Disclaimer: The Hobbit, all characters, places, and related terms are the sole property of J. R. R. Tolkien's estate, and Warner Brothers, New Line Cinema, Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer, and WingNut Films.
Author's Note: Fill for a prompt on the hobbit-kink meme.
Another Adventure
Dwalin sighed in relief as the light of the moon lit up the mark on the round door as he went up the walkway. Aye, this was the one. This being only his second time here in the Shire, his memories of the place had grown vague. Thank goodness the wizard had done his part as promised.
The bald dwarf rang the bell. Tiredly closing his eyes, he thought of warm fires and good suppers. Impatiently he rang the bell again, harder. There was faint movement on the other side of the door; seconds later it was pulled open.
Opening his eyes, Dwalin blinked when he looked at an empty doorway. His gaze dropped at the sound of a sharp little gasp, and he stared in disbelief. A tiny, short creature, looking to be no bigger than a three-year-old dwarfling – impossibly small furry bare feet, pale skin, sky blue eyes, and a head full of dark curls – stood partly behind the door open. The little thing gazed up at the dwarf, taking in his piercings, tattoos, weapons, long beard, and tallness with ever widening eyes, his mouth forming an o-shape.
After a seemingly long minute with the two gawking at each other, Dwalin mentally shook himself. Recalling his manners, he bowed deeply, ending almost eye to eye with the tiny hobbit.
"Dwalin, at your service," the warrior greeted in a gravelly and slightly stunned voice before straightening.
And now, Dwalin anticipated, fear would wash away that startled expression, resulting in the little creature either shutting the door in his face or bursting into tears before rushing off. Instead, to the dwarf's astonishment, the lad giggled. Then he beamed happily. It was when he stepped forward, arms fluttering up, down, and back up in a clear message of pick me up, that the taller creature nearly fainted.
Suddenly a bundle of nerves, Dwalin awkwardly stepped inside the hobbit hole. Slowly, carefully, he lifted the hobbit into his arms, feeling like a clumsy giant with the little thing. He was amazed at how the lad seemed to weigh no more than a feather. His dark eyes watched, stunned, as the hobbit's small fingers curled into the fur of his jacket while leaning back some to have a clear view of his face, delighted awe growing in his expression, no trace of fright or unease to be found by the warrior.
"Who is it, Frodo?" a well-known and much-missed voice called from somewhere.
"It's Uncle Dwalin!" the hobbit called over his shoulder without taking his eyes off the dwarf.
The breath was stolen from Dwalin's lungs by the lad's happy response, and he felt himself well up. He squeezed his eyes shut. Never had he ever suspected he would be called "uncle." He swallowed thickly as he felt a light kiss placed on his rough cheek and heard Frodo say cheerfully, "Hello, Uncle Dwalin." He worried his heart would burst.
When Bilbo eventually discovered the warrior frozen still in the front hall with Frodo now snuggling contentedly against his chest, repeatedly blinking his misty eyes, Dwalin cleared his throat and grumbled something about dust in the air, his ears turning red. The dwarf suspected the older hobbit didn't believe him, but Bilbo only looked terribly pleased, fondly welcoming him to make himself at home.
"We expected you four days ago, old friend. I've been telling Frodo all about you." He motioned for the dwarf to go first down the hall. "Supper is ready."
"And after, will you play with me, Uncle Dwalin? And tell me stories? Do you really sound like a bear? Will you sleep in my room?" Frodo asked, bubbling with excitement. "Pretty please?"
Smiling bashfully, warming from the inside out, Dwalin glanced between the two hobbits. This could be the start of another adventure.
THE END