A/N: I resume classes back at college in about a week and I'm trying to get as much of this story cranked out as possible before then, so the updates are going to keep coming every two or three days until classes start. Then I'll be updating at least once a week until the story ends.

Oh yeah standard disclaimer stuff where I own none of these characters because they're Tolkien's.

CHAPTER WARNING: none

The sun shone in through the windows, catching on the flour in the air and making the air within Bag End dance in the morning light as the scratch of a broom against the floor filled the room.

The counters and table were once again clean, a damp cloth resting in the sink. Bilbo swept through the living room, slowly carving out a path through the flour that covered the floor like winter's first dusting of snow.

Bilbo continued going through the motions, occasionally looking back toward the growing pile of flour on the floor. The flour wasn't as clean as it was when the mess was made; he could see the crumbs and hair and dust and string and seeds and blades of grass that caught up in the sweeping. No matter how many times Bilbo sifted that flour, he knew that it would never be the same.

The scratching of the broom stopped, silence filling the room. Bilbo's breathing came in great, gasping heaves; each breath was drawn in as if the silence was going to drown him.

One hand left the broom to ghost at his throat, feeling the hands there as if it were only yesterday; guilt ate at his insides, gnawing at him like a trapped animal desperate to escape.

"There shouldn't be so much silence," Bilbo croaked, his voice cracking as the tears began to fall. "Y-y-you sh-should be here with me. I shouldn't s-still be h-having nightmares about you."

Bilbo fumbled briefly with his keys before opening the door to Bag End, smiling up at the little hobbit seated firmly on Thorin's shoulders.

"We're home!" Bilbo threw the door open and marched toward the kitchen; the walk back to Bag End took far longer than he expected and they had missed lunch, which simply wouldn't do. "Time for lu-"

"Bilbo."

Thorin stood outside the smial, eyebrows furrowed and lips pursed. Bilbo's head tilted to one side and he squinted slightly as he stared at Thorin. "Thorin," one hand moved toward his hip, "why haven't you set Frodo down so we can all go eat lunch?"

"No!" Frodo frowned down at his uncle, hands pulling closer to his chest; Thorin grunted and tilted his head back slightly.

"Frodo," Bilbo sighed, his hand moving up from his waist to drag down his face. After a deep breath, he moved forward to envelop Frodo's hands in his own, moving them down slightly towards Thorin's head. "Do you know how important braids are to a dwarf?"

Frodo shook his head, a pout still on his face as he tightened his hold on the braids.

"Well, they're as important to a dwarf as much as the hair on our feet are to us. You wouldn't like it if somebody kept pulling on that, would you?"

Frodo shook his head and let go of the braids. "I don't want to go down yet."

Bilbo smiled up at his nephew, "And Uncle Thorin's too tall for you to come into Bag End like that – shall I bring food out for a picnic?"

"No!" A door slammed open, its crash followed by the drumming of little feet running down the hall. "Don't leave me! Don't leave me!"

Bilbo dropped the broom and rushed into the hallway, not caring about the way the handle sent a small cloud of flour into the air as his nephew. "I'm here, Frodo. I'm right here," he kneeled down to wrap Frodo up in his arms. "I'm not going to leave you."

The last time I said that to somebody was in that tent. This realization sent memory coursing through Bilbo like poison; he held Frodo closer and did his best to keep his breathing under control.

Frodo wriggled a bit and Bilbo loosened his grip, hoping that he didn't squeeze his nephew too tight while his thoughts were elsewhere. Little hands cupped his cheeks and Bilbo looked up.

Frodo stood over him, concern plain on his face. "Uncle Bilbo, why are you crying? Do you miss momma and dad too?" He frowned and bit his bottom lip. "Was it because of Thorin? Does he live near here? Does he bully you?"

Bilbo choked back a sob and shook his head."Thorin," he took a deep breath, " was my king; my King Under the Mountain. I went with him and his Company to reclaim Erebor from a dragon, but he died."

Frodo stood there, awestruck. "Did the dragon kill him?"

"No," a sad smile, "Smaug did not kill him."

"Then how did he die?"

Bilbo looked at his nephew's face, he wasn't sure how to tell a twelve-year old that Thorin, Fili, and Kili died because of him; that his love and almost-nephews died because of his own failures.

At his age, Bilbo still believed that good would triumph over evil. All choices were only right or wrong; there were never any shades of grey in decision-making because there was only one right answer that was good for everyone. Most of all, Bilbo believed that at the end of the day everything would be okay; he could run home to Bag End, sit by the fire in a robe with a cup of tea, and all of his problems would disappear.

Bilbo never expected the gold sickness worming its way into Thorin, twisting his heart until all that mattered to him were riches. That Thorin's caresses would turn into a stranglehold; that Thorin would have killed Bilbo were it not for Gandalf's interference. That next would come a battle where so many died – so many were slaughtered.

Bilbo closed his eyes, pulling Frodo close. I could have saved them, I should have saved them – I was so close. I should have been more careful then maybe-

"Uncle Bilbo, you don't have to talk about it if you don't want to, I sometimes don't wanna talk about momma and dad."

"Frodo," Bilbo ruffled his hair, a small smile on his face, "I think it's time for us to have a nice, big breakfast after we clean this kitchen up – then I'll tell you about Thorin; if you want you can tell me more about Prim and Drogo, hmm?"

So nothing much happened in this chapter; I really just needed it to set the tone for their relationship and set up the rest of the story. I promise that things are going to get a little more interesting from here!