Chapter 8:
The softness of a bearskin fur rubbing up against his chin caused his eyes to blink open slowly. It had been quite a while since he had last had the comforts of his own bed, and to say it was refreshing to be there in his room was an understatement. Thorin stretched languidly, popping the joints in his arms and legs. Then he reached up to his chest to see how Bilbo was doing. He was surprised to meet the fabric of his own tunic.
He shot up immediately, a quick whispered "Bilbo" coming from his lips. In the bed there was no child. Only him. Thorin turned to see if the Halfling's clothes where still on the stool where his armor had been. He panicked when he noticed that they were not. The raven haired dwarf jumped out of bed, spinning around to see if the hobbit was anywhere in the small room. He wasn't. Thorin took down the hallway.
"Bilbo!" He yelled, worry seeping in. Where had the little boy gone? They hadn't even been home a full day and he was already missing.
He skidded to a stop at the kitchen. There at the table was Kíli his arms spread wide, paused in what seemed to be an animated story telling. Fíli was there too, placing what seemed to be a several slices of bacon on a wooden plate. Bilbo was sitting opposite of the two dwarflings. His face was smeared with red jelly as his small hands clutched a flapjack coated with said jelly that covered his face. Dís was at the counter stove, flipping more of the breakfast pastries. Thorin stood a bit dumbfounded, not sure what to think of the scene.
"Morning Uncle!" Kíli smiled, jumping out of his seat and running to the oldest dwarf; the dwarfling through his arms around the raven head's leg and clutched on. "Amâd says we shouldn' wake you up. I wanted to!"
"Hm? Really?" Thorin asked a bit dazed.
"Good morning, Uncle." Fíli greeted, a bit more calmly than his brother.
"Good morning Fíli." The older replied automatically.
"It's about time you got up." Dís piped in, placing a plate stacked high with sausages and flapjacks on the table. "Go on that one's yours. You missed breakfast."
"We're eating hobbit-y!" Kíli added excitedly.
"Hobbit-y?" Thorin murmured.
"He means hobbit like." Fíli amended.
"Hobbit-like?"
"It seems, that hobbits eat more meals than dwarves do." Dís explained, sitting at the table next to Thorin's plate.
"More meals?" The older asked, looking at the little hobbit who hadn't said a word since he had gotten there. The child was still munching happily on the next flapjack he'd moved to.
"Seven!" Bilbo squeaked before taking a bite of his flapjack.
Thorin's eyebrow twitched. "Seven meals?"
The fauntling hummed. "Breakfast, second breakfast, elevensies, luncheon, afternoon tea, dinner…mm, and sometimes supper!"
"And which is this?" The male gestured weekly to the food on the table.
"'Levensies!" Bilbo piped happily, taking another bite.
"So you've had three meals thus far?"
"Mmhm!"
Thorin frowned. "Why didn't you ever tell me or Dwalin that you were missing meals?"
"On road." Bilbo stated a matter-of-factly.
"You knew we were rationed." Thorin murmured.
"R-r-ratiomed?" Bilbo tried.
The raven haired dwarf shook his head, and ruffled the hobbit's hair. "Do not worry about it, Bilbo. Go ahead and enjoy your…elvensies, was it?"
"And you come and eat your breakfast." Dís snapped. "I actually made it just for you, brother."
"Mm, my apologies then."
Thorin walked around the table and sat down at the seat that his sister had provided for him. The smell of the warm breakfast hit his nose the moment he sat down, and the exile dwarf king took the smell in welcomingly. Dís grinned smugly and walked back to the stove.
Kíli resumed his tale that he was telling Bilbo.
"An' then, wif one swoop, I tooks it!" He exclaimed.
Bilbo looked scandalized. "No!"
"Mmhm!" Kíli cackled. "Tha' lady chase-ed me all the way downs the norths tunnel."
Thorin listened with a bit of worried curiosity.
Fíli snickered. "I had to go distract her while he got away."
Bilbo took another bite of a jelly flapjack, his eyes wide. "Twhen qerwaht?"
"Don't talk with your mouth full, Bilbo." Dís admonished gently from her place in the kitchen.
"M'kay." Bilbo answered offhandedly, swallowing down the bit.
"She was so mad!" Fíli laughed. "I had to pretend to be a lost child trying to get home to my mum. At the time she didn' realize who I is—"
"Was," Thorin corrected automatically.
The blonde child tilted his head and nodded. "Right. Who I was, so she agreed to help me back to the market place."
"I gots away wif a prize!" Kíli chirped.
"Didya?"
"He did." Fíli affirmed.
Bilbo gasped.
"But we did't gets to eats it." The youngest dwarf mumbled.
"Wha?" The hobbit tilted his head to the side with confusion. "You got away."
"Amâd made us give it back." The blonde explained a bit disappointedly.
Dís came around and picked up Fíli's and Kíli's now empty plates. "Both you stinkers got sweet bread anyways, so don't you two go complaining. What you did was wrong."
Bilbo hummed. "My friend Saradoc, he took a pie once from Ol' Ladee Chubb."
"Oh, and what happened?" Fíli asked, resting his cheek against the palm of his hand.
Kíli stood on the edge of his seat, watching with attentiveness, his new best friend, and cousin.
"Well, he ran all the way down to the East Farthing! Ol' Ladee Chubb has big doggies, and they chased him. He nearly didn't make it! But he hid in my smial and waited out the doggies."
"What's a smile?" Fíli asked.
"A hobbit hole!" Bilbo chirped.
The blonde seemed disturbed by this answer.
"Did he eat the pie?" Kíli demanded impatiently.
"All of it. He got a tummy ache afterwards."
"I'm sure." Thorin murmured, drumming his fingers on the table.
Ds sat next to her brother with a plate of her own. "So what do you have planned today, Thorin?"
Thorin swallowed his bite of food. "I plan to go visit Balin today."
His sister hummed. "Then you're going to make things official?"
He nodded. "Yes. As you said last night, life won't be easy for him—especially until he gains the title as my son. It's best to give him that name as soon as possible."
"Then while you go conduct business, do you mind if I take him with the boys to the market place?" Dís asked, eating a bite of eggs.
"The market?" Thorin murmured. "Is that the best of ideas? It's public. He won't be treated…well…I think."
"Nonsense. Dwarrow are suspicious, not unkind." Dís said.
Thorin grumbled. "They're untrusting of kinds not of their own."
"That is no reason why they would be mean to Bilbo." She countered. "They might be rude, yes, but he's a child for Mahal's sake! Besides, the sooner we get him exposed to the public, the more they will get used to him. And that is something that we want for him, right? To eventually grow up wanted and liked by the other dwarrow?"
"It…makes sense." Thorin admitted, a bit begrudgingly.
"Good." Dís chirped triumphantly, eating the last bit of her food. "It's settled. The boys will come with me while you go talk to Balin. I'm sure you've many things to talk about, you know—being as though you've been gone for five years."
Thorin hung his head. "I really, truly am sorry Dís."
The sister chuckled, albeit tiredly. "I don't hold you at fault Thorin. Actually, for the most part, I blame grandfather."
"Grandfather?" Thorin swallowed.
"Yes, if he hadn't succumbed to the gold sickness, you wouldn't be struggling to help Ered Lûin prosper by going out to the silly towns of men."
"Dís, there is not much we can do about that; as much as we wish it were different. Besides, had we never left, you would have never met Víli and I would have never met Bilbo. 'Tis a bittersweet loss."
Dís thought about it before nodding slowly.
Thorin cleared his throat. "Well I do believe that is enough deep thoughts for now don't you agree?"
He got up quickly before she could answer and gather up the empty plates. Fíli, Kíli and Bilbo were all deep in the sharing of their stories and barely noticed him. The elder dwarf chuckled and turned around towards the wash basin. Dís got up too, and together, they washed the remains of the breakfast dishes. Once they were done, she looked her brother up and down before sighing disapprovingly.
"What?" Thorin demanded.
"You're not suitable to go out in public." She declared. "I already bathed Bilbo earlier this morning—which he did not struggle one bit, by the way—but you are clearly in need of a good washing. Go on. We'll wait for you."
Thorin sighed. "I don't…don't really have to—do I?"
"If you want to go talk to Balin today."
"Yes amâd." He groaned.
Dís smacked him with the dish-drying rag.
• • •
"You be good for Dís, do you hear?" Thorin asked Bilbo, looping the rather big, Durin-blue scarf around the fauntling's neck.
"Mm." Bilbo nodded, scratching the fabric. "Why do I gotta wear scarf?"
"Because it's cold in the mountain, and until we get you some suitable warm clothes, you'll have to use mine." He explained.
"Thorin." Dís barked. "Get some shoes on his feet, please? We can't have him tromping around the mountain barefooted."
Bilbo squeaked and rapidly shook his head.
Dís seemed surprised by this reaction.
"Hobbits do not wear shoes." Thorin informed his sister. "This is something I remember from the orphanage."
"How peculiar." She marveled.
"Amâd, I don' wanna wear shoeses!" Kíli cheeped, jumping onto a patiently waiting Fíli's back.
"Nonsense, you will wear shoes, and you will like them."
Thorin felt a shiver go down his spine.
Dís shot him the fix-the-problem look.
The older dwarf cleared his throat. "Well, Kíli, hobbits seem to have strangely thick soles on their feet. Bilbo has stepped on several sharp objects that didn't cut him, but for sure would have cut Dwalin's or my feet."
Kíli cooed. "I wan' hard feet!"
Dís gave him a light smack on the head. "That's enough out of you."
"Aaaammmmââââdddd." He whined.
Thorin rolled his eyes, and returned his attention to Bilbo. "Alright, you're all ready. Do you remember what I told you?"
"Mmhm! No running, and stay with Fíli… 'less he runs off. Then stay with Dís." The fauntling mimicked in a poor copy of Thorin's voice.
The raven-haired grinned. "Then I suppose you're all set."
"'Kay!" Bilbo peeped, his excitement showing.
Thorin stood up, straightening out his blue coat. "Then I will see you all later today."
"Keep safe brother." Dís grinned.
"Keep an eye on my son, sister." Thorin smiled back, opening the front door.
"Of course." She nodded, taking Fíli's hand and Bilbo's.
"Faster, horsey!" Kíli sang from upon Fíli's back.
The blonde grunted with a smile. "You're heavy."
Bilbo giggled.
With a wave of her hair, Dís led the boys away from Thorin and down the path from the house. Thorin grinned and shook his head before heading the opposite direction. It was time for him to see Balin.
Meanwhile, it didn't take Dís very long for her to take the boys to the market. Maybe about five minutes tops. She had to grip Fíli's hand very tightly to keep him from running off with Kíli. The two little devils caused trouble every time they went to the market. Bilbo stayed close to her sided, though, as he had promised Thorin. This made her happy to know that at least her brother chose a well-mannered boy to adopt.
As they began to walk through the stalls, Dís noticed the looks thrown towards Bilbo. Most of them were glances of suspicious curiosity, others were that of complete disgust and distrust. She tightened her grip on the Halfling's hand.
She decided to lighten the darkening mood.
"So Bilbo, what are your favorite colors?"
Bilbo looked up with wide hazel eyes. "Colors?"
"Yes colors." She burbled. "I'm going to make you some nice warm clothes for this cold mountain temperatures. I'm sure you may not like just the color blue, like we do."
"I likes the color brown!" Kíli added helpfully. "Ooo, I've gots a joke! Wha's brown and sticky?"
Dís wrinkled her nose. Now that was just disgusting.
"A stick?" Bilbo guessed.
Kíli gave a surprisingly scary cackle. "Yesh!"
The dwarrowdam pursed her lips. She didn't expect that as an answer. Wait. They were getting off topic.
"So Bilbo, what are your favorite colors?"
The fauntling titled his head back thoughtfully. "Mm…red, yellow, and green. Blues okay too."
"Such bright colors." Dís noticed.
"Pretty." Bilbo nodded.
"Fair enough."
She led the little ones to the desired merchant's stall. Different rolls of fabric were tucked away in shelves or dangling from rods. The brown haired seller met them with a fake grin only worn by salesmen.
"Ah, Lady Dís, a splendid morning to you." He greeted. "So what has brought you to my humble shop today?"
"Fabric, obviously." She snorted, in no mood for his antics.
"And fabric I have plenty—" The merchant paused, glaring down at the hobbit next to Dís. "And, what is that?"
She sniffed, her chin lifting a bit. "This is my nephew, Bilbo."
"That…that?" He stuttered, "is your nephew?"
"Yes. My brother's son." She nodded, as if being amiable was the right thing to do.
The merchant spat. "That little…creature, is disgusting! Entirely un-Khuzd."
Bilbo gave a meek peep.
Dís released his hand and slammed her fist down on the counter of the stall.
"If I were you, I would not say such things about a prince of Durin." She growled in khuzdul.
The merchant snarled. "I will say what I will about that ugly little thing."
"Hey!" Kíli snapped angrily from his brother's shoulders.
"Yeah!" Fíli agreed furiously. "Our cousin isn't ugly! Your face's ugly!"
"Your amâd's ugly!" Kíli chimed in.
Fíli threw a, "Your butt's ugly!"
And then suddenly, Kíli screamed at the top of his little lungs: "Your One is ugly!"
Dís shot them both a dark look.
They closed their mouths as quickly as they opened them.
The vendor's face was red with embarrassment.
"I think," Dís murmured, "we Durins will be taking our business elsewhere. Khuzd tada ma mahagrîf turghu ghelekhur, tulhajî Mahal ize."
With that, not bothering to see the other dwarf's reaction, she spun around and tugged on Fíli.
"Come Bilbo let's leave."
She held out her other hand. No small hand entered hers. She turned her head slightly to look behind her.
Bilbo wasn't there.
Fíli noticed this right away and let go of his mother's hand. He spun around quickly, his eyes wide and searching. He looked frantic.
Kíli seemed confused. "Bilbo, now in't the time fer hide 'n seek."
Dís suddenly became very, very, very nervous.
Dammit. She thought. It's only been an hour, and I've already lost Thorin's son. Mahaldammit.
• • •
Bilbo ran down the huge mountain tunnel. Dwarves seemed to swarm everywhere. He didn't like it. It was so crowded. The Shire was never this full. There were so many people everywhere. The tears streamed down his face as he ran past the dwarves. He was invisible to them. Too small, smaller than Kíli and light on his feet. No one knew he was there, and no one should.
The merchant dwarf had called him ugly. He'd never been called ugly before. He'd been called strange, or un-Hobbit-y by his relatives the Bagginses. He'd been called a bastard (whatever a bastard was) and had been hit by Mortimer the hobbit seller, too. But he'd never been called ugly, or disgusting, or thing.
Those words had hurt, more than he'd had ever known.
So distracted, the toddler failed to notice the dwarf who was running right towards him. The two collided. Bilbo skittered across the ground with a surprised yelped. The red headed tri-star haired dwarf looked down at the child with shock.
"'Ello, 'ello, what 'ave we 'ere?"
Bilbo looked at him with quivering lips.
"Oh, oh, 'old on now, I didn' make ya cry now, didz I, mimel?" The dwarf panicked.
The fauntling shook his head, the tears streaming harder.
"None, o' that now." The red head cooed, scooping up the fauntling.
Bilbo did the only thing he knew what to do. He cried into the coat of the dwarf.
Several angry shouts were coming from the direction the tri-haired dwarf had been running from. He looked nervously from there to the fauntling. He nodded making up his mind.
"Come on, mimel, let's get ya somewhere where ya can calm down."
With that the dwarf ran, running close along the wall of the mountain, in the shadows. Bilbo cried and cried, clutching onto stranger in fear. He'd learned not to trust strangers, and yet here he was again, seeking help from one. He was afraid. He wanted Thorin.
He wanted his Mama and Papa.
By the time the red-head had stopped running, Bilbo had begun to slow his tears. Through his puffy red eyes, and tear wet cheeks, he noticed a cozy little house glowing with a soft yellow light. The dwarf shifted him a bit to get comfortable.
"Home sweet home." He murmured.
The red head walked cautiously towards the door, looking over his shoulder every time. Confirming to himself that everything was fine, he walked in. The smell of warm, fresh tea hit Bilbo's nose and he almost instantly stopped crying. It smelled like his home in the Shire. It smelled like his Papa's pipe, and his Mama's spice cabinet.
"Oi, Dori—I've founda wee mate for lil' Ori ta play with!"
• • •
Fíli and Kíli stood stone-still in the living room of their house. They had once thought that their amâd was the scariest thing in all of Middle Earth. This evening, they'd been proven wrong.
Their uncle was much, much, much scarier.
Thorin stood towering in front of Dís, he had seemed to grow taller and as dark as a storm cloud.
"You. Lost. My. Brand. New. Son?"
