephews!” Bilbo cried aghast.
It was the first time he had spoken so casually to the prince, and yet neither of them noticed. The dark haired dwarf’s gaze was so sad, and yet filled with a firm strength Bilbo couldn’t help but admire.
“Erebor is my home. Besides, I worry for its people if I were not here to protect them.” He explained. “No, once Balin and I learned the...truth. No matter how hard it was to swallow, we had to come up with a plan that would make me look less...threatening in my grandfather’s eyes. I fear he thinks I want to take his throne from him by force, and I dare not dwell on what measures he is cooking up to remedy it.”
Bilbo forced himself to swallow against the pain that threatened to overtake his chest. To live in fear of one’s own grandfather...he couldn’t even imagine. He certainly disagreed with his own quite often and was frequently annoyed by him, but he has never feared the Old Took.
“So if I were to appear as a fool in love…” Thorin purposely hid his gaze from Bilbo. “Especially with someone below my station with no hope of giving me heirs…”
At his pointed gaze, everything suddenly fell into stark clarity. Thorin intended to use him as a shield against his grandfather’s paranoia. It made perfect sense. Hobbits had no desire for gems and riches. A simple, country male who managed to snare the heart of the heir to the most powerful kingdom in all of Arda. It was so brilliant, and yet he felt sick to the very pit of his stomach. He numbly set down his untouched drink as he stood and stepped away towards the fire. His hands were antsy, and he had a strong desire for his pipe.
“Why are you telling me this?” Bilbo demanded spinning around. “Are you trying to blackmail me into going along with this deranged plan?”
“You asked!” Thorin snapped, jumping to his feet as well.
“Stop treating me like an idiot!” Bilbo snapped, fury written in his every nerve. “I’m done with the half-truths. You brought me into this, why?!”
Thorin was a puppet with his strings cut. This, whatever it was, it was clear this was not Thorin’s game. From what Bilbo knew before meeting him, he was a leader, a warrior, a hero. He wasn’t a politician or spy, he wasn’t one for mind games, and it seemed as if Bilbo’s words stripped him of that leaving him bare.
“Because I need your help. I didn’t expect you to be...you.” He explained gesturing to Bilbo. “A head of wit and a spine of mithril, but after you spoke to me in the conference room, Balin and I both realized you were exactly what people would expect out of a consort. It would...sell easier, especially considering you’re not...a dwarf.”
Bilbo wanted to stomp his foot, burst into tears right there, and pull out his hair. Never in his wildest imaginations did he expect he was being summoned for something like this. A fake marriage to make a mad king take his heir less seriously in terms of succession all because he was a qualified candidate.
“Please.” Bilbo turned to Thorin fully only moments from falling to his knees in a plea. “You must know that this is insane.”
However, it was only after he said it that he knew Thorin did. He didn’t even have to look into the haunted blue eyes before him. This insanity was Thorin’s everyday life.
“Dwarven engagements are notoriously long. No one would bat an eye if it was two or three years before we married. With your Shire being months away, we could even drag out the process. In the meantime, those loyal to me will be working on a solution. It’s possible you wouldn’t have to marry me at all.”
Bilbo’s eyes fell to his feet. “What if I don’t want this?” He asked hoarsely.
Thorin sighed as he hesitantly put his hand on Bilbo’s shoulder giving it an encouraging squeeze.
“I understand. I won’t hold you here, I just ask for your...discretion.”
Bilbo nodded numbly refusing to let himself be taken by Thorin’s broken voice.
“I need time to think.” He finally told him. “I’ll give you my answer in the morning.”
Thorin nodded before leading him back to Bilbo’s room. Bilbo didn’t mind the silence this time, although he felt anyone looking at the two would think they were heading to an execution rather than two wayward lovers. There’s no way this would work. As Bilbo tossed and turned through the night, he was certain he would be telling Thorin no upon dawn’s arrival and running for the Shire.
However, all it took was one look into Thorin’s hopeful blue eyes, and a ‘yes’ fell from his lips. For one small moment, the shine of gratitude and relief made it worth it. It was like Thorin said. They had years to consider an alternative solution. In the meantime, Bilbo would play the happy in-love consort to be. Thorin barely gave Bilbo a moment to grasp what he had signed up for before he was taking him to meet the king.
Thorin and Balin did a good job of building some fairy tale worthy story of love at first sight and other such nonsense as Bilbo fought to keep from squirming under Thror’s dark, cold glare. When they finished the king gave a mocking smile, and when he spoke, Bilbo’s world toppled out from underneath him.
“Why wait? If it’s true love, I say we get started with the wedding planning now. Thorin and...Master Baggins will be wed by the end of the month.”
