A King's Blessing (Bagginshield - Hobbit fanfic)

As Thorin and Bilbo walked together through the great hall leading eventually to the Throne Room, a young Dwarf woman with a baby in her arms and a small child by the hand ran towards them. She stopped in front of Thorin, taking a long bow, then came up to him asking for what Bilbo interpreted as a blessing for her new baby. The first born in Erebor since its relative restoration. Very gallantly, Thorin approached her and bent over the little bundle. He smiled and caressed the baby’s cheek, whispering something in Khuzdul. As well as Bilbo could hear, it was a wish of long life and prosperity.

“What will you name him?” asked Thorin, stepping back at Bilbo’s side, after completing his kingly duty.

“If we may, Your Majesty, we want to name him Frerin, in honour of your brother.”

“An excellent choice,” approved Thorin, then glanced down at the baby’s older sibling, who was staring at him mesmerized. “And who are you?”

“This is Drain,” said the mother proudly.

Thorin crouched to Drain’s level and said hello. The child’s hand immediately went to the beaded cuff at the end of one of his braids. It was a deep-blue round sapphire lined with mithril.

“Drain!” the mother scolded.

Thorin glanced up. “It’s all right. You like this?” he asked, addressing the child. He then reached to his braid and took off the cuff.

“Your Majesty, please,” said the woman, sounding mortified.

Bilbo gave her a slight shake of the head. She relaxed, smiling back, but still appearing somewhat reserved in accepting what was happening as being part of normal routine.

Thorin took the child’s palm and placed the cuff in it, then folded it, both of his own hands closing around it affectionately.

“Thank you,” said the dwarfling, with a little smile.

Thorin chuckled. “You’re welcome.”

He stood up slowly, his eyes having caught Balin coming towards him. “I will leave you with Bilbo,” he said as the white-bearded dwarf approached.

The woman took another ample bow before him. Drain continued to stare.

Thorin received her thanks, and then extended a hand discretely to Bilbo, squeezing his. He was careful with public displays of affection. Bilbo squeezed back and smiled to him for goodbye.

“I will return him later,” said Balin winking and started back with Thorin in his trail.

The proud mother redirected her attention to Bilbo and the two of them huddled together over the newly blessed baby. Bilbo also acknowledged the older child, who was turning the bead that Thorin had given him in his hand, studying it closely. Any child would have been drawn to a colourful twinkling gem, but this was a Dwarf child, and there was something industrious to his scrutinizing.

“Do you want me to put that in your hair?” asked Bilbo. The child nodded, eagerly. “Yes? Well, come this way,” he said and led them into a nook carved into the wall especially for retreating from the traffic on the main hall. The three of them sat down and Bilbo started combing the child’s hair with his fingers as he lacked the proper equipment.

“Dwarven hair,” he muttered, “as stubborn as its owners.”

The mother giggled, but the child seemed taken now with the ruby cuff in Bilbo’s hair. That one was lined with tiny diamonds, much more brilliant than the mithril. Any adult Dwarf would have recognized it as a token of engagement, slightly more ornate than the usual, as it had been given by someone important. Bilbo still wore it even if, in the meantime, he had received something more final. As he began braiding the little boy’s hair, he reached up to it.

“Oh, you want that one, too, do you?” said Bilbo. “I’m afraid I can’t give it to you, little one.”

“Why?” asked the child.

“Well,” began Bilbo giving a quick glance to the mother, who returned a reverent gaze. “This bead that the King gave you, would you let go of it?”

“Never,” said Drain with much determination.

“I also got mine from the King and I can’t part with it either.”

“I understand.” In spite of his tender age, Drain obviously perceived the full meaning of a gift from the King, especially if it was valuable.

The matter settled, Bilbo looked up at the mother and she approved with a nod. “You are very good with children.”

“Mhm, you don’t have to look very hard to find them in the Shire,” said Bilbo, his fingers continuing to weave a tight little braid in Drain’s hair.

“And you’re quite skilled at braiding,” remarked the woman.

Bilbo glanced at her again, cocking an eyebrow. “I’ve had practice.”

She smiled endeared again. Everyone knew that the hobbit had been essential not only in the retaking of the mountain, but also in Thorin’s recovery after the battle.

“Of course, I realise not everyone gets to practice their braiding skills on the heir to the throne of Erebor. I’ve been lucky.”

“We are the lucky ones,” murmured the mother, and Bilbo looked her in the eye. There was kindness in them, but she was very serious. “Do you miss it? Your home?” she asked.

“Not anymore, not so much,” said Bilbo, finishing his work and finally putting Thorin’s cuff into Drain’s hair. He rushed to bring it to his front in order to admire it, beaming with a healthy dose of pride.

“I’m glad you decided to stay,” said the mother.

“It was an easy decision to make.”

She hummed as if she understood exactly what Bilbo meant. “I hope you know how grateful we are to you. Not just for helping with the quest. His Majesty has had a hard life. It is a relief to see him happy for a change. Perhaps there are better times in store for us yet.”

“I think so, but he has many reasons to be happy now that he’s got his mountain back.”

“Yes, but nothing can make a Dwarf happier than love.”

“Well, it does us Hobbits some good, too.”

“Yes, it is quite obvious. My home is full of love, Master Baggins. I know it when I see it,” she said, squeezing the hobbit’s hand gently.

“Call me Bilbo,” he answered, feeling his face warming rather abruptly.

“Well, Bilbo, it makes me sleep better at night to know that my king shares in the quiet happiness that I have with my family, that he knows the value of it, and that when the day ends he doesn’t go to an empty bed to dream of gold.”

Bilbo lowered his gaze to his hands, which were now resting on his knees. “I, I don’t know what to say.”

“Don’t say anything,” said the woman, getting up, but placing her hand again over Bilbo’s. “Just know that you are loved.”

Bilbo looked up at her and wanted to say something, but it was her turn to wave him quiet with her head. He closed his mouth and got up, as the woman bowed her goodbye, prompting her older son to do the same. He stood there watching until they disappeared into the long distance of the hall. Around him, nods of acknowledgement kept coming his way from passers-by. It was nothing unusual, but he had simply thought that Dwarves proved more polite in times of prosperity than everyone else gave them credit. Perhaps it was more than that.

~

As night settled over the mountain, Bilbo walked out through the main gate into the chilly air. He stood there for a while, his thoughts taking flight over the valley, white with the first snow, and through the lights of Dale. The ringing of shuffling armour behind him brought him back, announcing that the guards were withdrawing to give the King his due privacy. Soon enough, he was wrapped in Thorin’s furs and pulled snug against his body.

“Why are you not wearing your winter coat?” he grumbled just above Bilbo’s head.

“I suppose I forgot to take it with me,” said Bilbo.

“Or is it a ruse to get me out here?”

“Perhaps it is. Besides, this is quite a view. Worth enjoying every once in a while.”

“Mmm, quite,” agreed Thorin. He remained silent for a time, his arms closing tighter around the hobbit.

Bilbo leaned his head back into his chest, feeling rather nice and comfortable. “Are you happy, Thorin?” he asked, his own voice sounding more questioning to him than he had intended it to sound.

“Yes, of course I am,” answered Thorin, shifting a bit, understandably puzzled. “Are you not?”

“I am,” said Bilbo smiling and turned a bit to look up at Thorin, trying to appear as convincing as he could. “Oh,” he doubled back a little and his smile waned at the sight of the King’s crown perched proudly on Thorin’s head. He didn’t wear it unless he had official dealings with the outside world. This had apparently been one of those days.

“What?” asked Thorin, positively frowning.

“Ah, nothing,” said Bilbo coming back to some sense. “I, uh, can’t seem to get used to that.”

Thorin’s face lightened up slightly. “Why did you ask me that?”

“Well, because,” began Bilbo resuming his former position, looking in the opposite direction from Thorin’s crowned head. “I had an interesting conversation with that nice lady today.”

“Oh?”

“She said that they are grateful to me because I make you happy.”

“That is a nice thing to say,” said Thorin, smiling and leaning his head against Bilbo’s. The golden sides of his crown felt hard and cold even through his hair.

“Yes. I think they want you to have a home life of your own, like they do, someone to go home to, you know, after you’re done being King for the day. Is that, is that what we have, Thorin? Does it really make you happier than if you were, well, than if we were not…”

Thorin turned Bilbo around to face him, swiftly enough not to disturb much of the warmth of their closeness. “Must you ask?” He looked and sounded a little offended. “Have I not made enough proof of my feelings?”

“No, you have. I,” stammered Bilbo, “I don’t know why I asked that. Of course I don’t need to ask. I’m sorry.” He burrowed his fists and face into the fabrics over Thorin’s chest. He felt a deep sigh growing there.

Thorin took Bilbo’s head into his hands and brought it up again to look him in the eye. “I am happier with you than I would have been without you. Much happier,” he said, smiling slightly. It was more in his eyes than on his lips, appearing more grey under moonlight than their usual blue.

“But you have the love of your people, and you have your family,” argued Bilbo.

“It seems that is not always enough. You were quite happy yourself in the Shire before we came.”

“I certainly thought I was.”

“And now?”

“Now I realize that I was… comfortable more than anything else. I didn’t think I needed more than I had. I didn’t think I needed… this. I was wrong.”

Thorin smiled properly and resumed his all-engulfing embrace, pulling Bilbo back to himself. “I do not know what tomorrow will bring, Bilbo. Whether we will wake to another peaceful day, or whether we will face death again. I only know that what we have together is the one thing that makes me truly happy. The rest is an honour that I have to bear with the utmost responsibility.”

“It makes me happy, too. And I will gladly help you bear that responsibility.”

“I know. We have had this conversation before, in public.”

Bilbo couldn’t help breaking into laughter, and looked back up to Thorin, who was quite amused himself, at his own remark, no less. “Shall we go back inside? My sister doesn’t approve of being late for supper.”

“Oh, no, I don’t imagine she does,” said Bilbo and the two of them walked together into the golden light radiating from the entrance to the mountain.

Behind them, the guards shuffled back to their stations.