It had been a few years since the battle in which Thorin Oakenshield had lost his bride. Betta Baggins had burgled her way into his heart on their journey, and they were wed in a roadside ceremony, but, fool that he was, when the gold sickness overtook him, he had cast her out on the eve of one of the fiercest battles he had ever known. The Valar only knew what happened to her. In his deepest heart, he dared to hope that maybe she was somewhere in the world, disgusted with his behavior and living her life- and maybe, one day, she'd forgive him enough to at least send word that she was alive and hated him. But, on a daily basis, he, like the others in the company, feared the worst- that during the battle, she had been slain, and her body lost in the carnage, or the clean-up thereafter. There were many mornings when he woke to the agony of remembering another time he woke, that time after the battle when he was told that she hadn't been found in the several days it had taken him to wake from his own injuries.

However, he pushed on, trying to make Erebor all it could be once again, remembering to be thankful that he still had his nephews and the rest of the company around him, and be thankful for the steady hand of Dis at his side once more.

It was at a breakfast with the whole of the company, as they tried to do as often as they could, that Dis handed a letter to his Captain of the Guard.

"Found this stuck to the back of a letter to me from the royal message bag from Ered Luin." She handed it over to Dwalin with a smirk, "Looks like a feminine hand. Is there a pretty dwarrowdam waiting for you back there?"

Dwalin's glare was not enough to quell the banter and ribbing from the rest of the company as they began to tease about what a lady would have to be like to catch Dwalin's eye.

Balin was more than willing to go along with the fun for a touch, until he saw the look on his brother's face, which had grown confused as he looked at the sealed letter and had grown rather shocked as he read it. The silver-haired dwarf grew even more concerned when Dwalin motioned him over and handed the letter to him.

"It cannae be what- is it? I coulda sworn it was her hand, and with that signature-"

Balin found himself rather confused about what his brother meant, until he caught a glimpse of the signature himself. He rapidly read the letter over, then read it again to be sure, as he sat in the nearest open seat before his legs gave out under him.

To Dwalin, son of Fundin:

I can only hope that this letter reaches you, though if even having it puts you in too great a danger, please, I beg you, destroy it without a concern for me. I only wrote in hopes of getting some peace knowing what happened to the rest of the company in the battle, and it would break my heart to think that the one person who I knew survived it was hurt because of my own selfish desires. I know that my own Maker of Acorns has passed to the halls of his fathers; there's no need to try to break that news to me. I knew with that news there would be no place for me because of our argument, even though he and I had made our private peace. I hope to hear from you that many of our mutual friends survived to see the glory of the mountain restored, if it's possible. Again, please do not send word if it will cause trouble to do so; my kits and I get on well enough not to have you risking everything for us. If you can send a reply somehow, you know which door is mine. I wish you all the best in the world, my friend.

Sincerely yours,

Little Bunny

"Is it-" Dwalin stuttered, "Is it what it seems? Is it her?"

"Who?" Kili piped up.

"Aye, brother, it's her hand, and I don't know who else would write a letter like this one."

"WHO?" came more insistently from down the table.

"Betta," Dwalin choked out, as Balin passed the letter to Thorin to read for himself.

"What?!" Shouts of confusion, concern, and joy spread around various parts of the company. Meanwhile, Thorin had tears silently rolling down his cheeks as he read and reread the words of his long-lost love.

"She-" Thorin's voice grew dangerously close to breaking, "She wanted to know how the company is, how many survived the battle. Apparently, Dwalin was the only one that she was sure survived."

The thought that their burglar might be living with the fear that her friends may have passed to the halls of their father sobered many at the table.

"Does it say why she left?" Kili asked worriedly.

Thorin nodded, as he passed the letter back to Balin, "Though I don't really understand what she means."

"Well," the advisor began, "she certainly guards her words. Nearly everything is hidden and if you don't have a notion about who wrote it, it would likely make no sense at all, but I think… Here, see this bit about an 'argument' and 'private peace.' I think that she thinks that you, specifically Thorin, are definitely dead."

Thorin's eyes widened.

"I'm not certain- this 'Maker of Acorns' bit is confusing, but that she makes special note about not having to break the news of that death, paired with the argument and reconciliation makes me think she might be talking about you. She also seems to allude to Dwalin possibly being in danger due to contact with her- I'm not sure why, though, but if she thought talking with her could put us in danger for some reason, it would be understandable that she might leave."

Thorin stood up from the table abruptly and headed out of the room.

"Where are you going," Dis called.

"Aren't we going to talk about this," came from Bofur.

"We can't ignore this," Gloin shouted.

All they heard from the retreating king was, "I'm going to the Shire!"

The green rolling hills looked much the same to Thorin as they had when he had departed from Bag End as the company had turned towards Erebor those years ago. Seeing the stillness and sameness of the Shire from how it was then made him realize just why Betta had seemed so unprepared for the upheaval of an adventure, at least at first- the mundanity of everyday life must have made such small things seem like grand adventures and the risk of a dragon-slaying quest would have seemed… insurmountable.

Now as he tried to remember the way through the circuitous roads of the Shire, he tried to contain the warring panic, joy, and desperation. He could only beg Mahal that his One would dein to see him, that she was not so angry that she wouldn't see him, that- and this was a strange thought to think- she really had thought him dead and that was the only reason for her departure. Most of the company had come with him again to the Shire, and they chatted quietly around him as he mulled over what to say to his bride when he saw her. Perhaps it was because of this very quietude that he was the first to notice the small children playing in the field beside the road. A young Hobbit female appeared to be minding them, though she appeared old enough that she might have possibly been the younglings' mother. The pure joy and ringing laughter of the four little ones made Thorin stop his pony, just relishing the pleasure of youthful innocence. Even now that Erebor was reclaimed, there were still precious few dwarfish children under the mountain, so a glimpse of a child was a treasure to be hoarded. A few of the others had stopped as they had seen Thorin do so, and many also had indulgent smiles on their faces as they watched the pebbles.

"Ah, they remind me of when my Gimli was that age," Gloin reminisced.

Whether it was Gloin's comment or the subsequent groans that caught the young Hobbitish woman's attention, Thorin didn't know. But she immediately became defensive at the idea of the dwarves staring at her young charges.

"Can I help you?" she called, a hint of wariness in her voice.

"We didn't mean to disturb you. Children are precious to our people, so the sight of them playing brings joy to our hearts as we travel to see a friend," Bofur called back.

"A friend?"

"Betta Baggins, of Bag End. Do you know her?"

"My cousin. She's busy for the time being."

Before any of the dwarves had a chance to respond, as, like one, a tightness in them uncoiled from the confirmation that the lass was indeed alive, one of the children, one with long dark hair, ran up to them, flowers in her hands. She stared for a moment at each dwarf in turn, not saying a single word. Some of the dwarves looked back at her with curiosity in their eyes as they wondered what the girl was doing. Maybe she just thought they were funny looking, Thorin supposed, it's not like that many dwarves passed through the Shire. After a few long minutes of mutual staring, the girl placed her flowers in a clear spot on the ground and ran off again without a word.

As the child ran off, the older hobbitess frowned slightly. "I apologize for her rudeness," she said to the dwarves. "Normally, she's rather polite, not running off without so much as introducing herself properly," she raised her voice to be heard by the retreating child, "and certainly knows better than to stare." Her voice returned to a more normal level as she turned back to the dwarves. "Her sisters might have forgotten, but it's not like DeeDee to forget her manners like that."

Bifur said something in response, hands signaling as he spoke.

"My cousin says that there's no need to apologize," Bofur translated. "Children do as they do. And by the looks of her, your young one has some time to grow into her Hobbitish manners."

The hobbit flushed slightly. "Oh, no, she's not mine. She's my cousin's; I'm just minding them."

"Beggin' your pardon, Missus…?" Bofur said.

"Where are my own manners! I'm so sorry. Primula Brandybuck, pleased to meet you." The woman dipped a small curtsy.

"Thorin Oakenshield, at your service," Thorin said, after he swung down from his pony, "and these are some of my kith and kin, who have journeyed with me," before each began to introduce themselves in turn.

It was not long after the introductions were over, but just before it was about to become awkward for the strangers to continue conversing, the dark-haired girl ran back to her caretaker's side, arms full of all manner of plant materials, though Thorin for the life of him likely could not have named a single one. The child plopped down onto the ground, and started doing… something with the bits of vegetation, though she seemed to still look hard at the dwarves as she worked.

After a few moments watching the child work, Thorin started to see the plants take on a sort of ring shape, though he could not guess the purpose of the thing. With a glance at Ms. Brandybuck for a sort of permission, he stepped over to the child and squatted down near enough to see what she was doing better but far enough not to be crowding or been seen to be behaving inappropriately.

"What are you making, lass?" He asked.

Before he could get an answer, three more children came bounding out of the nearby wood, carrying armfuls of plant matter as well. The two girls had dirty blonde hair and slightly muddy skirts, but the boy's hair was yellow like spun gold and… was he wearing boots? Yes, yes he was, and one of the girls was too. Thorin moved aside a bit as the other three children sat down beside the child. With barely a glance between them, the newcomers seemed to pick up the same task as the first, with glances to the dwarves, and passing of different leaves and flowers and such between the four children as they seemed to work in tandem on some still-unknown project.

"What are you making," Thorin kindly repeated to the dark-haired girl.

"Flower crowns." She must have seen the confused look on his face, because she showed him what she was working on. "See," she pointed to some of the weaves and tucks on the inside of the circlet, "the flowers weave together and hold each other, and then you— do— this." She did a couple quick maneuvers with her hands and then she showed him the completed circlet.

"That's a very impressive maneuver you did at the end there, especially for being so young," Thorin remarked.

The girl shrugged her shoulders as she kept working, taking another glance to the rest of the dwarves, this time seemingly at Dori particularly. "A lot of faunts can make flower crowns, and a lot of them are really good, too."

Thorin looked up as he heard one of the other girls make a noise of annoyance, just in time to see the one without boots shove her hair back out of her face in frustration. Without so much as a word, the boy child moved behind her and quickly pulled the loose curls into a braid- perhaps not a work of art, but quick and serviceable all the same, Thorin noted.

The adults chatted a bit more, since Thorin was still sitting with the children, though eventually Kili got tired of staying in his saddle and joined the group on the ground. As Thorin asked a few questions about the pebble's flower-crown-making technique, he was impressed by how much they knew- practically dwarfish in how well they made things, he thought to himself. He tried not to wonder how a child of his and Betta's would do at such a task, because- oh yes, he could see a child of Betta's wanting to immerse themselves in flowers, even in the heart of a mountain. He couldn't help thinking that maybe Betta would want a flower crown, too. Would she wear a flower crown still if it were made of gold and jewels, a crown that would never fade and die, that he could craft and toil over and refine until every bloom was perfect in form and design? Which flowers might he use? He supposed any would do if pretty enough. He watched as one of the blonde girls shifted aside a couple of perfectly nice flowers to get one of a different variety. "Why do you choose one flower over another? Those others looked perfectly fine, not a blemish on them."

One could kill with the looks of disappointment in Thorin's intellect that the children all gave. "Different flowers and plants mean different things. They may look well together and still not fit each other for their purpose," DeeDee explained with a tinge of exasperation.

One of the blonde girls nodded. "It's a nice flower but it doesn't fit. It means bashfulness, while this one," she pointed to the shamrock she had selected, "means luck."

"Which is more fitting for the event?"

"Sometimes an event, but this time it is for a person."

Thorin just noticed that now the pebbles had stopped working and seemed to be brushing scattered petals and such off their clothes. "Ah," he nodded, "Who is it for? Your mother?"

"This one," she held up the crown they were just discussing, with the shamrocks worked into it, "is for Master Nori." She nodded towards the wood, where no dwarf was seen, until Nori's head popped out from the shadows.

"How did you know I was there," he called.

"You're quiet, but not Shire quiet," the boy pitched in. "Even with boots, I'm probably quieter."

"Or, otherwise we'd never be able to get decent pranking done," the same blond girl said. She offered the crown to Nori as he came closer. "Here."

Thorin missed Nori's reaction because the young dark-haired girl had tugged on his sleeve to get his attention. She shyly handed him a crown of his own. "Will you wear it?"

He knelt down in front of her so she could reach and put the crown on him. "I would be honored. Can you tell me what it means?"

"Well, the oak leaves are, well, for you, because of your name and for-"

"You know my name?"

She nodded shyly, "Thorin Oakenshield, King under the Mountain."

"At your service," he smiled gently. "It appears we forgot proper introductions, didn't we? Your cousin called you DeeDee?"

She nodded, "It's short for Edelweiss, but you can call me DeeDee- my friends and family do." She puffed up, "All three of us girls have matching nicknames."

"I am honored to call you DeeDee, mizimith. What are the others called?"

"Well, my sisters-"

"They're your sisters?!"

"Mm-hmm, and he's my brother," she pointed to the boy.

"Who's the eldest?"

"Thee is, then Bee, and I'm the youngest, but only by a little bit because we're quadruplets!"

A puzzled expression came over Thorin's face. "What's quadruplets?"

"It means that Mummy had us all at the same time."

Thorin's eyes widened in shock. "All four of you were born at the same time?!" At the child's nod, he said, "Your mother and father must be very happy hobbits."

"Well," she mused, "my mother is a happy hobbit; my father isn't though."

Thorin gentled, "I'm sure your father is very happy with you, even if maybe he isn't good at showing it."

"It's not that. I hope he's happy with us, but he's a dwarf, not a hobbit, so he'd be a happy dwarf, I guess."

Thorin, and the few other dwarfs that heard, were flabbergasted. "A dwarf," one choked out. "I didn't know there were any dwarves living in the Shire!"

"There aren't. Well, my mummy says she has four half-sized, half-dwarves, which is basically like having a whole dwarf in the Shire, and as much trouble." She grinned broadly. "But mum says that my da died before I was born," she paused and sobered, "though I'm not so sure I believe that anymore."

Sensing the child didn't want to say anymore, Thorin went back to his original question, "So which girl is which, and what's your brother's name?"

"Well," she pointed at the blond girl without boots, "That's Thee, the eldest." She pointed at the other girl, "that's Bee," pointing at the boy, "and that's Frerin."

Thorin's gaze whipped from the boy to DeeDee, "Frerin!" then whipped back again to the boy. With the pebble's longer golden hair, he certainly bore a resemblance to Thorin's late brother. "Wherever did your mother get a name like that?"

"It was my daddy's brother's name. He died in a big battle before my parents met, but my da missed him a whole lot, so my mum thought he would have liked it if my brother was named after him."

Somewhere in this whole spiel, Thorin and Edelweiss had gathered the attention of the whole dwarfish company. Thorin forced his brain to work through what he had just been told. Her father was a dwarf; her uncle's name was Frerin and died in battle. Her mother said her father was dead. He cleared his throat. "Frerin was also my brother's name."

"I know."

"You do?"

"You're a clever one, aren't you, Princess?" Dwalin's voice sounded from over Thorin's shoulder. Thorin twisted to stare at Dwalin, just in time to see Dwalin say with a slight quirk of a smile on his face, "With the look of your adad about you, too, though, thankfully, you seem to have your amad's wits."

"Mum always said I was my adad's spitting image, except for my ears and feet, which only give grounds for why I can be Tookish if the mood strikes me."

"Tookish?" Thorin forced out.

"That's my grandma's side of the-" She turned her head to see her mother coming over the rise of the hill. "Mummy!"

Thorin looked at the hobbitess standing stock still near the horizon. "Betta," he whispered.

All of a sudden, the woman started running towards them. Thorin had just barely stepped beyond the cluster of the group when he saw her fall flat on her face.

He ran to her side and helped her to sit up, grasping her arms as he did so. "Are you all right," he asked, "Nothing broken or bent I hope."

"Only my pride,'' she said laughing, "Oh, I'm practically blind with the dirt in my eyes," as she tried to wipe said dirt off her face. As Thorin joined in with trying to get the dirt away, she cupped his face in her hands. "But even if I were blind, I could never forget the contours of your face." She caressed his cheek as if he were a wisp or a memory instead of flesh and blood. "Thorin, I thought you were dead. He told me you were dead, I'm so, so sorry. I thought you were-"

"I'm here," he said, leaning forward to kiss her briefly.

Betta drew back, and flicked her eyes behind Thorin to the laughing children. "I see you met the menagerie."

"Can they really be ours?"

She nodded, "Yes, Thorin."

Tears gathered in Thorin's eyes as he gazed on his newfound family and held Betta close to his side. Thee ran up to them, placing a crown on her mother's head before wrapping her arms around Betta' neck. "Is it time for tea now?"

"Give me a minute to say hello, darling."

Thee scampered back to where the others faunts were gathered with the remaining crowns, which were now distributed among Miss Brandybuck and the rest of the dwarves. As soon as Betta reached the others, she was swarmed by every dwarf there, hugging her and smiling as they greeted her.

"Oh, Betta, lass," Bofur said, "we feared the worst, and yet, here you are, pebbles in tow- and aren't they pretty little things."

""Well, I can't take all the credit," she said, hanging off Thorin's arm as she looked up at him. "Rosebuds, have you introduced yourselves?"

"Thea."

"Beryl."

"Frerin."

"And Edelweiss," they said each in turn, and in unison, they bowed or curtseyed, "at your service," as the dwarves cooed at the display.

"Alright," Betta said, "now, we can head back for tea."

The faunts cheered, Thea and Beryl racing home right off. DeeDee sidled up to Thorin and gingerly placed her hand in his. Thorin looked down to smile at her, and she shyly smiled back before turning her face into his trouser leg as Thorin tightened his grip on her hand. He looked around to spot Frerin, surprised when he saw the boy riding Dwalin's shoulders, of all people. As Betta finished giving directions on where to stable the ponies and how to get to Bag End from there, Thorin wrapped his free arm around her waist for the walk back to the smial.

They walked to Bag End in companionable silence, only braking when Edelweiss, spotting Bag End, finally let go of Thorin's hand to run the rest of the way home.

"I missed you," Thorin murmured into Betta's ear.

"I missed you, too," Betta replied, smoothing down her black skirts, making sure the dark blue trim was lying as it should.

"And I'm sorry for the gold madness, for the all-"

"Shush, Thorin." Betta stopped them and pulled Thorin to face her. "I forgave you all that long ago, just as I told you on Ravenhill."

"It feels too much to believe," Thorin whispered, hand coming to cup Betta's check, "as does believing that you're really here, after so long thinking you were— gone."

"Oh, Thorin, I'm so sorry. I promise, I promise I never would have left if I knew you were still alive, never. I would have been right there beside you."

"Surely, you must know that the rest of the Company would have looked after you; they see you as one of their own."

"I know they would have wanted to. I never doubted that, but I couldn't put them or the children in that kind of jeopardy, not after I thought you had died securing a home for your people."

His face scrunched up in perplexity. "I don't understand."

A look of confusion passed over Betta's face. "Because the revoking of my banishment was private between us, not public."

At Thorin's continued look of bewilderment, Betta explained. "It was one of Dain's captains who told me you were dead. He said that even though you and I had made our private peace, because it wasn't publicly known or witnessed, it couldn't reverse the banishment. Fili, or Valar forbid he hadn't made it, Kili, would have had to reverse it. Then Fili would either have had to countermand the last order of the king he succeeded, which could make him look weak and destabilize him by going against a sane king's decrees, or he could reveal you were gold mad to reverse it, opening him up to concerns for his own sanity in the future. And for me to even stay in Dale would force FIli to either stop trade with Dale in censure for their harboring an Ereborian fugitive or appear weak for not taking a strong enough stand. With that, especially just finding out I was pregnant, I couldn't put our family in such a precarious position by staying, not after everything you sacrificed to get us there." Betta looked up from Thorin's chest to see his aghast face.

"One of Dain's captains told you that?"

She nodded.

"Oh, Ghivashel," he pulled her close, his tears slowly slipping into her hair, "none of that was true; he should never have said that. Oh, I'm so sorry."

The relief and shock finally caused Betta to start weeping into Thorin's tunic herself. After a few moments, she could only whisper, "So it's over now; we can go home."

"I can see how this conversation would be distressing for you, and we can certainly head inside now, if you like."

"No, Thorin, home- for all of us, with you and our friends and our children."

At Betta's persistent gaze, Thorin caught out her meaning. "You are willing to go back to Erebor with me? You are willing to leave your home here in the Shire again?"

"Thorin, home will always be where my family is. Our faunts have been the only thing that has made the Shire feel like home since I came back. Of course, we'll go with you back to Erebor, though I don't know how we'll do it before the winter sets in, and honestly, the thought of traveling with four faunts through winter is rather frightening."

Thorin took her hand and started walking them back to Bag End. "I knew it would be hard to get back to Erebor before winter. They know I won't be heading east again until the spring. I and the others can weather in Ered Luin through winter and then bring you all back with us in the spring."

"You're not staying here?"

"We— I didn't want to invite myself, or if you weren't here—."

"Of course, you can stay here. There'll be some room sharing, but-"

"We would like nothing better than to stay- we can pass by Ered Luin in the spring instead and then go to Erebor."

They had just passed through the front gate when Betta saw a brightly colored form coming their direction. "Oh, that looks like Lobelia; we should get inside before she gets close enough for pleasantries."

Surprised at the reaction, Thorin felt himself be tugged quickly towards the green door. The tugging only stopped as a shrill voice called out angrily, "Betta Baggins!" and Betta's shoulders dropped.

Thorin saw Betta take a deep breath to compose herself before turning, with a pasted smile on her face, as she greeted the other hobbit with a saccharine voice. "Cousin Lobelia, what a surprise! Will you join us inside for tea? And allow me to introduce—"

"You need to do something about those hooligan brats of yours!" Lobelia cut in.

Betta saw the movement of the door opening beside her.

"And what exactly am I doing something about?"

"Well, they are just— trouble makers! Getting underfoot and being wicked and bratty, and you really shouldn't let them run so wild. Why, if you let them keep running like that, think of how their manners will be and next thing you know, they'll be running off on unrespectable adventures like someone else we know and we really can't have that happening again, can we, cousin? What would become of the good Baggins name? And it would be all manner of trouble, and—"

"Lobelia, you make it sound as if my faunts were an invading horde, not four children." A bit of steel entered her tone, "And thank you for your concern, but I'm sure their manners will turn out just fine."

"And who do you think you are to be criticizing my mizims and the way my wife is raising them?" Thorin growled, "I'll have you know that—"

"Oh, she looks rather a bit cross today." Thea's small voice popped in. By this point, all four faunts and the rest of the dwarves had gathered in the yard or at the door.

As Lobelia stood in shock at the sight, Beryl continued, "She rather has the look of someone who had her silver spoons burgled from her kitchen."

"That can't be right though," Frerin followed.

"Because it's Mama that has silver spoons, that her mama left her. Mrs. Lobelia doesn't have any spoons like that," Edelweiss finished, as Lobelia slowly turned bright red with embarrassment and anger, and Betta slowly clued on to exactly what had Lobelia so furious.

Thorin could tell that there was a subtext to the conversation happening in front of him that would make it all make sense, but for the life of him, he couldn't figure out what it was. So he didn't understand why the red-faced hobbit just stared at his pebbles, trying to come up with a retort before just giving a huff, spinning around, and stalking away.

Betta watched her until she was well out of sight, before shepherding everyone inside. After closing the door, she turned, hands on hips, to the faunts. "Now, I have a decent idea what you four have been up to but I would like to hear it from your own mouths."

Thorin stood gobsmacked as he watched the pebbles put on the most angelic expressions he had ever seen.

"Who says we did anything," Beryl began, before her siblings began to carry on the explanation.

"Even if we did, there's nothing that can be proven…"

"And we will not in-crim-in-ate ourselves."

"But, if, maybe, someone had taken your silver spoons from Mrs. Lobelia's kitchen and returned them to where they belong-"

"It's not like it would be stealing because they weren't hers to start with-"

"So it's really only burglaring,"

"Which is a trade we come by honestly, as is retrieving and returning stolen family heirlooms."

"Soooo, even if we were confessing to something-"

"Which we aren't,"

"We would not merit punishment for our actions and are still fully entitled to dessert and normal bedtime."

By this time, the dwarves were barely holding in their own variations of glee, Kili and Nori in particular, and Betta was barely keeping a smile off her own face. "Are you finished?"

Four heads nodded.

"Well, ably defended, but," she hobbled them as they were about to scamper off, "if you or other faunts were to get the idea to do that again, you shouldn't, or you might not be so ably defended. So no burglaring for you."

"But why?" Thea pitched in. "You did it!"

At a loss of how to defend that, Betta went with the old tried-and-true method, "Because burglary is for grown-ups dwobbits as a burglar never knows what may be lurking beyond the front door," she quickly grimaced and darted to the faunts, hands grasping, "like monsters that eat little faunts for tea!"

The dwarves parted before the running, shrieking faunts, as the little ones dashed for the kitchen.

"Not in the kitchen today, Rosebuds, we have company," she called out.

The faunts dashed back, poised like springs, about ready to leap to the next thing.

"Have you already washed up then?"

Various bobs and affirmations said that, yes, the faunts had.

"Well, then why don't you help show our guests what a hobbitish wash-up looks like while I get everything ready for tea in the parlor? After a long travel, they need a good wash-up, don't they?"

At the various groans from the dwarves, DeeDee got a twinkle of mischief in her eye that matched her mother's. "Sometimes when we've looked like that at tea, you've made us take baths."

With a glance expressing both a warning and her own teasing, Betta conceded, a bit, "We'll have them do that later, or we'll miss tea now, but," she turned her head to face the dwarves, "I think you're quite right. Off to wash, all of you." When few moved, she prompted again, "Go on."

One by one, the males trooped after the children, though Thorin lingered behind. "Go on, let me get ready myself and get the tea out." She nudged him on his way, following behind.

When Betta got back out with the tea tray in hand, the dwarves were quietly conversing among themselves or playing with the children. Frerin looked up, "Oooh, Mama, you look pretty!"

Thorin stood and came over, admiring the change of dress, gaze raking over the new blue dress with large black flowers spread over it as he took her hand. "She most certainly is." As she started pouring the tea, he asked, "Can I help at all?"

"Oh, no, I couldn't ask guests to help serve tea," she paused, then looked at Thorin, then the others, with a smile on her face. "But none of you are really guests, are you? Not to me."

Thorin was shaking his head when she faced him again. "Then I best put you to work while you're here. It'll be a good few months before we head back to Erebor." She handed Thorin a plate of cookies while the other males cheered. They were going home. In a short while, they were going home.

Well, what do you think? Please comment and review- love seeing those! I've also got some ideas for how to make this the first part in a series of short stories of what these guys and gals get up to in the Shire while they're there. Any interest in seeing those?

While I don't make any money off this, and in general, all the characters and such belong to Tolkien, Jackson, and crew, I would like to thank my friend (mayrhain on Tumblr) for her ideas that inspired Dwalin's part in revealing DeeDee's identity, and the Sullivan "Anne of Green Gables" films for some of the Bagginshield reunion text.