Back Again 2: Narîth

Twenty-seven years ago, Frodo and Bilbo fled the Shire and took up residence in Erebor. There, Bilbo became the King's Consort and Frodo was given a prince's status and a warrior's education to fulfill his destiny. It is time. Bagginshield-established, Frodolas

Chapter 1

Doom is near at hand,

For Isildur's Bane shall waken,

And the Halfling forth shall stand.

To the Mountain of Fire taken, and cast within.

Man once been, born again.

The large Dwarf circled the smaller, axes clutched in his hands. The smaller held a sword in his hand. The larger attacked with a shout, hefting one ax into the air. The smaller dove to the right, blade raised to block the second ax and pushed it away, slamming his foot into the larger's side. The lager grabbed his foot and twisted, flinging him onto his back before bringing his ax down on the smaller. The smaller rolled to the left and jumped to his feet, seizing the larger's large arm around both of his and ramming the hilt of his blade into the larger's side.

"Oof," the larger said. He paused, feeling the cool metal against his neck. "All right, yer done for now, yeh twerp." The blade was lowered and sheathed.

The larger removed his helm. The Dwarf's beard was a lustrous black. His bald head held permanent decorations to commemorate battles he had come out alive from. He picked up his axes and turned to the smaller.

He had removed his helm as well. The smaller was beardless, not even a stubble could be seen on his chin. The hairs he did have were on his head, home to an array of long unruly curls braided out of his eyes and to reveal the elfish point of his ears, decorated in gold rings and mithril cuffs at the point.

Jewels given to a prince of the realm.

He grinned at the other. "Getting too old, Dwalin?"

"That's Mister Dwalin to yeh, Halfling," Dwalin snarled.

The Halfling snorted. "And what would my uncle say if he heard you address me so?"

"Which one?"

"Either one?"

"Well," Dwalin stroked his beard. "Thorin could give me a wallop if he wanted. Bilbo, though, he could withhold those biscuits of his. I'd rather take on Thorin. Thank yeh."

The prince laughed. Dwalin clapped his shoulder. "You best go get ready for the party, Frodo. Unless you wish to bring down the wrath of both your uncles."

"I'd never be so cruel, Mister Dwalin." He ducked before the hand met the back of his head, running off.

"Yeh better run, yeh scamp!"

Frodo slowed to a walk once he reached the top of the steps. Two guards opened the doors to the palace for him. He nodded his thanks, entering another hallway. Save for the occasional guard or servant, the hall was empty with many doors on either side.

A servant came out of his room and bowed. "Good afternoon, Lord Frodo," she said, ducking out before Frodo could thank her. He entered, removing his armor and letting it fall free until he stood in just leather breeches and his uncle's old mithril shirt.

He went to wash his hands and wipe the sweat from his neck and brow before finding lunch waiting for him. Chicken in basil cream, steamed vegetables seasoned with garlic, and two rolls of bread with a goblet of wine.

He ate in blissful silence. Nothing but him and the food in front of him.

Until his door opened and a little dwarf ran in. His gold locks were braided along the sides of his face and his eyes were a bright hazel.

"Frodo!"

"Bíli, what are you…You didn't run from Ori again, did you?"

The little one grinned sheepishly. Frodo set his fork down. "Bíli, we talked about this: I know lessons are boring. I know you don't like them. But you have to go to them. Ori said he'd talk to your Adad next time ran off and I don't think—"

"BÍLI!"

Frodo winced and Bíli gasped, grabbing Frodo's hand. "I'll go to my lessons! I'll read my books! I'll eat green food! I'll be nice to the Elves when they come! Just hide me before—"

"Before what?"

Frodo sighed. "Good afternoon, Fili."

Bíli turned around, wringing his hands. "'Lo, Adad. I'll just…be going now."

Fili held a hand up and Bíli stilled. "You will apologize to Master Ori and clean up the mess you made in the library. Furthermore, beginning tomorrow, you are grounded. For a week."

Bíli bowed his head. "Yes, Sir," he said, leaving the room. Fili sighed, running his hand through his hair, the same shade as his son's.

"He wasn't bothering you, was he, Frodo?"

"Please, I'm eating lunch. So long as I'm not torn away from it, I'm good. Nice of you to still let him go to the feast."

"Oh, I wouldn't. Nor would Dwarka. However, Thorin's insistent that the whole family be there. Bíli has to attend. Thorin would let the boy get away with nigh everything if given the chance! He's a good lad but…"

"Too much like you?" Frodo said, taking a drink from his wine. Fili laughed.

"Aye. Way too much like me. How are you anyway? Excited?"

"What do you mean?"

"It's your birthday as much as it is Bilbo's. And you're of age now! You cannot tell me you're not excited."

Frodo blinked. "It's…oh." He grinned. "I never realized! Time went by a bit fast. I mean, I remembered, of course, but it didn't really register."

"You actually trained today. The one bloody day you don't have to train and you went and trained anyway. Frodo, you are maddening sometimes," Fili said, slumping in the chair across from him. "Who'd you train with today? Nori? Kili? Gimli?"

"Dwalin." Fili hissed in a breath and winced. Frodo grinned. "I beat him."

"Oh. Now that is not fair. You know what: I think he threw the battle. He let you win."

"He did not."

"It's Dwalin, Frodo. I know my father-in-law. He does not go easy on anyone and he doesn't lose. He let you win. I bet it's because it's your birthday."

"Don't be an Orc, Fili," Frodo said, glaring at him and stabbing the broccoli with his fork. "I may prove you wrong yet."

Fili snorted and stood. "Happy birthday, Frodo." he clapped his shoulder and left. Frodo shook his head, returning his attention to his lunch.

#

He pulled a burgundy tunic over his head before sweeping his hair out from underneath it, loose and unbraided. His beads and jewels rested on the table waiting for him. Frodo tucked the shirt into his breeches. He grabbed a comb and untangled the thick tangle of black hair on his feet.

He glanced up when the door opened and grinned. "Hello, Uncle."

"When was the last time you cut your hair?" Bilbo asked, crossing his arms and eyeing the long locks falling down Frodo's back just past his shoulders. When they had come to Erebor, Bilbo still held a sense of having not aged at all. He still looked so and many say it was the ring's influence and its being still so near to its bearer. He had gained a little more paunch as expected of a Hobbit in a high position and his hair was slowly turning silver.

Still, no one who didn't know Bilbo would have guessed he was almost ninety years old.

"Hey, no," Frodo said, holding a finger up and frowning. "We agreed you'd not touch them unless I really needed it. That was two weeks ago."

Bilbo sighed. While he wore braids in his hair and clasps befitting the King's Consort, he had kept his hair shorter than most, letting it be no longer than his shoulders. To Bilbo, Frodo's insistence to grow his own hair out was an act of tweenage rebellion fully supported by the rest of his family.

To Bilbo's utter chagrin.

He chuckled. "All right. May I at least put it together for you or were you leaving the task to Kili again?"

"Kili, I believe, has his own hair to worry about," Frodo said, holding out a different comb to Bilbo. He took it and sat behind Frodo, brushing out the tangles. "I think Aunt Dis or Uncle Thorin has him at the moment. If not Bíli." Frodo grinned. "That'd be funny. Seeing him walk in with messy braids."

Bilbo chuckled. "Funny, but far from befitting given the day. Speaking of…" He cut himself off, clearing his throat. Frodo turned around.

"What is it?"

"The Elves will be here."

"That's usually not a problem. What? You want me to help keep the family in line?"

"Well, there's that, but…Legolas has been invited as well—I know you are still angry, Frodo, but I see no reason for him not to have been invited."

Frodo turned back around.

"You can't keep avoiding him, my lad."

"Watch me," Frodo challenged.

The brushing stopped. "You will act like an adult tonight," Bilbo warned. "You are an adult and—"

"I won't embarrass the family," he promised, sighing. "But why did you invite him after all this time? How did you convince Thorin to agree to that when you know that…" Frodo bit his lip. He didn't want to think about it.

…Annoying little brother…a spoiled brat…a nuisance on the best days…

He dug his nails into his palms, trying to will the memory away. Bilbo weaved the locks into place. "It's been a long time, Frodo. Don't you think it's been long enough? Maybe you can make things right with him tonight."

"No."

"Why not? Legolas adored you."

"No. He didn't."

"How do you know he wasn't just having a bad day?" Bilbo countered. "He has expressed his regret and sent several apologies since! How long are you going to punish him?"

The last braid fell and Frodo stood, grabbing his jewelry and putting them on with shaking hands. "I'm not punishing him. He doesn't have to apologize for anything. I'm only doing what he asked of me."

"What? Never speak to him or write? Avoid him when he comes to Erebor?"

"I'll see you downstairs, Bilbo."

He grabbed his doublet, stringing his arms through the holes and leaving the room, earrings hitting his neck as he strode down the hall. Frodo wondered if there was time to train a little bit before the feast. The trumpet calls echoing off the walls informed him, "No. Get your butt to the great hall."He sighed and changed directions.

"Frodo!" Bíli called, rushing to him and grabbing his arm. Frodo smiled, petting his little cousin's head.

"Everything all right?" Kili asked.

Frodo shook his head. "Legolas." Kili's eyes flashed. He squeezed Frodo's shoulder and gave him a gentle head butt.

"Stay close to me, then." Frodo smiled gratefully at Kili and would have responded, but the doors opened for him and his cousins. He forced a grin onto his face and entered.

Chapter 2