Bilbo watched Josie as she stepped into his hobbit hole. Her eyes were wide as she took in the ornate, antique furniture that Bilbo had inherited, politely ignoring the scuff marks on the walls. He led her from room to room, allowing her a few minutes to marvel at each. He knew he had quite a bit more money than she did; he had inherited all of his mother's fortunes when she had died. However, being the youngest in a Took family and a woman nonetheless, Josie had been expected to derive all her wealth from a marriage.
Eventually he led her to the table and put up a kettle for tea. He pushed his own dinner towards her as he rummaged through the pantry to find something else to eat. Soon they sat across from each other, quietly nibbling on cheese.
Bilbo sighed. Before his adventure, if he had been forced to share a meal with someone, this would have been lovely for him. Quiet, unobtrusive, and polite. Josie ate everything he put in front of her, and managed not to make a mess of it! However, he now found that he had no patience for silent dinners. He missed the rambunctious jokes and loud laughter of his dwarves, the splash of ale, the flight of food as one of them- usually Fili, Kili, or Nori- started a food fight.
"So," he cleared his throat as he swallowed and looked over to Josie. She glanced up at him, hazel eyes curious, and he paused. What was he supposed to say?
Josie laughed at his uncertainty. It was a light sound, like the ringing of wind chimes. Bilbo felt himself respond automatically.
"Will you tell me a story?" she asked. "One that you heard on your adventure?"
Bilbo nodded, grateful that she had thought of something to fill the silence. He leaned back in his chair as he sorted through a long list of tales. Bofur had never run out of them, spouting stories to make them laugh and cry while on the road and at their campfires at night. He eventually decided to start with the first.
And so he began to talk. He was a bit fuzzy on the details, as it had been many years since he had heard the story, but he remembered it well enough. No doubt Bofur had told it better, but Bilbo did his best. He was pleased to see Josie cackling quietly in her seat, tears streaming down her face from the intensity of her laughter.
It was late by the time Bilbo's story came to a close. The pair stood, and an uncomfortable silence descended once more.
"Come," said Bilbo. He led Josie down the hall, past the pantry, bathroom, and small guest rooms. At the end of the corridor sat two bedrooms, Bilbo's own master bedroom, and beside it, the just as cozy primary guest room. He opened the door for Josie, and she hovered uncertainly in the doorway.
"I hope everything is to your liking," he said. "I can make any changes you'd like, or if you'd prefer-"
He was interrupted by Josie flinging her arms around him, pulling him to her in a very emotional hug. "It's lovely," she whispered. She stepped back, blinking back tears, and Bilbo began to panic. Crying! How was he supposed to deal with that?
"O-Oh, alright then," he stammered. "I-I'll just be next door if you need anything." He gestured to his own bedroom door. "G-Good night," he blurted. Then he threw himself in his room and slammed the door.
Once inside, he leaned his head back, though perhaps a bit too quickly than was wise, for he winced as his head slammed against the hard wood and a solid thwack reverberated through the room. Bilbo sank to the floor, trying to get a handle on his emotions.
Alright, he thought. She's just a girl. You've faced much worse than a pregnant hobbit, Barrel-Rider!
A quiet laugh reached his ears. Evidently Josie had heard his head bang against the door. With a groan, Bilbo crawled into bed and buried his head beneath his pillows. "Give me Smaug any day," he muttered.
The next morning Bilbo emerged from his room with a headache and a lump on the back of his head. Josie's mouth quirked in small smile at him, but she chose not to comment.
First breakfast was a quiet affair, after which Bilbo fled to his garden with his pipe. By the time second breakfast came around, he was feeling much better. He entered the house to find a whole array of food spread out over his table, and a rather pink faced Josie surveying her work proudly.
"Oh…" he trailed off. Meeting Josie's eyes, he found himself blushing several shades of red. "You didn't have to," he blundered.
Josie snorted. "You've opened your home to us when you don't have to," she said, her hand coming up to rest on her stomach. "Yes, I did."
Bilbo nodded mutely, then found himself being steered towards his seat. Josie seemed in a pleasant mood, filling their second meal of the day with quiet small talk. He listened with rapt attention, smiling softly as she spoke.
Once everything was cleaned up, the pair made their way over to Josie's home. Bilbo wandered through the house as he surveyed things, wondering how on earth he was supposed to move that very large armoire across the Shire- how would he even fit it through the door?
In the end he enlisted the help of several neighbors, who, although perplexed about why Josie Took was moving in with her second cousin Bilbo Baggins- the same Bilbo Baggins that had run off with a gang of dwarves and had hardly left his hobbit hole since his return, jovially put their backs into their work. By the time the next meal rolled around they had managed to get most of Josie's belongings into his house. Bilbo thought it was only right that he provide tea for his neighbors after their hard work, and so he soon found himself engaging in a quietly buzzing meal around his table.
Josie spent the rest of the day unpacking her belongings, and Bilbo did his best to help, though he was certain that he was just in the way. At the final meal of the day he once more shared one of Bofur's stories, and his large hobbit hole was filled with Josie's laughter.
And so the days progressed. Bilbo and Josie gradually became at ease with each other, quietly working together in the garden or to prepare their meals. Josie's stomach grew larger, and with it the speed with which she moved between emotions. Bilbo was perplexed by this, unsure what to make of a hobbit that was one minute laughing and the next sobbing.
The first time it happened he had thought something was very wrong. He was coming outside for a smoke on his pipe, having finished with the dishes from second breakfast. Josie was sitting on the bench outside his door, her face buried in her handkerchief. As her sobs reached his ears he felt his pipe tumble out of his fingers, and he positively threw himself to the ground at her feet.
"What is it?" he asked. "Josie, what's wrong? Is it the baby?"
Josie shook her head, which was still buried in her hands, and sniffled.
"No," she stammered. "It's j-just, your garden. It's s-so b-beautiful."
Bilbo blinked rapidly for several long moments. "I-I'm sorry?" he finally managed. Had he heard her correctly?
His thoughts were interrupted as Josie's sobs took on a renewed fervor, and Bilbo quickly sat on the bench beside her and pulled her into his arms. There she cried, his shirt replacing her handkerchief, until her tears had run dry.
"I'm so sorry," she sniffled. "You're shirt…"
Bilbo glanced down to where the material was soaked. He laughed quietly, hoping to dispel her worries. "Oh, don't worry about that," he said breezily. "I did tell you how I became a troll's handkerchief, didn't I?"
Josie immediately began to laugh. "Yes, I do believe I remember that," she chuckled. She disentangled herself from Bilbo and sat up, rubbing the last of her tears from her red rimmed eyes.
"Come." Bilbo stood and held out his hand. "I'd like to show you something."
Wordlessly Josie took his hand, allowing him to pull her to her feet. He led her back inside, down the hall and to his bedroom. When Josie paused in the doorway he released her hand and entered alone, pulling the blanket off the chest he kept at the foot of his bed.
He opened the lid, ignoring the flash of the gold and silver beneath, and resisting the urge to gag at the odor that still clung to the treasure. He lifted two items off the top of the pile, closing the chest as he set them on his bed.
Now Josie entered the room, intrigued by what she had seen. Bilbo smiled to himself as he stepped back, allowing Josie to study Sting and his shirt of mithril with wide eyes.
She picked up Sting, quietly unsheathing the short sword and holding it with trembling fingers. The blade shone dimly in the light that came through the window, and Bilbo stepped closer to run his hands over it.
"We found this in the cave of the trolls that we encountered," he told her. "Gandalf thought I might need it. It's an elven blade, which means that it glows blue when orcs or goblins are near." He paused for a moment, then added, "I named it Sting."
Josie glanced up at him curiously, then resumed her study of his sword. "Why Sting?" she asked.
Bilbo grinned and related to her the details of the company's encounter with the spiders of Mirkwood. Once again he left out the ring's part in all of this, and he resisted the urge to feel for the small band in his pocket as he spoke. Josie shook her head in wonder, laughing quietly.
"Oh Bilbo," she laughed. "Sometimes I wonder if you make all this up, but I know that you haven't."
Bilbo chuckled. "Yes, it is all a bit unbelievable, isn't it," he admitted.
Josie sheathed Sting and set it gently on the bed, turning to finger the mithril shirt gently. "What's this?" she asked.
Bilbo smiled sadly. Tears were threatening to spill over in his eyes, but he resisted them, roughly wiping them away before Josie could see them. "That," he answered. "Was a gift. It's mithril, the favorite metal of the dwarves. It's lightweight so as not to weight you down, but stronger than most steel." He smiled softly, knowing that the mithril shirt was likely the only reason he had survived the Battle of Five Armies.
Josie nodded wordlessly, running her fingers down the chain linked metal. It too gleamed softly in the light, and when she lifted it to hold it up before her the sun shone through the cracks in the shirt, sending sharp pinpricks of light into Bilbo's eyes.
"You said it was a gift," Josie whispered. She set the shirt down and turned to face him. "From whom?"
Bilbo smiled as he looked down at the mithril shirt on his bed. For in that moment everything suddenly smelled of campfires and sweat stained leather and pipe weed.
"Thorin," he whispered.
Josie's eyes widened, and sensing his onrush of emotions, she quickly excused herself. Bilbo didn't turn to watch her go, merely gazed sadly at the mithril shirt before him.
"Bilbo!" Bilbo glanced up as Thorin's booming voice reached his ears, igniting that now familiar tingle in his stomach and toes. He hurried to walk faster, to reach the dwarf king as he stood at the entrance to the treasure chamber. He only paused when he saw what Thorin was wearing. Armor. He quickly glanced behind Thorin, eyes widening when he saw that each of his friends were pulling on thick steel plates and helms. Even Ori, whose favorite weapon was his pen, was donning himself, Dori hovering over him to tighten the straps.
"What's going on?" he asked.
Thorin smiled sadly, but declined to answer Bilbo's question. "Have this," he said. "It is more your size, and I fear you may need it."
Bilbo glanced down to what the dwarf king was holding out to him. "Is that…"
"Mithril? Yes." Thorin stepped forward when Bilbo didn't take the shirt of shining steel and slipped it over the hobbit's head himself. "It ought to be enough to keep even you safe my burglar."
Bilbo glanced up at Thorin, now utterly confused. "Thorin, I don't understand, are we expecting an attack?"
Thorin nodded gravely. "The men of Lake Town and the woodland elves won't go quietly. I fear we may come under siege."
Bilbo opened his mouth to protest. That was insane. The people of Lake Town were starving, and looking for aid. Bilbo didn't know what had wedged itself up Thranduil's ass, but he knew that Lake Town, at least, posed no threat. Yet, before he could voice any of these thoughts, Thorin drew him roughly to the side, out of view of the others.
"Bilbo," breathed Thorin. "I need your help."
Bilbo paused, thrown off by the slight tremor in Thorin's voice. He peered up at the dwarf, trying to study his face in the dim light.
"What is it Thorin?" he asked. "Tell me."
Thorin chanced a look behind him to the others. "One of them has stolen the Arkenstone," he whispered.
Bilbo felt his stomach plummet. All at once he wanted to scream, wanted to run, wanted to just curl into a ball on the floor and sob. He was losing Thorin. And to that thrice damned stone too! He knew it, he could feel it, but there was nothing he could do about it.
Thorin didn't notice the distraught look on his hobbit's face, pressing on with his gold-sickness driven fears. "I know it," he confided. "One of them has taken it. They wish to be king in my stead. Please Bilbo," and here the dwarf's voice broke, and Thorin averted his gaze. "You're the only one I can trust. You must help me to find who stole the Arkenstone."
"Thorin." Bilbo's voice was low and urgent. "You don't really think that one of them would betray you? Thorin do you hear yourself?"
Thorin's eyes widened in hurt as he took an involuntary step back. "You don't believe me?" he asked.
Bilbo shook his head mutely, swallowing down tears. He had to tread carefully here. One false move and Thorin would be beyond even him.
"I believe you," he managed at last. The look of relief on Thorin's face both warmed Bilbo and filled him with dread.
"Thank you." Thorin stepped closer to Bilbo, pulling the hobbit up on his toes. He pressed his lips against Bilbo's once, a soft kiss of thanks. Then he was gone.
Bilbo opened his eyes to see the company parading solemnly past. Each was decked out in armor, shining in the dim light of the mountain. Each had strapped to them swords and axes, Kili had his bow strung and ready, Dwalin tapped his knuckle dusters together, and Oin's metal staff clinked on the floor. On the other side of the pathway Thorin stood, watching them move past through hooded eyes. Bilbo gulped, then hurried after the company before Thorin could do or say anything else, patting subtly the stone he held in his pocket.
Bilbo sighed, folding the mithril shirt and storing it back in the chest with Sting. It may be a reminder of the darkness that had descended Thorin in his final days, but it was also a token of the dwarf's love for him. Bilbo knew that the gift had held wholeheartedly behind it the intention to keep Bilbo safe. Safe so that the two could one day be together.
Bilbo crumpled to the floor, overwhelmed by his emotions. He had promised himself that he wouldn't divulge thoughts of his dwarf anymore, yet here he was, on the verge of tears as he wondered after a life that could have been. Without even realizing it Bilbo found the ring in his hand, and he held it before his face as he studied it.
It was such a simple thing. It shone gold in the light, unobtrusive in his palm. For some reason Bilbo found his thoughts straying to the ring whenever he was emotionally unstable. It was as though the small gold band was an anchor in his turmoil filled mind, calling to him softly, softly.
Bilbo slipped the ring on his finger. Immediately the world went into hues of grey, the beautiful things in his house dimming under the ring's light. Bilbo sat there for several long minutes, letting the ring's steadiness seep into him. Gradually his thoughts began to settle, and with reluctance Bilbo pulled the ring off his finger.
Josie was in the garden once more, toes playing with the green grass beneath the bench. She glanced up and smiled softly as Bilbo emerged, embarrassment covering her cheeks red.
"I'm sorry about before," she started. Bilbo waved his hand in dismissal.
"It's all fine," he said. "I'm sure it's common among pregnant women."
Josie smiled as Bilbo sat beside her, then leaned against him. A companionable silence settled over them, and Bilbo found himself gazing contently over Bag-End.
Perhaps this wasn't the ending he'd wanted to his tale, but it certainly wasn't a bad one.
