Hello, thank you all for the lovely response last chapter! I hope you enjoy this next one, I'm off to Spain for a long weekend with my family so I will write as much as I can while there, but the next update may be a little wait so I apologise in advance.
Sorry for any mistakes, we're leaving in under an hour so my final proof read was a little rushed!
Read. Enjoy. Review.
Chapter Fifty Seven # Stranger in a Simple Land #
Frodo leant wearily into his mother's side as the two strange hobbits argued vehemently. It was dark and late and Frodo was very, very tired, but this Mr and Mrs Banks would not let him sleep at all.
The woman was screeching something that sounded to Frodo like: "Blah, blah, blah, alcohol! Blah, no good blah!"
And as far as the young hobbit cared the man's furious response was along the lines of: "Blah, blah, stupid woman, blah!"
It was boring, it was noisy, and Frodo was fed up of it. He sighed heavily and began to play with his mother's skirt, trying to distract himself from the yelling with the pretty patterns on the material.
"Frodo?" He looked up at his father's quiet voice to see Drogo crouching beside him. "Are you alright?"
Frodo's eyes flickered towards the arguing couple. "I'm…I'm alright, Papa. Just tired."
A particularly loud shriek of indignation came from the woman and Frodo flinched, before yawning and leaning further towards his mother. Drogo kissed his forehead. "We'll be home soon, Frodo, and you can go to sleep in a nice warm bed."
Frodo just sighed sadly and nodded. His father ruffled his hair and then looked over at Mr and Mrs Banks.
"Ma'am, sir, would you mind saving this argument until our journey is over? My son is very tired." Drogo called politely.
The hysterical woman was not so polite. "Please do stay out of this, Mr Baggins! If you knew what a complete waste of space my husband was-"
"Me? A waste of space?" Mr Banks roared over his wife's screeches and Frodo groaned slightly.
Honestly. Adults….
When Mrs Banks started to wave her arms in the air, the other grown-ups seemed to think it time to intervene, but they all stood up at the same moment and the boat began to rock. The hooded stranger lurking at the back of the ferry swarmed forward almost as soon as Frodo felt his mother falling away from beside him.
"Mama!" he screamed, terrified, as she fell into the freezing, dark water. "Mama-"
"It's alright, Frodo!" she coughed from the river. "I'm alright, just stay there, sweetheart."
"Prim!" Drogo yelled, fighting his way through the small throng of people on the raft as the hooded stranger offered Frodo's mother his hand.
Prim's stark white fingers clenched around the man's hand and Frodo swallowed fearfully. In one swift, jerking movement, the stranger shoved his mother further into the water, forcing his head under and Frodo screamed, throwing himself into the water after her to try and pull the stranger's hand off of his mother's hair. The water was so cold that Frodo cried out in pain, but he knew that he had to be brave so he forced himself to remember swimming with Kíli and swam clumsily over to his mother, biting the hand of the stranger viciously.
The stranger drew away and Prim's head broke the surface.
"Mama!" Frodo's teeth were chattering with cold and fear as his mother's terrified eyes found him.
Grabbing her son and holding him to her tightly, Prim drew in several gasping breaths. "It's… f-f-fine, Frodo, w-we're g-going to be f-fine…"
"Prim, Frodo!" Drogo screamed from the raft, horror carved into his snow white face. The hobbit hesitated for only half a moment more, before plunging into the icy water and swimming over to his wife and son, pulling them towards the boat desperately.
"Papa, the stranger, watch out for the stranger!" Frodo begged, but his teeth were chattering and his voice was weak and his father did not understand.
"Drogo…" Prim stuttered, her whole body shivering and her breaths hitching in her throat.
"It's alright," Drogo promised, holding onto his wife with one arm as he hoisted his son into the other.
To Frodo's horror, it was the hooded stranger that leant over the side of the boat. "Here, give him to me!"
"No, no, no!" Frodo screamed in terror. "Papa, Papa don't!"
"It's alright, Frodo." Drogo promised, throwing the boy into the stranger's arms before moving his wife around to try and hoist her onto the raft.
By now, all of the other hobbits were hovering and fussing about how dreadful this all was, but then the boat began to rock violently and they all grabbed onto nearby rails. As soon as they were distracted, the strangers boot flew into the water and into Drogo's head and Frodo screamed as his father disappeared under the water.
"Papa! Mama! Help, help, help!"
The stranger drew him close and a thick hand tightened around Frodo's throat. "I was trying to help, you understand? If you tell anyone the truth I will find you and I will tear your throat out, and then I'll kill everyone around you! Do you understand?"
Sobbing in terror, Frodo nodded and wriggled around in the stranger's grasp. He could still hear his mother gasping for help and he had to help them, he had to save them before it was too late. Throwing back his head, Frodo screamed for his parents, louder than he had ever screamed before, and the hooded stranger passed him into the arms of a startled Mrs Banks.
"Mama! Papa!"
Frodo's eyes flew open in the darkness and he gasped softly, tears filling his eyes and sobs rising in his chest as his dream swam around his mind. He wanted Mama and he wanted Papa, but they were not here anymore – all because of the stranger.
Sometimes, Frodo wondered if the hooded stranger was just a part of his imagination because no one else ever spoke of him and he had overheard Uncle Rory talking about figments of imagination (whatever a figment was) but he was too afraid to ask in case the hooded figure was real and did track him down and kill him.
He started to shake as little whimpering sobs escaped his lips, but he did not want to wake his cousins, Doderic and Ilberic, who he shared a room with. They were nice enough people, the two brothers, but they were almost five years older than him and did not pay much attention to him. They would play with him every so often and they were perfectly friendly, but if Frodo woke them in the night when the nightmares made him cry they would groan and snap and complain.
Frodo did not blame them – who would want a whiny little cry baby waking them up at night?
That thought brought even more tears to his eyes and he clutched the pillow tighter, trying to stifle his growing sobs.
Don't wake up, he silently begged the two brothers. Please don't wake up, please don't wake up!
He wished that there was someone he could run to, but though he dearly loved his family at Brandy Hall, he did not know them very well. He had lived in Hobbiton his whole life and his visits to his mother's family had usually been short, meaning that he had no one there that he trusted enough to truly confide in, even after two months, especially because everyone was so busy all of the time. He often found himself being overlooked by accident.
For a place with so many people, Brandy Hall sure was lonely.
Curling in on himself even further, Frodo sobbed repeatedly into the pillow, until suddenly the door opened and he gasped, curling in on himself and making sure his face was completely hidden in his pillow.
Footsteps crossed the room and Frodo felt someone sit down on his bed and shake his shoulder gently.
"Frodo? Wake up, lad."
Frodo rolled over, wiping his tears away from his eyes with his pillow as he did so, to look up at his mother's oldest brother, who was actually Saradoc's father and Merry's grandfather – needless to say there was a significant age gap between those particular siblings. Blinking his big blue eyes to try and disguise his tears, Frodo snuffled. "What's going on, Uncle Rory?"
"I know it's late, but we've had a couple of visitors. Can you come downstairs?" Rorimac Brandybuck asked quite gently.
Frodo nodded, sitting up quietly. Many people had come to visit since his parents died, and he had gotten used to standing quietly and nodding sadly as people he barely knew tearfully declared how sorry they were for his parents' death. It was not normal for Uncle Rory to come and get him out of bed, but it had happened a couple of times before when people had travelled from further parts of the Shire and arrived later at night when the children had already gone to bed.
"What's the time?" he asked, stifling a yawn.
"It's just gone half past ten." Uncle Rory smiled, putting his hand on Frodo's back and steering him towards the sitting room. "Are you going to fall asleep?"
Frodo shook his head with a shudder, the hooded stranger from his dream leering over him in his mind. He did not think that he'd be able to sleep at all that night.
"Look who arrived tonight." Rorimac pointed across the room and Frodo's heart just stopped.
Standing at the end of the room were five figures, three familiar strangers and two very, very familiar people.
There was a hobbit with hair that was too long and clothes that were too loose, and there was a dwarf with eyes that were too heavy and a smile that was too sad, but Frodo had never been happier to see anyone in his whole life.
He could not believe that they were actually there.
"U…Uncle Bilbo?" Frodo whispered, fresh tears filling his eyes. "Kíli?"
"Hello, Frodo," Bilbo smiled sadly. "I'm sorry we took so long."
With a desperate sob, Frodo hurtled himself across the room and flew himself into his cousin's arms, burying his face into Bilbo's shoulder as the older hobbit lifted him off of the floor. "Uncle Bilbo! You came back, you came back!"
"Of course we came back," Bilbo soothed, rubbing circles onto Frodo's back. "I'm sorry about your parents, and I'm sorry I wasn't here for you…"
Frodo swallowed, tightening his legs around Bilbo's waist, but he did not know what to say so he just sniffled. "I'm glad you're home now."
"Me too, little one, me too." Bilbo murmured, planting a kiss onto Frodo's forehead.
The child rested his head on Bilbo's shoulder, feeling safer and more content than he had for weeks. His Brandybuck family were lovely, but they were extended family, they were not family family. They were not the family that had dried away his tears since he was born or the family that always, always made time for him no matter what.
Bilbo and Kíli were family family.
Smiling through a waterfall of tears, Frodo rested his chin on Bilbo's shoulder and reached out a single hand towards Kíli, who was quick to step forward and grab it. The dwarf rested his forehead on Frodo's for a moment, squeezing the little boy's hands gently.
"Kíli…" Frodo giggled, sniffing, "Kíli, I missed you!"
"I missed you too, Frodo." Kíli grinned, pulling away and ruffling Frodo's hair. "It's good to see you."
A sudden thought entered Frodo's mind and he glanced between Kíli and Bilbo. "W-wait… you didn't come here just to see me?"
Kíli glanced around conspiratorially and leant into to whisper in Frodo's ear. "Of course we did."
Frodo's heart started to pick up speed and he could not stop himself from smiling, though he could not stop the sobs or tears either.
"My, anyone would think we've been locking you in the cellar with only the rats for company, Frodo Baggins." Aunt Amaranth smiled, shaking her head as Frodo giggled and sniffed tearfully.
"Here, lad." Bilbo passed the little boy a handkerchief.
Frodo blew his nose dutifully and focused on calming down his breathing for a moment, before piping up hopefully. "Are you staying, Uncle Bilbo?"
Bilbo shook his head slowly. "We can't, I'm afraid – we're expecting visitors at Bag End soon. We'll be staying for tonight but we will have to be on our way tomorrow morning, unfortunately."
Disappointed, but not altogether surprised, Frodo sighed softly and dropped his head back against Bilbo's chest, forcing himself to flash a smile at his uncle. "Well, I'm glad you came today, then…"
"Good, we only got back to Hobbiton a few days ago so you should be grateful!" Kíli teased with a wink.
"Now, I know it's very late, so you should probably be in bed." Bilbo told Frodo reluctantly, and the boy's hands tightened around the hobbit's neck.
"Just five more minutes?" he begged, his wide eyes staring into Bilbo's.
Though Bilbo nodded, his 'five more minutes' were nothing like Mama's and exactly five minutes later, Frodo found himself being tucked into bed by his cousin Bilbo.
"Will you still be here in the morning?" Frodo whispered, his fingers white as they clutched Bilbo's sleeves.
"I will be, I promise…" Bilbo murmured back, kissing Frodo on the forehead before backing out of the room.
With a soft sigh, Frodo laid his head back onto the pillow and drifted off to another fitful sleep. He dreamed of many things, and woke up many times, but finally he could see light peeking over the hills outside the window and as soon as he could see the sun he flew out of bed.
Running out of the room, Frodo looked around and scampered down the hall to search for breakfast – and his Bagginses.
Mornings in Brandy Hall always started early, and soon everyone was up and sharing a large well-cooked breakfast. This morning, Frodo was sitting in between Bilbo and Kíli, and he felt happier than he had in a long while.
As soon as breakfast was over, Bilbo cleared his throat. "Rorimac, may I borrow your study please? I need to talk to Frodo about something rather important."
Curiously, Frodo looked up as Uncle Rory smiled knowingly.
"Of course lad, take all the time you need."
Frodo followed Bilbo away from the kitchen and into the privacy of his old uncle's study, and Bilbo sat down in the large, leather chair, patting his lap. Instantly, Frodo scrambled into Bilbo's lap, curling into the elder Baggins' embrace.
"Will you come and visit me often?" Frodo mumbled quietly, and Bilbo sighed.
"I don't think we'll be able to travel between Hobbiton and Buckland very often," he said evenly, before sighing again almost sadly. "Now, Frodo, I'm going to speak to you like an adult, because this is very important and quite complicated – is that alright?"
Swallowing hard and shifting closer to Bilbo, Frodo nodded.
Bilbo smiled softly. "Good boy… Alright, so, things have gotten horribly complicated for Kíli and I – do you remember that Uncle of his, the one you so bravely tackled?"
Thinking back on the severe, somewhat terrifying dwarf, Frodo nodded.
"Yes, well. He just happens to be the king of the city we just reclaimed from a dragon." Bilbo paused to let that sink in, which was probably a good thing because Frodo's head was reeling.
Reclaimed city? Dragon? King?
What?
Deciding that he would be demanding details as soon as Bilbo had finished, Frodo nodded slowly. "Does that make Kíli…?"
"A prince, yes, it does." Bilbo confirmed, looking very weary. "This means that there's a chance that we will be leaving the Shire again – but we don't know for certain and we don't know for how long, either. For the next couple of months at least, everything is going to be rather strange, complex and stressful but there is a very real chance that it could be dangerous as well, and for those reasons we may not be able to visit much at all."
Trying very hard to be grown up about it, Frodo forced himself to smile. "It's alright, Uncle Bilbo. I understand…"
"I'm glad that you do." Bilbo shifted Frodo that he could look him directly in the eye. "Now, all of this is a secret, Frodo, only a few people know of these plans. I am telling you, because in your parents' will they named me your guardian, should anything happen to them. In the case that I couldn't take you in, you were to go to Brandy Hall, which is why you're here now. This is a wonderful place, Frodo, as I'm sure you know, but there's not very much individual attention for one little hobbit, is there?"
Frodo shook his head.
"However, it is also a very good place to grow up, and is most probably safer than any home I could give you." Bilbo continued. "So, I have spoken to Kíli, and then we spoke to Fíli, Bofur, Nori and Saradoc, Esme, Paladin and Ellie, and then finally last night we spoke to your Uncle Rorimac. After much discussion, we have decided to let you choose, Frodo. If you wish, you may come and live with Kíli and I, and we will look after you, no matter what, though you have to be aware that you might be dragged across the world to Erebor at some stage. If you would rather stay here, however, you are more than welcome to do so and we will do our very best to visit and write as much as we possibly can. Before you decide anything, just have a good think about it – we may have Tookish blood, my boy, but we are Bagginses and we don't rush into anything."
Frodo's heart was pounding quickly and strongly in his chest and his excitement was growing unbearably but he managed to nod slowly. Swallowing, he asked in a voice that trembled with restrained emotion. "Do you mean it? I'd be with you no matter what?"
"No matter what." Bilbo agreed solemnly. "It could be dangerous, but we would do everything we can to protect you if it ever comes to that. Honestly, I very much hope it won't, but we haven't been lucky so far."
The child's little heart was screaming at him to say 'yes' before Bilbo changed his mind, but his father's gentle voice sprang to mind.
"Now Frodo, make sure you think things through now, lad. Rushing into things just because your heart tells you so is foolish – think about your options and then let your heart have its say."
A grim voice in Frodo's head wondered whether or not Papa had stopped to think about his options or whether he had just listened to his heart when he plunged into the river after Mama and Frodo.
The thought sobered Frodo and he considered what Bilbo had said about danger. As much as adventure appealed to the child, danger was not quite so alluring, and only weeks ago he had learnt the cold lesson that you cannot always protect the ones you love, however hard you try. Here at Brandy Hall, he was safe and loved and he would never be likely to get in any danger. He may get less attention and he may be forgotten now and again, but he would be safe, and his Baggins blood thought that was extremely important.
But.
If he went with Bilbo and Kíli, his life would be an adventure. They would protect him as much as possible and he would be among family family, and that was all his heart truly wanted.
"So, what do you decide, Frodo?" Mama's voice hummed gently.
After a long moment of hesitant, Frodo looked into Bilbo's eyes. "I… I would like to come and live with you, please."
Bilbo's eyes lit up, but he kept his voice serious. "Are you sure?"
Taking a deep breath, Frodo nodded and grinned. "I'm sure, Uncle Bilbo."
A brilliant smile spread across Bilbo's cheeks, easing some of the darkness out of his eyes and the tension off of his face. "Wonderful! We'll have to set off just after lunch, because we want to be home as soon as possible – as I said last night we're expecting some important visitors and it wouldn't do if they arrived before we did!"
"Alright, I'll get my things!" Frodo nodded eagerly.
I'm going back to Hobbiton, he thought happily, I'm going to see my friends and my cousins and my aunts and my uncles and it's going to be brilliant!
"Alright," Bilbo laughed. "But don't look too happy about it or you might upset someone."
Instantly Frodo blinked and made his face as sad as he could and Bilbo laughed again.
"I think that's a little too sad – everyone will think I've threatened you!"
Frodo giggled and hugged Bilbo tightly. "Thank you, Uncle Bilbo!"
"You're welcome, Frodo." Bilbo murmured softly, running his hand through Frodo's curls. "Right, shall we go and tell Kíli, then?"
For the first time since his parents died, Frodo felt his heart race with pure happiness and excitement and he nodded eagerly, laughing aloud when Bilbo stood up without putting him down. The child squirmed for a moment until he was sitting comfortably on Bilbo's hip while the older hobbit walked out of the door and into the main common room of Brandy Hall. To Frodo's surprise, the room was absolutely full of people, but then he noticed that they were all listening to Kíli and the funny hatted dwarf, Bofur telling a story and he was unsurprised. Kíli's storytelling was fit for kings, in Frodo's mind, and he was sure that the young dwarf had many new stories to tell now.
Bilbo cleared his throat quietly and when Kíli fell silent, the room quickly followed suit.
"Everyone, Frodo will be returning to Hobbiton with us this afternoon to live with us, in accordance with his father's will." The hobbit said calmly.
Instantly the room was filled with a chorus of comments.
"Oh, no!"
"How wonderful for you!"
"We'll miss you, Frodo."
"Oh, brilliant!"
Across the room, Kíli beamed, his eyes lighting up and Frodo's heart soared.
"Like my dear sister said earlier, you'd think we'd treated you terribly, young Master Baggins." Uncle Rory teased, ruffling Frodo's hair. "I hope you'll not forget about us with that awfully adventurous life you're about to lead."
Frodo snorted with laughter. "I wouldn't forget you, Uncle Rory!"
"I'm glad to hear it." Rorimac smiled, putting his hands on his hips. "If I were you, I'd go and pack my things before they leave without you."
Frodo did not show how his heart clenched at the thought of it, but he instantly wiggled out of Bilbo's grasp and raced to his room, to the great amusement of everyone else in the room.
Before he knew it, they were leaving Brandy Hall behind – riding on ponies, no less! – and Frodo waved almost sadly at the Brandybucks who had looked after him before settling down on his space on the pony in front of Bilbo.
"Uncle Bilbo, what happens if I fall off?" Frodo asked curiously, peering down to the floor below. It seemed an awfully long way for a little hobbit like him. "Will I break?"
Kíli, Fíli and Bofur tried to stifle their laughter as Bilbo shook his head. "I doubt it, Frodo. Hobbits are built for surviving large falls – I'm sure you'll be fine. You won't fall off, anyway."
Fíli watched the little hobbit on Bilbo's pony with great curiosity. He had met Frodo only briefly before, but he had heard enough stories of the lad to feel like he knew the child a little. The young dwarf could recognise the grief lingering in Frodo's perceptive eyes, but that did not seem to stop the boy's insatiable curiosity. During their short, pleasant journey, Bilbo told Frodo the whole story – at least the censored version of it that he had told the children of Hobbiton. It had been widely agreed that there was no need for the little ones to know the details of torture and madness and battle and death.
Riding on ponies, it took them the best part of three days to arrive back in Hobbiton, but there was no shortage of inns along the way, meaning that they never slept out under the stars, for which Fíli was grateful. Camping in the cold did not bother him, but he had suspicions that it would hurt the little hobbit, who he already felt himself becoming rather fond of. As the initial excitement wore off, Frodo became calmer and quieter, and for a little while Fíli thought that the boy was already regretting his decision.
Soon, however, Fíli changed his mind. It was heartbreakingly obvious that the child was still mourning – of course he was - it had not yet been two months since he had watched both of his parents perish. Though grief did not occupy his every waking moment, Fíli noticed each time that it flared up in Frodo's eyes, and that was often. The child was either asking hundreds of questions and giving something his complete attention, or he was distracted and quiet, and Fíli silently watched as the lad's thumb kept creeping into his mouth despite Bilbo's quiet reprimands. Sometimes, it would take but a word to sap the light from Frodo's eyes, and sometimes it would take but one word to replenish it – it seemed to vary from day to day.
Fíli knew full well that such inconsistencies were not too uncommon with grieving children, especially when they did not fully understand their circumstances. The young dwarf wondered just how much Frodo understood – he did seem a very clever little boy.
By the time they reached Bag End, it was rather late at night, and Frodo had already fallen asleep against Bilbo's chest. They left the ponies in the stables down in the village, walking up Bagshot Row quietly, but Fíli paused, turning back to look over the starlit village.
It was peaceful here, so peaceful. Fíli understood exactly why Kíli had fallen in love with the place.
He thought that he might be falling, too.
Sighing softly as he turned to follow his friends, Fíli wondered if it was a bad thing that he felt that he was walking home as he followed his brother through the little gate of Bag End. He lingered outside of the door when the others walked in, breathing in the early March air.
Amad was going to love it.
"Do you think it was the right thing to do, taking Frodo in? You were rather quiet when we discussed it before…"
Fíli smiled at the voice that broke his peace. "I think so, Kíli. I did not really think it was my place to say, since I don't know the lad or his circumstances very well. I was unsure that it was really fair to bring him in, knowing that we could be returning to Erebor, and given the traitors running around at the moment, but looking at him, I think he needs some attention from a proper parent figure as opposed to an exasperated Aunt or Uncle with half a dozen of their own children to deal with. Not that I have anything against your Brandybuck friends – they merely seem very busy."
Kíli nodded, looking satisfied with that answer. "They're often like that. What do you think of him?"
"Of Frodo?" Fíli raised his eyebrows and grinned. Frodo had indeed grown on him, as had all of Kíli's 'immediate family'. It appeared that Fíli was developing a soft spot for hobbit children. "I like him. He's curious and friendly, with a good sense of humour to boot. Correct me if I'm wrong, for I don't know him as you do, but he also seemed to be rather scared."
Kíli's smile waned slightly and he slowly nodded. "He was… he still is, although he isn't scared of us, not even Bofur or Nori. I'm not sure what-"
"Loss, Kíli." Fíli interrupted his brother quietly with a sad smile. "He's afraid of losing someone again."
"Oh…" Kíli's eyes widened with understanding even as they clouded over with grief. "How did you guess that before I did?"
Fíli shrugged, his voice quiet. "I've seen far too many grieving children."
Kíli fell silent, staring out at the starlit view.
"He'll be alright now, Kíli." Fíli promised. "Soon enough you'll both be fighting for Bilbo's attention."
Kíli frowned at Fíli. "What on earth are you talking about?"
Fíli grinned cheekily. "Well, dear brother, you've never had to share your father before, now have you?"
Kíli snorted. "Fíli-"
"Have you?" Fíli pressed, raising his eyebrows playfully.
"No, I have not." Kíli said dutifully. "I'm not going to become jealous of an eleven year old boy, Fíli. I'm seventy seven."
"Seventy eight." Fíli corrected mildly. "It was your birthday in midwinter, but I had no way of knowing what exact day it was, and I'm afraid your present will have to wait."
"Midwinter?" Kíli raised his eyebrows. "Hm. I didn't know that. We always celebrated my birthday in the middle of summer."
"Why then?" Fíli wondered.
"Because it was my favourite time of year." Kíli shrugged, and Fíli grinned.
"Do you know whose birthday is in midsummer?" When his brother shook his head, Fíli winked. "Mine."
Kíli laughed. "Why does that not surprise me?"
A sudden wave swooped over Fíli as he realised with a start that they had finally stopped travelling. True, their journey to Buckland had been unplanned, but now they no longer had a definitive goal ahead of them, and though he had not yet spent two whole weeks in the Shire, every day he grew a little more certain that Kíli would not be leaving.
He did not want to go home alone.
"Fíli? What's wrong?" Kíli frowned, and Fíli forced himself to smile.
"Nothing, brother, nothing," Fíli promised, squeezing Kíli's arm. "All is well."
"Fíli," Kíli began shortly. "If you think I cannot read you like a book you are sorely mistaken. What is wrong?"
"I am merely thinking of the future. I cannot see a solution that will satisfy everyone." He admitted, before smiling. "Still, Amad will be arriving within the next two weeks, and she always has a solution."
Kíli smiled slightly. "Always?"
Fíli considered. "Well, almost always."
"Fee?" Kíli murmured after a long moment.
"Yes?" Fíli replied, recognising the reluctance in his brother's voice curiously.
"Do you think… do you think she will like me?" Kíli asked sadly. "I am not the same person that she lost-"
Fíli shoved his brother's shoulder, interrupting him the moment he was able to snap his jaw shut. "Kíli Baggins, how could even think that? You're the most wonderful person I know-"
"And you're very biased, Fíli."
"That doesn't matter! She's our mother, Kíli, she loves us no matter what – and anyway there is nothing to dislike." Fíli said firmly, looking his brother dead in the eye. "She will be proud of you, she will love you and she will have absolutely no idea what to make of Bilbo, for the first half hour at least."
Kíli laughed quietly. "Are you sure?"
"Are you suggesting that I'm ever wrong?" Fíli raised his eyebrows.
Kíli rolled his eyes and shoved his brother.
In response, Fíli slung his arm over Kíli's shoulder. "Of course she will like you, you little fool."
All of a sudden, Kíli's eyes widened and he rushed out from under Fíli's arm. "Did you see that?"
"See what?" Fíli's eyes instantly scanned for danger, but Kíli's face was as bright as the stars and he grabbed Fíli's hands, running up onto the grassy roof of Bag End quietly. "Kíli, what-"
"Look!" Kíli pointed at the horizon, sitting down cross-legged above the door.
Fíli frowned and looked out where Kíli was pointing and his eyes widened as an arrow of light sped through the sky. "A shooting star!"
"A shower." Kíli corrected and Fíli sat down next to him, staring out as the sky began to dance.
"Does this happen often here?"
"No..." Kíli shook his head, his eyes shining as they followed the paths of the stars.
"I don't think Bilbo likes people sitting on his roof." Fíli began, but Kíli just laughed.
"Don't worry about it." The young dwarf sighed slightly. "I wonder what makes them fly…"
Fíli thought about that for a long moment. "I don't know."
"Maybe they aren't even stars. Do you think the elves know?"
Fíli scoffed, leaning against his brother's shoulder. "I doubt it, though it wouldn't surprise me if they claimed to have the knowledge."
"Kíli, Fíli?" Bilbo walked outside beneath them. "Where-"
"Look, Bilbo!" Kíli pointed at the sky with a wide smile. "Look at the stars!"
"You're not on the – oh, for goodness sake, get down from there you rascals!" Bilbo rolled his eyes and the two dwarves grinned cheekily and leapt from the roof as the hobbit leapt back with a cry of "Walk!"
"Look!" Kíli repeated, pointing at the sky once more, and Bilbo sighed, muttering about the condition of his heart as he stared out at the beautiful spectacle.
"Oh, that's wonderful…" he breathed, staring out at the diamond sky.
For an endless moment, the three all stood there, staring out as the stars danced around the sky. Fíli did not know who sat down first, but eventually Fíli and Kíli were sitting on either side of Bilbo, staring up at the wonderful display.
"Uncle Bilbo?" A little voice asked meekly, and Fíli turned to see Frodo lingering by the doorway, clutching at a blanket with a pale face.
The young dwarf smiled sympathetically – had the child had a nightmare already?
"Come here, Frodo," Bilbo held out his hand and the little boy scampered around. "Look!"
Frodo's eyes widened as Bilbo pointed at the sky, and Fíli smiled as the child settled down into Bilbo's lap. Mere moments later, Bofur and Nori both came out to see where everyone was, and the miner immediately sat down on Fíli's other side to watch. For a moment Nori lingered, clearly considering just going to bed, but finally he uttered a quiet curse and sank down onto the floor next to Kíli.
Fíli smiled.
They were an odd group, by all accounts. Two dwarven adults of relatively lowly birth and a newly appointed noble status. Two young dwarves with a world of problems ahead of them. One hobbit who had adopted a boy found in a river and raised a prince. One hobbit child who had lost both of his parents, only to be adopted into the most unconventional family known to Middle Earth.
They watched the stars do their dance together in a peaceful silence and no one noticed the passing of time. Unsurprisingly it was Frodo who dozed off first, sprawling across Bilbo's arm to sleep.
"My grandmother used to think they were bad omens…" Bofur murmured. "But my father used to claim that they were signs of hope. I never knew which to agree with."
"Maybe they're neither…" Kíli replied quietly, leaning on Bilbo's shoulder with a yawn. "Maybe they're just dancers."
"Dancers?" Somehow Nori managed to make his yawn sound incredulous.
"They do look like they're dancing…" Fíli agreed, slumping against Bilbo, though he did not notice himself doing so.
Silence fell again as the rate of shooting stars began to fall, and one by one the companions fell asleep outside Bag End, curled up together like a pile of kittens in the peace of the Shire.
Fíli was the last to succumb to sleep, and as he drifted off, a bittersweet thought emerged in his mind.
I could get used to this peace… I really could. But I can't, can I?
I'm an heir of Durin. When have our family ever been granted peace?
I hope you liked that bittersweet chapter! I'm sorry if the ending is a little rushed.
Next chapter we will be meeting Dís! Yay! I'm so excited to be writing it FINALLY! Do let me know what you thought!
Thank you :)
