Chapter 2: Thorin can't follow simple directions, or, Sleeping Baggins and the Thirteen Dwarves
Summary:
Thorin Oakenshield is not very good at following even the simplest of instructions.
Chapter Text
Thorin truly thought the hobbit, his hobbit, was dead. All life had gone out of him, he was cold and still and unbreathing, though Thorin could not find a single serious wound. He lay there on the ice, the hobbit who moments before had been perfectly hale and sound, now crouched over him dead, while Thorin was no longer dying, even though he had been. He had seen the soft green light, Bilbo had all but glowed with it as he held him, and it had been no fever dream. This new reality was nothing short of a nightmare though.
Thorin finally understood his feelings for the hobbit, moments before the hobbit exchanged his own life for Thorin's. Dwarves love but once in their lives, that's why a dwarf calls their love their One. Thorin had been too blind to see it before, though Bilbo had obviously figured out his own feelings long ago.
That's where the company found Thorin sometime later, there on the ice, clutching Bilbo's lifeless body as he sobbed out his heartbreak. Their burglar was borne back to Erebor in a procession fit for a fallen king or prince. Gandalf couldn't bear to look, and left that same day. Thorin learned on the way there that both of his nephews had somehow miraculously survived, grievously injured though they were, and even though he'd been run through with a sword, he was among the walking wounded and not the fallen, because his One had taken his place. He told no one the truth, who would possibly believe him?
Thorin had every intention of fulfilling Bilbo's last request, he truly did, it was the least he could do, but the timing was terrible. Not only was there the aftermath of the battle to deal with, but also the politics of reclaiming his throne properly. There was the injured to tend to, winter provisions to buy and housing to locate, because winter set in hard the very next day, and two days later a raging blizzard drove every, man, dwarf, and elf into the mountain, and freezing solid everything left outside the gates. Battlefield law still remained, the dead would keep, the injured would not, and there were several injured and now was not the time for grief.
There was no soft earth to lay Bilbo in anyways, and no flowers that could grow. So they laid him in the stone, intending to wait until spring. It was a hard winter, harder than any Thorin could remember, but thankfully the men and elves left once the storm let up for several days. A memorial for the fallen was commissioned, and Bilbo's name was placed at the very top of it, hailed as a hero for saving the king, though no one but Thorin really knew how. Songs were sung of the battle, and Bilbo's would have surely made him laugh and blush and squirm.
There was one song however, that no one sang save for Thorin, and no one but the dead ever heard it. He sang it every day when he visited Bilbo's tomb, quietly, fingering the letters of Bilbo's name that was carved in the stone. A soft, sad song about lost love and missed opportunities and eternal devotion. Spring came slowly, and with it the cleanup of the battle field, the blessed dead were given honors and lain to rest in the stone properly, and a funeral feast was laid out the likes of which had not been seen in over three hundred years.
Thorin went outside the mountain to find the perfect place to bury his love. At first he thought near the hidden stair, but the land was far too stony, his love had asked for soft earth, and Thorin was intent on providing it for him. He searched all of the area near Erebor, but finally decided that near the riverbank where Bilbo had died would be the best he could manage without burying him in Mirkwood, which Bilbo had hated with a passion.
He had every intention of fulfilling Bilbo's wishes, he really did. But when the sepulcher was opened four months after Bilbo had been laid to rest there, miraculously, his body was entirely perfect and unspoiled, as if he were merely asleep instead of dead. Thorin's heart broke anew, seeing Bilbo look so beautiful, even in death, and couldn't bear to bury him twice when it was so easy to pretend that Bilbo was merely sleeping. He commissioned a glass coffin to be made, lined in soft moss, and Bilbo was laid there in dwarven finery, silks, and velvet, and furs, his mithril mail shining bright, and a golden circlet of ivy and dwarven runes upon his head, and the Elvish dagger/sword that had saved Thorin's life in his hands.
The coffin was displayed atop a stone platform with an armed guard to either side. It was raised outside of the throne room, a golden placard mounted at the bottom with 'Bilbo Baggins of The Shire, Burglar. Our Lucky Number, Wielder of Sting, The Trolls' Dinner Thief, Riddle Winner, Barrel Rider, Shadow Dancer, Defeater of Azog, and He who Laughed at Live Dragons. Beloved friend, loyal member of The Company, and savior of Thorin II "Oakenshield" of the line of Durin, Son of Thrain, Son of Thror, King Under The Mountain. All pay honor and respect, for here lies the True Hero of Erebor.' written on it in Khuzdul, Westron, and Sindarin. The only time all three languages had appeared in one place together since anyone could recall.
Every visitor that passed could view him and pay their respects. No flowers grew in Erebor, and nothing grew in the Desolation. So Thorin crafted him flowers out of gems and jewels and gold and silver, things that would never fade, just like Bilbo still didn't fade, nor did Thorin's feelings for him. Eventually others took up doing the same. They made flowers of glass, cloth, lace, and embroidery, children would make ribbon roses and folded paper flowers they dabbed with perfume, or left bundles of fresh and dried herbs.
Thorin scoured the slopes, and found a few tiny blue flowers growing, and he picked them and pressed them and set them in a crystal pendant he placed around Bilbo's neck. A traveler brought a lovely ivy vine growing in a pot, and Thorin set it at the bottom of Bilbo's platform. He couldn't give him flowers, but a lovely growing thing would surely have pleased Bilbo. It died within a few days, so Thorin had another one crafted out of silk. The elves brought seeded flowers when they visited, but all died the next day when placed near Bilbo's coffin, until finally they just brought cut flowers instead, which lasted a day or two longer for some reason.
The first year anniversary of the battle passed, and still Thorin's heart did not mend. He had sent emissaries to the Shire six months earlier to determine who Bilbo's next of kin was, in order to see who got his share of the treasure, and settle the details of his will. Nori, Bofur, Bifur, Ori, and Dwalin had only been too happy to volunteer to go to the Shire and settle Bilbo's affairs. Though he hadn't heard from them since they had passed Rivendell, he was sure all was going well, after all, what could possibly happen in the Shire?
Dwalin and the others couldn't believe such a thing could happen in the Shire. This sort of thing was usually only the worst behavior of the most greedy of dwarves, not the kindly, generous and humble hobbits they had been told of in great detail by their friend. Breaking into his home and selling off his possessions to the highest bidder without even having confirmation of his death first? It was unbelievable, and it rightly angered all of them.
Dwalin was the one to actually lose his temper over it though. To steal the belongings of such a great and honored hero, not to mention a dear friend... suffice it to say the hobbits had no warning before a huge enraged dwarf with battle axes drawn charged into the middle of them snarling and threatening to hack off the arms of anyone who attempted to take a single thing or refuse to return what had already been taken.
The others were not far behind, all of them used to following Dwalin's lead into battle, and this time being no different. They stormed in with weapons raised, terrifying the hobbits, who scattered and dropped the items, fleeing for their lives from the enraged dwarves, especially Dwalin and Bifur. Within moments Ori had the auctioneer's list and the coin purse, and Balin had effectively made sure Bilbo's yard was empty of all of his unwanted visitors. Nori having told everyone to spread the word that they had an hour to return everything, or that he would then go out and find it for them, and anything else he happened to take a shine to while he was there. There was a hobbit woman who was shrieking at them about her rights, and that Bag End and all of its contents was rightfully hers. Bofur snagged her from behind.
"You must be his cousin Lobelia then. Bilbo told us about you."
"Aye, that he did." Dwalin snarled and did what Bilbo had told him to always do after a meeting with the woman, he searched her pockets. "He said, 'she always tries to take the silver, never let Lobelia leave your house without checking her pockets for the silver.' And I'm not one to go against the advice of a friend." Sure enough the silver was in her pockets, and removed just as quickly as it had been put there, before she was turned out the front gate.
Items appeared outside the gate, no one daring to come any closer, and Ori, the least threatening of their number, handed the coins and goods payed back to the unhappy customers. It only occurred to Ori later, that diplomacy might have worked just as well as force had, but force was admittedly much faster. They set a watch that night, especially after some of the Bounders had been summoned due to the disturbance and were only placated by the fact the dwarves were there to settle official property rights, and had not taken kindly to what they saw as looting, especially when many of the items were specifically mentioned in the will under a legal contract made nearly two years ago, and therefore, it was not the right of Lobelia to have any authority on their sale or distribution whatsoever, but at this time they were not going to pursue legal action due to the fact all the items had been returned.
Ori put a notice on the gate that unless specifically invited, visitors would not be welcome. He needn't have bothered, there wasn't a hobbit aside from the Gamgees willing to set foot near Bag End at the moment. Nori took off during the second day and returned a few times with items that apparently had not willingly been returned, though how he knew or remembered what all of these items were, no one cared to ask. Once the hobbits realized that the threat he had made was serious, the remaining things returned themselves most promptly.
It took two weeks for everything to be sorted and accounted for before Ori sent out letters to the ones mentioned in Bilbo's Will.
To whom it may concern, we the Dwarves of Erebor have been charged by our King, Thorin Oakenshield II of the line of Durin, King Under the Mountain, in arranging, fulfilling, and concluding the worldly affairs of Bilbo Baggins the fallen member of The Company of Thorin Oakenshield. In addition to Master Baggin's property here in the Shire, there is also the matter of the sizable fortune that was going to be his rightful due at the conclusion of his contract with us, and which has been posthumously granted to him in respectful thanks after saving the King's life at the cost of his own. We the dwarves of Erebor have therefore been tasked to find the rightful recipient of this fortune due to the fact that Master Baggins left no immediate heir. You have received this missive due to the fact that your name, among others, has been mentioned in Master Baggins' will, and we have determined that only those mentioned in his Will shall be up for a share of the treasure, in accordance to what we believe were Bilbo Baggins' final wishes in regarding his estate. There is to be a private Will reading in three days time at Bag End during Teatime, Master Baggins' favorite meal of the day, and you are cordially invited to attend, alone. Only those mentioned in the Will are allowed in attendance. We thank you for your consideration. Sincerely, The Dwarves of Erebor: Ori, Dwalin, Nori, Bofur, and Bifur.
There was commotion of hundreds of hobbits gossiping fit to burst the next few days, there was nothing more interesting than the fact that Bilbo Baggins had somehow pulled off the almost unheard of feat of becoming even more rich after he died, and died saving a king at that. Oh there was speculation abounding everywhere on what it could have been that had managed to do the deed, hobbits were not an easy folk to kill, they knew. Those who had been granted invitations to the will reading were all badgered into agreeing to find a way to hear the whole truth of it, as well as to know, had the dwarves also returned with Bilbo's bones? For a hobbit not to be buried in the Shire... well it was unheard of to say the least!
Even though over fifty people had been mentioned in the will, only fifteen had accepted the invitation, it being common practice that every family send a representative who would take notes of what went to whom in their families and then be in charge of distributing it out among their kin. Three days later there was all but a procession of curious onlookers from every corner of Hobbiton and even from elsewhere, following the invitees up to Bag End. Every last one of them was laden down with large baskets of cakes, breads, pies, and tarts, casseroles, side dishes, cookies, scones, and sandwiches, even a few beautifully roasted chickens. Everyone knew a will reading was serious business, and could last hours, so they were making sure that there was plenty for both Tea and Dinner, should it prove necessary. The dwarves were surprised to see so many hobbits gathered outside of Bag End, but only those who had been invited even came near the front gate.
The dining room table was ready and waiting, Ori had gone to great lengths to make it as good as he could, having found a book on hobbitish culture and manners regarding mealtimes in Bilbo's library, and practically memorizing it. The women folk had come prepared to have to do everything, including the setup, but were pleasantly surprised to see nearly everything already done. Their dishes were laid out on the table and they then filled several tea pots, each with a different brew and marked with tags. They made large bowls of cold punch and a platter filled with fruits and cheeses.
The dwarves were quite out of their usual element, but were quick to follow the examples of others. In the Shire no business was to ever be discussed before a meal, it was bad for the digestion, and so tea time was a slightly awkward affair with so many different hobbits and a bunch of dwarves with nothing really in common to talk about, though they made polite small talk and chit chat after awhile. Once the formalities were over and the dishes done, with Lobelia shuffled off to the side as far as possible and watched like a hawk, (even though she was not willing to try anything in front of Bifur or Dwalin) which several other hobbits seemed to quite approve of, they sat around the table with water and punch and the platter of fruits and cheeses for snacking, and every last invited guest took out quill, ink, and a large stack of parchment, ready and waiting attentively.
Ori sat at the front, their official solicitor for this affair. Page by page, Ori read through the will, bequeathing item after item, and having realized when he first read the thing in its entirety two weeks ago, that Bilbo had truly itemized every last thing he owned into it, an unheard of thing among dwarves, but with the way the hobbits were behaving, and taking vigorous notes, this obviously was common practice in the Shire. Every dwarf present could tell whenever a coveted item of interest was brought up, the hobbits would perk up, sit up straighter, or just get a particular glint in their eye, and the 'winner' of said item would be undoubtedly smug, though not too obviously.
They realized that it was all a delicate game of politics, and affection. Each item showed a particular level of favor the deceased had for them, and there was a subtle tone of seeing who was the most well liked, for apparently it could affect one's social standing, depending on the reputation of the deceased. Before Bilbo's departure, his reputation had been 'Perfectly Respectable' which had been said with a note of reverence whenever it had been mentioned during tea time. Running off into the wild after a bunch of dwarves wasn't considered so, but it appeared to be the only black mark on his record, seeing as giving one's life for another was considered very noble, and as 'respectable' as it got.
It was two hours before Ori began getting to the larger items, pieces of furniture and heirlooms of importance. "My mother's glory box-", and here every person perked up, alert and ready. Belladonna's glory box had been the envy of Hobbiton since she had been a tween. Her stitching and embroidery was exceptional, her knitting superb, and her crochet... well one only needed to look around bag end to see how good it was. The dwarves had no idea, but the bequeathing of a glory box by a male relative was the same as saying 'I would have loved to have her as a daughter', a highly desired position for someone with Bilbo's reputation "bearing all of the original contents within, I bequeath to my cousin Primula Brandybuck, for the occasion of her coming of age." There were several glares aimed towards the Brandybuck representative who jotted the note down with a smug grin.
More of the higher ranked items were being given now, there wasn't a single person that didn't have quill in hand, ready. "To Lobelia Sackville-Baggins-" a name that had not come up much at all, or her husband Otho, or any of the Sackville-Baggins relations for that matter, and when it did, it had always been small items, and never anything the whole group was interested in, and now they were on those large important items. "I bequeath 'Bag End'-"
"WHAT?!"
Was the general sentiment shouted by every representative of every family, and a general war looked about to be waged right there in the dining room. Ori calmly turned the page.
"Commissioned by Sassafrass Longbottom, and currently hanging on the dining room wall."
Dead silence rang through the room diffusing what had nearly been the beginning of a blood feud between the Tooks and the Sackville-Bagginses, and nearly as one, every head present turned towards the innocuous yet exceptionally well done painting hanging well within sight right behind Ori's chair, and while Lobelia turned a rather virulent shade of puce then red and finally purple, the rest began laughing their heads off at what was apparently a rather vicious snub.
When the reading was done, Bag End to be bequeathed to Primula Brandybuck on her wedding day as a wedding gift, and it was blindingly apparent that Bilbo had favored his Brandybuck and Took relations the most, with many others very well liked and all but the Sackville-Bagginses were quite pleased with the result.
The Gamgee representative was actually the one to speak up about what all of the families had wanted to know. "So, begging your pardon, but seeing as you're foreigners I'm betting that you don't know our customs. Seeing as you have read the Will, it means that you have proof of his death and can set him back into the earth as the last order of business. Where's Mister Baggins' bones, so that we can bury him properly?"
Ori smiled gently "His body remains back in Erebor, given honors of state usually only reserved for royalty. His funeral request in his contract said that it didn't matter where he was buried, as long as we saw it done, but he died in winter, so he was laid in the stone until spring, and when we went to bury him, decay had miraculously not touched his body, and still hasn't to this day. His Majesty, in his love and grief built him a glass coffin, so that all who pass by may honor him and his sacrifice for our people. He wished for soft earth and flowers, but nothing like that grows in Erebor, and our home is pure stone. So we lined the coffin in soft moss and we have crafted him flowers out of glass and jewels and metals that shall never fade, and the children craft ones of paper or cloth and scented with perfume. He is well loved and respected among our people, a true hero, and we honored him as best we could."
Instead of his words comforting the gathered members that their friend and relation had been treated with the utmost respect, every last one of them had fallen silent with a horrified expression on their faces, and most looked quite pale. It was Hobson Gamgee who shook off the stupor first, standing up and tearing his parchment into pieces. "Well bugger that! This ain't legal, not a bit of it! If you're needing dirt I can send you a whole damn cart full of it, seeds and seedlings too, I'm not about to let you lot kill Mister Baggins!"
The rest of the hobbits were in an uproar immediately after that, tearing up their parchments, the Took representative snatching Lobelia's from her and shredding it. A committee was formed with every last person making suggestions about carrier birds with seeds, and messages, and perhaps even mounting an expedition to rescue poor Mister Baggins from his terrible fate (that was the Tooks and the Brandybucks).
The dwarves were mostly confused about what was happening, what had they said to offend so badly?
The Boffin woman who had come with her Bolger cousin was the first to notice the dwarves' confusion. "He ain't dead you loggerheads! When a hobbit dies the flesh falls away like dry autumn leaves within a week, leaving the bones pristine for the funeral where they're laid in the earth, and those are gone within a year of being buried. But when we're healing we sleep in the earth to regain our health, and the flowers and herbs planted on top of us give us their strength, dying to give us life, when they stop dying we start waking up, hale and sound. You lot are keeping him from healing! He ain't dead yet, but he could be soon with how long it's gone on!"
The dwarves immediately panicked, racing for parchment and quills and sending not only word to Erebor, but also for help from the Iron Hills and Mirkwood, explaining the situation and requesting them to deliver soil, plants the hobbits specified, and seeds, which would reach Erebor much faster than they could. The dwarves had packed up within the day, and three Tooks, four Brandybucks, Holman Greenhand, and Hobson Gamgee had three carts filled with soil, plants and seeds ready, and insisting on following set out at dawn, eight hobbits and five dwarves, and meeting with three Rangers who guided them on a safer path that provided a huge shortcut that was very safe, and provided extra security, all of them trying to reach Erebor as fast as they could.
When Thorin received the first of near twenty messages all telling him almost the same thing, he felt pale, and ill, and not wanting to believe it. He hadn't known, that was the only defense he had, that he hadn't understood what he'd been told, not fully. He terrified his guards, ordering them to find dirt, any dirt, and return. They dug up the mud from the bottom of the Long Lake, and silt from the bottom of the riverbank, they sifted the finest dusts from the mines they could manage, and the ashes and sparse sand from the Desolation. They mixed it all together, into something that was a fair bit too wet to be any sort of proper soil, but was the best they could manage. Thorin had Bilbo dressed in simple loose cloth, as he'd been instructed, and buried Bilbo in it, leaving only his face exposed, because some innate fear of smothering the hobbit in his sleep held him back. Within a week the Iron Hills messenger arrived with three bags of red dirt, which was also mixed in, drying out the mixture they had, but also staining everything it touched a very vivid reddish orange. The elves of Mirkwood arrived the next day with leaves and bark and a small bag of actual soil, there was little to be collected with how thickly the trees grew and how poisoned the wood had become.
Ori had actually managed to think clearer than the rest of them and sent word to Beorn as well, who arrived with good loamy soil and a whole collection of plants and seeds from his garden, and set right to work planting the hobbit like an overgrown tulip bulb that he tended daily with the utmost care, right under a tree at the edge of Mirkwood with all of the collected soil, and replacing the plants on it near daily. Within a month the tree was dead and Beorn moved him to a new one, guarding his Little Bunny as a bear during the night hours, while the dwarves guarded Bilbo through the day.
The company that was coming from the Shire made amazing time in just six months, considering they had wagons, and the hobbits got straight to work, digging a true garden plot and absolutely covering the sleeping hobbit with what had already been gathered, as well as fresh Shire earth. They planted poppy, pansy, thyme, athelas, sage, and chamomile by the dozens, having grown seedlings and even full sized plants along the way. Midsummer was only a week after they arrived and they planned a group healing that night. They barred everyone else from attendance, and secluded themselves behind a ring of wagons and performed mysteries the dwarves, elves, and shapeshifter could only guess at.
The next day found the other Hobbits were planted in a ring around Bilbo, all except one, Hobson Gamgee, who seemed to hold the title of The Tender, a solemn sounding title when the hobbit said it, but that the dwarves figured he held because he had the most experience with plants. After a week the other hobbits woke up, plucked from the earth as they reached for the light, each one met by Gamgee gripping their hand and helping them up. The hobbits were now smiling, instead of the grim faces they had all had up until that point.
They planted different plants now, things the dwarves couldn't identify, but that the elves looked at with some slight concern. It was another fortnight before the array of plants and flowers planted atop Bilbo stopped dying altogether, and a month later, Bilbo Baggins woke up.
He first became aware of the soft feeling of earth on his fingers and face, the gentle dark heaviness pressing over his eyes, keeping them shut, the heavy warm yet cool weight of the earth all around him, and the roots twining around his fingers and toes. He had become quite worried, after losing the strength to stay cognizant after the dwarves had foolishly not followed his instructions and laid him first in stone and then in glass of all things! He had nearly given himself up for dead! He was going to give Thorin Oakenshield such a piece of his mind!
He knew better than to breathe while underground, so he did his best to begin to stretch his arms up. He had no idea how he had finally managed to be buried in soil, a very strange mix of soils at that, but his hand came through easily enough, and surprisingly he felt a hand grab hold of his and haul him up into the light. He was staring Hobson Gamgee in the face in confusion, and there around him were several of his fondest relations, and yet there in the distance was undoubtedly Erebor.
"What- what happened? How did you get here?" He was obviously on the edges of Mirkwood, but the patch of earth was not poisoned, and he had obviously needed more than three trees, and the compost pile off to the side was... impressive. He had obviously been in very bad shape. All of them had obviously Slept for him, and he could feel the Fae kiss upon the land, which meant Midsummer had come and gone.
"They sent a group to the Shire to settle your affairs, and when we realized you weren't dead and that they were accidentally trying to kill you, well, we mounted a rescue party. They were trying to bury you in silt, mud, sand, iron sand, dust, and clay with just a little bit of wild dirt before we got here! If it hadn't been for that bear friend of yours bringing loamy soil from his garden, and tending you until we arrived, we probably would have lost you." Hobson said with a grin.
Bilbo frowned. "That's the problem with Erebor, no soil, and after the dragon poisoned the land, nothing grows. It's such a sad place. I should have known better than to try and ask to be buried here, should have told him to return me to the Shire or Beorn's and be buried there."
"Well from what that dwarf of yours told us, you probably only had a few seconds to explain, seeing as you gave him all but the Spark of you."and that was definitely a cheeky glint in his gardener's eye.
"He was dying, we had possibly already lost my heart sons, I couldn't bear... I know I wasn't thinking clearly, I think I had even tried to still cast a few blessings back towards the boys as I was healing Thorin, and I had already been so drained... I'm actually surprised I didn't die outright."
"Not for lack of trying, you or them. Your boys are alive by the way, all thirteen of them, they have been hovering night and day, well except Midsummer, we kept that private."
That knowledge was a huge weight off of Bilbo's shoulders. In fact it was so relieving he gasped, his throat filled with tears, and he went weak in the knees. He hadn't known they had all lived, oh he had hoped and wished and prayed, but he hadn't known. He could only hear what was said, and no one had said that they had all lived, the boys had never spoken if they visited, or if they had he hadn't recognized them, the voices he could hear through glass and stone were distorted and muffled most times, all except Thorin's. That voice was unmistakable. It might be unseemly, but he broke down crying. Oh he truly was in trouble wasn't he? These dwarves had stolen his heart completely.
"Come on Mister Bilbo, let's get you cleaned up and fed, there we go, come on now, you'll feel right as rain in no time."
Cleaned up, fed, and now dressed in clothes that they had brought from his own closet at home, Bilbo truly felt like a proper hobbit again, which was rather disconcerting after having been treated like any other dwarf in the Company for so long. But he was a very tired and weak hobbit, as well. It washalf a day's walk to Erebor, and Bilbo simply did not have the strength to exert himself that far. Bombur, Bifur and Bofur were there at the time and he quite happily embraced them all and knocked them upside the head with his fist, instead of risking bashing his forehead against anyone else's. Dwarves had quite possibly the thickest skulls ever known, literally and figuratively.
Unknown to him, a raven had taken off the moment he came up out of the ground, and no sooner had Bilbo finished bathing, eating, dressing, and having the stuffing hugged out of him first by dwarves, and then by Beorn, the hobbits, and then Beorn again, the rest of the company arrived on ponies that they had no doubt run full speed the whole way there.
Holman took the horses to cool them off and water them, while one after another the members of the company embraced their lucky hobbit. Everyone was talking at once, it was a very merry din of voices that he had learned to follow perfectly along with long since, and he was pretty much crying as he held tight to Fili and Kili, all but sobbing 'my boys, my boys' over and over, and though the boys were blushing, so were the other company members, for they knew they were also included in Bilbo's little circle of 'people who are extremely important to me'.
The only one who stayed back was Thorin, who fretted on the edges, until Bilbo noticed he wasn't a part of their happy group hug he was currently ensconced in. "Thorin Oakenshield, you have two seconds to get over here before I curse you for the rest of your life to trip over your own ego every time you enter the throne room!"
As if by magic, Thorin appeared in front of him, the other dwarves moved aside, and Bilbo reached up, grabbed Thorin's hand and yanked him down to the ground where he was sitting. "You should know that I am going to be so very cross with you, but it can wait until later."
He pulled the king towards him, who went for the most part willingly, the rest was entirely gravity's doing as Bilbo had him falling forward into the Hobbit's embrace, where Bilbo kissed him quite soundly. It was a very nice kiss, and held about as much emotion in it as certain embrace on top of a Carrock had done so long ago.
"I heard you you know," Bilbo murmured into his ear after a moment. "Every day, until about the year mark. Unless we are too weak, we are aware of our surroundings. I heard you."
That sent Thorin near to weeping and he held Bilbo to him all the closer. It was a giant dwarf pile of hugs with one very happy hobbit in the middle of all of them, and if any of them had been paying the slightest attention, they would have felt the blessing of happiness the other hobbits gave to them all.