Prompt from MAPMonstersArePerceptions.

Someone's named their newborn after X due to their actions to recover the mountain. Flustered is putting it mildly.

Bilbo Baggins was not unaccustomed to the strangeness of Dwarven traditions. He'd grown used to their boisterous feasts, intricacies in their craftwork, and the strength of their kinship. Especially since he had made the decision to leave Hobbiton, migrating to Erebor with Dwalin and his family.

Yet, nothing had prepared him for the moment he'd come to experience today.

It was a bright morning in Erebor when Bilbo noticed Dwalin coming down the hallway, his stride purposeful and his expression lighter than usual. Bilbo greeted him warmly, raising a hand, "Dwalin! Out and about so early?"

"Aye," Dwalin said, his voice gruff but softened by something unspoken, "Myra and I would like ya to come with me. There's somethin' you need to see."

Curious and just a touch nervous, Bilbo fell into step beside him. Dwalin led them to his private quarters – a warm, cozy room with a fire glowing cheerfully in the hearth. Myra was sitting there, looking more radiant than Bilbo had ever seen, and bundled in her arms was a small, swaddled figure. At her side stood Kralin, her older child, bouncing on his toes as he stared at his mother with the rapt curiosity of an older brother.

When Myra noticed Bilbo, her face broke into a gentle smile. "Bilbo! How lovely of you to come."

"Wouldn't miss it," Bilbo replied, his gaze drawn to the small bundle in Myra's arms. "And congratulations! The new addition to your family has finally arrived!"

Dwalin gave a small chuckle, his voice full of pride, "aye. This little one came to us only last night – much sooner then what Oin had predicted."

Bilbo's heart swelled as he stepped closer. He peered down at the infant's face, hardly more than a pink-cheeked nose and tiny, furrowed brow peeking out from under the swaddling. His heart ached with an unexpected fondness, and he smiled.

"She's beautiful," he said softly, "a very lucky child, indeed, to be surrounded by such warmth and love."

Myra and Dwalin exchanged a glance that Bilbo couldn't quite decipher. There was a rare look of tenderness in Dwalin's eyes, one that made Bilbo suspect there was something more to this introduction than met the eye.

After a moment, Dwalin cleared his throat. "We spent a long time thinking over her name. There were many fine choices we considered… but none of them felt quite right."

Bilbo blinked, glancing between Dwalin and Myra with a mix of wonder and confusion. "Naming a child is no small decision," he agreed softly, still not quite sure where they were leading.

Myra's gaze softened as she looked at her husband and then at Bilbo, "in the end, there was only one name that truly fit. She will be called Bilba."

It took a moment for the words to settle in, and when they did, Bilbo felt a warmth spread over him, turning his cheeks a vibrant shade of pink. His breath hitched, and he stammered, "Bilba… after me?"

Dwalin nodded solemnly, "aye. There's no greater honour we could think to give. This mountain is ours again because of your bravery, Bilbo Baggins. You gave us hope, and you showed us courage in ways we'd never seen. Myra and I want her to grow up remembering that strength and kindness can be found in all sorts – even in hobbits."

Bilbo felt his throat tighten with emotion. He blinked rapidly, but tears blurred his vision despite his best efforts to hold them back. "I… I don't know what to say," he whispered, shaking his head as he looked down at the baby, feeling a swell of pride he'd never felt before, "to be named after me… I hardly feel worthy."

Young Kralin chimed in, grabbing hold of Bilbo's hand and beaming up at him. "You're very worthy, Little Uncle Bilbo!" he exclaimed, his enthusiasm undimmed by the solemnity of the moment (with the ever so bothersome nickname Kralin picked up from Kili), "and now we can call her Little Bilba!"

Myra chuckled as she cradled her daughter closer, and Bilbo couldn't help but laugh, though his voice was thick with emotion. He reached out and gently placed a hand on Little Bilba's tiny, swaddled form. She stirred slightly, her small face scrunching in a way that made him smile even wider.

"You don't know how much this means to me," he murmured, glancing up at Dwalin and Myra, "there's no greater honour I could imagine."

Dwalin's hand settled on Bilbo's shoulder, the pressure firm yet comforting. "Yer more than a friend to us, Bilbo," he said, his voice low but filled with a gentleness that Bilbo had rarely heard, "you're family. And now you'll always be a part of it."

Bilbo nodded, feeling a tear slip down his cheek as he gazed down at the little girl bearing his name. "Welcome, Little Bilba," he whispered. "I'll do my best to live up to this honour – and make sure you grow up with all the stories I can tell."

Bilbo stayed a while longer, sharing laughter and tears with his friends. By the time he left, he could barely keep the grin from his face. For all his adventures and the riches he'd seen, there was nothing he treasured more than the love and kinship he'd found in Erebor, and in that quiet, fire-lit room, Bilbo Baggins had discovered a home that would forever be part of his heart.