Thank you for any and all of the support given to this story! I'm doing so really difficult research about genocide for an exhibit coming up that I'll have to be teaching to the public, and this really has been my escape.

Start of story: Fíli was 20(10) Kíli 25(12) Bilbo 29 (17)

As of this chapter: Fíli is 30(15) Kíli 35(17) Bilbo 39 (23)

Chapter 2 - Halfling

Fíli adored his cousin. Frodo was only ten years old and he hung on Fíli's every word as he retold the stories his father and grandfather told him.

Fíli never had an abundance of friends, he was always nervous about his ears and his long hair was something the other boys picked on him for.

But Fíli, like Bilbo, was loved by the little ones for their stories. If they occasionally slipped in the odd elfen word, well that was simply impressive.

Still by the time little Frodo fell asleep in his arms and Primula scooped up the fauntling, Fíli was being urged outside to play in the sunshine.

Bilbo was too distracted to get him out of Primula's mothering. His da hadn'looked up from helping Drogo make cake as Fíli reluctantly left the smial.

He saw a group of fauntlings running toward the stream and he was glad he at least had a direction of where to go.

It seemed there were traders from Bree in Buckland and Fíli found that he was not the tallest in the group, for once.

The four human boys were practically tripping over the older fauntlings as they raced along the grass.

"Fíli!"

"Fíli!"

Soon Fíli found himself beseeched on all sides by youngest fauntlings who joyously tackled him into the soft ground.

Laughing, Fíli ruffled hair and tickled them until he won his freedom from the mass.

The older children were conversing with each other and Fíli swore he could feel the trouble brewing.

He noted two hobbits, Willer Whitfoot and his brother Sender Whitfoot, were whispering with the human boys. They were Lobelia's cousins.

Which meant nothing good.

"Come play with us, Fíli!"

"Yeah, come play, Baggins," Willer said snidely.

Fíli glared at him, "What's the game?"

"Tag," Sander said, shoving Fíli. Not that he had a prayer of knocking a dwarf over.

Fíli went after Willer, catching up to him in no time.

But Willer merely clapped hands with one of the humans.

Fíli cursed as he ran, grunting when he wasn't so much tagged as tackled by one of the human boys.

Fíli yelled out in pain as his braid was yanked on.

He might have been raised by a hobbit and trained to fight by an elf, but he was still a dwarf, and no one was allowed to touch his hair.

He rolled and punched the brat straight in the nose. The boy cried, clutching his face as blood pooled between his fingers.

Someone else grabbed Fíli by the hair and he roared as turned on his foes.

There was screaming and panicked yelling from all around them. Fíli didn't let up though, these weren't breakable hobbit fauntlings, these were men half grown who could easily have snapped a hobbit's neck if they had used the same strength on them the way they had yanked on Fíli's braid.

And then there were full size men grabbing him as hobbit parents gathered their fauntlings.

Fíli kicked the man who held him in the groin and grunted when he was thusly dropped.

He panicked a bit when a sword was drawn, but the brown-haired man fell with a bark of surprise as a hobbit ploughed into his legs, taking him out by the knees.

"Da!" Fíli shouted because, of course, it was Bilbo who then had the sense to kick the sword out of reach.

"You attack my son!?" Bilbo asked, landing a punch to the man's eye.

"What is going on here!?" a voice called out.

Everything stopped as they looked up at Drogo Baggins, whose hands were on his hips, a look of no-nonsense in his expression.

The man shoved Bilbo off him, "His son attacked mine!"

Drogo crossed his arms and said dryly, "A fauntling attacked your son? My what a story we'll have at the Green Dragon. I'm sure everyone will be impressed by your boys' velour."

Bilbo went to Fíli, dusting him off, gently pulling grass from his hair.

"I'm sorry," Fíli muttered but his father only shushed him.

The man sneered, "He's no hobbit, but a halfling in truth."

"You know better than to use that term, Jackson," Drogo chided.

Jackson gestured rudely at Fíli, "He's a bastard, a half-breed. Half-man and half-hobbit, good enough for neither and dangerous enough to be judged by my kin."

Fíli flinched.

Bilbo put an arm around him, "He's my son, and if your boys were fool enough to pick a fight, then they got what they got. Us Bagginses don't take insult quietly and us Tooks know how to throw a punch. Now you best be moving on back to your own folk to tend to your boys' injured pride."

"He broke my nose," one of the boys said pitifully around his hand.

"Well, now you'll know that height isn't everything in a fight," Bilbo said. "Growing up is all about life lessons."

Fíli bit back a laugh, and it was easy, because he didn't feel much like laughing after he had been treated so rudely.

They called him half-breed, half of both of them.

What would they say of him if they knew he was a dwarf?

Perhaps that he belonged with neither of them.

"Come, Fíli, it's time for supper," Bilbo said, leading him away.

The men retreated, apparently having enough pride to not want to further acknowledge their sons' weaknesses.

"I'm sorry, Da," Fíli said.

"Hush now. I'll rebraid your hair after you wash up. We'll head back home tomorrow," Bilbo said.

"The rumours will beat us there," Fíli grumbled.

Drogo snorted, "He's not wrong, Bilbo."

"Frodo will be pleased to be the first to hear them then," Bilbo deflected primly.

Fíli smiled.

oOo

Bilbo wished he could have given that trader worse than a black eye.

Before they left Buckland, he sent a letter to Rivendell.

Which proved the wisest thing to do. Because no sooner did they get home to Bag End the following night did the vultures come circling in.

"You belong in Bree, no half-breed deserves to inherit Bag End," Lobelia said.

Bilbo shut the door behind him, hoping Fíli would remain in bed.

"Now listen here, cousin, Fíli is a Baggins, not a Sackville-Baggins, a Baggins. He's mine son, and he'll inherit Bag End as his own."

"He's half a man," Lobelia said. "He'll never stay here, he'll never wish to. You should go to Bree even if that honourless woman who birthed him wants neither of you."

Bilbo could have slapped her, but he held himself in check, even if his tone was less than polite. "Listen here you greedy, wicked mouth, conniving witch. You will never live in Bag End, not you, nor your son, nor your grandchildren. If not Fíli, then Drogo and his Frodo will inherit my parents' smial. I've written my will and you're not in it."

Lobelia sniffed, "You've lost all respect, Mad Baggins. You had a child outside of wedlock. Your bastard son is a bully and you're a brawler. You invite travellers and big folk into your home all the time. I'll have you deemed a Disturber of the Peace."

"And you'll find out just how mad I can be if you don't keep disturbing my son and I!" he yelled, his temper snapping like the line on a fishing rod that caught a fish too big for it.

She sniffed again, before trotting off, nose held high.

Sighing, Bilbo re-entered his smial to find Fíli listening in at the door, eyes wet from suppressed tears.

"Da, I'm–"

"Don't you dare apologise," Bilbo said, locking the door before taking Fíli's hands in his own. "I knew we couldn't hide your nature forever. Glorfindel went to the Blue Mountains and the dwarves there told him nothing of your family. But if you want–"

"No!" Fíli cried, the tears spilling over. "Please don't make me go back. I–"

Bilbo squeezed his hand, "I am my mother's son. When I was your age, I used to go to Rivendell all the time. You are a dwarf, Fíli, there is a wider world out there. It's not merely boys from Bree you could learn to defend yourself from. You've a calling to follow and a craft to master."

"Da, I don't want to put you in danger."

"You'll outlive me, son. You cannot avoid the dwarves forever, you cannot be ashamed of what you are. Unless you would renounce Kíli's memory?"

It was a low blow but he could not allow his son to be ashamed of where he came from or who his kin were,

"No!" Fíli cried again. "No, never."

Bilbo put a hand on Fíli's cheek, "Then we will go Imladris and you will be proud of your beard when it grows in. One day, you will return to Ered Luin or visit the Iron Hills with your head held high, Son of Bilbo, Beloved Child of the Lord of Golden Flowers."

Fíli pulled him into a hug, "I love you, Da."

"I love you too, Fíli, more than anything or anyone in Middle Earth."

oOo

Nori put a hand over Kíli's where he was working, his fingers raw as he sanded the wood. "Come, you must rest."

Nori had been rather insistent on never being called uncle, as had Ori as he was only a year older than Fíli had been. Dori was the only one who didn't mind the title but he was too busy working himself into an early grave to spend much time with their brother's son.

Kíli put down his knife, stretching out his fingers.

"You've gotten rather good," Nori remarked.

"What do you think my brother would have chosen for his craft?" the prince asked.

"Something with metal, no doubt," Nori said. "Lad had a habit of stealing Frerin's daggers."

Kíli sighed, "Does it ever get easier? Do you ever miss them less?"

"I have not found it so," Nori admitted but clapped his nephew on the shoulder. "But we have others who love us, who we love in turn, and would be ever more grieved if they lost us too."

Kíli nodded.

"Your cheeks are getting awfully fuzzy," Nori teased, rubbing the boy's cheek.

Kíli batted his hand away, "Don't mock me when I will have a better beard than yours."

"That will depend wholly on if you take after Dis more than Mori. May Mahal bless you where Mori was overlooked."

Kíli stuck out his tongue but allowed himself to be guided out of the workshop and delivered back home.

Dori, who had been on guard duty, followed unabashedly behind them.

They knew it burned all the royals that they never had time to themselves, but they, their self appointed bodyguards, did their best not to stifle them.

Ori came running around the corner, Nori caught him by the shoulders and Dori immediately broke his cover and nearly bowled them over to get to Ori.

"What is wrong!?" Dori demanded, checking Ori over for injury.

Nori, Kíli, and Ori rolled their eyes as Ori rushed to answer, "Princess Dís accepted my apprenticeship to Balin! I get to work in the court!"

Dori deflated with a heavy sigh and muttered something about his brothers being the death of him.

Kíli laughed, "Only you would be excited about that."

Ori stuck out his tongue, "Well excuse me, if not all of us have crafts that create income."

"Ori, if your craft means I don't have to take notes in those Mahal forsaken meetings, I promise, no matter what anyone, including myself, says, yours is the most useful craft," Kíli said, hand over his heart.

Ori grinned, buoyant with excitement.

"Sounds like we ought to celebrate," Kíli said.

Ori flushed, "No, that's fine, I–"

"Amad was planning to have a picnic under the stars, it's supposed to be nice out," Kíli said. "Come on, cousin, nothing too special, but it doesn't cost us anything to have dinner together."

Ori's smile returned in full force and even Nori had to smile in turn to see the happiness returning to his family.

oOo

AN: Thoughts, ravens, or feedback?