Bilbo's POV
By the time they get back to his home, he feels a bit tired so he decides to wait until morning to write his cousins. He'll have to see if anyone is heading over that way, or maybe pay Lilybalm to take it over. Actually, that is a great idea, because she can wait for a response. Plus he doesn't have to worry about her, because she has the wolves and dire wolves to protect her.
They spend the rest of the evening together in front of the fireplace, just enjoying each other's company. Sometime's they talk, other times they sit in silence. By the time both are ready to call it a night, he has roughly planned out what he wants to write in his head, along with deciding what he would like to have brought to Erebor.
In the morning, he is the first one awake once more. Stretching, he considers what to wear and decides on something simple for the day, he mostly will not be leaving the smial. Once dressed, he heads out to the kitchen where he makes some scones for first breakfast, and starts on a more filling meal of fluffy cheese, ham, and fresh vegetables omelets, orange juice, bacon, and hashbrowns. Since he noticed that his dwarven love prefers coffee to tea, he puts a pot on to percolate.
He is just about done when Thorin emerges from the spare bedroom and comes to the kitchen and dining room.
"How long have you been up?" the dwarrow inquires as he accepts the coffee handed to him.
"Just over an hour, first breakfast was blueberry scones. There are some left, I thought we could have then with tea this afternoon." he replies as he places the first omelet on the plate for Thorin, followed by helpings of each side dish before handing it to the dwarrow staring at it in shock. "Do you not like omelets?" he asks, concerned he has made an error in what to make.
Giving a small shake of his head, his love answers, "I like omelets, I'm just trying to understand how you're not rounder, or any of the other hobbits."
Smiling, he remembers the comment from the day before regarding how much weight Bilbo had lost while on the journey and the shock over the amount of meals he's used to, verse dwarrow diets.
"I can make you less if you prefer?" he offers.
Chuckling, Thorin sits down at the table, giving another shake of his head, "No, it's good to have stable meals while we can. Once on the road it will be harder."
"Too right, I have already started planning how to make sure we have enough to eat as we travel," he remarks with a nod, "Would it bother you if I decided to take a cart on the trip to Erebor? I wish to bring a few things with me, mostly related to food and cooking."
"It might take a few days longer to reach Erebor, but that should not be a problem." Thorin responds, before cocking his head to the side thoughtfully and commenting, "I do not know that the pony's I brought have ever had a cart attached to them."
Grinning, he states, "That's alright, I was thinking of getting one of the shire pony's for that purpose, they are trained to go over a variety of terrain with their carts without panicking, because some areas of the shire are left natural except for the small paths between them."
"That might be best," the dwarrow agrees.
"I'm going to go write a letter to my cousin, you're welcome to look around, relax, or read." He comments, motioning to the smial around them.
"I was thinking I could use the forge if the blacksmith doesn't mind, in order to make you new locks," Thorin replies, arching a questioning eyebrow.
Smiling, he nods, "That's a wonderful idea, however we do not have a blacksmith, so it has been closed since last fall when the last traveling one was through. All the materials you may need should be in it, I can walk you to it or have one fauntlings do so."
"A fauntling will be fine," his possible mate answers, "Let me get into something a bit more suitable for forge work, then I will be ready to go."
He watches the dwarrow leaving the room, wondering what he is going to change into. Shaking himself out of his musings, he heads to the front door, stepping out it and glancing about. Sure enough, there are several fauntlings playing in the gathering field.
"Iris, Cocoana, a moment of your time," he calls out to the oldest two.
All of the fauntlings come tumbling over, not only the two he called for. That's not overly surprising, the youngsters tend to stay in pairs or groups of three.
"Hello Mr. Baggins," "Hi Mr. Bilbo," "Morning to you Mr. Bilbo," they chorus together, voices competing with each other, and all together annoying.
"Morning," he replies, "Iris, could you show Mr. Oakenshield to the forge? He has some work to do before we leave town." He asks the first question of the fauntlings.
"Of course, Mr. Baggins!" She replies excitedly, bouncing on the balls of her feet.
"What about me Mr. Bilbo?" Cocoana asks, eyes wide as she peers up at him.
"I need to speak with Lilybalm, could you ask her to stop by Bag End as soon as she has some free time?" He requests seriously.
She just about jumps up and down, waving her hands close together in front of her in excitement, "Oh yes! I can definitely do that Mr. Bilbo! Come on Scarlette, Lettie!"
He has barely finished asking when the group breaks apart, three of them heading down the road towards Lilybalm's home, two of them staying with him to wait for Thorin, and the rest returning to the field to play.
He is just about considering stepping into the smial to see how much longer it will be when his door opens and his dwarrow steps out. Thorin hasn't changed so much as added a thick leather vest and heavy gloves to his outfit.
"Thorin Oakenshield, these are Iris and Idris, they'll show you to the forge," he introduces his dwarrow to the two young hobbits.
"Hello Mr. Oakenshield!" the girls chorus happily.
"I'll bring you lunch," he tells his love with a smile, "If, for some reason I can't, I'll make sure someone does."
Thorin nods, lightly brushing their fingers together before commenting, "At your service ladies."
The two girls giggle, and start off down the road, babbling excitedly at the first dwarrow they were allowed to speak with.
"They're very excited," his neighbor remarks by the shared fence between their yards.
Turning to the slightly taller hobbit, he smiles warmly at the gardener. "A Hamfast! Pleasant morning to you. Just the hobbit I still needed to speak with," he greets his neighbor. "Would you care for a scone and some tea? I have a proposition for you."
Curiosity shines in the taller hobbit's eyes as he walks around the fence to come up to the house with him.
Inside, they sit down at the kitchen table, a fresh pot of tea between them and warm scones with little plates before them.
"I will be moving to Erebor, possibly permanently, however I do not want Lobelia to get my home, so I am inviting Drogo and Primula to live here. Would you mind keeping up with he garden and making sure that sneaky, no-good cousin of mine stays out? I have already drawn up papers with Ned to make sure she legally cannot try to claim it, and to make sure you get paid for any work you do." He explains politely, taking a sip of his tea and waiting for an answer.
Smiling at him warmly, Hamfast nods in agreement, "I can do that for you Mr. Bilbo, yes I can."
"Thank you!" He exclaims, happy that he will not need to wait for his cousins before leaving, though he will wait for their answer. He has a few other cousins, mostly Tooks, that he will offer Bag End to before he would ever consider Lobelia.
The spend a bit of time visit with each other, discussing the gardens and how they are each doing so far this season. They work out how much he will pay the other hobbit for his time, it is nearly elevenses when Hamfast bids him good day to return to his home.
He is considering getting cleaned up and dressed in better clothing to take Thorin lunch when he hears persistent knocking at front door. Unfortunately, he is far too familiar with the person who is knocking so rudely. His annoying and sneaky cousin has come for a visit. Why is she here? She's not invited over.
Sighing, and standing up to go answer the door because he is a polite hobbit, he takes a deep breath before opening it, smiling tightly at his cousin, "Morning Lobelia."
"Bilbo," she responds curtly.
Great, he thinks, it's going to be one of those types of visits.
"Did you need something?" he inquires just as curtly, still smiling tightly.
"Aren't you going to invite me in Bilbo?" she demands, shoving a foot past his doorway rudely.
His smile tightens further as he steps back and lifts his head a bit straighter, "I was actually getting ready to leave," he responds smoothly.
"Looking like that? I doubt it." She mutters, angrily walking deeper into his home and settling on his favorite chair as if it is her right. "Aren't you going to offer tea? I swear, since you got back you have been absolutely a savage."
"I don't think you have much room to speak, Lobelia, you have been voted the rudest hobbit in Hobbiton for the last five years running," he replies before walking into his kitchen to get the fresh pot of tea he had been seeping on the stove and his day old to the living room, his eyes quickly check to make sure nothing has changed or moved, before he settles the tray with the supplies on the table between the chairs. "Why are you here?" he asks directly, not bothering to pour her tea.
Several minutes pass in silence while he waits for the big mouth thief to state her purpose bothering him on this otherwise lovely day.
"I heard that you were leaving with another dwarf," she almost spits the word dwarf, "and wished to offer my services looking after Bag End, to make sure your things are all here for you when you get home."
"That won't be necessary Lobelia, I have already written to cousin Drogo, to invite him to live here, and Hamfast will keep an eye on it before they move in." He gleefully informs her, enjoying the pinched look of annoyance that flashes across her face, "If that's all," he motions towards the door, "I have errands I need to be running."
She stays stubbornly seated, sipping her tea as slowly as possible, to the point where he is quite sure it is cold. Finally she remarks, "We've been cousins for years, I thought we were friends, Bilbo, that our bickering was only for pleasure."
"You are a cousin by marriage, Lobelia, Drogo is my cousin by blood. If Bag End is to go to anyone it will be someone of my choosing, and I chose Drogo." He responds, not caring about the offended look she gives him.
"Why I never!" she exclaims angrily.
It looks as if she is gearing up to continue when the doorbell is pulled only once.
"If you'll excuse me, it appears I have company," he remarks, motioning her towards his door again, and not moving until she stands to leave. He watches her carefully, noticing her attempting to place his silver spoon in her skirt pocket, "My spoon Lobelia," he comments tightly, "Now, or I report you for theft to sheriff."
"How dare you!" she nearly froths as she pulls the spoon out of her pocket and places it on the table, "It must have slipped! I am a respectable hobbit, not a thief!"
"Then act like it," he suggests snidely, escorting her to the door.
Thankfully she goes without further comment and he finds Lulybalm Took with two of her wolves standing at his entrance. He enjoys the way Lobelia inches away from them, keeping her motions as slow and exaggerated as possible before fleeing as if the hounds of hell are chasing her.
"I'm happy I am not related to that one," Lilybalm mutters. A bit louder, and with a smile in his direction, she says, "Hello Uncle Bilbo, what can I do for you?"
"Please come in," he replies with a genuine smile, "I have a small favor to ask."
"Of course," she responds with a nod, "Do you mind if my boys come in with me?"
"They may, just keep them off the furniture," he agrees with a nod.
"Always, uncle," she comments, snapping her fingers and point to the ground by her side before stepping into the smial.
While she gets comfortable in the living room, he fetches fresh tea, small sandwiches because there is only half an hour before lunch, he probably isn't going to make to see Thorin like he wanted. Curse that annoying hobbit.
Returning to the living room with a tray, he sets it between them, politely pouring her tea and passing it to her.
"I will be moving to Erebor," he begins, "and wish to invite cousin Drogo and his wife Primula to live here."
"You need me to run the message and see if they accept." She comments with a smile, taking a sip of the tea.
Finishing the bite of the sandwich he is chewing on carefully, he nods in agreement, "Yes, exactly that."
"I'll do it," She agrees, "All I have to do is stop by home to get the rest of my babies."
The rest of her babies is the rest of the wolf pack, consisting of three females, two pups, and a dire wolf she often is seen riding. Had she wanted to, Lilybalm could have become one of the elders at the Hall, but she chose a more ranger like life style, being one of the few hobbits trained in self defense and weaponry.
"Thank you, I will make sure a pig is readied for when you return at the butcher." He comments with a relieved smile. The message will get to his cousin, and he will get an honest answer about what he said. Of course, some of the hobbits who have forgotten the wolf rider will be in for a bit of a shock, but that is not his problem.
She nods, and the two of them spend a while visiting with each other. He learns that her last litter of wolves has joined the patrol pack that makes sure the borders are safe from wild wolves, bandits, and other troublesome types. A group of rangers has asked if she could train some wolves or dogs to work with them, hunting and dealing with goblins and orcs. She has agreed, but insisted it must be dire wolves or worgs, and they have to provide the pups since she doesn't have a breeding pair of dires.
It's a pleasant time, far better than his visit with Lobelia.
He flushes as he remembers he was going to take Thorin lunch, and had gotten completely sidetracked because of the annoyances visit. Well his dwarrow doesn't eat as much, so he can get cleaned up and walk down their to see how he is doing. Perhaps someone else has brought him lunch, as that is a common thing when a blacksmith is in attendance.
"I'll be off," the younger woman states, nodding and standing, "Would you like a hand cleaning up?" She offers, motioning to the dishes their lunch was on.
"Oh no," he answers with a small shake of his head, "I can easily handle this. Let me get you the letter," he remarks, rising and heading to his study where he grabs the envelope and letter he had written up and sealed earlier. Returning to the living room, he passes it to her, thanking her one last time.
She nods, bids him farewell and leaves with her wolves close on her heels.
Closing the door, he sighs, turning to head to the bathroom to get a bath and get cleaned up. First off, light the broiler so the water will be warm. He can gather what he wants to wear while it heats. No reason he cannot look nice as he goes to check on his possible mate, and see if he needs lunch.
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