Author's Note: So here is Chapter Seven, An Unexpected Arrival on One's Doorstep, which is basically chapter six from Bilbo's POV, with a few things added and so on.
You have no idea how how much I've been laughing reading your reviews, I think almost all of you who reviewed chapter six all want to get in line for exucuting operations Thorin Oakenshield must die. It cracks me up, lol.
Anyway, wow, I've never had so many reviews, favourites and follows over such a short amount of time, over a fic still reasonably small, it's amazing. Thank you so much for all your support.
Ok, enough from me, please enjoy chapter seven.

Chapter Seven

An Unexpected Arrival on One's Doorstep

Bilbo was lonely. Her little one was already tucked into bed and her father had retired to his room for the night with a good book – though she was certain that he had only managed to read a page before sleep overcame him.

She should be used to being on her own by now – it was how she had spent much of her time once her father had fallen ill with his mind-sickness – but since coming back from the quest to reclaim a mountain and being stuck with thirteen dwarves almost constantly, she has discovered that she no longer copes as well with being alone as she once had.

She keeps catching herself thinking of them whenever she is alone for more than an hour, wondering what they are doing, how they are, who is annoying who and so on. It makes her sad and causes for her loneliness to grow even worse, to the point where it almost physically hurting her.

She wished she could stop it, stop feeling this way, stop the loneliness and the longing for loud and rude company to invade her life once more.

She used to be quite comfortable being all by herself almost constantly, day in day out but now? Now she longs for loudness, for songs of times and places that aren't mention in Hobbit history and so seem so mystical to her. She longs for the company of those who made her feel that she belonged with them even though she was of a completely different race to them.

But you didn't belong with them. You didn't when you first joined their quest and you certainly didn't when you were banished from their side forever. They exiled you, remember. They cared more about their stupid, useless gold than they did about you or their own lives. Forget them and move on, you will never see them again.

And despite herself, Bilbo blinked back tears as she washed the dishes from dinner.

She had already been feeling fairly emotional already and now she's gone and made herself feel all the worse by thinking about them!

She really needed to convince her father that answering their front door wasn't such a good idea as it generally resulted with an unpleasant visit it from the Sackville-Baggins.

Bilbo knew it was not healthy or very gracious to think ill of one's own family, but dammit, those wretched people certainly knew how to push her buttons.

She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.

Silly to get so upset over meaningless words, not when she had had far worse spoken to her – words that she hears him speak over and over again in her more terrible of nightmares – by far more significant people in her life than Lobelia Sackville-Baggins, but still Lobelia's words had stung her, just as the wretch woman had hoped they would.

Usually Bilbo couldn't care less what people said or thought about her, she was used to the whispers and pitying looks people had sent her way even before she went on her mad adventure. It came with being a girl child who had lost her mother far, far too early in life and was raised by a father who hadn't really a clue of what he was doing – but he had done the very best that he could do, something Bilbo knew and loved him dearly for – and had quickly fallen prey to the incurable and utterly cruel mind-sickness, a disease that could appear suddenly or could creep up on you, little by little, over the years, eating away the memories of one's life. Sometimes slowly, other times quickly, causing its unlucky victim to forget all that they once loved, including those who had been most important and beloved to them.

No, Bilbo didn't care what people said about her, least of all the Sackville-Baggins, they could say what they wanted for all she cared.

No, what Bilbo did care about and with all her heart, was what people said about her family, her family of two, her father and her son.

Her mentally ill father who fell in and out of the coherent thoughts, laughing and chattering happily away to her and her son one moment, like he had done when she had still been a wee lass and her mother was still with them. And the next he was staring mindlessly at the wall opposite him, not speaking, not moving, not doing anything for hours on end.

And her son.

Her strange and beautiful little son that people would look at and wonder. Wonder who his father was, if he was some strange hobbit from Bree or the results of a one night fling with either a Took or Brandybuck – the whispers could never decide which, it was constantly changing between her lad's father being a Took or a Brandybuck. Both families were known to be a little wild and were rumoured to have relations before and sometimes outside of the marriage bed, so it was possible that Billanna Baggins had conceived her lad during a mindless moment of passion when visiting either family as she had been known to do in her youth before she came to her senses and returned to Hobbiton to live among proper and sensible hobbits again. But she could have done the honourable thing and married the fellow who had caused her to be with child. But maybe the reason she hadn't was because she didn't know who the child's father actually was!

This rumour, Bilbo remembered had caused a particular stir in the Shire for a good number of weeks.

She was thankful her cousins and friends in both the Took and Brandybucks families had more sense than to take these nasty rumours seriously. In fact it had become something of a joke over in both Buckland and Tuckborough and whenever Bilbo visited either family, her little lad was treated like one their own.

No, it was the other rumours, the dark ones that prickled Bilbo's skin and made her heart ache. The ones about her dwarves.

No one in the Shire knew her fully story, the story of why she had really run out her door that day, the day of her wedding, chasing after an adventure that had, really, caused her nothing but misery. They all thought they knew the reasons but they really didn't and they never would. But they made themselves feel important by thinking that they did and so, they whispered.

Most hobbits in Hobbiton and in other parts of the Shire had seen the Dwarves when they had been coming into the Hobbiton to meet with her and when they were leaving it again and so drew their own conclusions. Most were harmless, some… were not.

Those that were not were usually directed around the origin of her son and they made her feel sick to her gut whenever she heard them.

Hobbits may be considered a gentle race for their lack of weapons and warfare, but then those who thought this had never come under the fire of their cruel and vindictive tongues.

Bilbo, at times, found herself wishing that hobbits were more violent for then, if she punched someone or threaten them with Sting, it wouldn't be considered strange and she would be left alone. But no, if she did that, she would only be left alone for a few days, at best, before it would start up again, worse than ever. It was simply best to ignore the looks and the whispers and hope that those who spoke them would grow tired and bored and move on. Only some, like the Sackville-Baggins, didn't.

They just couldn't leave it well enough alone and move on. They seemed to enjoy hurting her with their cruel, hurtful words and Bilbo feared for the time when her child would understand what was being spoken. She didn't want him to think such things about the father he did not know, but how could she spare him from the pain of the whispers and rumours when the truth would only hurt him more?

The truth might even cause her darling son to hate his father all the more and as much as she still hurt over what had occurred between her and the sire of her child, she didn't want her child to hate him, not before he even had a chance to know him.

She rubbed her eyes again.

Why, oh why hadn't she just slipped her magic ring on the moment her father had opened the front door? She could have saved herself a great deal of pain and sorrow that she was currently feeling.

It doesn't matter, it shouldn't matter, you shouldn't care what Lobelia and the rest think. You have a father and a son who love you with all their hearts, along with a large extended family who adores you. There is no reason to care what others think of you here in Hobbiton.

She nodded her head firmly.

Yes that was absolutely true, so she should stop right this moment with feeling sorry for herself. It would not help and would only make her weaker to further talk and unpleasant visits.

With this in mind, she dusted her skirt as if to dust off all the negative emotions she had been feelings all afternoon and evening and went and settled herself by the fire in her living room with a good book.

She had only read a couple of pages when she heard a soft but persisted knock on her front door.

She looked up from her book and over towards her front door in surprise and with a touch of apprehension. It wouldn't be Lobelia again… would it?

The persisted knocking continued and Bilbo's already frail nerves flared into anger, which she figured was her best approach to this late night intrusion and it might scare off Lobelia and whoever it was she had managed to drag along to accompany her at this late hour.

"Lobelia, for the last time, I am not marrying your son! I don't care if I'm a disgrace to the family and that people are talking. They can talk all they like for all I care but I will not… No, I refuse to marry…" Bilbo snapped as she marched sharply to her front door, her hand firmly grasping the brass knob and threw open her door, hoping to scare whoever it was still insisting to knock on her door even though she had already made herself known to be at home.

Damn Sackville-Baggins!

"Him…" her voice trailed off weakly as her door fell completely open and revealed exactly who was knocking at this unreasonable late hour. She would almost take Lobelia in preference to those standing on her door step, staring back at her with mixed expressions.

They were alive!

She knew as much from Gandalf of course, but hearing that they were alive was very, very different to seeing for herself that they were indeed still walking and breathing in the land of the living!

It took all her strength not to throw herself a dear ol'Bofur who was staring at her with such a look of happiness and relief that she almost broke down crying all over again.

She had just been thinking of them and now, here they were!

Logic however quickly overruled her feelings of joy and she started to panic, her hand blindly reaching for the big heavy umbrella that stood tall in the umbrella stand behind the door.

If they're here, she thought desperately, her heart racing with terror, than they must somehow have heard about Frodo and… The thought made a little scream of terror spring from her lips.

With the quickness and strength that she had been taught by the very dwarves standing in front of her, she smacked the umbrella over their heads before trying to slam the door in their yelping faces.

Only she couldn't.

"Bofur," She cried in dismay when she saw a huge dwarven boot sticking itself between the doorframe and her door – she guessed it was Bofur's foot as he had been the closest – stopping her from closing her door and locking it up tight, "get you great, big foot out of the way!"

"No," came his simple reply and the next thing Bilbo knew she, and her door, were being shoved backwards, causing her to hop awkwardly down her front hall, trying to use the umbrella to regain her balance.

Once she had, nothing could hold back her pent up years of anger.

"DIDN'T YOUR MOTHERS EVER TELL YOU THAT IT'S RUDE TO ENTER A HOME UNINVITED!?" It had been a long, long time since she had last screamed at anyone and it felt surprisingly refreshing even if a tiny part of her felt terrible when she saw both Bofur and Ori looking quite hurt.

She opened her mouth to start screaming some more when she was suddenly being pulled into a tight hug. Bifur?

A part of her wanted to squirm out of the mentally damaged dwarf's embrace but he was so gentle and his small grunts of relief and delight made her heart feel warm and loved. A rather strange twist to how she had first felt when she had been meeting the dwarf for the first time and she had been terrified of him.

Terrified of his strange and eccentric movements, of the strange tongue he spoke in that only a select few – including Gandalf – understood, and of course, the bit of metal – she later found out it was the end of an orc's axe – that was lodged in his skull.

Everything about this strange dwarf had terrified her once, just as Dwalin's gruff, imposing manner had and Thorin's… well, almost everything about Thorin had terrified her at first, but over time, surprisingly quickly actually, she had grown to be quite close to the damaged dwarf and had made a point to try and learn as much ancient Khuzdul as she possibly could so as to be able to converse with him.

So despite her terror and panic as to why several members of her old company were now standing in her front hall, she found herself relaxing into his embrace.

"What-What are you all doing here?" She squeaked once Bifur had released her and had moved back to stand with his cousin and the other two dwarves. She couldn't help but keep glancing out her still open front door, waiting for more dwarves to come stomping in.

Oh, and what if he had come too!

"It's just us." Ori said smiling at her hopefully. He really hadn't changed one bit since she had last seen him. He still looked as sweet and innocent as ever, dressed in the knitted clothing that he had made himself. She had been terrified that he might have harden, his innocence and gentle nature destroyed with the Battle of Five Armies.

She looked to his writing arm which she had seen being injured during the great battle, but it appeared to have healed well and seemed to be causing him no problem.

A bit of the great weight that she carried on her small shoulders lifted.

She forces herself to swallow down some of her fear and her continuous desire to keep glancing out her front door and turns her eyes fully on to them.

Taking a deep breath, she repeated her previous question.

"What are you four doing here?"

She hadn't meant for herself to sound so cold and apathetic, but she was still reeling from the shock of them being here and possibly being here, not on his orders but rather…

"Visiting?" Ori offers her with a weak smile. He looks almost… frighten of her? She knew it was silly, but this thought actually amused her and she had a hard time fighting back a smile. Ori was hardly the biggest dwarf in their old company, Dwalin took that honour, but the lad was still quite a bit bigger than her, both in height and weight, so for him to be scared of her was quite… hysterical.

She would have probably broken down into a fit of hysterical giggles if weren't for Kili. Dear Kili, so full of life and fire, was now burning with all the glory of dragon's fire as he advanced on her.

"We thought you were DEAD!" His voice echoed around her front hall and made her heart thump madly in her chest. He looked so like his uncle did, when her deception was brought to light and she knew she had lost his love forever.

It took all her strength of will to not run from such fury again.

I am either very brave or a complete fool. Fool of a Took! She thinks dully, her heart breaking all over again.

"We thought you were killed in the battle! We mourned for you, are still mourning for you and all this time you were here, safe and sound with not even a word sent back to us to tell us any different!"

"Of course I didn't!" Bilbo felt all the years of pain and anger swell within her body. How dare he! How dare he!

"How dare you! How dare you make this my fault when it was you lot who kicked me out! I didn't think you wanted to know I was alive! I thought you would be happy to think I was killed by some Orc or Warg during the battle! Your Kingly Uncle said as much, so don't you dare make this all my fault!" Her voice was close to screaming again and her eyes were sting with unshed tears.

"We weren't!" Kili cried back, his own dark eyes were filling with tears too, "we weren't! We looked for you, once Gandalf came to us telling us you were missing, we looked for you! We found your coat, shredded and bloody, and thought you were…" he swallowed thickly, "and thought you were…"

"Dead." Bofur finished him quietly, giving her a sad little smile, so unlike his usual cheery and optimistic grins that he was so well known for. She felt her dinner in her belly do a little flip as she looked back at his ruined face, with its terrible scar slashing right across it, a large chunk of flesh missing from his nose.

But even with this terrible disfiguring scar, he was still good ol' Bofur, with his optimistic and safe air about him and his silly fur hat that deep inside of her she still had an itch to steal from his head like she had during their quest.

It would be so easy to forgive them, to simply forgive and forget what happen during that awful moment that still makes her cry whenever she allows herself to think about it.

She opens her mouth to say… something, but whatever it was she had planned to say, she promptly forgotten at the sound of the most important creature in her life speaking behind her.

"Mama?"

Her whole body went stiff with terror.

Oh no! Oh no, no, no, no.

Calm yourself Bilbo, stay calm. There is no reason that they'll make the connection, none at all, just stay calm.

She swallowed thickly before looking behind her, forcing herself to smile at her darling boy, who was walking slowly towards her, dressed for bed and rubbing his eyes sleepily.

"Go back to bed, darling. Mama will be there in a moment." She said to him, hoping, praying that he will listen to her for once. But of course, she had given birth to an adventurous, sticky-beak of lad and he had heard unfamiliar voice which had of course peaked his interest and curiosity even though it was well past his bedtime and he knew, even at his young age, that staying up late, meant that he would be cranky in the morning because he was tired.

He blinked at her with his brilliant blue eyes, now wide awake as he tottered over to her, questioning as he came.

"Oooo are tey?"

"Friends, sweetheart, go back to bed." Bilbo begged her baby, who was now clutching hold of her blue skirt and trying to peer around her to see the strangers standing in their front hall.

"Gandy?" He asked excitedly and tried to push his way around her legs, only stopping when she laid a hand upon his head of dark curls.

"No, not Gandy." Bilbo muttered, her eyes now focused on the dwarves in front of her, nervously gauging their expressions, which at the moment seem to only read confused surprised.

"Warves." Bilbo sighed at the excited squeal of her child, who was now desperately struggling to get a better looks at the dwarves in their front hall.

"Yes, dwarves. Now if you're very good and go back to bed right now, I'll introduce you in the morning… maybe." Bilbo added the last bit under her breath for a part of her still hoped to be able to convince the four dwarves in her front hall to leave. But that being said she remembered all too well the stubbornness of dwarves and knew that there was very little hope of getting the four to leave without giving them something of equal value in return.

"Lass," She heard Bofur splutter, his brown eyes wide with shock, "You-you have a child." It wasn't a question but she answered it as if it were one.

"Yes," she felt her back stiffening in defence – not them too, surely, "what of it?"

She refused to put up with any kind of misery from them about having a child out of wedlock. She absolutely refused.

"We didn't know you had a child." Ori gasped his eyes wide with absolute delight that made Bilbo momentarily forget that she was in a rather complicated and almost dangerous situation and she found herself fighting back an amused grin.

"That's because I didn't have one when I left with you lot almost five years ago." Which was of course true, she hadn't had a child when she left with them on their mad adventure. No instead she had returned home with a babe growing within her belly.

With this thought, she started to fidget again, guessing that surely one of them would make the connections now and know exactly who her child's father was.

She wondered how much time she would have, when one of them did finally make the connection, to escape before they shook themselves of their shock and came after her.

Not very long, she guessed, especially not once Kili saw the connection; she would have no chance of escaping with her baby from him.

She felt tears once more prick in her eyes. She was going to lose her baby!

Whatever friendship the four might still feel towards her would be gone the moment they realised whose child she had birthed. They would take him from her, no matter how much she might plead with them not to.

She heard a groan and saw that Bofur now had his hand pressed to his brow.

He knew, he had finally seen it. He knew.

She watched in agony as he looked down at her son who was peering around her legs, biting hard upon her bottom lip as she saw him smile at her baby and listen to her little one's giggle before he buried his face within her skirt folds.

She clutched her baby closer to her as his eyes lifted to meet hers.

Please. Please, please, please.

"I'm sorry, Lass. So very sorry."

Then don't take my son from me, please! I beg of you, don't take him! He's all I have, she begged silently with her eyes.

She heard Bifur give a small grunt and saw that he too had seen the connection and was looking quite upset while the two younger dwarves simply looked confused as they tried to get a glimpse of her baby.

"S'not your fault." She mumbled as she looked away from them and down at her child who was looking up at her with his beautiful eyes and lopsided grin.

She stroked his beautiful raven locks lovingly, fearing that this might be her last chance to do so.

"What's going on?" She heard Kili ask, could hear the suspicion in his voice and wondered if she could somehow get Bifur to restrain him for a moment or two while she made a bolt for it.

Out of all them, the youngest – no second youngest she reminded herself wincing – of Durin's line would be the most likely to take action against her for this latest in her already impressive list of betrayals against them.

He would be the one out of the four of them who would take her child from her and return him to his uncle, her baby's father. How could he do anything but that?

Not only was Thorin his king, but also his blood, family. Kili would never betray his family with keeping Frodo a secret simply because she begged him to.

It was over, it was all over. Kili might as well run her through with one of his arrows now to save her from the pain and agony that taking her son away from her will cause.

She heard Ori give a gasp of understanding and her last instincts of fight or flight died and her shoulders slumped.

Sighing heavily and fighting back bitter tears, she coaxed her child to stand in front her, her heart breaking as she watched him do so, his little fist pressed against his mouth as he surveyed the dwarves in front of them solemnly as they gaped back at him.

At another time Bilbo would have probably found their expressions to have been amusing but now, now she was simply consumed with a sense of bitterness and defeat, her hand itching to have her little blade Sting in it instead of the useless umbrella that she still held.

"I'm gonna kill him!" Bilbo jumped and stared at Kili in disbelief at the venom in his words. "That Bastard! That complete and utter bastard! I'm gonna…"

"Kili," she cried out in shocked to hear the lad, who had once idolised his uncle, speak such harsh words out against his uncle with such venom as she clapped her hands over her baby's young ears. When? How had this happened?

"Please," she added trying to calm the lad down for he looked close to breaking something. The lad fell silent but he was now looking at her and her baby with a pained expression.

"Did you… Did he know… when he… did he know?" Kili stuttered, struggling to speak full coherent sentences as he continued to gape at his little bastard cousin.

Bilbo shook her head quickly, not wanting the lad to explode over his uncle once more.

"No. And neither did I, so you can stop right there with trying to blame my exile on this." She hadn't meant to growl, but her desire to protect her child was burning strongly within her heart.

"I wasn't going to." Kili spluttered. He looked so confused and torn that Bilbo almost, almost felt sorry for him, if it weren't for the next words out of his mouth. "He wouldn't have exiled you if he had known about the little one."

"Oh," she sneered, "well that's reassuring."She snapped back at him furiously, "would he have kept me until I gave birth to my son and then exiled me? Lovely, always knew that he was a charming fellow…"

"Mama?" her child's voice broke through her rant and she felt anger melt as she looked down at him and his puzzled expression

She didn't look away from her son when she heard Kili mumbled that that hadn't been what he had meant, but she knew that if she looked at him now, she would feel inclined to forgive and she wasn't quite ready to forgive him just yet, not with the threat of him still stealing away her baby still hung heavily over her head.

"What his name?" Ori asked and she had to fight back a smile. Dear Ori, he always hated tension within the company, even more so than Bofur and Bombur, and was always trying to find ways to ease it, even though usually he was terrified to go anywhere near the ones who were usually causing the tension, say ah… His King, for example.

Still his question did pose a few… issues. Her child's name was hardly what one would consider a proper dwarrow name and certainly not one that would be given to a child of a king, even if said child was indeed the bastard child of said king.

"Sweetheart," Frodo twisted his head to look up at her, "why don't you introduce yourself." She ran her fingers through her lad's hair encouragingly.

She felt him press against her legs shyly for a moment before saying in careful and precise words, just as she had taught him.

"Frodo Baggins, at yor serfice."

"Pleasure to meet you Frodo Baggins." Bofur replied with a grin that she well remembered as he bowed, "Bofur at yours."

"And Ori." Ori beamed as he too bowed.

Bifur let out a grunt as he smiled and bowed to the little lad.

Bilbo looked hesitantly towards Kili who had fallen silent, his eyes focused on her boy. She swallowed nervously as he came to kneel in front of her son, her nervousness only growing when her lad pressed himself once more against her legs.

"Kili son of Dis, nephew of the King under the Mountain, son of the line of Durin, at yours." The young prince said softly to the little lad.

Bilbo felt her lips twitch into a small smile when she heard her son's small "E'llo."

"Hello." Kili replied with a small smile, reaching out and gently flicked Frodo's nose causing him to giggle.

Bilbo heaved a small, relieved sigh before giving her four old friends a small and tired smile.

"I suppose you're all hungry and would like something to eat?"

She giggled as she listen to them protest against her offer for food only for their bellies to start growling out in hunger at the mention of food.

"Alright go to the kitchen, you know where it is, while I'll go and settle this one back down." She giggled as she leant her wicked umbrella up against wall of the hall and carefully lifted her son into her arms. Still just a baby and he was already getting too heavy for her.

"ut Mama, me not tired." Frodo grumbled as he rubbed his eyes sleepily and already laying his head down upon her shoulder. "I wanna tay ith u and the warves. Peeses?"

"Not tonight, sweetheart. But you'll see them in the morning." She reassured him with a fond smile, "say goodnight to the dwarves."

"Nigh nigh." Her baby mumbled, his face pressing against her neck, yawning widely.

Bilbo smiled as the four dwarves wished him good night before she walked carefully back up the hall for his bedroom, to tuck him back into bed.

She gently tucked him into his cot, pulling up the handmade quilt she had made for him in the final months of her pregnancy, decorated with the more cheerful moments of her journey to the Lonely Mountain, up and around him, smiling when her son reached blindly out for his soft bear toy, cuddling it closely to his chest and sighing contently.

She gently brushed a few stray dark curls from his forehead before she leant down and kissed him goodnight.

"Sleep well, my darling boy."

She shut his bedroom door until it was open just a crack before heading off in the direction of her kitchen to deal with four impatient, hungry dwarves.

She didn't even bother trying to fight back the grin that was playing on her lips as she entered her kitchen.