Chapter Thirty-Four

What is Lost is Again Found

Thorin could feel another headache coming on. He had just finished informing his sister of the situation and to put it simply her reaction to all he had just told her, was that she was completely and utterly furious.

With him, with the situation, with Bovin for committing such a heinous act of treason such as consorting with Orcs – the spawn of one their most hated enemies no less – and for his part in separating a mother from her child.

Thorin allowed for his sister to rant and fume as he sat back in her armchair in front of her heath. It gave him time to think, to plan.

"You need to find him." Dis hissed at him, her sapphire orbs blazing with the light of a blue furnace.

"I am trying Dis." He replied dully, rubbing his temple wearily.

"Not hard enough!" Dis snarled. "He is a child! A very young, very small, frighten child who is lost, without his mother, without any friends at all within this great mountain! You must find him before he gets himself hurt."

"I've sent…"

"I don't care how many dwarves you've sent looking for him. You should be looking for him as well, if what you say to believe about the child is actually true. Even if it isn't and you didn't sire him, you should still be out there looking for him as he is one of your company's child."

"And what if he is mine?" Thorin asked, possibly a tad harsh because despite what his sister had said they both knew the lad was his. He had been told as much when he had forced Kili, Bofur and the other two to speak. The child was his; his mind was simply still having a hard time processing this fact that was all.

"We'll deal with that after we've found him." Dis said simply her eyes still hard sapphires as she moved to pull him out of her armchair, "I will deal with all the council meetings today. You," she gave his shoulder a firm shake as she marched him out of her chambers, "are going to join the search and you're not going to stop searching until you've got your son and my nephew here, ready to present him to me."

Thorin fought to keep his face neutral and to not gag as his sister spoke the simple words of 'son' and 'nephew'. Those two simple but precious words that he heard from the moment Fili had been born into the world, that had never before bothered him until now, now when they were being used in reference towards 'his' son and 'her' nephew.

"Calm yourself Nadad." Dis said almost gently, "give yourself time and you'll get used to it." A sly smirk twisted itself across his little sister's usually calm and refined face, "Adad."

His knees went weak the moment that particular word, title slipped from his sister's lips and he would have stumbled if his sister, laughing loudly as she did so, hadn't seized him by the arm to keep him upright.

"That was not funny." He growled, fuming down at his sister who was still laughing, her sapphire eyes dancing with mirth.

"Oh Nadad, yes, yes it was. And you had better get used to it because whether you like it or not, that is now what you are."

Thorin swallowed, fear gnawing at his insides.

"What if he…" he said softly, annoyed at how close his voice was to shaking

"He will, Thorin. Just… give him time. But you won't know until you've found him. So go, go and find your son. And I expect," she waved a finger at him, "to be informed the moment that you have done so. I want to meet this nephew of mine." Thorin forgot some of his fears and insecurities when he saw the delighted, hopeful smile gracing his sister's lips.

"Now," she waved her hand gracefully at him to hop to it, "off you go. I don't expect to see you again until you have the lad, understood?"

"Of course mother," he replied with a mocking bow that had him receiving a firm cuffing around his head from his sister before he was being pushed completely out of her chambers and into the corridor outside, her door being closed with a firm click behind him.

He shook his head somewhat bemused before he sighed. He strode down back to his private study not overly surprised to see several members of his old company standing outside it, obviously waiting for his return.

"Any luck?" he asked Dwalin who looked back at him with a thoughtful expression.

"Thinking of heading down towards some old storerooms near to one of the lower level kitchens. Several of the cooks have been complaining about dwarflings running amok in there, one as recently as early this morning."

Thorin looked at him sharply, holding his breath as his old friend nodded.

"Says it was a little lad, one they weren't familiar with. Black hair and looking rather grubby. One even went as far as saying that he was bare footed."

"That could be him."

"That it could." Dwalin and Bofur both agreed nodding their heads.

"Hmph, then what are we waiting for, eh?" Oin rumbled, his ear horn pressed firmly to his ear with one hand, his medical bag firmly grasped in the other, "Let us find this little scamp of lad before he lands himself in the same amount of trouble as his mother."

Bofur gave a small snort of agreement as the group moved in the direction of the lower storerooms and kitchens.

The hope that had been burning inside Thorin's chest upon hearing Dwalin's news about an unknown child running around the lower levels quickly started to burn itself out upon speaking with more dwarves. The cooks that Dwalin had gathered his information from were not, once faced with their king, entirely sure of what exactly the lad looked like nor if he was wearing boots or not.

Thorin fought the desire to kick a wall at the very thought of searching every single storeroom of the lower levels to find one very small child. He would do it of course, but he feared for the child, for what harm might come to him in being alone in a strange and unfamiliar place for so long. He might already be harmed, Thorin did not know and it pained him that he did not possess any definitive information to help find the child.

He truly was tempted to kick the corridor wall after the twenty-third storeroom had been thoroughly searched and the child was still nowhere to be found. His foot was itching to take out some of his temper when Bofur unexpectedly called out.

"Bofar!" Thorin looked around startled to see a young dwarfling with a shocking amount of red hair that stuck up in all directions from his head a little way up the corridor, his arms filled with food. The lad stared at them with a mixture of horror and guilt as he shifted uncomfortable under his uncle's gaze.

"Bofar what ya doing down here laddie?" Bofur asked as he strode towards the lad, "ya know well and truly yer not allowed down in these levels."

"Looks like he was having himself quite the picnic." Dwalin chuckled in amusement.

Bofur glanced back at him then back at his nephew a strange look coming over his face.

"Bofar…" Bofur started slowly and carefully, "where is he?"

"Don't-don't know whacha talking." Thorin heard the lad mutter as he tried to avoid looking any of them in the eyes.

"Bofar," Bofur said crouching down in front his nephew, so that they were now eye level with each other, "I think ya do. Where's he? Is he hurt? We need t' find him."

The lad hesitated.

"I promised." The dwarfling whispered.

"I know," Bofur nodded his dark eyes gentle and filled with understanding, "an' promises are good, but we need t' find him an' have him safe."

"He's fine." Bofar replied, "Just hungry and scared. Ya should see the bruise I got from him kicking me when I jumped him."

Thorin's heart started to race the more he listened to Bofur's nephew.

"Where did ya jump him, laddie?" Bofur asked the lad. Bofar jerked his head in the direction that they were heading.

"Storeroom thirty." Bofar replied, "We-we, I mean," he blushed and Bofur nodded for him to continue, "I know we're not meant to come down here, to play, but the best hiding spots are down in 'ere and – and I was the seeker, so I was seeking and I thought Bofdur might be hiding in there and I wanted to scare him. And I did scare him, it just wasn't him…"

"Frodo?" Bofur asked and Thorin was sure his heart did stop for a moment when Bofar nodded.

"Uh huh. We fought and he kicked me and then we just started talking. Is he really Bilbo's kid? The burglar from your adventure?" Bofar started bouncing in excitement, causing for the food in his arms to almost tumble to the ground, not that he noticed in his excitement, "He said she was his ma, but…"

"Bofar…" Bofur said placing his hands on the lad's shoulders to calm his bouncing. The lad's wide and excited smile slipped a bit.

"Is he in trouble?" he asked softly.

Bofur shook his head.

"No. But we do need t' find him. Ya said storeroom thirty, aye?"

"Uh huh. He's in there." Bofar muttered.

"Good lad." Bofur said rumbling his nephew's red hair, "now go and take all that," he waved a tough, weather beaten hand at all the food in his nephew's arms, "back to the kitchens or I'mma telling ya ma that yer've been down 'ere again." The boy's eyes widen and he swallowed thickly before nodding.

"Um," Bofar said before he ran up the corridor to return his stolen goods to their rightful place, "will I – I mean, can I see Frodo again? Maybe he can play with us," the boy face momentarily became a frown as he added, "if he learns not to kick whenever he gets frighten."

"We'll see." Thorin was surprised to find himself answering the boy's query. The lad shot him a shy smile before darting back in the direction he had come.

"Right… well, eh… Storeroom thirty?" Bofur asked rubbing his head, looking a little dazed by the encounter with his nephew and the unexpected information he possessed.

They moved quickly to the storeroom in question, opening the door slowly and carefully. Silence greeted them.

"You go first," Thorin said to the miner, "he knows you."

The miner nodded and moved into the dark storeroom, carefully turning up the wall lamps by a lever near the door, casting the room with light.

Thorin strained his ears, catching what sound like a small gasp and frantic movements that were trying to be quiet.

"Frodo." Bofur called as he stepped further into the storeroom before pausing, waiting for a response to his call. None came and silence echo around the room.

"Frodo." Bofur said as he continued on inwards into the chamber, Thorin, Dwalin and Oin following close behind him, "It's Bofur. Come on out, yer safe."

Still no reply but Thorin could have sworn he heard movement quite near to them, on their right. Bofur had obviously heard it too and moved quickly in that direction.

He moved several box and bags of grain out of the way revealing a small crack in the stone wall. Too small for a full-grown dwarf to fit through but maybe a small child, a small hobbit child would be able to squeeze himself into it.

"Frodo?" Bofur crouched down next to the crack and reached carefully into it. His lips twitched into a small smile as his fingers brushed against a trembling clothed figure. "Frodo come on out."

There was a small pause before a soft, "no" whispered from within the depths.

"Eh, why not?" Bofur asked cheerily, "come on laddie, out ya come. Do ya know where ya are?"

"Erebor, the Lonely Mountain."

"Good boy." Bofur said shifting forward a little closer, "out ya come. Yer safe. Come on. Yer safe."

Thorin felt his heart stop once again as he watched as a tiny – so tiny – hand appear from out of the crack, curling cautiously around the opening. Next came out a head of curls as black as night, followed by a small body dressed in somewhat ragged, mud stained clothes until he stood beside Bofur, his whole body trembling.

"Hello." The little lad squeaked as he looked from Bofur then to the rest of them shyly. He scuffed his bare feet nervously against the stone floor, wincing as he did so.

"You, little man, gave us quite the run-a-round." Bofur said lightly as he pulled the little lad into a hug.

Thorin ignored the sharp burn of jealousy within his heart as he watched the familiarity that Bofur had with the lad and that the lad returned his hug without too much hesitation.

"So-sorry." Frodo muttered as he withdrew from Bofur's arms.

"It's alright." Bofur said fondly as he ruffled the lad's curls fondly. He glanced up at Thorin, clearly waiting for his King's next order.

Thorin cleared his throat, forcing himself to look away from the boy, away from his bright sapphire blue eyes that were a mirror of his own and seemed to see into the very depths of his soul.

"We'll return to my private study. Dwalin," he turned to his head of his royal guard, "inform the others that the lad has been found and ask them to meet at my study also. If my sister has a spare moment, inform her of what has occurred." Dwalin nodded and with a last look over the lad he turned on his heels and exited the storeroom.

Silence reigned for a few moments after Dwalin's departure, none who remained knowing quite what to do or say.

"Am I – am I in trouble?" Frodo's voice broke the silence. When Thorin looked back at the lad, he saw that his small hand was grasped tightly around the hem of Bofur's worn brown jacket, his sapphire eyes wide with worry.

"Dunno," Bofur chuckled, "yer've given us a lot of trouble this past day, with ya disappearing act."

"Aye, that yer have" Oin said leaning forward and looking the lad straight in the face causing the lad to take a step back, nipping nervously on his bottom lip.

"Sorry."

"Aye, I believe that ya are," Oin agreed, "but ya will still need to be making amends for all the trouble yer've caused." The boy appeared to grow even paler beneath his already pale skin, but nodded all the same.

"What's ya name laddie." Oin asked with a tiny hint of small beneath his grey beard. The boy frown, obviously perplexed by the questioned.

"Um, Frodo. Frodo Baggins… um," the boy thought for a moment before bowing awkwardly, "at your service." He looked a little flustered and more than a little befuddled

"The manners," Oin said as he looked from Frodo to Thorin," need a little work, but," He looked back down at Frodo, "but our burglar's lad, he clearly is. Oin son of Groin at your service young Master Baggins." He gave the little Dwobbit a small bow.

"Oin?" the boy quickly appeared to have, for a moment, forgotten his shyness as he beamed widely up at the older dwarf. "Really?" he looked excitedly up at Bofur who nodded, clearly trying not to laugh

"Aye, lad, I am." Oin rumbled with an amused twinkle in his eyes.

Thorin then felt his two companions look at him expectantly. Forcing down his nerves and a series of other high complicated emotions, he took a step towards the boy who looked up at him, his shyness clearing returning.

"Thorin Oakenshield." He spoke simply and the boy gave a jerky sort of nod and a shy smile, with a small whisper of, "yes, I know."

"Right, so…" Bofur said after another few moments of awkward silence.

Thorin nodded and gestured for them to follow him back to his private study.

Bofur rolled his eyes after his stiff King before smiling down at Frodo who was also watching Thorin make his way out of the storeroom with a look of confusion in his eyes.

"Come on, up ya get laddie." Bofur said as he slipped his hands beneath Frodo's armpits and lifted him up into his arms.

"I can walk." Frodo protested, blushing fiercely at this treatment, "I'm not a baby!"

"Aye and have ya run away again, laddie? I think not." Bofur chuckled as he started making his way after his king and the company's physician.

"I wouldn't… I mean…" he trailed off with a small sigh and instead wrapped his arms around Bofur's neck. He was too tired and hungry to argue and he felt so utterly safe in Bofur's arms that arguing with him just seemed a silly thing to do.

oOo

Frodo hadn't realised that he had actually fallen asleep in Bofur arms until he was being settled down in a very comfy armchair.

He yawned hugely and rubbed his eyes, peering curiously around his new surroundings. He was now in a well-lit room, a study from the looks of it but it was far grander than any study he had ever seen in the Shire. Even his mother's, who possessed the most fascinating study in the entire Shire, with all her maps and books depicting different and marvelous places and cultures from all around Middle Earth. That is, if you could find them beneath the mountains of paper work stacked precariously on any inch of space Bilbo deemed available for use.

A fire burned brightly within an intricately crafted fireplace at one end of the room. Frodo itched to get a closer look at the carvings that decorated the outside wooden with metal trimming edge, certain that they told some kind of great tale. But he quickly forgot about the itch of curiosity to inspect the fireplace when he took in all the books that lined the room's walls.

He suspected the contents of the books would hold very little interest to him but still, he had learnt early in life, from his mother, to have a great appreciation for all books and the ones on the shelves around him looked so beautiful. He had also always had quite a fondness for the smell of books. He wasn't sure why, but the smell of books always made him feel safe, almost like he was back in his mother arms again.

He tore his gaze reluctantly away from the books and looked towards the adult dwarves standing by a grand oak desk. At least Frodo assumed it was grand, he couldn't really tell with its top being covered with mountains upon mountains of paper.

He fought back a giggle of amusement. It looked just like his mother's desk back home.

"Something amusing lad?" Frodo squeaked and blushed as Thorin Oakenshield raised an inquisitive eyebrow at him.

He shook his head mutely and went back to looking around the study, making sure not to look directly at the dwarf king who seemed to be watching him closely.

"Book lover, are ya?" Frodo drew his eyes once more away from the books on the furthest bookshelf in the room to look shyly up at Oin who had come to stand by his chair, looking down at him with gruff scrutiny.

Frodo wondered if he had done something to offend the dwarf in some way or maybe the dwarf simply thought he looked odd. He was rather dirty.

He looked down at his clothes and wrinkled his nose. His mama was not going to be pleased when she saw the mess he had made of his clothes.

"Yer mother has a great loves for books too, does she not eh?" Oin continued motioning for Frodo to slide out of the armchair – and he really did have to slide, the chair was huge in comparison to his small body – and onto the stone floor.

"Yes, she…ow." He let out a little whimper of pain as his feet touched the cool stone floor of the study.

He blushed when he felt all three gazes of the adult dwarves upon him. Even more so when he saw that Bofur had moved forward as if to help him, his dark eyes bright with concern.

"I'm alright," he stuttered quickly, wincing as he shifted awkwardly from one sore foot to the other, "it just," he added when saw no one believed him, "my feet."

"Aye? What's that? Yer feet, ya say?" Oin question him as he gave him a stern look that was clearly asking why Frodo hadn't mentioned his feet earlier.

Frodo did not have a chance to reply before he was lifted back up and into his chair and Oin was inspecting his poor feet.

"Walked his outer soles raw, he has." Oin said after a moment as he turned Frodo's foot this way and that.

Frodo forced himself stay still and not kick the dwarf right in his face. Oin obviously seeing some of Frodo's discomfort let out an amused snort.

"Hobbits are sensitive about their feet, aren't they laddie?" the dwarf grunted as he let go of Frodo's right foot and turned his attention to his medical bag, "Remember when I was checking yer mam's feet one time and she near kicked me right in my nose."

"Mama almost did what?" Frodo gasped, shocked to hear his usually mild-mannered mother doing something like kicking someone, a friend no less, in the nose. "Why?"

"Hmmm?" Oin asked as he bent over his medical bag, rummaging through it.

"Her feet were a little squashed during the Troll incident." Bofur answered his question with a grin. Frodo grinned back, the Troll incidents was one of his favourite bedtime tales, though he had never heard of his mama being hurt during the encounter before.

He worried his bottom lip for a moment before giving a yelp as Oin suddenly caught his foot up once more and start slavering on some horribly sticky ointment. Frodo squirmed unhappily in the armchair.

"The more you squirm laddie, the longer this will take." Oin warned him, giving him a hard look from beneath his bushy eyebrows.

Frodo scrunched up his face back at him.

"But it hurts! And smells!"

"Well, of course it hurts!" Oin retorted with little to no sympathy, "yer've run the soles right off ya feet with all yer shenanigans."

Despite his annoyance and the pain that now throbbing sharply in both his feet Frodo couldn't help but grin.

"Shenanigans." He giggled, before pressing his hand to his mouth when he noticed Thorin shooting him a strange look from where he was standing by his desk looking over papers. Bofur winked at him.

"You know what that means laddie?" Oin asked with wry smile.

"Uh huh. Mama says I get into all kinds of shenanigans all of the time back home." he said with a bright grin before wincing as a particularly sharp sting shot through his foot and up his leg.

"Ouch." he whined, pouting at the white and grey beard dwarf, "why do they hurt more now than they did before?" he asked out loud, though more to himself than anyone else in the room.

"Eeh, what did ya say? Hurts more now? Adrenaline worn off, that's why," Oin answered him.

"Ad-adrenaline?" Frodo rolled the new word over his tongue. He thought that he had heard the word before though he doubted it was commonly used in the Shire in daily speech. Most likely he had heard it from his Mama or maybe Gandalf even.

"Mmm hmmm," Oin grunted, "ya most likely been running on 'em for a few days. Exhaustion will be next." Oin said to Bofur and Thorin rather than Frodo who pouted.

"I'm not tired." He grumbled, crossing his arms across his chest and slouching further into the armchair, "just hungry."

"I think yer both." Bofur chuckled leaning over to give his curls an affectionate ruffle. "We'll feed ya in a little while, but first let Oin look over yer feet, there's a good lad." Frodo let out another huff but complied with Bofur's request and forced himself to sit quietly as Oin tended to his feet.

Oin was just finishing wrapping his left foot when Thorin's study door flew open with a bang.

Frodo jumped and almost flew out of his chair only stopping from doing so when both Oin and Bofur grabbed him and forced him back into the armchair.

"You found him? Where is he?" Frodo's racing heart calmed when he heard the voice of dwarf who had just barged into Thorin's study and couldn't help but grin. Thorin on the other hand looked utterly exasperated.

"Kili," he rumbled out in annoyance, his black brows knitted together, "I know for a fact that both your mother and I taught you as a child to not going barging into rooms. Especially ones…" Thorin was cut off by Kili's eyes falling on Frodo causing him to exclaimed the boy's name.

"Frodo! Where have you been, you little rascal."

"Hello Kili." Frodo said softly blushing as he was swung out of the armchair and into Kili's arms. His blush only deepened as his uncle checked him over, scowling from time to time as he took in his unruly curls, his bandaged feet and filthy, ripped clothes.

"Kili, put the lad down." Thorin said sharply from behind Kili, "Oin hasn't finished checking him over himself."

"Oh," Kili said a little lamely, his own cheeks turning a hint of red as deposited Frodo back into the armchair. Frodo could have sworn that he saw Thorin roll his eyes but he wasn't entirely sure and besides his attention was quickly distracted away from the dwarf king as more dwarves marched into his office. Dwarves Frodo was sure were once members of Thorin's famous company.

"So this is the little lad, eh." One particularly large, red beard dwarf commented as he lay his dark eyes upon him causing Frodo to feel even smaller than he already was. "Not very big is he?"

"Gloin, leave the laddie be." An older dwarf exclaimed in gentle but firm tone, "He's been through quite an ordeal." Frodo was fairly certain that this dwarf was Dwalin's older brother, Balin. His mother had always spoken fondly on the old dwarf and Frodo could understand why. There was something about him that simply made you want to trust him and Frodo suspected that he told brilliant stories of times long gone by.

"Ordeal?" the red beard Gloin grumbled, "Eh, what of the ordeal we've gone through trying to find him."

"He is a child, in a strange place, he cannot be held accountable for his actions, however wearisome and time consuming those actions were." The white bearded dwarf replied before he smiled gently down at Frodo who smiled shyly back.

"My name is Balin little one." He said stepping towards Frodo's chair.

"Yes," Frodo said, still feeling quite shy and maybe a little overwhelmed with being in a room with so many dwarves, "I know. Mama's told me all about you." He looked around the rest of the dwarves crowding into the study, some looking at him with varying degrees of curiosity while others stared at him with expressions clearly asking what new trouble was his being there would bring them, "all of you."

Author's Note: So here it is, the chapter we've basically been waiting for since the moment this fic was first posted. Thorin and Frodo "officially" meet... and Thorin has no idea how to deal with the situation at all. He has no clue how to react, what he should be doing or even really how to process Frodo's very existence as of yet. He knows Frodo exists, can see that Frodo is most definitely his but that's basically as far as his brains been able to process this whole sticky mess that he's land himself face first into. So instead, being Thorin, he is simply going to let others deal with the situation until he's finally gotten his head around it.
Sadly, this is going to take awhile (This is Thorin we're talking about.). There will be Frodo/Thorin Father/son moments of course, but Thorin really has no idea as to what he should do, he's completely out of his depths and really, now that's he's actually found Frodo and now knows he's safe and sound, Thorin's focus is going to immediately flip to focusing on finding Bilbo. But in saying all that, don't think Thorin doesn't care for Frodo, he does, he truly does but there is only so much he can currently take, so it may just take him a little time to... be the father we all want him to be to Frodo. Once Bilbo comes back into the picture he'll have his mind a little more focused, a little more set at the task of being an awesome Dad to Frodo.

Hope you all enjoyed.