AN:
Hello there everyone long time no see!
Why am I posting this instead you know the harry potter fic that i still hasn't updated in like two years? Good question! The answer is needlepoint and dnd, and no I will not elaborate. It is not abandoned and I am slowly writing it.
So! I got this idea thanks to a tumblr post you can read it if you go to my ao3 because this doesn't do links sorry post/646150538721951744/how-dare-tolkien-omit-in-the-final-draft-the post/646150538721951744/how-dare-tolkien-omit-in-the-final-draft-the post/646150538721951744/how-dare-tolkien-omit-in-the-final-draft-the post/646150538721951744/how-dare-tolkien-omit-in-the-final-draft-the. It's three thousand words of absolute mess with exactly zero plot and full of fealings! I wouldn't even call it good!
Title is from Andrea Gibson, Pole Dancing To Gospel Hymns
Enjoy!
When Thorin learned, that hobbits don't consider a marriage official until a family feast, he wasn't surprised.
It added up with everything Bilba had told him about her culture. Hobbits, despite being shorter than dwarves, could outeat them any day. So the fact marriage was just another reason to inhale insane amounts of food made sense.
What didn't make sense was Bilba's utter lack of care of the Thain's and her family's opinion of their marriage. Well, it did, up to a point, because she was Bilba, and she was ready to face a dragon for her loved ones.
But the point remains that in all things non-burglary, she preferred the proper way of things.
Because apparently, hobbits, especially the gentle kind, had etiquette for everything. The way the table should be arranged, for the seven meals of the day, depending on the guests' relation to you, the season, and whether or not you had a long or short blood feud with them.
("It's easier when you don't have to guess.'' his wife whispered to him at one point. "You have the proper etiquette for everything, and you don't have to worry about saying something wrong accidentally."
And Thorin got it.
It was much easier to have rules upon rules, on being the best host possible. Having instructions on making everyone as happy as possible without stepping on some toes.
It was much easier than the silent politics and backstabbing that were always rampant in his father's court. Or just the daily annoyance of the humans' tendency for unwritten rules.
Despite being wrapped up in rules and tradition, the hobbits wanted, mostly and above all else, to have a good time.
And you can't lose yourself in a good meal if you are worried about offending someone accidentally.
No, the power dynamics were laid out in the open despite never being said aloud.
It was clear, and it left nothing up for guessing.)
The fact that Thorin did not ask her family's head in marriage was anything but proper.
His father would've had his head for bringing such disrespect to her. If he had been alive.
But they had gotten married, and when asked, Bilba's only request was going back to the Shire to officiate it.
By the time they arrive at the Shire, Bilba is showing.
They have realized that she was pregnant two weeks into the journey, and Bilba was ready to murder anyone who even insisted that they turn back at that point.
(After he proposed, they had a conversation, one of the many important ones. Fíli and Kíli were going to be his heirs, even if they had children together. He was prepared for a fight. Had been for most of his life, prepared for this fight. It never occurred to him that Bilba would be supportive of this. Or well, he should have guessed that she would be, but he wasn't prepared for anyone like her falling for him.)
Thorin is pretty sure he is going to be killed by some rightfully enraged family member. But he is unwilling to not give the familiarity of her home to his wife when she so clearly wished for it.
So when thirteen dwarves, an elf, a wizard, and a pregnant hobbit arrive to the Shire, he is prepared for a fight.
Or at least for a little bit of shouting.
Instead, the Thain hugged Bilba and sent word out that preparation for a celebratory dinner should start. He also sent the word out for relatives that they should be here in a week's notice because Bilba was finally back.
Then and only then turned and greeted them with a huge warm smile.
"So? Which one of you managed to seduce my dear nephew?" he asked, and Thorin, despite listening intently for it, couldn't find an angry note in his voice.
"That would be me, lord Thain." he stepped forward, bowing only slightly.
The old man laughs.
"I am no lord young man! I'm but an old man who got stuck with a barely used title. Call me Isumbras, son."
The warm greeting eases something in him. Some nervousness or ache, he isn't sure what. But the fact that his wife's family so readily embraces him and his makes him feel things.
When he tells this to Bilba, she gets this terrible soft look on her face before she stands on her tiptoes to kiss his forehead.
"They are your family now too, my dear," she says, as she brings his face down to rest on her shoulders, and she holds her while he shakes and shakes and shakes.
The neighbors arrive a few hours later with what could be called a feast. It's not a fancy one. Instead, all food is made from something an everyday hobbit could plant and grow. Meat and eggs and cheese and absolutely no venison.
Some of them stay too and tell him and the others stories they would tell the young ones. Scary ones about the Fell winter and how it could kill, and absolutely hilarious ones about the hobbit who invented a sport called golf by knocking the head of the goblin king off. Right into a rabbit hole.
In exchange, they tell them about their adventures.
About how they escaped the elves of Mirkwood, and how Bilba was clever enough to trick friend and foe, and how her cleverness made sure they survived until the very end.
Ferumbras, Isumbras's grandson, drank up every one of their words and looked like the stars themselves replaced his eyes.
His father, Fortinbras, chuckled at his son's enthusiasm, before turning to Bilba with a teasing smile.
"Despite your best effort der cousin, you are definitely a Took!" he exclaims. His wife looks absolutely exasperated.
"Just because I didn't go around embarrassing myself, it doesn't mean I'm less of a Took, cousin," she smirks. "But I am a Baggins too, and I need to remind you that Baggins patience is legendary."
It's definitely a threat, and if he were in Fortinbra's place, he would pick his battles and admit defeat.
But apparently, Took means foolish too because the man just smiles wider.
"Bring it on, little cousin!"
The next week, while the other guests slowly arrive, bringing ingredients and utensils and plates with themselves, they start a prank war that is more vicious than anything he has ever seen.
By the time the wedding feast arrives, no one in the Shire has been spared by those two.
Bilba arrives at the feast in a beautiful white dress that got hit by what looks like paint bombs and some glittering dust. Somehow she still manages to pull it off, smiling delightedly and showing him some of the fading paint marks that apparently were left from her mother's wedding.
The celebratory dinner is the grandest affair he ever had the pleasure of witnessing. And that's saying something, given that he is king and their wedding party at the mountain was not small at all.
But all of that somehow pales in comparison near whatever hell he is seeing now.
Hobbits, it looks like, know how to throw a party.
Bilba said it was supposed to be a gathering with food and music, and he mistakenly thought it would be a ball.
It's more of a festival instead, with every hobbit in the village gathered and then some. And sure, there is music and food, they wouldn't be hobbits if there wasn't, but there is nothing sophisticated about it.
Instead of the slow dances that would be proper in court, it's more akin to the ones he watched and sometimes participated in various bars after a happy hour. It's a spinning thing, people changing partners almost faster than his eyes can track them, others clapping or swaying to the rhythm on the sides. All of them singing together until they are breathless.
It's confusing and exhilarating, and he can feel his blood pumping just from watching it.
He wants to join them.
The thought is surprising.
He can't dance well, doesn't like to, his father was barely able to make him learn the most important formal dances. Dancing is usually stiff and formal and unbearably dull, or drunk swayings in a tavern where you can barely hold yourself up.
But this? This looks fun.
Bilba looks like she is having fun too.
She had been dancing since the start of the evening, occasionally giving him inviting glances he declined.
That might change soon.
But before he can stand up and join his wife, Isumbras sits down beside him, clearly wanting to talk.
"I'm curious." says the Thain. "How did the two of you actually meet?"
Thorin looks at the old hobbit, and despite his wife's reassurances, that hobbits don't have kings or queens, that they have a mayor, thank you very much, he is sure if anyone, this man might be it. Which makes his wife royalty.
Not that it matters. Royalty or just a farmgirl, all that matters to him is that she is Bilba, the impossible woman who somehow made sure all of the Company survived the Quest.
"Gandalf recommended her to us. He said that she would be a good thief. Someone who could steal our kingdom back. So we showed up at the agreed time at her doorstep." he is still cringing over that particular miscommunication. And although a lot of them were rather rude, he is still blaming Gandalf. "She... she was quite reluctant to go on an adventure, despite what Gandalf told us."
The Thain stares before starting to laugh.
"Did that old wizard phrase it like that?" he asks, and Thorin is baffled.
"Phrase it like what?"
"Did Gandalf ask her if she is willing to go on an adventure with thirteen dwarves?"
Thorin opens his mouth then closes it.
"He might have. I wasn't there. Why? Is that important?" because it must be if the old hobbit is so curious about it.
"Let's go on an adventure, is a marriage proposal in the Shire. Your wizard friend might have just proposed a harem to her." says the Thain laughing before he takes his leave.
Thorin can do nothing but stare after him.
Mahal help him if that's what happened. He can't blame the lass for being so frustrated and angry at the dinner.
Even if they should have been polite...
(When he asks her later, she smiles.
"I know that the lot of you didn't mean it like that. I was surprised and confused at first, but I've known from my mother's tales that no other race does that."
Her smile turns a little sad for a second, and he kisses her just to make it a happy one again.
"It was actually quite liberating." She continues it a little later, when she is finally isn't out of breath. "I've always wanted to go and see the world, but marrying? I've never wanted that to happen."
She looks him in the eyes, and he is pretty sure she sees into his very soul. It makes his scarred and broken heart melt and reform again and again.
"I've never wanted to marry anyone until you.")
Just as the Thain leaves him, a woman, slightly younger than Bilba, takes his seat, and without any warning, thrusts a bunch of silverware into his hands.
He stares at it, then looks at the hobbit, who wrinkles up her nose and grits her teeth.
"Tell her that Lobelia said if she leaves her mother's prized silverware again, I'm not giving it back."
He can only nod.
He has a feeling that despite her evident greed and poor standing amongst the hobbits, she at least cares for Bilba enough to give these back.
(After they've arrived at the Shire, his first thought was that the neighbors obviously robbed the place. Plates, eating utensils, beautifully embroidered tablecloths, and lace, all of the fineries that he remembered and condemned his wife for the very first time, were missing.
But Bilba just smiled and said not to worry about it, and true to her words, half an hour had passed, and the neighbors were bringing the missing objects back.
Hell, some new ones too.
"Silverware and the plates are meant to be used," said Bilba later. "and food is meant to be eaten, and wine or beer is meant to be drunk. If one of us dies, leaving no one behind, hobbits take these things. Most of the time, these aren't riches, but they are to be cherished. Because they have brought joy and song to the family, and they have been part of every celebration. They have a piece of our happiness inside them, so they are given away to be remembered, to be used and give it again.")
He looks at the delicate silver that he is holding and thinks despite all of the riches his family left behind, all of the goods the dragon took, and he doesn't have a single plate or clothing or anything actually used by his ancestors.
All the gold a dragon wants but not a comb or his mother's favorite necklace.
So he watches his wife as she dances carefree and happy, and he holds the silverware that even at first glance is used and loved, and he longs.
(And maybe, says a voice in his head that's awfully similar to Bilba's. Maybe when they go home to the mountain, he will give back the jewelry set that the elf bastard is always demanding from him.
Because that too, despite the visible care and quality, bears the marks of use.)
They leave before the little one grows too big to bear the road with.
Bilba gives away her things and threatens her friends and family to take care of her garden because the soil is too good to be left to waste unworked.
Then, after another truly gigantic feast, she locks up the Bag's End and gives the key to Isumbras.
("Foolish girl, both of us know that I don't have more than one winter in me. It's a miracle I lived long enough to see you wed."
Bilba laughs.
"Then when the time comes, you give it to Fortrinbas, but until then, it's yours, old man!
"You fool of a Took!" says the Thain, but his voice is soft, and his eyes are shining with unshed tears. "It was good to see you one last time, little Bilba."
His wife smiles.
"Yeah, it was...")
Somehow the journey back feels a lot shorter than the journey to the Shire, but maybe that's just his imagination.
There isn't much chaos waiting for them at home, and despite his worst fears, it looks like his new kingdom did not collapse in two short months while he was away.
So really, there is nothing to do but wait for Bilba to give birth and the everyday reality of ruling an actual kingdom. It is both terribly satisfactory, after the long years of struggle to get here, and awfully dull, at the same time.
So he is unsurprised that by the end of the first week, Kili and his elf Tauriel straight up disappear.
Bila laughs for a good five minutes before, sending him an absolutely delighted look and saying that Kili married the elf the hobbit way.
(He is way less happy later when Thranduil, the bastard, sends his son demanding to know where he took his best ranger.
Instead of answering, he lets Bilba write a letter to the elf king that will explain what happened.
And while his wife does that, he descends into the vaults and takes out a jewelry case, making sure there isn't anything missing from it.
Unfortunately, he won't see Thandruil's face when he sees the box, which was now freely given without needing to ask or threaten for it.
Or maybe he is glad he won't see it because the prince looks at the pearls and white gold with misty eyes and wonder, and he doesn't ever want to see that face on that bastard king.)
Kili and Tauriel arrive back just in time to see Bilbao giving birth to their daughter.
And he knows his nephews.
He knows Fili will protect her with his life just after a single glance, and he knows that Kili loves her. He knows the company, and he knows Tauriel and Gandalf would do the same, and he knows himself. He would give up the entirety of this mountain with all of its riches just to make sure this little thing would be alright.
And as the first tear slips down on his face, he can feel the terrible hold of gold on his soul, the last threads that even Bilba couldn't get rid of, snap.
("I'm finally not the youngest of this family." Kili says, trying to hide his rapidly watering eyes with as much sass as he can manage at the moment.
It doesn't fool anyone at all.)
The naming ceremony is a grand affair.
A traditional meal and the ceremony and a beautiful banquet afterward.
Except, against all traditions, the three rulers of elves, nobilities of the humans, and Gandalf the Grey are all there, instead of just dwarven nobility.
The music playing at the banquet is hobbitish, something jolly and chaotic instead of the traditional dwarven ones, although those also makes an appearance.
And, breaking all traditions, the king doesn't watch the dances from his throne with a mask made of marble and stone. The queen doesn't sit next to him just as cold with their child in her lap.
This time the king and queen dances while the babe travels from hand to hand.
This time there is hope.