When Thorin and Bilbo finally emerged from their bedroom, the smells of breakfast had already permeated the air and the voices of the others could be heard from the kitchen. With a smile on his face, Bilbo took Thorin's hand and led him down the hall.
"I hope there is still food," Bilbo called as he came around the corner into the sitting room. "I'm famished and will be more than a little miffed if you lot took the time to cook breakfast but not to save some for us."
"I you wanted food you should have come out earlier," Bofur called back with a laugh as he began plating up breakfast for the two of them.
"Trust me," Thorin replied, his voice pained as he remembered what had happened that morning, "you're glad that we stayed in as long as we did." Bilbo gave his hand an apologetic squeeze and a small, sad smile before they were around the corner to the kitchen where the rest of them were assembled.
"I'm more than willing to take your word for it," Dwalin replied shivering again as he remembered the kinds of things that the two of them got up to. "If he's famished and you're . . . no I'd rather not know what happened."
"Oh!" Bilbo scoffed buttering a biscuit as he sat down. "Nothing like that happened. I'm far too old for such acrobatics anymore." At his words, and the nonchalance behind them, Thorin choked on his ale and Dwalin flushed to the top of his bald head. Neither of them could believe that Bilbo would bring it up so explicitly. The others looked between the three of them speculatively. Even though they all knew that they most likely did not want to know, anything that could render Thorin speechless and make Dwalin blush had to be good . . . or completely debauched and for it to involve Bilbo performing acrobatics . . . it only piqued their curiosity—even Frodo had to admit that he was slightly curious, even if he was disturbed.
"But something of some sort must have happened, even if no acrobatics were involved," Balin insisted trying to bring the conversation back before something else got said. "You're wearing a courting braid again after all." Rather than reply immediately, Bilbo reached up and ran a hand across his braid, a small smile on his face.
"I am," Bilbo confirmed, even though no confirmation was needed.
"Are those—" Bofur began leaning in closer to look at the bead and fastener that were now in Bilbo's hair. He thought that he recognized them as Bilbo's courting gifts from years ago, but he wasn't sure. And he couldn't remember if Bilbo has still worn them the last time that he had seen them, though he doubted it. If anything would break a courtship, threatening to kill your intended should do it.
"They are," Bilbo said, a warm, gentle smile now directed at his lover. "I kept them all these years."
"I don't understand," Frodo said suddenly. "What's so special about that braid? All of the dwarves have braids, what makes that one special, other than the fact that it's on a hobbit?" The dwarves and Bilbo all exchanged looks as they tried to decide who would get the task of explaining courting braids to the young hobbit. In the end, Thorin decided that he would be the one to do it, when it was clear that no one else would.
"Different braids mean different things," the dwarf began. "There are certain patterns that are reserved for particular things. And braids also mean different things based on who put them there in the first place."
"The same pattern put on your head by your mother holds a different meaning than if it was put there by a lover or a sibling," Bofur added with a smile.
"But how can someone else know who braided your hair?" Frodo asked, his voice only showing his confusion. The idea that there could be a meaning ascribed to hair arrangements was entirely foreign to him and he couldn't quite wrap his head around it. "Once it's braided, how do they know who did it?"
"The placement of the beads in the plait," Bilbo explained. "A mother will put a bead in one place—or not use a bead at all—while a lover will put it in a different place and a sibling in a third. The ornamentation is the key."
"What if there are no beads," Frodo asked, his natural hobbit curiosity taking control.
"Then odds are it was either braided by the dwarf in question, his or her family or before a courtship has taken place," Dwalin said.
"So the beads are the most important thing?" Frodo asked his voice bright as he felt that he had figured out a great secret.
"Not only," Balin said with a shake of his head at Frodo's oversimplification. "The location of the braid and the braid itself is also important."
"As is the clasp holding it," Thorin added with a soft smile for Bilbo as he flicked the silver clasp in the hobbit's hair affectionately.
"So what makes that a courtship braid?" Frodo asked, focusing on that fact rather than the fact that his uncle was wearing a courtship braid despite being well past the age for courtship and it being a dwarf braid.
"There are a few things that distinguish it as a courtship braid," Bofur replied. "Do you see the pattern in his hair?" Frodo leaned in, seeing the design that was just visible among the various strands of the plait and nodded. "That is one of the features."
"Also the bead," Balin added. "Every major line of dwarves has a color assigned to them. For the line of Durin it is blue—that shade of blue in particular. That bead marks your uncle as belonging to an heir of the line of Durin."
"Belonging to?" Frodo asked incredulously. "Like a home?"
"Not quite like a home, but sort of, in that it declares to other dwarves that Thorin has exclusive rights to my body," Bilbo replied with a lustful look at his lover. Which caused Thorin to growl low in his throat and Dwalin to chuck a roll at him.
"None of that now!" Dwalin snapped. "We don't need the two of you getting randy at the table. We eat here."
"It's not a bad as it sounds," Bilbo assured Frodo, seeing the look of horror on his young face. "Thorin's mine as well. The same night that he braided his bead into my hair I marked him as well." Frodo paled as he wondered how else dwarves marked their lovers.
"Aye, and a sight he was too!" Dwalin laughed. "Do you remember, Brother?"
"How could I forget?!" Balin replied with a laugh. "I don't know that I had ever seen such a ludicrous thing in my life. The great Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thráin, son of Thrór, future King Under the Mountain, walking back into camp with daisies in his braids."
"They were forget-me-nots," Thorin corrected with a fond smile and what on any other would have been a blush. "Bilbo braided forget-me-nots into my hair."
"I didn't have a bead," the hobbit replied with a shrug. "No one told me that I was supposed to give you a bead. If they had I would have taken the time to carve one. I didn't know."
"The flowers were perfect," Thorin promise stroking Bilbo's cheek. "Even if I didn't get to keep them. Nothing could have been a better representation of a hobbit's love."
"Actually, you do still have one," Bilbo offered. Thorin raised an eyebrow at the statement. It had been sixty years. Surely there was no way that a flower could have survived that time. "That night, I took one of them from your hair and pressed it in the log book that Gandalf gave me. I knew that they wouldn't last and wanted you to have something to remember that night by. I still have it. In the chest at the foot of my bed."
"You'll have to show me," Thorin said with a smile. "Though I will have to take you up on the offer to carve me a bead."
"I'll be more than glad to do it," Bilbo replied, his eyes gentle. "With a forget-me-not on it."
"I think I preferred it when they were just randy," Dwalin muttered to Frodo. "The two of them undressing one another with their eyes across camp was easier to stomach than this is."
"I'm not sure how I feel about it," Bofur chimed in a wry smile on his face as he looked away from the affectionate couple. "The lewd looks were a bit much at times. Made me feel almost naked even though they weren't directed at me. Right uncomfortable it was!"
"That still wasn't as bad was when the two of them were mooning over each other," Balin said. "With the heat in both their eyes as they looked at one another, I'm surprised that poor Bilbo didn't burst into flames."
"It wouldn't have been all of him," Dwalin laughed. "Thorin only ever really stared at one part. And Bilbo didn't really need his a—"
"That is enough of that!" Frodo squeaked suddenly, startling all of them, and causing Bilbo and Thorin to jump apart even though Frodo wasn't actually talking to them. "I don't mind that they are together. In fact, I'm glad that they are happy. However, all of this talk about randyness and my uncle's" Frodo shuddered unable to say the word—partially because he couldn't decide which of the things about Bilbo that they had discussed bothered him the most.
"It needs to stop. I can't . . . it's too . . . I'm going for a walk," Frodo finally said before grabbing a book off the shelf and walking out the front door.
"Was it something I said?" Bilbo asked looking up at Thorin in confusion. The two of them had been so lost in each other that they hadn't realized what the others had been talking about and the others were not inclined to fill them in.
ooOO88OOoo
After the breakfast dishes were cleared away and Bilbo had put the kettle on for some tea, everyone sat down to their various plans. The dwarves using the kitchen table to plan their settlement—since there were still details to iron out before they took it to the Thane—and Bilbo trying to finish off the plans for the party so that he could help them pick an ideal location.
As he looked down at the guest list and attempted to turn it into a seating chart for dinner, he sighed and decided that tea was not enough. A work of this magnitude called for stouter stuff and for the first time he almost wished he had a cask of dwarven ale. Or perhaps elven wine. That stuff packed a punch as well.
"I'm headed to the cellar," Bilbo said as he walked through the kitchen. "Can I get any of you anything?"
"Do you still keep wine?" Thorin asked, his eyes alight as he remembered the look on Bilbo's face the first time he had asked for wine.
"I'll bring you a glass," Bilbo replied, not begrudging the dwarf in the least for the request this time. "Anybody else?" There were a few grunts of disinterest that Bilbo took as a "no" before he trotted off towards his cellar. He had just gotten inside and was searching for a bottle of wine when he heard the bell ring.
"Can one of you get that?" He called. "I'm a bit busy at the moment." He wasn't sure if they had heard him, and didn't particularly care, when suddenly a shrill scream reached his ears followed by his name. He let out another sigh. He would recognize that voice anywhere. Lobelia. What was she doing here?
Groaning to himself, he climbed up the stairs and walked into the kitchen where Thorin, Balin and Bofur were looking towards the entry in curiosity. He set the bottle on the table and leaned in.
"Keep an eye on your valuables, lads," Bilbo warned. "I think Lobelia is a better burglar than I ever was." With his companions duly warned, he turned and walked towards the commotion that Lobelia was causing in the entry. As he neared her, he saw that Dwalin was attempting to restrain her as she fought tooth and nail to escape him all the while trying to beat him with her umbrella, which Dwalin took from her the moment Bilbo rounded the corner.
"Relative of yours?" Dwalin asked with a smirk at Bilbo, acting as thought the irate she-hobbit clawing at him meant nothing.
"A distant one, yes," Bilbo agreed before turning on her. "Lobelia!" he called, attempting to be heard over her shrill cries that Dwalin was attempting to kill her, "What are you doing here?" When she quit clawing at him, Dwalin released her hands and stepped back.
"Bilbo Baggins," she huffed glaring at Dwalin once more before rounding on Bilbo, her eyes aflame. "I am here because I heard the most vile rumor while I was in the market this morning."
"Oh really?" Bilbo asked, attempting to keep his tone light rather than demand what it had to do with him or ask what business it was of hers even if it did. "And what was this rumor about?"
"You," she spat. "I heard that you were fornicating with a male dwarf in an alleyway! Was this the brute you were having relations with?"
"Brute?" Dwalin sneered leveling a glare at her. "I'm no brute. And I will have you know that Bilbo would never be so lucky as to have a tumble with me. I know things that . . . "
"NO Lobelia," Bilbo said loudly in an attempt to cover up what was sure to be a colorful rant from Dwalin, even if he wanted to let him traumatize the vile woman. "I wasn't in an alleyway with Dwalin. And I wasn't exactly forn—"
"But you don't deny that you were in an alleyway with a dwarf," Lobelia insisted. "I swear Bilbo, you besmirch the good name of Baggins more and more every day! Why if your poor father were around to see this . . . dwarves in his home and his only son fornicating with them in public! It would kill him, it would!"
"I assure you, Lobelia," Bilbo sighed rubbing his temples as he felt another headache coming on, "I do no more to besmirch our family name than you and your son do. Less even."
"How dare you!" she snapped. "I have never brought near the shame on us as you! I never went off on an adventure and came back strange, well stranger. And I would never do something like that in an alleyway!"
"Perhaps you should look into it!" Bilbo snapped. "It might help your personality!" Dwalin snorted at the implication in Bilbo's words while Lobelia turned an interesting shade of puce. "In fact—"
Bilbo was cut off as Thorin bent down to wrap his arms around the hobbit, attempting to calm him before the madness could take over once more. "Who is this, Âzyungâl?" he whispered, trying to distract Bilbo by making him think through a foreign word. It worked and he felt Bilbo lean into him with a purr.
"Lobelia Sackville-Baggins," Bilbo replied leaning into Thorin's embrace with a smile at the term of endearment, "a relation of mine. Lobelia, this is Thorin Oakenshield, erstwhile King Under the Mountain, and the "brute" I was cavorting in the alley with." Thorin dipped his head to her at the introduction as she gaped at him. She couldn't believe that Bilbo had been doing that in an alley way with a dwarf King. Bilbo?
"Lobelia Sackville-Baggins?" Balin asked suddenly, recognizing the name from the second time that he had visited Bilbo in his home. "Not the same one that was selling your things at auction when you returned home, is she?"
"What!?" Thorin demanded. He had never heard about this. Bilbo had nearly lost his home in his attempt to help them regain theirs? And that woman had been the one to do it.
"The same," Bilbo replied with a smirk. "Lobelia has been trying to get her hands on my home for years. My longevity is a major inconvenience to her. She had hoped that I had died sixty years ago but here I am, nearly 111 and still going strong. She hates it, don't you, Lobelia?" Lobelia said nothing, but looked almost nauseous at the glares she was receiving from the dwarves and Bilbo's self-satisfied smirk.
"She tried to sell your home?" Thorin breathed, anger coloring his words. The thought that Bilbo's home had nearly been taken from him by another caused his blood to boil. Too many people that he cared about had lost their homes. He had been unable to stop the dragon, but there was no way that a she-hobbit would cow him. She would rue the day that she ever attempted to wrong his mate—even if he wouldn't actually hurt her, this would be a lesson she would never forget.
"No," Bilbo argued seeming to sense his lover's train of thought and smirking at what he knew was coming. Lobelia would finally get her comeuppance. "She wanted to keep my home. It was my possessions she had no need for. Those were what she was auctioning off. Took me forever to get them all back and all kinds of paperwork to get her out of Bag End."
"So she was a squatter," Dwalin said looking down at her with a cruel smile, Bilbo had just given them free license to scare her and Dwalin did not intend to let the chance pass him by. "Do you know what dwarves do to squatters?" She shook her head, her voice failing her and panic in her eyes. She had closed the door behind her when she came in and now she was trapped in the house with four large dwarves leering down at her. For the first time she wished that she had been kinder to Bilbo, perhaps then he would be more inclined to help her.
"Squatters in my realm tended to become involuntary permanent residents," Thorin elaborated darkly. "And I assure you, their residences were not comfortable, nor their meals particularly filling. Especially when they trespassed on the property of my family. In both Ered Luin and Erebor we had special dungeons reserved for people that attempted to squat in royal apartments, which as my mate Bilbo's home became. Perhaps we should send word to my sister or my cousin. I'm sure that they have more than enough room in one of their dungeons for a hobbit. Would you like that, Bilbo? I'm sure that we could arrange it." Lobelia looked up at Bilbo with pleading eyes. She knew that one word from him and she would be gone, disappeared into the darkness of dwarven dungeons to live out the rest of her days. Her heart stopped beating as Bilbo looked at her speculatively before looking up at his royal lover.
"I don't think so," Bilbo eventually said. "She didn't do that much harm, after all. And I did eventually get my home back."
"If that is how you feel," Thorin replied stroking the side of Bilbo's face with a smile. "I suppose that if you can forgive her for her transgressions against you, I can as well. However if you ever change your mind, my offer still stands. Dís has never before seen a hobbit and Dáin . . . he's never had one in his dungeons."
"I'll keep that in mind," Bilbo replied with a smile before turning back to Lobelia. "Can I do anything else for you or did you just want to keep me abreast of the Hobbiton gossip?"
"Nothing else," She said, her voice high and panicked as she grasped for the knob behind her. "Sorry to have troubled you. Have-have a n-n-nice day!" With that she opened the door and bolted out it as thought Bilbo and the dwarves were breathing dragon fire after her, not even bothering to pull it closed behind her.
Silence followed her departure for a moment before it was broken by Bofur. "Did you see her face?" He asked, the words garbled by the laughter that accompanied them. "Royal dungeons reserved for squatters! Where in Durin's name did you come up with that, Thorin?"
"Was it too much?" Thorin asked with an uncomfortable smile and a small laugh of his own. "I feel like I may have overdone it a bit. Perhaps I should have just stuck with either Ered Luin or Erebor and not both."
"No it was perfect!" Bilbo added, his own laughter choking his words. "And the bit about the food! That was marvelous! You managed to hit on both of the things that would most trouble a hobbit, food and comfort!"
"Well," Balin said after they had regained control of themselves, "I hope that you were not fond of her, Bilbo. I doubt we'll ever see her again."
"It's no loss, I assure you," Bilbo said with another laugh. "I've been trying to get rid of her for years."
"Glad that we could be of service," Dwalin laughed clapping the hobbit on the shoulder before walking back to the kitchen. "I'm only a little disappointed that she didn't faint." The rest followed him, still laughing at the look on Lobelia's face and the readiness and creativity of Thorin's lie.
"Thorin?" Bilbo asked as he closed the door. "What would you have done if I had said yes?"
"I have absolutely no idea," Thorin replied with a laugh. But it hadn't mattered. Bilbo hadn't said yes and Lobelia had gotten the fright of her life, courtesy of the dwarves, a fright that she never explained to anyone for fear that Bilbo would change his mind about her imprisonment. That's not to say that she didn't continue to spread gossip, however, she was more careful about it, making sure that she could be in no way connected to any gossip that related to Bilbo or his dwarves.
ooOO88OOoo
There we are all, a new chapter! I hope that you enjoyed it!
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Stickdonkeys.