What Peace Brings
AN: I'm so sorry for the late update, everyone. April has proven to be the month of hell. College has been busting my ass. -.- essays, tests, group projects, signing up for room assignments, signing up for classes, and FINALS on the way. T.T yay me.
Anyway, this chapter is pretty much fluff and adorableness. Unfortunately, I can only handle so much right now, and academics have to come first. Which means I can't start the other fanfic that I wanted to begin writing! Ugh! … Also, for those reading A Most Unusual Specimen, I'm working on it! I will try to have another chapter up by Sunday!
Thank you for reading!
Chapter 12
After Gandalf and the other eagles were but specks on the horizon, Bilbo waddled through the pathways of Rivendell, worrying about the crazy old wizard that had shown up on his doorstep so long ago and had changed his life forever. The hobbit tried to keep his mind off of the peril Gandalf would be flying through, reassuring himself that the wizard had proven multiple times throughout the journey that he was somehow impervious and completely immune to any and all danger or harm. He was even able to make into the heart of Goblin Town without a single goblin noticing, for goodness' sakes!
But he was a hobbit, a sentimental one at that, and Bilbo could not seem to help himself. So, for lack of a better thing to do, he went to the kitchens.
Hobbits, in general, were very good cooks. They loved to eat all kinds of food: meat, vegetables, cakes, casseroles, and all sorts of breads. Bilbo was particularly fond of cakes and breads, and he had been told that his blueberry cakes were the best in all the Shire. Bilbo believed they were so popular due to the delicate and perfect balance of sugar, cinnamon, and fruit flavor that he created, but, well, he was the inventor, so his opinion was not exactly objective. But they had won first prize in the annual Hobbiton Bake-off and in the Shire Harvest Festival. He was incredibly proud of them, more so than his prizewinning tomatoes.
And he had a strong urge to cook some blueberry cakes right that moment! So he did.
There was something incredibly therapeutic about mindlessly stirring the sugary, sweet smelling batter and staring off into space. He remembered times right after his mother's death when he was forty-four that he would do this exact same thing, stirring a bowl of batter, over and over…not needing to think about the future or the past…not thinking about anything, really…
"Bilbo!"
Bilbo was startled out of his blissful empty thoughts by the arrival of Kili and Fili, who took one look down at the bowl in his hands and licked their lips with a hungry look in their eyes. He realized with a little embarrassment that Thorin had been leaning against the wall beside the fire oven and watching with a small smile, his deep blue eyes rather gentle.
Bilbo's face flushed a little red, giving Thorin a smile in return, before he noticed that Kili and Fili were attempting to subtly dip their fingers in the batter bowl.
"Hey! No, no, not yet, you hooligans!" He whapped their wandering fingers with his wooden spoon, grinning a little vindictively at their yelps of pain.
"Hooligans?!" Kili gave Bilbo a fake look of outrage as he nursed his red fingers. "We are princes of Erebor, hobbit!"
"No, you're the prince idiots of Erebor and fully capable of the mischief required to be called hooligans," Thorin grunted, giving his nephews a scolding look, though there was amusement in them as well.
"Not to mention the fact that neither of you ever wash you hands," Bilbo huffed, waving his spoon at them disapprovingly. "These will be ready soon enough, so you two can just wait till then. I'll not have those sticky paws all over my batter."
"Aw, Uncle Bilbo!" Fili whined, falling against his brother dramatically, giving the pregnant hobbit a wide blue-eyed stare and a pout.
"Uncle?" Bilbo looked at them surprised.
"Well, yeah," Kili shifted uncomfortably, throwing a quick look at Thorin before smiling shyly at Bilbo. "I mean, you're having our little cousin…and well…" He looked back at his uncle, who was carefully looking into the fire simmering under the stove, before shrugging his shoulders helplessly.
"Uncle…" Bilbo murmured quietly, before smiling at Fili and Kili brightly. "That's nice…" The dwarf princes looked instantly more cheerful. "I mean, I'll be a dad soon too, so…uncle's fine."
Thorin was looking at him with bright eyes, not quite smiling but somehow seeming incredibly pleased. Bilbo couldn't help but admire him, where he stood by the fire. The dwarf king wore a simple deep blue tunic and trousers, his dark raven hair streaked with grey pulled into a low tail at the base of his neck. The only kingly adornments he wore were the silver clasps on the two long braids that hung down from the sides of his face. Dressed like this, no armor, no crown, no furred robe, Thorin Oakenshield looked unbelievably handsome. Especially with the happiness brimming in his eyes.
"No, I don't think you're going to be a 'Dad'" Kili said with a thoughtful look on his face. The others in the room turned to look at him with incredulity.
"Um, Kili," Bilbo gestured down to his large stomach, which was so swollen now that he had to have tunics specially tailored to cover him adequately. "I'm pretty sure that I am about to have a child, which would make me a father."
"No, no," Kili shook his head, affecting a serious look on his face, but there was a mischievous glint in his eyes. "You're definitely not going to be a 'Father' either."
Fili reached up a hand to feel his brother's forehead for a fever. Kili smacked his hand away with a look.
"Maybe a 'Papa' or a 'Daddy.' That's fits you better," He said with a grin. The others finally caught on at this, Bilbo and Thorin rolling their eyes. Fili grinned with his brother and nodded at that.
"Yeah, yeah, Bilbo's definitely a 'Daddy.' Uncle Thorin would be…Papa?" He looked questioningly at his brother, who turned to look speculatively at Thorin.
He nodded his approval. "Yeah, that'll work. 'Daddy Bilbo' and 'Papa Thorin.' Perfect." Kili suddenly broke out in a sappy smile. "That's going to be so cute. Tiny little dwobbit boy, calling out 'Papa!' 'Daddy', running around the halls of Erebor…"
"The baby's not going to be a 'dwobbit,' which is ridiculous, by the way," Bilbo was now spooning out little portions of the batter on an iron cooking pan, his face bright red. Thinking about their little child…being called 'Daddy'… it all made this giant bubble of happiness and anxiety fill in his chest. He couldn't wait to finally meet their little baby boy…wait, boy?
"And what makes you think the baby's going to be a boy?" Bilbo gave them an amused look. "Could be a girl, you know…"
The Durin men looked at him blankly for a moment, before chuckling condescendingly at the hobbit.
"It's going to be a boy, Uncle Bilbo," Fili patted Bilbo on the head patronizingly, though he quickly dodged out of the way of the fierce wooden spoon. "And why not a dwobbit? You're a hobbit; Uncle's a dwarf. Hobbit plus dwarf equals dwobbit."
"Because when a hobbit has a child, he or she takes after the father or…well, the provider of... materials…" He finished rather lamely. Lately it seemed like all he could do was fumble over his words and blush. And stuff his face with cakes and biscuits. And drink ten cups of tea. And cry.
"And you didn't answer my question. Why is our baby going to be a boy?"
"It's like this, Uncle Bilbo," Kili began to explain, and Bilbo realized he had swiped the spoon and was licking the batter off. "Us Durin's, we're real dwarfs. Like, the manliest of dwarrows."
"Yes, of course you are," Bilbo muttered sarcastically, curling his lip.
"Thank you, "Kili nodded approvingly at him, wincing when Thorin reached forward and smacked him on the back of the head. "And the manliest of dwarrows just never have daughters."
"Okay," Bilbo drew out the last syllable and looked at the brother with a smidgen of victory in his hazel eyes. "Then…how exactly was your mother born?"
Kili and Fili opened their mouths as if to reply before realizing their argument might be a little faulty. Bilbo shared a look with Thorin, who straightened from his slouch against the wall and walked over to sit on a stool at the counter to be closer to his hobbit.
Thorin did consider himself a very manly dwarf. And any dwarf worth his dwarfhood would never use such a feminine or girly word as 'adorable' but watching his pregnant hobbit bake and joke with his nephews, there was really only one word for it. And that word was, in fact, adorable. He had flour in his curly golden hair, which was tide back to fall to the middle of his back in a beautiful tumble. He wore a white apron where it curved over the sweet swell of his stomach that was covered in specks of batter on. A tiny smudge of blueberry was on the curve of his cheek, right under one bright hazel eye. Hmmmmm…Thorin eyed that spot of blueberry with hunger. He wanted to lean over, nuzzle his hobbit's soft neck, trail up that creamy skin with kisses, until he reached that one spot. Then he would suck that delicious batter into his mouth and—
"Thorin?"
"Hmm?" Thorin jerked back into reality, noticing a floating pastry in front of his nose that smelled heavenly.
"You've been staring," Bilbo muttered with a blush on his cheeks, carefully not mentioning that Thorin had been staring at him. He held out the blueberry-sugar-cinnamon cake, all of which had apparently finished baking during the time that he had been mooning over his hobbit. "Here…"
"Thank you, Bilbo," Thorin murmured, taking the hot cake into one hand and biting into it, looking directly at Bilbo as he did so.
Bilbo watched this avidly, caught in the dark and rather hungry looking stare that Thorin was giving him. The stoic dwarf bit into the sweet treat, giving a low moan as he did so. Bilbo felt his whole body flush at hearing it, a heat settling in his cheeks and further south than was appropriate.
The two echoing moans of Thorin's nephews somewhat ruined the sexiness of their uncle.
"Mmmmmm! Bilbo, these are delicious! Like, like tiny pastries made of the heavens!" Kili said excitedly, attempting to stuff two more into his mouth.
"I could live off these cakes…forever." Fili groaned, savoring the rich blueberry flavor. "I'm pretty sure I would die for them too."
"They are very good, Bilbo," Thorin agreed quietly, still looking a little hot and bothered. He smiled warmly at the flushing hobbit, who had moved to the stove to make some tea.
"Thank you all," Bilbo positively beamed with pride. "My recipe is a Shire favorite! Very popular amongst the hobbits, especially for afternoon teatime. Of course, it's a secret recipe, so I often had many visitors come over in the afternoon when they noticed cooking smoke coming from my smial, wanting to have my cakes."
"I can see why. These are fantastic!" Kili choked out between consuming cakes. He had eaten at least six by then, Bilbo noticed.
"Now, now, Kili, I made them for everyone, not just you three." He held up his wooden spoon in threat when Kili reached for another. "I might make some more later, but you've had quite enough for now."
"Why did you make these, Bilbo?" Fili asked curiously, eying another cake longingly.
"Well, sometimes when I worry about things, I tend to bake or clean. A habit I picked up from my mother, I suspect. All hobbits like to cook, though." Bilbo brushed some crumbs off the swell of his belly as he said this and moved toward the teapot that whistled above the fire. "Would any of you like some tea? The elves have a very soothing brew, good for stomach upsets and such."
"Is your stomach upset?" Thorin asked worriedly, striding forward and taking the pot from Bilbo gently and pouring the water into the small cup on the counter top. He then helped Bilbo into a chair, brushing a large warm hand along the hobbit's swollen stomach.
Bilbo smiled gently at this, warmed at his concern, if a little exasperated at the over-protectiveness. "No, no, I'm perfectly fine. It's just become a favorite of mine, is all." He placed his hand over Thorin's. "You need not worry so much. I'm not made of glass." His lopsided smile melted the dwarf's heart.
"Neither are you made of mithril, dear hobbit," He answered softly.
Bilbo held in a sigh and held his teacup loosely in his palms, savoring the warmth. He looked over at the shelves of herbs and spices, seeing a pot of honey perched rather high up on a shelf. He looked at the honey with longing; even if Thorin would let him get up and move around again, Bilbo still wouldn't be able to reach the pot.
Thorin noticed his gaze and walked over to pull the honey from the shelf, placing it in front of Bilbo without a word. Bilbo accepted this silently as well, spooning out the honey from the pot and pouring it liberally into his tea contentedly. Kili and Fili watched on in amusement.
A moment later, Arwen strode elegantly into the room, clothed in light silvery-blue garments and her hair flowing freely down her back. She looked as beautiful as she ever was, completely at peace and even smiling mildly at the dwarrows gathered around the counter.
Despite her unthreatening appearance, both Kili and Fili moved until the counter was between them and the elf, watching her warily. Thorin stayed where he was, sitting on the chair next to Bilbo, but there was a notable tension in his shoulders that hadn't been there before. Bilbo had tried to convince the dwarrows that she was simply playing with them, which might have made things worse as they saw most attempts at conversation on her part to be some form of mockery. That's not to say that she didn't mock them, but well….
"Ah, those cakes smell delicious. I could smell them from the healing rooms," She reached forward and lifted one from the tray, sighing in pleasure after the first bite. "Very good, Bilbo. I will have to convince you to grant me the recipe." She smiled slyly at the hobbit, before taking a closer look at his tea. "Chamomile? Are you feeling unwell?"
"Goodness, you people! Can't drink a cup of tea without having one of you fussing over me!" Bilbo sipped from his tea with a grumpy expression on his face. "No, I simply wanted this flavor…and maybe I'm a little worried."
"Mithrandir?" Arwen reached for the teapot still filled with warm water and poured herself a cup.
He nodded minutely, his lips twisting in a half-smile.
"He will be fine, Bilbo. It is true that they fly over a dangerous land, but they fly swift and true. The evil of Mordor has long since been subdued; Sauron's power diminished severely during the War of the Elves and Sauron. This is not to say that they will have an easy flight, but…they will make it back to us. You will see." She placed a comforting hand on own of Bilbo's. "In the meantime, we will hope for their safe return. And eat these cakes, of course."
Surprising enough, Arwen had managed to put a very large dent in the remaining blueberry cakes, eating almost as much as Kili had. There were still plenty left, but it was still shocking to see an elf as slender and graceful as Arwen eat five cakes.
"Hey, why does she get to eat so many?" The dwarf prince piped up, looking indignantly at Bilbo. Kili flinched back a little when Arwen's attention turned sharply towards him, preparing to hide behind Fili if needed. Fili glared at him for this, before turning his own attention back to the female elf. She seemed harmless on the surface, but she had wicked aim, a sharp sword upon her hip, and an even sharper tongue.
"Now, Kili," Bilbo gave him a chiding look. "She has not had any more than you. And you both have had quite enough," He added, looking amused with the both of them.
"Still…"Kili grumbled, moving out cautiously from behind his brother and plopping down onto a chair.
"Perhaps we should take a few cakes to Mister Balin and Mister Dwalin before Erebor's princes polish them off?" Arwen interposed smoothly, pulling a silver serving plate from an overhead cupboard.
"That's a great idea," Bilbo shuffled from his chair, ignoring Thorin's hands touching lightly on his arm and back in support. "I would suggest they carry the plate, but, well…that might defeat the purpose."
The brothers shrugged sheepishly at this, grinning as their uncle snickered.
"I shall carry it," Arwen said, already moving little cakes onto the plate. "Should we take some of the tea with us? I know Mister Dwalin will not partake, but Mister Balin might."
"Seems like a capital idea," Bilbo smiled, moving the teapot from the table and onto the tray. "Thorin, would you reach into the cabinet and pull out two teacups?"
The dwarf did so, pulling two delicate finely crafted cups from the cabinet. It was one of Bilbo's favorite sets, because there were little vegetables, such as pumpkins, tomatoes, and cucumbers, connected by thin green vines along the outside, and the rim of the cup was edged in gold. They reminded him of his garden back in the Shire. He still gardened in Rivendell; well, he did before he grew to be the size of a baby oliphant. But the plants were always flowers and herbs. He had rarely ever taken care of vegetables.
Bilbo sighed winsomely as Thorin deposited the cups on the tray and moved back to wrap his muscular arm around the hobbit's waist. Bilbo leaned into his warmth, feeling drowsy. He became tired a lot more easily these days, but, as they found out upon walking from the kitchens, the sun had already begun its descent past the horizon, so it made sense that the hobbit was a little tuckered out. Not to mention his ankles were very displeased at all the walking he had done that day. He leaned more heavily on Thorin, almost wishing he could swallow his pride and ask to be carried, but no. He was a proper adult hobbit and therefore could not be carried about like a child…even if his feet were killing him.
Bilbo barely noticed as the buildings and archways passed the little group by. He leaned against Thorin with an arm around the dwarf's waist, his eyes nearly closed sleepily, listening to the inane quibbling of the dwarf princes and Arwen. Thorin's heartbeat was a steady sound in his ear, and if not for the fact that they were moving and his feet were throbbing painfully, Bilbo was quite sure he could have gone to sleep.
He was roused to a more alert state of being when Thorin guided him gently into a chair at the dinner table. Bilbo sat up straighter, giving the dwarf a thankful smile, and looked around the table. Elrond and Arwen were talking quietly amongst themselves to Bilbo's right. Across from him sat Balin and Dwalin, who had already begun to apportion themselves food from the many plates and bowls. Thorin sat next to Bilbo, having separated his nephews on either sides of the table. Faced with the option of having to sit next to one of the dwarf princes, Ori wisely chose to sit next to Fili, the less likely to play pranks on him.
Bilbo sat idly as Thorin piled food onto his plate for him, as had become the usual for a couple of weeks now. He had fought this at first but had decided it was smarter to pick his battles. And anyway, he always smeared food on his tunic when he tried to reach for plates on the other side of the table.
Throughout the dinner, Bilbo did not contribute much to the conversation, choosing instead to eat the food on his plate and lean against the back of the chair with his eyes closed. He must've fallen asleep at some point, because the next thing he knew, he was being carried back to his rooms in Thorin's arms.
Bilbo contemplated having Thorin put him down, but he was so comfy and warm and…every breath he took he could smell Thorin. Wood smoke, a faint metallic bite of iron, and something that was uniquely Thorin.
The dwarf in question tilted his head down to look at him, giving Bilbo that half-smile that made the hobbit's sappy heart just melt. "Almost there," he murmured softly.
Bilbo allowed himself a brief nuzzle into the broad, warm chest, sighing contentedly, and then they were at the door of his rooms. He had Thorin let him down, wincing slightly at the sudden pain in his ankles, and pushed the door open. He walked into the room, motioning with a smile that Thorin follow, and crossed to the fireplace that was simmering weakly in the darkness.
Thorin quickly passed him and threw a couple logs in himself, and the dwarf turned around to see Bilbo hefting himself up onto the couch behind him. He watched, fidgeting awkwardly, until Bilbo patted the spot next to him on the couch, a sleepy smile on his hobbit's face.
Thorin jumped at the chance to settle down next to his hobbit. Since that night that Thorin had begged for his hobbit's forgiveness, their relationship had become stronger and stronger. It was not the same as before the great battle and would probably never be the same again, but Thorin believed that that was a good thing. Before, their relationship had been fast, passionate, and overshadowed by the quest and later, the Arkenstone. Now…
Now they were moving slower and taking their time, learning more and more about each other every day. And Thorin had never been so content or happy in all his life. Just walking through the gardens with his hobbit, drinking tea and eating breakfast together in the morning, holding his One and his child in his arms…this was everything.
And as he settled on the couch, drawing Bilbo under his arm and against his chest, a blanket draped over them both, Thorin Oakenshield, former estranged prince, poverty stricken blacksmith, company leader and fighter, and now King of Erebor, was finally at peace.
A little while later…
Bilbo shifted drowsily on Thorin's warm chest, looking up at the dwarf with heavy-lidded hazel eyes. "Gandalf will be alright…won't he, Thorin?" He asked quietly, though there was still a vein of worry on his voice.
Thorin stroked a hand down the hobbit's back in comfort, careful not to cross any lines as he did so. Their physical relationship remained platonic, and Thorin was perfectly fine with waiting until Bilbo was ready, but the temptation was still there and hot as ever.
"I have never met a man with so stubborn an ability to survive as Gandalf," He replied, some amusement apparent in his low murmur. "He will return to cause all sorts of problems anew, Bilbo. I know it."
Bilbo sighed tiredly, nosing his way back against the dwarf's chest and facing away from the fire, before he stiffened minutely. Thorin looked down at him questioningly, his own deep blue eyes becoming hazy with sleep.
"I just remembered I wanted to ask you something," Bilbo yawned widely, before lying his head back down. "This morning, before Gandalf and the eagles took off…what did you give to him? That package…"
Thorin did not reply for a minute, looking into the fire quietly. Bilbo felt his eyes drooping closed, the warm comfy fog of sleep descending over him. He fought against it weakly, wanting to hear the dwarf's answer, but it was much too late, and he was a very tired pregnant hobbit. He did hear Thorin say one last thing, the deep voice lulling him to sleep.
"Sleep, Bilbo. Tomorrow will come soon enough…Sleep."
Thank you for reading!
Next chapter: Gandalf returns, and a certain someone finally joins the world! ;)
