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A letter from Frodo sends his adopted fathers into the most insanely overprotective mode he had ever seen. Really. He only said he was getting married. Bilbo/Thorin, Frodo/Aragorn, Legolas/Gimli strongly movie verse. Title: "To Love Him"

AN: I REALLY want to write a prequel to this…look forward to one in the future

Dearest Adad and Da,

I bring you both good and ill tidings with this letter. Knowing Da and Aunt Dis, I will begin with the ill.

It is with great sorrow I write of Khazad-Dum's fall. Balin passed, I believe, in battle and the Red Book will be returning to Erebor with Gimli shortly. The entire kingdom has been overrun with Gundebad Orcs again. (Adad, I know you are fuming reading this, but I do ask you remember your health. You're not as young as you were sixty years ago.)

It is in Moria battling Durin's Bane, the Balrog of legend, where Gandalf also fell.

Another member of my company on my quest, Boromir son of Denethor, passed at the hands of Uruk-Hai.

And that is the end of all my ill news. My quest, as you have guessed from this letter, has succeeded!

And Da may be mad at me for saying so earlier that Gandalf fell, but he returned, stronger than before! He is no longer Gandalf the Grey, but Gandalf the White!

Gimli is well and, though it took me a while to convince him to do so, is now courting Prince Legolas of Mirkwood. As for myself, I am preparing for my marriage to Aragorn son of Arathorn, the newly crowned king of Gondor—

"Wait!" Bilbo shouted. The messenger looked up from the letter. "That last…sentence…."

"Yes, my lord, I did not misread it: 'I am preparing for my marriage to Aragorn son of Arathorn—"

"Is this someone you know, Thorin?"

Thorin shook his head. "Give me a moment. I'm still working through Gimli courting an Elf." Bilbo slapped his arm. "What?"

"Frodo has decided to get married."

Thorin blinked. "Please say to a Dwarf or a Hobbit."

"I'm guessing not."

"Who, again?"

"Aragorn," The messenger said. "King of Gondor. There's a little more about him, my lords…if I may continue?"

"Please do," Bilbo said, crossing his arms.

We met in Dale where we meant to meet Gandalf, but he never showed. Aragorn led us on the road to Rivendell where we held council with Lord Elrond and, as you know from my previous letter, decided to destroy the Ring. When we thought we lost Gandalf, Aragorn became the leader of our company, having the most experience in the wilderness. He is, or was, a Chieftain of the Dúnedain, a northern ranger and of the race of Men.

He and I became great friends on the journey to Rivendell and then to Lorien, when he requested to court me. I consented then, though I am not quite sure why beyond having no hope of surviving this quest. And that I did survive has restored my spirits and my love for him—

"I've heard enough," Thorin said. "Have the ponies ready by dawn tomorrow! And provisions! Dwalin! Gloin!" he shouted, descending the stairs. Bilbo hid his face in a hand and shook his head.

#

The six-week journey to Gondor was filled with griping, scowling, and one too many death threats on Thorin's and Gloin's part (forget Thranduil! The Elf refused to stop glowering at Gloin, who in turn glared at him when they joined on the journey to Gondor. Seemed the Elvenking received a similar disturbing letter detailing an account of "Ada, I'm in love with a Dwarf").

Fili wanted to come, but knew he had to stay behind and act as regent while Thorin and Bilbo were gone. Kili went in his stead, promising to cause mischief for the Man who wished to take their little cousin to bed. Dwalin often was seen caressing his weapons and speaking in low tones with Nori and Bofur, equally frightening smirks on their faces. Bifur was usually with them, shaking his head and exclaiming things in Khuzdul at them. Dori and Bombur usually were in conversation over by the fire while cooking and brewing tea.

Bilbo decided to withhold his judgment until he actually met Aragorn. He had no place to judge. When going on a journey where you may die, you tend to find comfort in unlikely places and love really could spring from that. He and Thorin were proof of that, though Thorin seemed to conveniently forget that where their dear Frodo is concerned.

They marched up the long winding streets of Minas Tirith. It was truly a beautiful city anyone of any race could appreciate. True, it was still quite war-torn and damaged, but with a little sprucing up, it'd be a home of a King again in no time. A white tree blossomed in a sunlit courtyard. The doors to the citadel opened and a guard stepped out.

"Welcome, my lords," he bowed. "I am afraid his majesty the king is currently away, but the Steward will see to your needs until the King returns."

"And where is the king?" Thorin growled.

"He and his betrothed have rode out to the Fields of Pelennor for a picnic close to the Erui," the guard said, leading them inside. Bilbo glanced around. This hall was a bit dark and cold, but the only light came from the windows. There were statues of kings on either side, or perhaps stewards. He was not sure.

"Well, this is an odd sight if any."

He looked at the front where Gandalf stepped closer, robed entirely in white and a Man beside him. "What brings such great kings to these halls with sour faces and sourer thoughts?"

"Merely the prospect of meeting their children's lovers," Bilbo said. "Though I hear Frodo and his are indisposed."

Gandalf smiled. "I assure you, Bilbo, they will be back soon. I think you and Thorin will like Aragorn, given a little time."

"I do hope so. I'd hate to disapprove of someone Frodo cares for," he glared pointedly at Thorin, who pretended not to see.

"Come, you must be hungry and tired," the Man said. "The table is set. When you have had your fill, the servants will show you to your rooms, my lords."

Thorin grumbled under his breath. Bilbo let him. So long as he could have a decent chat with this Aragorn person, give him a proper warning, and approve of him over tea, he'd be good. Aragorn really need only worry about Thorin.

The Dwarves hoarded the meat and starchy items like potatoes while Bilbo tried to manage between both and the Elves were content with salad. He long gave up trying to make Thorin eat a more balanced diet, though he did try.

Between bites, Bilbo spoke with the Man, Faramir son of Denethor and the aforementioned Steward, and with Gandalf. If Frodo left out any details in his letter, Gandalf and Faramir filled them in: the battles, the near-murder of Frodo from Boromir himself ("I wish an apology would be enough to placate you, my lords," Faramir had said when Bilbo and Thorin both fumed and could not find word to put their fury to), and a few other details…

Bilbo decided one of the first things he'd do is smack Frodo atop the head for omitting such vital information in his letter. Once they ate, servants led them to their rooms. Bilbo instructed the one leading him and Thorin to let them know when Frodo returned as soon as physically possible.

Thorin collapsed on the bed, muttering under his breath. Bilbo pulled his boots off. "Sit up so I may get your coat."

"Whose turn is it to yell at the lad this time?" he asked, sitting up for Bilbo to remove the cloak and various layers.

"You're mistaking Frodo for our nephews again."

"He's too young to marry."

"He's thirty-six, Thorin. And a Hobbit. That's not too young at all." Bilbo set the shed garments on a chair before beginning peeling his own layers off. "You forget he is not a wee babe. A thirty-six year old Hobbit is the same as an eighty-one or eighty-two year old dwarf."

Thorin growled, lying down again. "I wish he had the foresight to bring this Aragorn to us first before agreeing to any marriage."

"As do I, but he didn't and we are here now," Bilbo sat on the bed and moved behind Thorin, massaging his neck.

"But we were…"

"We were middle-aged and nearly past our prime when we met," Bilbo finished for him, snaking his fingers through the white and grey speckled hair "Besides, a Dwarf and a Hobbit was crazy enough." Thorin chuckled in agreement. "Frodo might have it harder since he is with a Man and they are both of the male sex. That will be my only worry until I know more about Aragorn."

"You expect me to act the same? I can name a few other things that worry me. If it were a Dwarf or another Hobbit, I wouldn't worry about the vast difference in size—"

"For heaven's sake, Thorin! If you want to worry about someone's size in comparison, many have found a way around that, I'm sure."

Thorin sniffed, leaning back to rest his head on Bilbo's shoulder. "I love you, ûrzudel."*

"I love you too, kurdu melhekh,"* Bilbo replied, kissing Thorin's temple. Thorin closed his eyes, nuzzling Bilbo's neck.

A knock was met with a groan from Thorin. "My lords," the servant said, poking his head in. "Lord Frodo has returned."

"Thank you," Bilbo said. He pushed Thorin off gently.

"He's thirty-six! Should he really be interrupting us like this?"

"I asked them to let us know when he was back. Now at least put your boots back on if you intend to see our son before dinner. I will be going now."

Bilbo closed the door behind him. A few steps later, Thorin catches up, grumbling under his breath. The servant led them into the throne room. Frodo was speaking to Faramir. Bilbo frowned, striding over and seizing Frodo's right hand. "What is this!" he demanded, staring at the wrapped hand. Frodo blinked, adjusting to the sight of Bilbo before him.

"Da…"

"What happened to your finger?"

"Well…considering I thought I was going to die half the time, a finger's a small price to pay."

"Frodo!"

"It got bit off by Gollum."

"And you decided to leave that out in your letter?"

Thorin closed a little more distance. "I'd have taken losing an appendage better than the news of your engagement, Inùdoy."*

Bilbo spun around glaring at Thorin, mentally vowing that he'd be sleeping on the couch in their room if he dared to speak another word.

Frodo sighed. "I figured that'd be why you came. Aragorn is about to hold council, so I'll introduce you to him later, but please just hear me out first and hold off your judgment for the time being."

Thorin crossed his arms, grunting. Bilbo nodded. "It's about tea time," he said. "You know the place better than we do, so if you please."

Frodo led them to another hall filled with rooms. The Royal Wing, Bilbo assumed. The alabaster room gleamed from the sunlight and the oak bed is covered in white sheets and quilts. They sit at a small table and chairs, fashioned to be suitable for those of the races of Dwarves and Hobbits. Said chair was laden in cold cuts, crackers, and a steaming pot of tea. Seems the servants adjusted quickly to cater to Frodo.

Good.

"So," Thorin said as tea was poured into cups, "Aragorn."

"Yes…um…well, like I said in my letter, we met in Dale a week or so after I left Erebor. He was one of the Dúnedain and is the Heir of Isildur, so he is the rightful king of Gondor. It's not much different from you and Da, Adad. Really! Which…is a little unsettling now that I think about it…" he shrugged, waving it off. "Aragorn is an able leader, strong, loyal, and kind…"

Bilbo almost choked, seeing the glazed look in Frodo's eyes and the small smile lighting his face. He'd rather not acknowledge the blush.

Oh boy.

"So I am under the impression he is a king recently out of exile," Thorin said, "is a good man, a good leader, and that alone should convince me that my son isn't rushing into anything."

"We've been courting for nearly three years now, so you haven't any reason to gripe."

"Save on the fact that no one you know save Gimli and Legolas has heard of him until now," Bilbo added. "You can understand why we'd stand in the way with that in mind, Frodo."

"But you are here now and there will be plenty of time to get to know Aragorn. I know you think the wedding rushed since its two weeks away, but it isn't. Not really. A three-year courtship and almost four months of betrothal is usually considered long."

"True," Bilbo said. "And yet you are avoiding the issue at present again. We don't know Aragorn. Never heard of him until six weeks ago, and your wedding is two weeks away."

"I didn't exactly have time to write that I met someone and the like while trying to save the world."

Thorin massaged his temples, fighting off a coming headache. Bilbo opened his mouth to retaliate when a loud boom interrupted them.

They stared at the door.

"Tell me you didn't," Frodo growled.

"Didn't what?" Thorin asked.

"Bring the others!"

Thorin and Bilbo exchanged looks. "Well," Bilbo began.

Frodo jumped from his seat and ran for the door, swearing in Sindarin, Khuzdul, and Westron as he sprinted down the hall.

Thorin drank his tea. Bilbo shot him an incredulous glare. "I am not chasing him," he said in his defense. "I'm too old for that and so are you."

#

The plumbing was wrecked, flooding the floors with things better left unmentioned.

Frodo screamed at the others, tearing at his hair and stomping his feet. Most of them looked rather pleased with themselves, refusing to acknowledge they had done something wrong. Thorin tried not to look rather smug, probably purposefully failing.

Bilbo watched with feigned interest before deciding to go and just find the blasted king his son was about to marry. Why wait for the inevitable, after all?

He found the throne room easily enough on his own. The doors opened and several men filed out, talking among themselves. Bilbo stepped inside the room. Faramir and Gandalf were there talking to a Man who looked quite ready to tear his hair out.

Bilbo smiled recalling Thorin having the same look on his face when he took Erebor back. He cleared his throat.

"Aragorn son of Arathorn?"

The Man looked up. His wavy brown hair fell just past his shoulders with a light beard well-groomed on his face. He appraised Bilbo with grey-blue eyes and a mouth set in a firm line.

"I'm afraid we haven't properly been introduced before you decided it was proper to ask my son for his hand."

Gandalf smiled with amusement in his eyes. Faramir shifted uncomfortably.

"I…well…I," he looked at Faramir, who scooted away, and at Gandalf, who still looked quite amused. "Am I correct to assume you are Prince Bilbo?"

"You are."

"My sincerest apologies," Aragorn bowed. "I did write a letter of introduction many months ago stating my intent…I suppose it got lost…which is no excuse, I know."

"You don't have to explain yourself," Bilbo assured him. "Just come to tea sometime soon and we'll talk then. Agreed?"

Aragorn nodded. Bilbo smiled, feeling rather pleased with himself, and walked away.

#

Frodo massaged his head, looking quite stressed out. He glared at the Company through dinner, daring them to cause trouble. Bilbo doubted they'd start throwing dishware, but he wouldn't put it past them.

Aragorn spoke in hushed tones with Thorin. A smirk gracing his husband's face filled Bilbo with both anticipation and fear. What was Thorin planning?

A plate flew into the air.

"Kili!" Frodo shouted, "Don't you—Stop that! Aragorn, don't laugh!"

And so it begins, Bilbo thought as a new song in the tune of That's What Bilbo Baggins Hates picked up. All at Frodo's expense, poor boy. He took out his pipe and lit it, watching the mayhem with fondness.

It may yet be a while for the family to truly accept Aragorn son of Arathorn, but for now, he had Bilbo's approval and possibly Thorin's.

That was good enough for the time being.

"Aragorn," he mumbled into the mouthpiece. "Welcome to the family."

Khuzdul:

*ûrzudel = (the) sun of (all) suns

*kurdu melhekh = heart king

* Inùdoy = son

If my Khuzdul is wrong, PLEASE tell me