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strawwritesfic · 1 year

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Frodo Baggins x Female!Hobbit!Reader: Girl

Summary: Frodo doesn’t really mean it about turning Merry and Pippins into toads, but there are times he wonders if that wouldn’t make things a little easier on everyone else.

Rating/Tags: All (Movie canon; during canon; Fellowship of the Ring; A Long-Expected Party; Pippin & Merry; Pippin & Merry & Frodo; Frodo & Gandalf; Sam/Rosie; quarreling; love confession; birthday party; the Shire)

Challenge: “160 Collective Drabbles” challenge by BobaPop on Lunaescence Archives.

Tag List: @imaginesfire

Girl

Bilbo’s eleventy-first birthday party had been the talk of the whole Shire for almost the entire year that led up to it. Every hobbit in the town of Hobbiton—and many more from the outlying regions—was invited to the massive celebration. To the young Frodo Baggins wandering through the crowd, it seemed that each and every one of them had come. Plus some, he judged, as a line of his uncle’s well-wishers nearly crushed him in their eagerness to get to the buffet. He had seen nearly everyone he cared to, including Merry and Pippin and Rosie and Sam...save for the one person he had hoped to see most.

The weight in Frodo’s stomach grew heavier and heavier the longer his search for you went on. Could it be that you hadn’t come? Of all the hobbits to skip his coming of age party—and to add to that, he knew that it was his fault if you had! If only he had not said what he’d said just that very week. Then maybe, maybe—

“Frodo!”

He looked up to see Merry and Pippin waving at him from beside the band playing for the wide field of dancers between Frodo and his friends. Both grinned widely upon catching his eye. Unable to entirely hide his disappointment, Frodo morosely picked his careful way through the throng of party-goers to the pair. Neither of them stopped smiling.

“Why the long face, Frodo?” Merry asked.

“Are you still looking for [Name]?” added Pippin.

Frodo looked over his shoulder at the constantly-shifting dancers, half-expecting to see you there with some other neighborhood tween. He did not. Pippin’s grin widened as Frodo turned back to him and Merry.

“Never fear,” Pippin gave Frodo a hearty clap on the back, “for we have found your maiden fair.”

Frodo tried to protest this, but Merry overrode him: “A little bird told us precisely where you can find her.”

“Who was the little bird?” asked Frodo.

Merry shrugged carelessly and reached for a passing tray of ales. “Gandalf,” he answered, passing Pippin a drink of his own while the latter nodded sagely.

“You know, I rather think Gandalf suspects us of something, Merry.”

“I believe you are correct, Pippin. And that he believes sending us on this errand to help Frodo will keep us from any mischief.”

“A pity for Gandalf. Everyone has to be wrong from time to time, I suppose, even great wizards such as he.”

Both sniggered into their mugs. Frodo waited for them to get to the point. They didn’t. At last, unable to wait any longer, he said:

“Well? Where is she?”

Merry gave a slight start, as though he had forgotten that Frodo was even there. He pointed off towards the edge of the main tent.

“Her mother has her helping with the catering, or so [Name] claims.”

“So you’ve spoken to her?”

Pippin shook his head. “Threw a plate right at my nose when we tried. You’ll probably have better luck.”

“I doubt it,” Frodo murmured.

After gulping down the last of his ale, Merry made a shooing motion with his free hand. “Well, run along and find out, why don’t you? And if you see Gandalf along the way, tell him we passed along his message and were perfectly well-behaved for the duration of our conversation.”

Frodo knew that he ought to have been more concerned with his companions’ plans. If Gandalf desired to keep them occupied, it was probably for the best. A lot of planning had gone into this party. Merry and Pippin were more likely to ruin it with their particular brand of trouble than any of the other guests—and that included the horrible Sackville-Bagginses. On the other hand, Gandalf must have wanted Frodo to talk to you, if he’d gone out of his way to give him your whereabouts.

It hardly mattered. Before Frodo could breech the topic of whatever trouble the two were up to that evening, they had disappeared into the crowd. Oh, well. He hadn’t really wanted to tell them off anyway. His heart just wasn’t in it.

Relieved of this duty—though not without feeling some slight trepidation over what Merry and Pippin might have planned—he made his way in the direction indicated. This led him straight to a smaller tent set off from the rest of the festivities. Frodo joined the fast-moving line to the entrance and eventually came close enough to peek inside. A veritable hive of busy hobbits in uniform bustled endlessly before him.

None of them seemed to notice him slipping into the warm darkness after them. Everyone was far too busy with their assigned task. Here the party’s considerable amount of food was prepared, and none of the workers had time to rest. A constant stream of them carrying plates both empty and full moved in and out from the tent’s entrance flap. Heat from exertion and so many cooking fires pressed against Frodo’s skin until he was quite as pink in the face as those doing the baking. Of course, he found you at the very back, scowling over a steaming tub of water filled with dirty serving platters.

He was not surprised you were hiding among the cooks. Your mother was considered one of the top chefs in Hobbiton, and Bilbo had hired only the best for his eleventy-first birthday party. What did surprise Frodo was your expression. Rarely had he seen you appear so dour, and you hadn’t even spotted him yet.

“Pardon me, Mister Frodo,” said a man at Frodo’s back, “but if you wouldn’t mind scooting out of the way, I’d be much obliged. We’re rather in a hurry.”

Frodo hastily crossed the aisle in which he’d been lingering. The man’s additional, “and a very happy birthday to you, sir,” was lost on him, for at that very moment your eyes flashed upward to catch him in the act of spying. You dropped the platter in your hands, but being pinned in by the hobbits washing plates on either side of you, you could make no escape. One of the washers left, only for Frodo to step into the empty space.

You crossed your arms across your chest, and shot him a look eerily reminiscent of your mother. “What are you doing here?”

“It’s my party,” Frodo answered, “as well as Bilbo’s.”

Apparently this was the wrong answer, because you threw him a dirty look and bent to snatch your dropped plate from the sudsy water. “Then go enjoy your party,” you snarled, attacking a stuck on bit of potato with more vigor than Frodo thought necessary.

He inched closer, the better to stay out of the way of those continually coming to deposit dinnerware in need of washing. “I can’t,” he said. “I don’t have anyone to talk to.”

Your mother had explicitly freed you from catering duty for the party. She had done it as a favor to Frodo, an early birthday present, she had said. Why, then, did you seem so insistent on doing what wasn’t your job for the evening? Without bothering to look at him, you dropped your tray back into the tub, then reached over the resulting splash for a new plate.

“I’m sure Merry and Pippin would be more than happy to talk with you,” you said coldly.

“I don’t think I want involved with whatever they’re up to.”

“Bilbo, then.”

“He’s busy playing host.”

“Gandalf.”

“How would he keep an eye on Merry and Pippin?”

You threw your hands up in the air in frustration, and lost your grip on the plate. “Why not Sam?”

Frodo shuffled his feet. You were nearing the subject of your fight, whether you realized or not. “He and Rosie are dancing.”

Nose wrinkled, you rummaged through the water in search of your platter. “Well, I don’t know what to tell you, Frodo. Those are all the boys I know, and your only friends. After all, you told me yourself we can’t be friends, because I’m a girl.”

His wide blue eyes closed in shame. Frodo had said that. He hadn’t meant it. The whole thing had been badly bungled, and now he didn’t know how to un-bungle it, or if you’d even give him the chance to try.

“I didn’t mean it like that, [Name].”

You did not answer this time. Having retrieved your wet things, you made a silent, angry beeline for a rack of clean towels to dry them with. He followed as quickly as he could, given how many hobbits were inside such an enclosed area. He wished he wasn’t having this fight so publicly—not that anyone really had the time to eavesdrop.

“[Name], I didn’t,” he insisted as he caught up to you. “You’re a girl.”

“Oh, very astute observation,” you said semi-hysterically. Now the pitch of your voice was drawing attention. “What would I do without you? I already figured out I was a girl because, in case you haven’t noticed, we're no longer friends!”

Frodo took a deep breath. Like mother like daughter—though he supposed you were still a tween, with your own coming of age several months away still. Either way, he was terrified of your rage, but this might be the last chance he got to explain himself. Bracing himself, he lightly looped one hand around your wrist. You fell into an enraged silence at once.

“You’re a girl and my friend,” he said, before you had the opportunity to recollect yourself. “When I said I didn’t have any friends that were girls…well, I meant that you’re something more.”

“What?” you said after a moment of struggle.

Encouraged by your not making to run off again, Frodo slipped his hand from your wrist to your palm. “I didn’t mean that we weren’t friends. I was trying to ask you to dance with me. I just didn’t phrase it right.”

A strange noise like a cross between a giggle and a squeak escaped you. You still had not forced him to release you. “You wanted to dance? With me?”

The odd tone of your voice gave Frodo some doubts. You were not normally the kind of person to repeat others either. He offered you a hesitant nod.

“I didn’t mean to make you think you mean less to me than Sam and the rest. You don’t. You mean more. But,” he added when you remained as stiff as a statue in front of him, “if you want to just stay friends, I understand. So long as we’re still friends.”

Seconds went by as you continued to gape at him. His heart sank, and he let go of your hand at last. Yes, he understood you wanting to remain friends, but that didn’t mean he wasn't disappointed by this turn of events. Bilbo’s occasional asides about broken hearts made sense now. Frodo mashed his lips together for a long moment before he gathered his wits about him to take his leave.

“You’re busy," he said awkwardly as he backed away. "Bilbo will be looking for me. We’ll talk some other—”

“Of course I’ll dance with you!”

Frodo had barely got two steps toward the crowded tent exit when you practically tackled him in a hug. Twisting in your grip, he looked around to see your scowl had transformed into an enormous smile.

“You will?” he said. Bewildered as he was, his heart felt ten pounds lighter even as you shuffled off him to allow him room to stand.

“Yes! I—I like you as more than a friend, too. I’d love to dance with you. If,” you looked suddenly shy, “if you still want to after I was so mean.”

“You weren’t mean. I said the wrong thing. I got nervous.”

You smiled again, a little less brightly this time. “So…still more than friends?”

“More than friends,” he said. “But can you leave? Will your mother let you?”

“Are you kidding? She’ll serve me next if she catches me hiding from you in here.”

Just like that, you both were hand in hand again. Frodo squeezed yours firmly in his own. “Let’s go. I think I can get the band to play—”

KABOOM!

Everyone in the tent yelped and froze. Plates trembled. Frightened hobbits dropped their plates. You threw Frodo a knowing look.

“Pippin and Merry?” you asked.

“Pippin and Merry,” Frodo said wearily. “Let’s go see what sort of trouble they got in this time.”

“Then we dance?”

“Then we dance.”

The two of you ducked out of the food tent and headed for where Gandalf and a cluster of half-drunk hobbits—all grumbling over the fright they had received—were gathered.

It was hard for Frodo to be too upset with Merry and Pippin after they’d help him get together with you. Gandalf had, too, however, so it could be that they were about to get what they deserved. It all depended on how much time this business took, and if Frodo at last got to have his long-awaited birthday dance.

On second thought, he hoped Gandalf turned them both into toads. It would be faster, Frodo thought, and after all, Gandalf could always turn them back...after you and Frodo had your dance.

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moonrainbowfish · 2 years

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The Hobbits raising gn!child!reader

Bilbo Baggins

First this Hobbit comes back from an "unrespectable" adventure and now he's taking care of some lost child he found near outside the Shire, nah this just ain't right was what his neighbors thought, but Bilbo Baggins, son of Belladonna and Bungo begged to differ. He'll teach you all about what it means to be a Baggins. He's never had any biological children of his own, but it didn't really matter if you were blood-related, or not. Bilbo cares about you like a father. Not having much experience in parenting does make him kind off anxious sometimes. He's just scared you'll get hurt, or those bloody Sackville-Bagginses would try to scare you away, but he'll stand up to them and send anyone who dares to try to hurt his little darling, home with their tails between their legs because let's be honest. Bilbo's probably grown a spine, maybe two after his adventure. When he takes Frodo in, you two become like siblings, causing all sorts of mischief and pranks around the Shire, much to Bilbo's annoyance but it did warm his heart to see his child and nephew becoming such good friends.

Frodo Baggins

Oh this traumatized hobbit, bless his little heart. He'd do anything for his child. He'd be a gentle parent in my opinion. After having endured so much pain and suffering Frodo just wants his child to have the best life. He would never ever want to them to endure the same pain he has. Frodo would also try to spend a lot of time with his kid, telling them about his favourite stories and about the journey to Mordor. He had lost his parent at a very young age for hobbits so Frodo makes sure to give you as much attention as possible and in a way you're his little sunshine that reminds him of much happier days. If it weren't for you, his beloved child, he'd never thought he'd feel the same happiness ever again he felt before the one ring came to him. You're the little light in his life he never knew he needed and he's so happy he gets so see you grow up and he will always care about you.

Samwise Gamgee

I think that Samwise Gamgee has always dreamed of having his own family one day, preferably a big one. So when he saw you, a lost injured child without a home, he immediately took you in. His father, the Gaffer became like a grandfather to you and Sam's siblings, especially his sisters were always doting over you, knitting, sewing you clothes, or giving you their old toys. Sam would teach you how to cook and when you get sick, he'd make you some vegetable soup and you'll feel better in no time. Gardening is also one of the things your dad Sam would teach you and when Elanor and his other children are born he feels like the happiest hobbit dad in the world, because who else would have such a delightful big family. Seriously, there's never a boring moment and Sam and his wife Rosie love you all with all their hearts. It didn't make a difference to him if you weren't a hobbit and ended up being way taller than him or not, you'll always be his little potato.

Rosie Cotton

This lovely hobbit lady is so underrated and it's a crime. I really wish we knew more about her, but Rosie always striked me as a super sweet and friendly gal. One day she found an abandoned child in the Shire and being the sweethearted Miss that she is, she took them home and started caring for them. Even bringing them to her workplace where the other hobbits would look in awe at "her" cute child. When Elanor is born Rosie was so happy for her little one to have a big sibling now and all of her other children would look up to them as well, getting in all sorts of play fights and mischief with Rosie and her husband Sam smiling at their beautiful family. She would sew you new clothes and bake you the most delicious pies ever. Rosie would absolutely be a kind and wonderful mother and she is grateful for her gorgeous family.

Meriadoc Brandybuck

Now this hobbit lad is definitely more clever than other people give them credit for, so when he becomes a dad, he'd really give some off his wisdom to his child. Telling them stories about how he and Éowyn defeated the Witch King and when Pippin and him got captured by orcs. Speaking of Pippin, this rascal would definitely become sort of an uncle to you and you couldn't ask for a more funnier one than him. Merry definitely matured a lot after the journey, so when Pippin tells you stories about how he and Merry stole food from farmers, he'd glare at his cousin, because Merry doesn't want you to get any wrong ideas, much to yours and Pippin's amusement. But despite everything, Merry is very proud to be your dad. It doesn't matter if you're a hobbit, elf, dwarf, or other, he deeply cares for you and always will. And I'm more than sure his wife Estella will cherish you like her own child as well.

Peregrin Took

When he was younger, Pippin got scolded for being too childish and being the son of Paladin, a very important member of hobbit society, he grew up to be his heir. Pippin would remind you to keep that joyful side of yours, to embrace it. Now he wouldn't encourage you to steal from farmers like he did, when he was a youngling, but he would remind you to stand up for yourself and never let anyone make you feel small, or useless. During the journey to destroy the ring, he was the youngest of all the Fellowship members, so I'm certain there were at least a few times when he felt underestimated, so Pippin makes sure his child gets to live life to the fullest, having a happy childhood, enjoying the simple pleasures of life and having fun. His older sisters would take good care of you too and they're the best aunts you could ask for. When he marries Diamond and little Faramir is born they are so happy to have you as a part of their lovely family and that their youngest gets to grow up with the best big sibling in the whole Shire.

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pastanest · 1 year

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if you’re wondering why I’m having to repost this, or why you were perhaps previously following me but no longer are, please refer to this post. I was able to retrieve this thanks to the very lovely friends who have relentlessly sifted through tumblr archives to recover them, thank you all so much!! ♡

Courting Samwise Gamgee Would Include

- when Sam decided to join Frodo on his journey, he was barely out of the Bagginses front door when he stopped and said “Well, I s’pose I’d better go get (Y/N)”

- and Frodo just nodded, because he knew that if Sam was going anywhere, you’d be there in a heartbeat, no matter how dangerous the journey ahead was going to be

- and although you arent particularly interested in the idea of fighting, none of the Fellowship mind, because your immediate role in the group is to take care of everyone - especially Sam

- you’re the best cook the Fellowship has ever known, and you make sure everyone always has enough supper, even with limited supplies

- you set bedtimes for the Fellowship, and they dont even dispute it, because despite being a gentle soul, you wont hesitate to use your “parent voice”

- but Sam loves how effortlessly you get along and fit in with everyone, how well you cope under the stress of everything, because you keep yourself focussed on your main concern: taking care of those around you

- in your head, you can ignore all the horror around you if you just focus on cleaning up wounds, cooking good food, and putting smiles on people’s faces, and Sam loves that about you

- his favourite part of every night is staying up on watch, because you will always sit with him, the two of you occasionally talking quietly, but mainly just enjoying the silence of the night, the soft smiles on your faces and the feeling of your head on his shoulder

- you manage to avoid battle with incredible skill, and on the occasions when you do get caught in something, you can usually handle yourself until Sam shows up to rescue you

- but on the rare occasions when you’ve gotten hurt, Sam has lost his mind. even if it’s just a scratch, he’ll be pacing around the whole camp, running his hands through his hair, not talking to anyone until he’s told that he can go and see you

- and then he’s kneeling at your side, crying and holding your hand

“I thought I lost you!”

“Sam, I tripped over my own feet.”

- having his favourite piece of home by his side all the time does Sam the world of good, and he never lets you forget it

- whenever something funny happens, he looks to you to see if you’re laughing too, and if you werent there when something funny happened, he’d run back to camp as fast as he could to tell you and make you laugh

- when the Fellowship is on the move, Sam is always holding your hand, and every so often he gives you the softest of smiles, because he’s just so grateful to have you with him

- you’re there for him when he’s worried about Frodo, you’re his reassurance, his whole world revolves around you, which is one of the main reasons that he hates how evil the world is becoming

- when Gollum forces Frodo to believe that Sam has bad intentions, you go absolutely mental, , and the fiery passion that you hold in your eyes for defending your lover’s honour reminds Frodo of just how good Sam really is, but it’s too late

- you leave with Sam, but the two of you know that it isnt right, and after a lengthy conversation and Gamgee tears soaking your clothes, you persuade Sam to go back after Frodo

- the one thing that reminds Sam of The Shire more than anything else, is when the two of you are falling asleep, with his head on your chest and your hands running through his curly hair

- because in that moment, when his eyes are shielded from the world around him, he can imagine that he’s back at home, in bed with you, sleeping peacefully. he can convince himself that everything’s alright

- and the best part about you, is that even when Sam wakes up, you are the first thing he sees, and he doesnt have to convince himself that everything is alright, because he just knows that it is, as long as you’re there

#samwise gamgee #samwise gamgee x reader #samwise gamgee imagine #lord of the rings #x reader #lotr #imagine #imagines #fanfic #fanfiction

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mordoriscalling · 1 year

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Assurance and Authority (4/25)

Post-BOTFA Persuasion Au: Bilbo returns to the Shire after the Quest, having rejected Thorin’s proposal of marriage. For years after, he struggles with regret. When he and Thorin meet again, he knows better than to hope.

Chapter 4 also available on AO3

(Ch 1) (Ch 2) (Ch 3)

The Great Smials in Tuckborough, the ancestral home of the Tooks, was a system of numerous smials connected by a multitude of tunnels, in which the Tooks had been residing for generations. The place was a remarkable piece of construction, which constituted a home to many a dozen families and still allowed them to host guests. Despite that, the Smials were typically rather crowded on normal days, but there were times when the place was nearly packed to the brim with hobbits, which occurred if many guests were visiting at the same time.

Such was the case when Bilbo took Primula up on her invitation. Prior to his arrival, Primula had come to Tuckborough from Buckland together with her husband and son, two sisters Amaranth and Asphodel, her mother Mirabella and her father Gorbadoc Brandybuck, as well as half a dozen of their relatives. The reason for their visit to Tuckborough was both a familial and a diplomatic one - they all wished to see their Took relatives, and Gorbadoc, the Master of Buckland, wanted to meet with his nephew Fortinbras II, the current Thain of the Shire.

With the Great Smials so overcrowded, there was scarcely a chance of not bumping into any hobbit after leaving one’s room. Bilbo, when he passed someone in the corridors of the Smials, more often than not ended up seeing one of Primula’s immediate family. This was not unfortunate in itself, but the problem was that they all liked to confide in Bilbo about their problems and tiffs, which often concerned Primula’s husband Drogo.

"My dear Bilbo,” aunt Mirabella told him one morning on their way to breakfast, "I must say that I did promise myself not to meddle in the affairs of any of my daughters, but bless me, I have no very good opinion of the way Drogo intervenes with how Prim rears Frodo. He always has objections to how she encourages his curiosity and lectures Frodo about what’s respectable. The lad is just a little fauntling, for goodness’s sake!”

"Bilbo, my dear boy,” uncle Gorbadoc said when he and Bilbo chanced upon each other in a pantry, "Since you’re the head of the Bagginses, I wonder if there’s something you you could do to arrange for Drogo to have more earnings? I’m sure he could use more money to indulge his appetite better. Why, he dines with us at least twice a week, and he always eats for three every time! Not that I mind, but I’m sure it would put him at ease to be able to buy more food for himself.”

"Whilst you’re here,” Amaranth murmured to Bilbo while they helped with washing the dishes, "Could you possibly give Drogo a hint that it would be better if he didn’t try to take precedence over papa? We know you Bagginses are an esteemed lot, but Drogo has no authority in Brandy Hall, Baggins or not.”

‘No matter how much Drogo insists on them, papa doesn’t care about proper table manners,” Asphodel said while she and Bilbo were baking lemon cake, "It’s good food he cares about.”

Primula herself had a thing or two to say as well. "I can take care of Frodo just fine without Drogo’s lectures,” she grumbled to Bilbo one evening over tea. ‘I know our boy is a Baggins and with that come certain expectations, but he’s just as much a Brandybuck as he’s a Baggins!” She sighed. "And I wish you could have him assured that nothing would happen to him when boating if only he allowed me to teach him how to swim. Perhaps you could talk some sense to him, Bilbo? Swimming is really something that one should be able to do.”

When Bilbo tried to raise these concerns with Drogo, most of his attempts were futile, as Drogo had just as many issues to complain about.

"Oh, Bilbo, you have no idea how relieved I am!” he said once when they enjoyed a smoke by the Great Door. "To have a Baggins around who understands me! Really, Brandybucks are too strange for me sometimes. How can they go boating, I will never understand. It can’t be safe. And to think Primula wanted to take Frodo boating too! To endanger our boy so! You must try to tell her to be more reasonable, Bilbo.” Another time, he said, "The very thought of going boating makes me feel ill. You have seen Brandywine, you know how wide and deep that river is. Merely being near it makes me uneasy, and living next to so much water makes my joints ache. I swear, it’s all because of that moist river air. I’m so relieved to have come here, I feel better indeed. I wish I had another Baggins with me in Buckland, then I’d be seen and heard. Perhaps you could talk to them in a way that would make them understand me?”

The unsolicited role of a mediator began to tire Bilbo profusely. His only respite from it was being outside of the Great Smials altogether, which was why he took to long walks most eagerly. Often accompanied by Primula, Frodo and many other fauntlings, Bilbo would wander around the green hills of Tuckborough, exploring its colourful meadows, charming groves and little brooks.

When not busy entertaining or watching the little ones, Bilbo found his mind wandering as much as his feet did. He tried his best not to dwell on the past, instead turning his thoughts to the problem at hand. It was not the first time that he bore witness to all the disagreements stemming from Primula’s marriage to Drogo. Since they had been wed six years ago and welcomed their son into the world a year later, the couple had been facing a problem of not seeing eye to eye on certain matters with one another and each other’s relatives. That was not to say they were unhappy together; they were greatly fond of each other, loved their son dearly, and found as much charm as fault in each other’s differences. Rather, Bilbo worried that, because of their financial circumstances, they were too dependent on Primula’s parents and thus, having no prospects of moving elsewhere, they were always bound to living near disapproving family members. Such conditions fostered only conflict and could not be beneficial for their union in the perspective of decades. Bilbo believed that the situation was likely to lead to unhappiness, and Primula’s well-being concerned him greatly; the lass, eighteen years his junior, was one of his relatives that were most dear to him.

She had always been a curious spirit ever since she had been little, and when she had been old enough to speak, she would always seek Bilbo out during family gatherings, at the time when Bilbo had been past his second eleventy birthday and everyone had already labelled him as quite a bit of a recluse. Little Primula, being a tiny fauntling, had not cared about the general opinion of him and befriended him right away. She had stayed constant in her liking of Bilbo for all her childhood, and the two had formed a strong connection, similar to that of siblings. Once Primula grew older, their bond had been nurtured by them both, which Bilbo could not have been more grateful for, especially since it had been Primula more than any other who had helped Bilbo overcome the grief of becoming an orphan.

Due to their closeness, Bilbo worried about Primula’s happiness a lot, so much so that one day he did ask her about it outright.

“Are you happy, Prim?” he said during one of their outings, on a sunny afternoon at the beginning of Wedmath. They had played hounds and hares with Frodo and a dozen other fauntlings earlier, after which the whole group enjoyed a picnic. Now that the children had had their rest, they were up again, playing leaf flutes at the top of the hill, which Bilbo and Primula were slowly climbing.

“Of course I am, Bilbo,” she replied. “I have a family of my own now, a healthy child, whatever else could I wish for?”

Bilbo frowned, displeased with her answer, for he knew far too well what one with family and a child but no place to call their own would dearly wish for. “Primula,” he said, “If you ever find yourselves in need of a different smial to stay, Bag End’s doors are always open to you, for as long as you wish.”

“Why, Bilbo, I could never impose on you so!”

“Come, now, Prim, it’s an invitation freely given. Besides, I’m sure Drogo would find the comforts of Bag End most beneficial to his health.”

At that, Primula laughed out loud. “He would indeed. There would be nothing better for his joints than the ability to run a hot bath at will!” She sobered. “Still, you’re too good, Bilbo. I cannot find it in myself to abuse your generosity like this.”

“It’d be no abuse! It’s simply the least I could do. I wish you to take me up on this invitation.”

“Bilbo, please. You must realise that it’s not easy for me to accept charity.”

“Charity? It’s not charity. I’m much more selfish in my offer than you can imagine.”

“How so?”

Before Bilbo could reply, one of the fauntlings above shouted a question about whether the group could go play in the creek on the other side of the hill, which Primula gave them permission to do.

“My adventure has changed me very much,” Bilbo said once the little ones disappeared from view. ‘Before, I was more than happy to eat my dinners alone. Once most of my grief of losing mama and papa passed, I loved my solitude. Then, my adventure showed me what I had been missing, and now I can scarcely like lack of companionship.”

“I see,” Primula replied, and that was all they said on the matter.

They walked in companionable silence, reaching the top of the hill. Bilbo began to imagine what it would be like to have Primula, Drogo and Frodo live with him and he found the idea exceedingly pleasing. He had always believed that his father had built Bag End for it to be full of laughter; the smial standing near empty seemed to be a terrible waste that had been weighing on Bilbo’s heart and mind for some time now.

When Bilbo and Primula were about to descend the hill to join the fauntlings at the creek, a call from behind them caught their attention.

"Mister Bilbo!”

It was a tween lad, running up to them together with another boy, whom Bilbo recognized to be Hamson and Halfred, the two oldest children of Bilbo’s gardener Hamfast Gamgee. The boys were visibly red in the face even from some distance away.

"Mister Bilbo!” Hamson cried again. "We’ve been looking for you!”

The two lads finally stood before them, panting heavily.

"Papa sends us,” Halfred said. "There were three dozen dwarven soldiers marching through Hobbiton before noon, and a few of those dwarves knocked on Bag End’s door! They even asked him where you were, mister Bilbo. Papa said you’d want to know.”

"Are they friends of yours, mister Bilbo?” Hamson asked.

“I don’t know,” shocked Bilbo replied, as was the truth. “Perhaps.”

Bilbo had indeed invited the Company to visit his smial anytime. He had told them at what time tea was and even not to bother knocking, when he had bidden them farewell. Thus, Bilbo dearly hoped that the dwarven soldiers in question were some of his friends, but at the same time feared the heirs of Durin might’ve knocked on his door, even though the likelihood of that event was exceedingly small. Alas, before he could ask the boys if they knew anything about how the dwarves looked like, Frodo’s pained cry carried in the air.

#myfic #bagginshield #bilbo x thorin #persuasion au

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frodothefair · 7 months

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꧁ The Flowers of Mordor ꧂

Chapter 4 - The Flax and the Ax

READ ALL ON AO3

SUMMARY : Sam knows he cannot tear himself in two, but Frodo's struggles after the quest are worsening. Marigold Gamgee gets a job at Bag End, and grows close to its enigmatic master. J. R. R. Tolkien meets Jane Austen meets Tess of the D'Urbervilles. CHAPTER SUMMARY : Marigold helps Frodo get organized at Bag End, and learns of a surprising shortcoming in her education. Frodo offers to tutor her. PAIRING : Frodo/Marigold Gamgee, Frodo/Sam secondary GENRES : hurt/comfort, angst, slow burn romance, slice of life, girl next door WARNINGS : PTSD, depression, panic attacks, eating disorder, eventual spicy scenes RATING : M

PREVIEW :

She fought not to cover her face with her hands. Her stupid, daft, uneducated face that had no business being here with Mr. Frodo, who had apparently read so much that he had even learned Elvish.

“Well, wait a moment,” she heard Frodo’s voice above her – for she did not dare raise her eyes. “You’re not daft by any means. I watch you and I talk to you every day. Maybe Sam just didn’t know how to teach you? For goodness sake, you were both children.”

Marigold had what she thought was a secret. When she was younger, if ever there was a hobbit who gave her those kinds of feelings – the kind that make lasses pull petals off daisies and recite, “he loves me, he loves me not” – it was the interesting and handsome Mr. Frodo, and it was a natural consequence of being rescued by him from under the linden tree. Her practical mind knew it could not be: he was one of her “betters” after all, not close enough in age, and simply had no cause to ever notice her that way. So she had locked her feelings up in a far-off corner of her heart and turned to other, as she felt, more productive pursuits. Even when he rescued her and a number of other hobbits from the Lockholes after the Scouring, she did not allow herself to think of him that way, for after all, she had been one of many.

But when Sam had asked her to work for Mr. Frodo – alone with him, in his house, for many hours a day – she remembered her heart had broken inexplicably into a sprint, and she had to chide it to slow down and to stop being foolish.

Because Bagginses, after all, did not fall in love with Gamgees and healers were not allowed to fall in love with their patients, nor employees with their employers. It was a recipe for poor judgment and mistakes, and generally destructive to work ethic.

And Marigold, if anything, had very good work ethic. She was a Gamgee, after all, and Gamgees worked, from the moment they could stand up, and even Mrs. Bracegirdle, who was fond of admonishing her to “learn how to rest, or else you’ll spon-taneously com-bust, young miss,” had not walloped it out of her.

In fact, if Marigold was not fixing something, plugging up holes, or straightening what was crooked, she felt very easily at loose ends. At Bag End, however, there was, for the present moment, no danger of this.

The first thing that set her mind to work was, of course, Mr. Frodo himself.

There was clearly something amiss with him, and went far beyond Sam’s description of being deeply tired and in pain.

He would not sit by windows, or go outside unless it was absolutely necessary. When he spoke to her – and to Sam, too – he had an absence in his gaze, as if he was looking through them rather than at them. His story about the foreign ways of brewing tea seemed improbable to say the least. And when she spotted a mouse in the kitchen and reflexively launched a ladle at it – she was dangerous with kitchen utensils when she wanted to be, and was the terror of all vermin at Bagshow Row – Frodo jumped so high he nearly put a hole in the ceiling.

She made a note to never do that particular trick again.

Frodo was, of course, perfectly kind and obliging to her, and it didn’t seem like he was afraid of her – it was something rather more unseen and undefined that troubled him.

Indeed, even when he was not actively assisting in deciding where things would go, or putting things up where she, being short even for a hobbit, could not reach, he did not eschew her company. Rather often, he would sit in the same spaces as her, reading – though he did not turn the pages often at all – and looking, from time to time, in her general direction – rather like a cat, she thought, for there was something similar in the way he slowly blinked his eyes and had, in those moments, a relatively placid air that said, “yes, I do not mind being here with you.”

(Of course, no cat she had ever seen had blue eyes like that – save one, who, like Frodo, lived in a rich patient’s house, and, unlike Frodo, was white all over, pink-nosed, and deaf.)

And also rather like a cat, Frodo would get up abruptly at times, and leave without apparent reason or explanation, only a clipped apology. He would disappear into his room and stay away for an hour or more, and when he did, she, with some effort, quelled her desire to furtively listen outside because… Well, because she certainly wouldn’t have wanted someone listening in on her like that, so she couldn’t imagine he would be pleased with it.

At first, Marigold had half a mind to quiz Sam further on what was going on – but she had a feeling Sam himself did not know, which is why he had recruited her help. In which case he had been somewhat off the mark, since she knew a great deal about pre-birth nerves, post-birth melancholy, and even post-birth hysteria, a dreadful thing that made it necessary to separate mothers from children from time time, but when it came to Frodo (quite apart from him not being a woman in a pregnancy-related predicament), she had no inkling of how to address, or even name, what she was seeing. She even thought of going to Dr. Boffin in confidence – having cross-trained with him at Mrs. Bracegirdle’s behest – and describing Frodo’s circumstances under the guise of seeking anonymous council “for a friend.” But somehow she felt that Frodo would not want his affairs discussed in even that way, so she continued to watch, wait and listen. Skills translated, after all – on this point Sam had not been wrong – and if she envisioned Frodo as a cat, then he was a wounded one who had not seen kindness from others in quite a long time. What was one to do with such a being?

It was simple. Leave tokens of goodwill, offer good food, and wait for him to come to you.

And so she did not ask too many questions, did not call attention to strange behavior. She offered solutions, and it seemed to work, now and again. Frodo certainly ate more than a few bites of the new dish she had invented – even as Sam demanded where said dish had been all his life – and she started to make a list of soothing herbs that could be incorporated into tea. She started with mint – soothing for the stomach, certainly, then chamomile, lavender, passion flower and lemon balm. Frodo accepted all of them gratefully, but none seemed to change how he presented or behaved, even the strong brews – until she tried milk.

It had been a rainy day, and Frodo had come to take his tea in the kitchen, but as he reached for the kettle, she said, “Wait, I thought of something a tad different today.”

Frodo looked curious, and she produced a cup of warm milk she had prepared just minutes before – warmed in a saucepan, with a spoonful of honey stirred in, and cloves ground on top of it. She had even placed a sprig of small white flowers on the saucer, which she had picked on her way to work.

Frodo sat down and drank, giving a sad smile as he picked up the flowers and smelled them. She returned to stirring the broth on the hearth, skimming foam off the top as circumstance demanded, but watched Frodo out of the corner of her eye.

A tear formed over his bottom eyelid, and slid down his cheek, but he drank the milk until it was gone. Afterwards, he licked his lips and sighed, and took a deep breath – a slow, calm one for him — and spoke.

“Thank you,” he said, the remnants of tears still in his voice, though he was valiantly trying to hide them. “I haven’t had milk like this since I was little. How did you know?”

Marigold put down her spoon and came to sit by him. The rain was pattering matter-of-factly against the window, and it felt like the right thing to do.

Though they sat close, he didn’t move away, and didn’t seem to be made wary by her.

She wanted to give him a hug, or rub his back, but that would not have been proper. Maybe she would later ask Sam to give him a backrub — Sam’s back rubs were famous, and in the family they liked to say that he could make a second living off of them.

“Lucky guess, I s’pose,” she replied. The fact that milk was, in fact, a nerve tonic per her book-learning and also filled the stomach with nourishment, redoubling the effect, seemed quite besides the point.

After that day, tea time became milk time.

After some days of unpacking and cleaning, Marigold realized another, perhaps unsurprising thing.

Neither Frodo – nor apparently Bilbo before him in his older days – had any discernible organization system to their household. More often than not, when she asked Frodo where something went she only got vague answers to the tune of “I don’t really know, come to think of it,” “I don’t remember,” and “wherever I put it down, I suppose” – though the last was only amusing the first few times.

Of course, Frodo was that sort – unkind tongues would have called him airy-fairy or “head in the clouds” – but Marigold couldn’t be too unhappy with him. Still, given how many belongings he had – certainly more than all the Gamgees combined – she soon realized that here was another crooked thing that needed to be made straight, and another hole that needed to be plugged up, not the least for the sake of her own sanity as his caretaker.

To that end, she commissioned shelves, and lots of them, from Sam, and started sorting.

Frodo first watched the proceedings like they were some vague, absurd performance in a foreign language, but ultimately agreed that it made sense that maps were best separated from manuscripts, which in turn should be separated from books, while having pillowcases, sheets, and towels – kitchen ones here and bath ones there – all placed in separate cubby-holes, was likely to be quite convenient.

And as she sorted, Marigold became rather enamored with the process. She had always thought it calming, to do things methodically and repeatedly, and for everything to have its own place. She even cut pieces of paper to make labels, and before she knew it the pantry, the clothing rooms, and the two “library” rooms – for Frodo certainly had enough books and manuscripts to make a library – were like an apothecary’s shop, and she had made and affixed all the labels in half an afternoon’s time, while Frodo had disappeared into his room.

When he emerged, he acknowledged her efforts in his usual languid, sadly smiling manner, and said, “my goodness, Marigold, you really do leave nothing undone.” And she had lowered her eyes and laughed a little, saying it was nothing, Mr. Frodo, and that she had only been a little bored.

But a few days later, something happened.

She was putting away the shopping in the larder when her eyes fell upon a label she had made for a dry goods jar – the flax one in particular, which stood in the third row from the bottom on the end. The label size and shape were the same, but the handwriting was different – Frodo’s, from what she recalled of the letters and papers they had sorted. The letters were neat and tidy, uniformly spaced all in a line, like beads on a string. Her letters, on the other labels, though not for a lack of effort, were sloppy and lopsided in comparison: some sitting higher, some lower, some squeezed together while others were farther apart.

But something else was different, too. The word on the label that caught her eye was different: it conspicuously lacked the letter K.

She did not remember specifics about words often, but she remembered writing that K. She also did not have occasion to write often, but when she did she did not dislike it, and K was one of her favorite letters. It had a comforting, definitive rigidity to it, like the shaft of a dwarf’s ax. But instead, speaking of axes, there was an X in the word – definitive, too, but far more like a signal to stop, like something had gone wrong.

Why was there an X? Did Mr. Frodo like X’s? He might have done, knowing him…

She looked at the other labels. Some had been replaced. A number had not. She peered at the ones that had been replaced more closely, but could not find anything too different about them, except that the writing was Frodo’s.

She put down her bags – which she had still been holding – and hurried over to one of the closet rooms.

The same thing had happened there. Some labels had been replaced, some not. There were more replaced here.

She then made tracks for one of the libraries. Frodo was there. He was at the small table in the middle of the room, flipping through old maps, and looked up as if he knew she was there before she had made a sound.

“Yes, Marigold, is something the matter?”

He had acquired a gift in his travels for sounding like nothing was the matter, and all but willing that fact into existence. Like “matter” was something earthly and common, while he had a foot in another realm.

Was this how elves sounded?

She must have looked perturbed.

She did not answer immediately and looked at the labels on the shelves. Sure enough. Replaced. Most of them.

Something had indeed gone wrong. X.

Her arms grew heavy at her sides, and suddenly she wanted to sit. Frodo got up and nodded to his chair.

Manners.

Dear goodness. Nobody ever stood for her. Not even when she delivered people’s children.

She did not move, however.

“M-mister Frodo.” She tried to sound calm, unconfused. “I noticed some of the labels – the ones I made – were changed, begging your pardon. Is that –”

What exactly was she trying to say? She felt the words running away from her, scattering like roaches into dark corners.

But Frodo waited, even as she fumbled, and did not resume his seat. Instead, he actually took up the chair, and carried it over to her.

Marigold sank into it.

“What I mean is,” she gathered her words as best she could, “Did you – did you want me to make them differently? If so, just let me know… I don’t mind – I don’t want you troubling yourself –”

Frodo leaned against the table – a matter-of-fact… something forming on his lips.

“I’m sorry.”

Sorry?! Him?!

“I’ve already given you so much work to do, and you work so hard, Mari. You’re probably tired, and pressed for time. So I suppose – I suppose I just couldn’t help myself; I’m a bit… particular about some things.”

He really did sound apologetic. He paused, twiddling the button on his waistcoat with his left hand. The right was positioned, as if accidentally, behind him on the table.

“But Mr. Frodo” – a few moments’ sitting had given her enough rest, and she found her inquisitive nature creeping back. “What things? I’d like to know, so I don’t make the same mistake again.”

“Well –” He looked down, his elvish “nothing is the matter” face wavering a bit. “Spelling for one. I suppose it’s a failing on my part, but when something’s spelled wrong, I cannot help but change it. I used to correct people’s speech, too, all the time when I was a lad. I must have been insufferable – and I suppose it’s no less insufferable now, and with the written word just the same – so once again, I’m sorry.”

Marigold stared at him. He was cocking his head and shrugging his shoulders, and looked for a moment a bit more youthful.

But if another time she might have been glad at such a change in countenance, at that moment she had other, more pressing things on her mind.

“Spellin’?... Wait…”

Having her speech corrected was nothing new – Mrs. Bracegirdle, though no fine lady herself, had insisted on at least the rudiments of proper speech, and had nearly beaten dropped g’s and double negatives out of her. But spelling?

Her mind rushed over her history with the written word – which was not extensive.

“Wait… there’s a right and a wrong way of spelling, Mr. Frodo?”

Throughout her mental sojourn, Frodo had not stopped looking at her.

“Why, yes, of course,” he replied. “It can be challenging, though – that much is true.”

Marigold felt dizzy. She must have looked ill at ease, too, because Frodo ceased to lean against the table and squatted down beside her – though still at the respectful distance of a pace.

“But Sam – Sam said it was alright to –”

Sam teaching her her letters, the two of them practicing with sticks in the dirt.

Sam bringing home his notebooks from Bag End, letting her try her hand in the margins…

“Sam – Sam said it was alright to write how you think it sounds, and if it’s close enough people will understand. He – he didn’t correct me much, and he didn’t say anything about right and wrong, or people being particular…”

She hated how desperate she sounded… Why would her words not cooperate with her today?

Frodo looked pensive, a knuckle pressed to his lips.

“Then there might have been a misunderstanding,” he said after a moment. He looked to be choosing his words carefully, slowly. “It was a long time ago, wasn’t it, that Sam taught you?”

“No, there was definitely no mis-understandin’, sir.” Marigold shook her head vigorously. “Sam said that as long as you get the meanin’ across, it doesn’t matter at all.”

Frodo paused and scratched his head, getting up to lean against the table once more. His body ached and his head felt sick, for his rabbit heart, sent racing at every expected and unexpected thing, had not let him rest for the better part of a week.

Realizing he must have tripped a familial booby trap, a smile crept nervously around his words.

“Well,” he tried to course-correct. “I suppose that’s sometimes true, such as for your own records and between family and friends. Not that I’m not family or friends, but I am a bit particular, like I said. But when it comes to official books and papers, there’s definitely a right way and a wrong way, and the words are always spelled the same. You remember, probably, from when you trained in midwifery?”

Marigold, to her great and growing shame, did not remember. Reading had never been her strong suit, nor did she have many occasions to even hold a book – and by the time she was reading herbology and anatomy in her training, it was all she could do to recognize the words and piece together their meaning. She thanked her lucky stars that Mrs. Bracegirdle had no great love for the written word herself, believing far more in hands-on learning – but she dumped several books on her apprentice just the same, courtesy of Dr. Boffin, and ordered her to read them – which Marigold did, painfully and dutifully – and then Mrs. Bracegirdle proceeded to argue with their contents, so it was all Marigold could do to understand what was what. It would have been far too much to keep track of spelling, and Mrs. Bracegirdle hardly ever made her write things, except to copy over labels on tincture bottles when she was already collapsing from fatigue.

Marigold looked at her hands. Small, tanned, pudgy hands with calloused palms fit for rolling dough and for washing, but apparently not for writing.

“I’ve never been much good at reading and writing, to tell you the truth, Mr. Frodo,” she confessed at last. “Sam tried to teach me as best he could – and yes, that was a long time ago, when Mr. Bilbo taught him.” She paused, taking a breath. “But reading’s always been like chewing rocks, if you get my meaning. I don’t know why. I s’ppose I’m just daft like that…”

She fought not to cover her face with her hands. Her stupid, daft, uneducated face that had no business being here with Mr. Frodo, who had apparently read so much that he had even learned Elvish.

Ah yes, Sam.

She would have words for him once she got home. Words that, misspelled or not, would get their meanin’ across.

She looked up, and must have looked skeptical, but Frodo went on, now sounding, if one could believe it, a shade more enthusiastic.

“Maybe reading more enjoyable things can help… Wait just a moment…”

He turned away and looked at the shelves, quickly scanning the titles. He pulled down a volume. Then, failing to find what he seemed to want, he padded off to the other library.

He returned after a few minutes, bearing two more books, and laid all three out on the table. They were The History and Customs of Hobbits, an anthology of poems and songs, and Bilbo’s Translations from the Elvish. He had hesitated over the last one, wondering if it had too many unusual concepts and names for the present purpose, but figured that since Marigold had always listened closely when he and Sam spoke of elves, there was a chance that the interest was familial, and had persisted.

“Here are some of my favorites,” he said. “You can borrow them, and see if you like them too. I always learned best by finding words in books – and if I wanted to remember them, I would copy them down.”

Marigold looked at the books, dumbstruck.

“And I could help you, if you like,” he went on. “We could read and practice words together, and if there are things that are especially difficult for you, we could see if we can make them easier.”

He paused. His rabbit-heart was racing in his throat, though there was no conceivable reason for it to do so. Had even this little bit of excitement proven too much? He wondered if his heart would someday get tired of acting like it was being hunted for sport, and stop altogether.

Marigold ran her finger down the spine of one of the books, her face a mix of awe and trepidation. It was similar to the look she had when they found some of Bilbo’s more prized possessions – except this time, she also had the air of accepting a child to hold – just born and passed around to all the relatives.

“This is… too kind,” she spoke at last.

His heart grew quiet, and he drank in the feeling – the feeling of being at ease, or at least not unwell. But with it came fatigue, worse still than what he had before. What was he even thinking? He had never taught anyone in his life. Where would he even find the strength for it?

“Is – is it alright if I keep them here, though?” Marigold asked. “They might get spoiled by my nieces and nephews at home.”

She turned the book over. The spine had grown pliant from much opening and closing, but the original ink of the title was still dark and clear.

“And there’s always so much fuss and noise at home, it makes reading all the more trying,” she added, as if in afterthought. “I s’ppose living there so long I should be used to it, but I’m not.”

Frodo nodded.

“I understand. Of course. They’re yours to keep wherever you wish.”

He hooked the thumb of his left hand into his pocket, and drummed his fingers on the outside. His right hand stayed behind him.

Then again, an extra hour or two of Marigold each day would not be a hardship. Evenings alone had little to offer except wine and daring to hope, only to see those hopes dashed in the worst way possible.

“And I get bothered too, now, when there is too much noise and commotion,” he added, as if commenting on the weather. “So if you need somewhere to escape to, you are always welcome here. Even if you aren’t working.”

Marigold looked up in surprise. She had just opened the book, and brought it close to her face to peer at the letters – more beautifully strung, even beads on a string – and inhaled a breath that stirred an odd, familiar memory.

Did he just say… “always” ? No, she couldn’t have heard right.

But more than that, did he just say… “bothered”?

He certainly seemed bothered at times, but it was the first time that he had actually said it. It was always “like” and “don’t like” with him, and at times he was “particular,” but never bothered, hurt, put out, or especially distressed, if one believed his words.

But Frodo looked at her, unflinching, and showed no sign of taking back what he said. In fact, he only gave one of his slow, catlike blinks; his lovely, elfin features were remarkably stoic.

“A-always welcome? I’m sure you don’t mean that, sir,” she replied, shaking her head and putting down the book. She looked hurriedly about her, trying to recall what order of business she had set down and forgotten before all this began.

Ah, yes! The shopping! She had abandoned it on the pantry floor. And there was still the mending to do, and the dinner to start.

“I – appreciate the thought, sir,” she added quickly, turning toward the door. “But I really shouldn’t im-pose on your kindness that way. An hour or two after work – that ought to be enough – so long as you can spare it. You need your rest.”

Frodo nodded.

She certainly had her restless, self-conscious side, but that, too, he did not dislike. In fact it was rather charming, in its own way.

And she was right.

He sighed, as she hurried away to the kitchen.

He really did need his rest. If only she knew how difficult it was to come by, and how little difference her presence would make in that regard.

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toasterdrake · 1 year

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excerpt from a currently non-existent reshirement au fic, based on a prompt by @writersyoga to use the word 'dower'.

Eager for anything other than blades to occupy his restless hands (for whilst dwarves may forge great warriors, they are a people of crafters in their hearts), Thorin had set about mending the many items of Bilbo's home fallen into disrepair.

Bilbo never told anyone the damage had been done during the unexpected stay of the dwarves at Bag End, telling askers instead it was a simple case of neglect, for his heart warmed to see Thorin smile after hammering the final iron nail or applying the final lick of varnish, and he need not harbour any more guilt if Bilbo could prevent it.

He had not seen Thorin smile in a long while. Courteously, many times, but never these gentile grins dashing the worries of both men.

Lost, all furniture repaired as new or better, Thorin had turned his sights to new additions and built a tasteful dower in the garden. Shading the wooden bench on sturdy supports of thin stakes, vines curled up the kitchen window to entangle artfully across the knotted frame.

In summer, drooping flowers bloomed across the lattice, catching Bilbo's smoke rings in their petals unless the unhurried wind shifted and carried them out across the southern field.

Now, on a sunny spring morning, Bilbo and Thorin sat side-by-side on the bench under the budding dower. Thorin twisted gears of an intricate puzzle toy whilst Bilbo filtered through the day's post and puffed on his pipe.

Frodo waited at Thorin's feet, hands on the dwarf's knees ready to spring forward, brimming with impatience.

Finally, the toy clicked with greater confidence than its previous whines and creaks, and grew suddenly from a tiny thing in Thorin's hands to a giant box in Frodo's little palms. Immediately, the boy sat cross-legged in the clipped grass, turning the toy over and over in his hands as it was designed, captivated wholly.

Leaning down, Thorin ruffled his dark curls -- to which Frodo gave not an inkling of acknowledgement -- and stood, groaning and massaging his lower back.

"My body never hurt so much on the Road," he said, nearly a complaint yet just shy of it. "All this peace has softened my joints."

Bilbo hummed cheerily, a little smoke escaping the corner of his mouth. He looked up from a letter he would discard on the fire later, as it was yet another complaint from the Sackville-Bagginses. "Not enough to suffer from a trip to the pantry for lunch, I hope?"

Thorin smiled one of those pleasant smiles. He had found himself quite fond of the Hobbit capacity to take many meals throughout the day, after so long eating scant scraps on the Road.

He had grown plumper for his appreciation of such a habit, but then, who was there left to fight? He could allow himself to grow a little plumper and a little slower. If not now, when could be a better time?

All was well. Nothing unexpected ever dared to touch the Shire; a haven all its own on the fringes of remembrance in the histories of other folk. Sunlight shone sweetly over the meadows, glittered on the water, and only wind rustled the long grasses. Merry voices carried up the hill to the quiet garden. All was well.

#dailydictionarydrabble #reshirement au #bagginshield #thorin oakenshield #bilbo baggins #frodo baggins #the hobbit #lord of the rings #lotr #lynx writes

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bisexualbumblebee-writes · 1 year

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Returning Home Chapter 1- Thorin Oakenshield x OC

Thorin Oakenshield x Bellarose Baggins

Description: A seemingly normal day turns rather odd when the Baggins siblings are visited by a certain Gray Wizard. Things only get more complicated when Bellarose returns home that evening to a house full of Dwarves.

Word Count: 1.9k

Bellarose Baggins was woken up by her older brother Bilbo at precisely 7:00 am for first breakfast. They shared said meal at their dining table and discussed what their plans were for the day. Bilbo planned to relax all day and do nothing aside from going to the market with his sister after luncheon. Bellarose, meanwhile, wished to get some reading done from the book that her first cousin Esmeralda Took graciously lent her a few days ago. And, unfortunately, it was cleaning day. The living room was getting a little too cluttered for Bilbo’s liking and it was Bellarose’s turn to clean.

Once they finished the first breakfast, they cleared the table and Bilbo stayed long enough to help her move the furniture around so she could sweep the floor then move it back before getting ready for the day. His sister always got dressed immediately, so she just got to work after breakfast. The faster she started, the faster she could be done with it. After two hours of cleaning the living room, the drawing room, formal dining room and her own room, Bilbo called her into the kitchen for second breakfast. Bellarose was rather tired, so conversation was a bit more sparse this time.

When they finished, Bellarose cleaned the dishes then finally sat down to do some reading until it was time to begin preparing their elevenses snack. She ultimately decided to make her blueberry scones as well as some white tea. She’d just put the scones in the oven when she heard her brother talking to someone outside. Her brows furrowed as she heard a voice she recognized but couldn’t quite place.

“Well, I'm pleased to find you remember something about me, even if it's only my fireworks,” the voice spoke. She carefully moved to the front room and chanced a peek out of the window. There, she saw a gray figure with a staff and a large hat. That quick peek is what brought memories back to her. Of course she knew him, it was Gandalf! He used to make such amazing fireworks that Old Took used to have them on Midsummer's Eve. Not only that, but he used to help her when she was exploring, always encouraging her to research something that caught her curiosity to better understand it. He was a key part in forming her adventurous side and strengthening her curiosity.

A wide smile appeared on her face when the realization hit her. She picked up the bottom of her dress so she could get to the front door quicker, wishing to talk to him as she had no idea when he’d be in the Shire again. She had no idea what was said during her walk to the front door, but she barely had time to open the door before she was quickly ushered back inside by Bilbo, who was now on the doorstep. Once she was back inside he turned to face the Gray Wizard with a frustrated look.

“I suggest you try somewhere over the hill or across the water! Good morning!” With that, he stepped inside and closed the door behind him, bolting it afterwards.

“Bilbo Baggins!” She exclaimed, shocked by his behavior. “Where in the world have your manners gone?” Bilbo was quick to stop her when she moved to open the door again, then both of them paused when they heard a faint scraping on the door. They listened for a moment before Bilbo rushed to the window that Bellarose previously looked out of. She had no idea what her brother saw, but it was enough to startle him away from said window.

“What in the world was that about?” She demanded, crossing her arms.

“Gandalf was here,” he explained, confirming her theory. “He said that he was looking for someone to share in an adventure.” Bellarose’s eyes lit up at the word.

“Adventure?” She asked eagerly.

“No, no, no,” Bilbo interjected immediately. “Bagginses don’t have adventures. They’re nasty, disturbing, uncomfortable things and they make you late for dinner. Besides, Gandalf is probably already gone anyway, so you might wanna forget it.”

The girl couldn’t help but be annoyed. Sure, she understood that such things weren’t really appropriate or normal for a Hobbit, but when had that ever stopped her. She was frustrated that her brother wouldn’t allow her to follow Gandalf, but she also knew that Bilbo was probably right about him being gone. And the chances of catching up to him were little to none. So, she was forced to accept it and moved on.

Later that afternoon Bilbo and Bellarose were at the market. Their arms were linked together as they passed the many tents and pavilions set up where Hobbits attempted to sell their wares. The market was absolutely full of people, which in turn made it a rather loud environment. That’s why the siblings opted to keep in touch with each other. So it was easy for Bellarose to realize that her brother seemed rather jumpy.

Unfortunately she didn’t have time to question it before they reached their first destination: the fisher Hobbit. Their exchange was brief with the fisherman giving Bilbo their packaged goods then Bilbo thanking him before hurrying away to their next location. The fruit stand was mostly empty, which made it easy for them to find what they needed before continuing on. It was at that point that the girl realized that Bilbo was glancing over his shoulders every few minutes, as if making sure someone wasn’t there.

“Hello, Mr. Bilbo!” A voice came from behind them, making them turn. It was Master Worrywort, who was wheeling a cart towards them with a kind smile.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Worrywort,” Bellarose greeted when her brother said nothing. The Hobbit offered her a polite smile.

“And to you as well, Miss Bellarose,” he responded before suddenly holding up a large round plant. “Here! Have a feel of me tubers. Nice and firm, they are. Just came in from West Farthing!” Both Bagginses gave the plant a brief touch.

“Very impressive Master Worrywort,” Bilbo responded distractedly before clearing his throat. “Now, I don't suppose you've seen a Wizard lurking about these parts?” His question surprised both Worrywort and Bellarose, but the man recovered much quicker.

“Tall fellow, long grey beard, pointy hat?” He asked, receiving a confirmation from Bilbo before he shook his head. “Can't say I have.” Just as he finished speaking the younger Hobbit seemed to notice something that the other two couldn’t see. It spooked him enough that he suddenly ran away from Worrywort, dragging his sister behind him.

“Bilbo!” She exclaimed as they reached a stone bridge. The boy paid her no mind as he hid both of them behind said bridge. After a moment a mass of gray passed them. At first it looked like some sort of gray hat - like the one a certain Wizard wore - but it only ended up being a basket of gray wool. Bilbo stepped out from the bridge, dazed. That was when Bellarose decided to say something.

“Bilbo, you said it yourself. Gandalf is long gone; probably halfway out of the Shire by now,” she reminded him. “If he wanted to speak to you again, I doubt he would have left in the first place. There’s no reason to be so paranoid.” Bilbo nodded, though he still looked anxious, which made her sigh softly before smiling.

“Tell you what, why don’t you go on and head home. We’ve gotten all the groceries we need, all that’s left is the herbs I commissioned from Farmer Maggot. You go home and start on dinner, and I’ll be there as soon as I’m finished,” she suggested. Her proposition obviously piqued his interest, so it was no surprise when he ultimately agreed and they headed their separate ways.

Her visit to the farm lasted much longer than she expected. While she waited for Farmer Maggot to gather the herbs she began talking to his wife. They talked about more than a few topics, and their conversation ended up going on even after afternoon tea (which the Maggots happily offered her). Finally, once darkness had rolled around, Bellarose decided that it was time to go home. So, she said her goodbyes and made her way home with a basket full of ingredients as well as some strawberry muffins Mrs. Maggot was nice enough to give her.

When she arrived home she suspected nothing wrong. As soon as she opened the front door a variety of smells entered her senses, which perplexed her. How much food had her brother made? It was only the two of them. Despite her confusion, she continued on inside and called out to her brother.

“Bilbo, I’m home,” she called softly as she took off her coat and hung it up. When she received no response she grew even more confused.

“Bilbo?” She began walking around the house but stopped when her brother suddenly approached her.

“Bella,” he greeted with wide wild eyes and an exasperated smile. “You’re home rather late, aren’t you?” The girl’s brows furrowed in concern at her brother’s state.

“Uh, yeah,” she started slowly. “I ended up talking to Mrs. Maggot and we lost track of time. I’m sorry, I meant to help with dinner.”

“No, no, no, it’s fine,” he brushed off distractedly.

“Bilbo, is something wrong?” She asked concernedly, as she pressed a hand to his forehead. “You’re feeling a little hot. Are you okay?” Before her older brother had a chance to answer, a new and much deeper voice suddenly spoke up.

“Who is this?” Both their heads snapped to the voice, and Bellarose had to hold back a gasp at the sight before her. It was a Dwarf, much taller than herself, with long black hair that was slightly graying and some of the brightest blue eyes she’d ever seen. He was clothed in furs and traveling clothes, which told her he hadn’t been here long. Bellarose had to admit he was rather handsome, but he was still a jarring sight. He walked out of the dining room, coming up to stand beside them.

“Your wife?” The Dwarf continued. The girl’s nose scrunched up at the insinuation and she shook her head quickly.

“Well, first of all, no I’m not his wife. I’m Bilbo’s sister, Bellarose. And second, I believe the bigger question would be who you are,” Bellarose shot back as politely as she could in her confusion.

“Ah, Miss Baggins,” yet another voice spoke up, but this time it was someone she recognized. It was Gandalf, who stood in the entryway of the formal dining room with a kind and even fond smile.

“Gandalf,” she greeted joyfully, making her way over to him to hug him. The Wizard crouched down to hug her.

“You look well,” she continued upon pulling away.

“And you, beautiful as ever,” he responded kindly, which made her laugh. “Now, allow me to introduce you to the leader of this fine company, Thorin Oakenshield.” Gandalf continued, gesturing to the Dwarf.

“Company?” Bellarose repeated with furrowed brows. It was at that very moment that she realized that they were not alone, but rather had an audience that consisted of twelve other Dwarves. They looked just as surprised to see her. This time she couldn’t hold back a gasp this time at the sight.

“To make a quick introduction, these are Bofur, Bifur, Bombur, Oin, Gloin, Fili, Kili, Balin, Dwalin, Dori, Nori and Ori. This is the Company of Thorin Oakenshield,” Gandalf concluded, making her look at him once again.

“Oh boy,” she sighed out. This would be a long night.

#the hobbit #the hobbit imagine #thorin oakenshield #thorin imagine #thorin x oc

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lordoftherazzles · 2 years

Note

would you allow us sneak peeks into your current WIPs?

Honestly, I am ALWAYS happy to share some sneak peeks with anyone who wants them!! And since I've slowly started crawling out of my writer's block hole, I'm more than happy to share a few snippets with you, Anon!! 💜

Sneak peeks are under the cut!

Kurdu ‘abadaz (I just posted chapter 2 this week!! go check it out!)

“What was I supposed to say, Balin? No, you can’t come to a meeting that you have every right to attend?” Bilbo complained, and rather loudly at that, his arms folded and his face scrunched up into a look of pure indignation. “Even if I had said something, you know Thorin better than most, it would take more than just a few words to dissuade him from something he’s set his mind to.”

“Aye, you’re right there, laddie, I just don’t know how well his presence will be perceived. He’s not the sort to give out heartfelt apologies, even when they’re warranted. I just hope we don’t have another battle on our doorstep when blood is still fresh on the ground.” Ever the diplomat, Balin was, and a wise dwarf with a level head. “It will not be pretty, and I hope you are prepared for that.”

“Please, if I can handle a Yuletide celebration with both Tooks and Sackville-Bagginses, I can handle this,” Bilbo lied smoothly when in truth he was uncertain about all of this himself.

Where The Shadows Lie

“So, if I’m understanding correctly, Dis wants them to seek out help for this…Azog problem that sent you to my doorstep, and Thorin is against it?” Bilbo asked while pressing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. It didn’t make any sense, but then again, Bilbo had told the vampire to take a different tactic, but avoiding potential help seemed like a really silly way to go. “What’s the big deal?” Bilbo was sure he hadn’t seen Thorin look so agitated–if he were in that silly cat form, no doubt every ounce of that dark silky fur would be standing on end.

“Dis suggested they go see Thranduil,” Bofur offered up as if the name was just common knowledge.

Though before Bilbo could barely get his mouth open to question the individual spoken of, Balin seemed to beat his thoughts to the punch.

“An old acquaintance of the Durin family with a strained past.”

“Figures. Are there any other people out there that don’t have beef with you guys?” It was beginning to sound like a pretty shitty pattern, and maybe it wasn’t so much everyone else as it was Thorin and his ilk. Scratching at his head, Bilbo just continued to watch the mild bickering with boredom on his face. “I feel like a babysitter.”

Dragonhearted

For as far back as Thorin could remember, he couldn’t recall a time where he felt as blissful and content as he did right now. Even with the scales, and the other draconic deformities, he felt completely at ease, just as he did safe and comfortable. There was no greater feeling. No amount of riches or handsome titles could compare to having someone accept you for who and what you were. To see behind the scales and find someone worth the light of day. It was something even Thorin as a young prince had been lacking.

Thorin felt that everything was going in his favor. He didn’t even care about the curse anymore–except the part where his failure would lead to the death of his comrades, that part he still very much cared about. But to be rid of this form? It didn’t even matter. Bilbo didn’t flinch away from him, or look at him with disgust. In fact, the hobbit paid zero mind to the wings and the claws, and simply acted as if Thorin were…normal.

Only a few times did those specific features dictate what could be. For instance, laying in bed after a much needed warm bath, huddled up against Bilbo’s back, for Thorin’s sprouted wings would make for a mighty uncomfortable dose of cuddling.

I hope you enjoyed these little snippets, Anon!! I can’t wait to finish these chapters!

#raz answers #anon asks #raz wip #there's some dragonhearted kurdu'abadaz and vampire au in here!#bagginshield #thilbo

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velvet4510 · 2 months

Text

The Gaffer is an interesting character to me. His few scenes definitely show us that he is a gruff kind of guy who never shies away from making his opinion known among the gossips. Though he’s illiterate, he’s not stupid at all, and is actually very intelligent when it comes to all things gardening. But he also has very polite manners toward the gentry and is more than humble enough to “know his place” and be content with the simple working class life. He doesn’t share Sam’s passion for Elves and for learning in general. He’s perfectly fine with his lot in life and has no aspirations. It’s clear that Sam’s modesty, resourcefulness, and grounded sense are all inherited from the Gaffer.

Yet I’ve seen the Gaffer get a bit of hate amongst the fandom. Some dislike how he apparently calls Sam names like “ninnyhammer,” and some fanfics have taken this and ran with it to the point of depicting the Gaffer as a straight-up abusive father. Which…absolutely does not gel with Tolkien’s portrait of him at all.

It seems to me that the Gaffer is actually similar to Gandalf in his demeanor. When frustrated or exasperated, he calls people names, but in an affectionate way. And Sam obviously adores his dad, constantly worrying about his wellbeing back home. It’s clear they have a close and good relationship. Sam just does not seem or feel like an abused child. Maybe overly humbled, yes - the Quest does give him a much-needed boost in self-esteem - but not abused. Sam doesn’t have an abusive or unkind bone in his body; I really don’t think he would be as benign as he is, if he grew up with as cruel a role model as many seem to assume the Gaffer is.

Especially since Sam’s mom is clearly no longer around, and his older siblings seem to have all moved out, since Sam and his dad are the only ones who live in 3 Bagshot Row. So they seem similar to Bilbo and Frodo in that it’s been the 2 of them for a while, they have their own little lifestyle system that works for them, and they look after each other.

Notice in particular how the Gaffer often calls his son “my Sam,” which to me indicates he has great affection and pride for Sam. He even seems like he has that parental mindset of remembering and always seeing his son as his little boy, even when his son is all grown up.

The Gaffer also gives off the vibe of somebody who is actually much more open-minded than he claims to be. Yes, he’s a traditionalist and doesn’t like the idea of leaving home for anything. But notice how he fervently defends Bilbo and Frodo in front of the gossips. He’s not among those who disapprove of the Bagginses or call them “mad.” He’s very fond of them and will not speak ill of them. He appreciates how kind they are to him, and doesn’t see any harm in their unusual interests. And while he does drill an absolute sense of humbleness into Sam by saying things like “don’t get mixed up with your betters,” he actually doesn’t seem to mind that Bilbo taught Sam to read and write, even though Sam wasn’t “supposed” to be literate given his place in society. I feel like while he is set in his ways, he is also able to notice and acknowledge when something unusual has its benefits.

And let’s never forget that the Gaffer is also brave! He literally lies to a Nazgûl’s face to protect Frodo, claiming Frodo had already left when he hadn’t. Even if he didn’t know Frodo hadn’t left yet, it’s still clear he has no intention of selling Frodo out to this creepy guy. When push comes to shove, the Gaffer has some admirable courage inside him…another quality of his that Sam inherited.

I also feel great sympathy for him when I consider what that year must’ve been like for him. Imagine your son disappearing without a trace for 14 straight months, right after some creepy cloaked guy comes asking for your son’s boss. How terrified must that poor guy have been! It’s not much of a stretch to assume he was worried about Sam every single day, wondering if he was safe, if he’d ever see him again. How much sleep must he have lost because of his fears.

And of course, Sam names his fourth son after him. Another indicator that they had a genuinely good and loving relationship.

I really like the Gaffer and will always defend him. Let’s give him some credit. He’s a good guy. We primarily have him to thank, anyway, for raising Sam to be the amazing person he is.

#lotr #jrr tolkien #lotr books #lord of the rings #gaffer #gaffer gamgee #hamfast gamgee #samwise gamgee #hobbits #the shire #lotr analysis #nazgul #ringwraiths #black rider

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frodo-with-glasses · 1 year

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Teapot

It had belonged to his mother.

It was an heirloom, really; passed down through generations of the Brandybuck family until it finally became property of a Baggins. The periwinkle flowers and red strawberries painted on the outside of the porcelain had long since peeled away, and the inside was stained with a brown patina from hundreds of teatimes of yesteryear. But it was sturdy, and it stayed hot, and he'd swear up and down that something about that particular pot made the tea taste better, every single time.

He didn't have many mementos from his parents. He'd never been terribly sentimental about Things. But the teapot was practical, and saw near constant use, so it became a regular fixture in the kitchen of Bag End.

When the fit came over him, Bilbo would occasionally complain that the teapot was horribly ugly, and that they really ought to get rid of it, and that he'd seen a lovely little tea set for sale at the market that morning and it might be about time to make an investment, but up until the day he left for Rivendell he never did do a thing about it. Frodo knew why. He knew exactly why. Close as Bilbo was with his feelings, and loud as he'd snort at any accusation of sentimentality, he'd always had a tender—carefully protected, but very tender—heart.

He'd been quite close to Primula. He missed her just as much as Frodo did.

Maybe more.

- - -

Over half the estate was given away in the form of birthday presents, but of all the mundane knickknacks that had accumulated around Bag End, the teapot was one which got to stay. It wasn't really Bilbo's property to give away; and anyway, Frodo was sure he wouldn't have parted with it regardless. So it remained in the kitchen of a bachelor for seventeen years, as he grew older (though arguably not much wiser) and maybe a little bit sentimental.

He knew he was leaving the Shire. He didn't know quite where he was going. He had no guarantee he'd ever return. But he'd rather be gutted like a fish than let those insufferable Sackville-Bagginses get their grabby paws on his mother's precious teapot, so with a few other favorite belongings, and packed lovingly in a nest of cloth and straw, it made the cart-ride from Hobbiton to the little house in Crickhollow.

Tea was served with dinner that night in the faded old teapot.

Just for a moment, though he knew he couldn't stay, that little house almost felt like home.

- - -

He was leaving for the last time.

All the arrangements had been made. Once upon a time, for a journey like this, he might have packed a bag too large for even the sturdiest hobbit to carry, but not today. Time and experience had quite changed his mind on what he considered to be necessities.

There were just a few last things to cover; some last instructions to deliver, some final details to sort out, and some last goodbyes to make.

He found it strange, as he ran his hand along the arched wall of the hallway, touched the spine of every book, and gripped the ear of every chair like it was the shoulder of an old friend. He was saying goodbye to Things.

When had he become like this? When had he gotten so old and sentimental?

When he came to the kitchen, he had to stop in mid-tread. Nothing was out of the ordinary—everything was in its place—but suddenly, he was fighting to keep his lip steady.

There was the little faded teapot, sitting on the countertop in a patch of sunlight.

He lifted it in shaking hands; ghosted his thumb across its cold surface. He could almost see his reflection between the old paint chips.

Sam was behind him, leaning on the doorway of the kitchen, watching it all in sad and reverent silence. He looked curious, but hardly confused, when Frodo turned to him.

All at once, he felt terribly silly. Here he was, near tears, clutching a kitchen utensil to his chest like it was his infant child. But in Sam's eyes there was no judgment, only a warm and aching kindness, and with a shaking breath to steady himself, Frodo pressed the little teapot into his hands.

Sam took it without a word, but he did raise one eyebrow slightly when Frodo didn't let go.

His thin fingers lingered there, half on porcelain and half on Sam's calloused skin.

After a long moment, and another trembling breath, he finally found his voice.

"It was my mother's."

Sam's lips dropped open. He didn't say anything at first, but he stood up a little straighter, and his grip tightened ever so slightly, and a little spark of determination joined the grief already heavy in his brown eyes.

"I'll take good care of it," he said softly, and it was as good as a vow.

Frodo smiled, but his eyes and chest ached.

"I know."

- - -

WORD ASK GAME!

#word ask game #frodo baggins #bilbo baggins #samwise gamgee #lord of the rings #lotr #my writing #this is basically just the tea story all over again i'm sorry X'-D #i only have one story and i just keep telling it over again but slightly to the left

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bagheerita · 2 years

Text

'Don't you leave him! they said to me. Leave him! I said. I never mean to. I am going with him, if he climbs to the Moon.'

...

'You do not understand!' said Pippin. 'You must go – and therefore we must, too.'

...

'You can trust us to stick to you through thick and thin – to the bitter end. And you can trust us to keep any secret of yours – closer than you keep it yourself. But you cannot trust us to let you face trouble alone.'

(quotes in better context under the cut bc I am an absolute sucker for this shit and hoard declarations of love and friendship like a dragon)

It is going to be very dangerous, Sam. It is already dangerous. Most likely neither of us will come back.'

'If you don't come back, sir, then I shan't, that's certain,' said Sam. 'Don't you leave him! they said to me. Leave him! I said. I never mean to. I am going with him, if he climbs to the Moon; and if any of those Black Riders try to stop him, they'll have Sam Gamgee to reckon with, I said. They laughed.'

'Who are they, and what are you talking about?'

'The Elves, sir. We had some talk last night; and they seemed to know you were going away, so I didn't see the use of denying it. Wonderful folk, Elves, sir! Wonderful!'

'They are,' said Frodo. 'Do you like them still, now you have had a closer view?'

'They seem a bit above my likes and dislikes, so to speak,' answered Sam slowly. 'It don't seem to matter what I think about them. They are quite different from what I expected – so old and young, and so gay and sad, as it were.'

Frodo looked at Sam rather startled, half expecting to see some outward sign of the odd change that seemed to have come over him. It did not sound like the voice of the old Sam Gamgee that he thought he knew. But it looked like the old Sam Gamgee sitting there, except that his face was unusually thoughtful.

'Do you feel any need to leave the Shire now – now that your wish to see them has come true already?' he asked.

'Yes, sir. I don't know how to say it, but after last night I feel different. I seem to see ahead, in a kind of way. I know we are going to take a very long road, into darkness; but I know I can't turn back. It isn't to see Elves now, nor dragons, nor mountains, that I want – I don't rightly know what I want: but I have something to do before the end, and it lies ahead, not in the Shire. I must see it through, sir, if you understand me.'

'I don't altogether. But I understand that Gandalf chose me a good companion. I am content. We will go together.'

'Well!' said Frodo at last, sitting up and straightening his back, as if he had made a decision. 'I can't keep it dark any longer. I have got something to tell you all. But I don't know quite how to begin.'

'I think I could help you,' said Merry quietly, 'by telling you some of it myself.'

'What do you mean?' said Frodo, looking at him anxiously.

'Just this, my dear old Frodo: you are miserable, because you don't know how to say good-bye. You meant to leave the Shire, of course. But danger has come on you sooner than you expected, and now you are making up your mind to go at once. And you don't want to. We are very sorry for you.'

Frodo opened his mouth and shut it again. His look of surprise was so comical that they laughed. 'Dear old Frodo!' said Pippin. 'Did you really think you had thrown dust in all our eyes? You have not been nearly careful or clever enough for that! You have obviously been planning to go and saying farewell to all your haunts all this year since April. We have constantly heard you muttering: "Shall I ever look down into that valley again, I wonder", and things like that. And pretending that you had come to the end of your money, and actually selling your beloved Bag End to those Sackville-Bagginses! And all those close talks with Gandalf.'

'Good heavens!' said Frodo. 'I thought I had been both careful and clever. I don't know what Gandalf would say. Is all the Shire discussing my departure then?'

'Oh no!' said Merry. 'Don't worry about that! The secret won't keep for long, of course; but at present it is, I think, only known to us conspirators. After all, you must remember that we know you well, and are often with you. We can usually guess what you are thinking. I knew Bilbo, too. To tell you the truth, I have been watching you rather closely ever since he left. I thought you would go after him sooner or later; indeed I expected you to go sooner, and lately we have been very anxious. We have been terrified that you might give us the slip, and go off suddenly, all on your own like he did. Ever since this spring we have kept our eyes open, and done a good deal of planning on our own account. You are not going to escape so easily!'

'But I must go,' said Frodo. 'It cannot be helped, dear friends. It is wretched for us all, but it is no use your trying to keep me. Since you have guessed so much, please help me and do not hinder me!'

'You do not understand!' said Pippin. 'You must go – and therefore we must, too. Merry and I are coming with you. Sam is an excellent fellow, and would jump down a dragon's throat to save you, if he did not trip over his own feet; but you will need more than one companion in your dangerous adventure.'

'My dear and most beloved hobbits!' said Frodo deeply moved. 'But I could not allow it. I decided that long ago, too. You speak of danger, but you do not understand. This is no treasure-hunt, no there-and-back journey. I am flying from deadly peril into deadly peril.'

'Of course we understand,' said Merry firmly. 'That is why we have decided to come. We know the Ring is no laughing-matter; but we are going to do our best to help you against the Enemy.'

Sam!' cried Frodo, feeling that amazement could go no further, and quite unable to decide whether he felt angry, amused, relieved, or merely foolish.

'Yes, sir!' said Sam. 'Begging your pardon, sir! But I meant no wrong to you, Mr. Frodo, nor to Mr. Gandalf for that matter. He has some sense, mind you; and when you said go alone, he said no! take someone as you can trust.'

'But it does not seem that I can trust anyone,' said Frodo.

Sam looked at him unhappily. 'It all depends on what you want,' put in Merry. 'You can trust us to stick to you through thick and thin – to the bitter end. And you can trust us to keep any secret of yours – closer than you keep it yourself. But you cannot trust us to let you face trouble alone, and go off without a word. We are your friends, Frodo. Anyway: there it is. We know most of what Gandalf has told you. We know a good deal about the Ring. We are horribly afraid – but we are coming with you; or following you like hounds.'

'And after all, sir,' added Sam, 'you did ought to take the Elves' advice. Gildor said you should take them as was willing, and you can't deny it.'

'I don't deny it,' said Frodo, looking at Sam, who was now grinning. 'I don't deny it, but I'll never believe you are sleeping again, whether you snore or not. I shall kick you hard to make sure.

'You are a set of deceitful scoundrels!' he said, turning to the others. 'But bless you!' he laughed, getting up and waving his arms, 'I give in. I will take Gildor's advice. If the danger were not so dark, I should dance for joy. Even so, I cannot help feeling happy; happier than I have felt for a long time.'

#lotr #lotr newsletter #samwise gamgee #meriadoc brandybuck #peregrine took #frodo baggins #friendship #love

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secretmellowblog · 4 years

Photo

The Hobbit Comic Chapter 1: Tooks and Bagginses! (i hope this is somewhat legible lol)

Previous/Next

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In the book Bilbo says that Gandalf “was responsible for so many quiet lads and lasses going off into the Blue for mad adventures.” The book goes on to imply that Gandalf was Adventure Buddies with Bilbo’s grandfather. But since Gandalf took “lasses” on adventures too, I added that Gandalf was ALSO Adventure Buddies with Belladonna. because why not!

Also: the idea behind the comic is that it’s being written/drawn by Bilbo as a bedtime story for a younger Frodo (who he’s either babysitting or has already adopted, take your pick!) This means that all the drawing mistakes are actually Bilbo making drawing mistakes. I am struggling to draw in order to be faithful to the fact that Bilbo is struggling to draw. Don’t worry, Bilbo will get better at drawing if he continues to make these comics

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dimdiamond · 3 years

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Bagginshield fic list

Yeah, I decided to make one too because there are enough to cause me headaches and I'd like to have them somewhere organized. Please look at the tags before reading them!

Fix-it fics

Desperate magic by BeautifulFiction: Bilbo is left to tend Thorin as he hovers on the brink of death after the Battle of the Five Armies. Is love enough to save Erebor's king, or is this the last farewell?

Lay your troubles down by Avelera: An extended version of "the acorn scene." Bilbo sees his chance to snap Thorin out of his madness, and takes it.

The Riven Crown by BeautifulFiction: The aftermath of war is no laughing matter. Those who died must be honoured, those who are wounded must be healed, and those who remain need food and clothing, peace and sanctuary. With Thorin's life hanging in the balance, it is up to Bilbo and the rest of the Company to rule the rag-tag remnants of Erebor in his place. Then there is the matter of the gold... Can Bilbo save both king and kingdom, or is Erebor destined to fall deeper into ruin?

The Color of Possibility by lindoreda: When Bilbo puts himself between Thorin and Azog's blade, his mithril shirt protecting them both, it isn't long before some dwarves whisper that 'Oakenshield' might not be the best epithet for their king anymore. But for Bilbo, barred from Thorin's sight since the battle, this new epithet only adds to the sting. Spending his days caring for the recovering princes, Bilbo wonders how much more of this he can take, not suspecting his place at the center of a silent divide in the company.

Homesick by Margo_Kim: Five years after they've reclaimed Erebor, Thorin is sick of home, Bilbo is just sick, and neither is handling the situation ideally.

The Road Delivered Us Home by keelywolfe: In the years since Bilbo left Erebor, he has lost his respectability, gained a nephew, and gotten on with life at Bag End. He'd left aside adventure for the comforts and peace of his little Hobbit hole, and for the love of a child who needed him. Though perhaps, adventures can yet find him.

Notices in the Paper by YamBits: Bilbo returns to the Shire after his adventure, newly married, and newly homeless, after his two year absence allowed the Sackville-Bagginses to obtain Bag End. Bilbo and Thorin go to the Tooks for help, and find newly orphaned Frodo Baggins, also looking for a home.

A Royal Guardianship by ladyoakenshields: When Bilbo and Thorin return to the Shire for a sabbatical during Yuletide, they find a reason to retire the throne in Erebor sooner than expected.

The Shire's gems by awkwarng3: Thorin, Bilbo, and Frodo move to the Shire after raising Frodo in Erebor, and Frodo makes a friend.

Time travel fix-it fics

An expected journey by MarieJacquelyn: For years Bilbo has written about his adventures and told stories about his dealings with dwarves and dragons. To most it seemed like fanciful nonsense but to Bilbo it was all very real. A weight followed him home from his travels, one called regret. Now in his final moments Bilbo has a choice to make – go quietly into death’s embrace or go back again and face all the fear and pain for the chance to make things right? Of course, change is a fickle thing and not everything can be done again as Bilbo is about to find out. In the end, it may not only be salvation that he’s fighting for.

Bilbo Baggins, warrior of the Valar by Pallalalo: Bilbo raised his eyebrows. “And you’ve come to the Shire to look for this someone? My, Gandalf, I wonder if you know Hobbits at all. They would tell you that adventures are nasty, disturbing, uncomfortable things. That they would make you late for dinner.” Bilbo recalled his own words perfectly. It had been something he and Gandalf had looked back on with bittersweet laughter. This Gandalf however noticed his exact words. “Would they now? And what about you, mhm? What would you tell me about adventures?” #The Valar send Bilbo back in time, to the day where Gandalf asks him to join in an adventure. After living a lifetime of regret and suffering, he vows to change things for the better. For Thorin. For Frodo. But will he succeed?

I'll die to care for you by thehufflepuffhobbit: His gaze landed on Mahal's eyes once more. "You did your best, Thorin." It was tempting to look away; he wanted to deny that with everything he had. It certainly didn't feel as though falling into Gold Sickness and then dying was doing his best. Mahal smirked, as though he knew Thorin's desire to contradict him, and pinched his cheek before walking over to a table. "Aye, I didn't think you would believe me. I'm not lying, it certainly could have gone better. More according to my plan, but I know you really did try." "Your plan?" He didn't know if he should ask, really. Knowing that his Maker had set a course for him, he didn't want to think about the ways he had done everything wrong. There were too many examples of mistakes in his long life, too many opportunities that he had missed that had probably been planned for him from the beginning. Or:Mahal feels like Thorin fucked up his legacy and gives him a do over.

Darker times ahead by Reach4theSky: Bilbo is sailing to the Undying Lands but wary of letting go of the guilt that has been with him for many decade. His most sincerest wish is to go back and change what was done. Before reaching the lands of peace and healing, he dies aboard the ship and finds that his wish is being granted, not because he is the one to wish it but because this is the dwarves last chance to escape a fate of eternal waiting. He finds that not only is he going to be sent back to his younger body, but so is the entire Company of Thorin Oakenshield. Time is a fickle thing and not all the members have their memories returned to them at the same time. The journey on becomes interesting as the dwarves slowly remember and fight for themselves and their kin, yet new hurdles are thrown at them when they realize that more people remember than expected...

Of an arcane binding by Salvia_G: An inexplicable magic ties Bilbo Baggins, hobbit of the Shire, to Thorin, dwarven prince of Erebor.

Legends by DomesticGoddess: The fellowship has set out on its noble quest to destroy the ring and put an end to the threat that is Sauron! Just set out really, barely left the gates of Imladris, but things are going smoothly enough so far. That is until the two most unlikely party crashers fall upon their little fellowship. Uncle Bilbo and the Legendary Thorin Oakenshield?! Frodo just wants to know what's going on but the two of them won't stop hollering at each other long enough for anyone to get a word in edgewise. Suddenly, their little group is joined by Frodo's two biggest heroes and he discovers there was a lot more to Uncle Bilbo's stories than he realized.

Beside myself by bliboboggins: "What are you doing? Just who do you think you are?" Startled, Bilbo turned around slowly. And there, in a familiar patchwork dressing gown, brandishing a fire poker wildly about, was... Bilbo.

Erebor never fell au fics

The hearth doesn't make the home by Moonrose91: For things Bilbo could not change, he was condemned to a life of isolation, with the belief that none could love him. And then a Dwarf came to Hobbiton.

Clarity of vision by Mithen: In a Middle-Earth where Erebor never fell, a shadow remains in the heart of the Lonely Mountain. Bilbo Baggins finds himself drawn reluctantly into a quest that will lead him across the continent--from Bree to Lake Evendim to the icy North and beyond--with a party of five dwarves searching for an artifact that will cure the ailing King Thrór.

Ghivashel by mdseiran: The last thing Bilbo expects when he stays up late one night is company. The strange dwarf and his companion crash into his life and prove unexpected saviours. But the dwarf seems to think he will be joining them on their travels, and Bilbo has no such intentions.

The Song of My Heart by DomesticGoddess: After a failed attempt of trying to carve out a new home in the Blue Mountains for his people, Thorin finds himself beseeching the Hobbit Thain and his council for a place for his people in their bountiful land. An agreement is struck and plans in the works for integrating his people into their land. The only condition being an arranged marriage between himself and one of their family heads. A small price to pay to see his people safe and well fed. Unfortunately, he’s to marry the most disagreeable hobbit in all the Shire who also seems to hold a personal grudge against him. If only he could figure out why his new betrothed hates him so much.

Oak and Mistletoe by HildyJ: After a life dominated by a strange form of sickness, Thorin is sent to the Shire to seek a cure only Bilbo Baggins can offer.

Karkûn shukula - A Cinderella AU by harrypanther: When the Prince of the Shire visits the Kingdom of Erebor, there is great excitement. There are hopes he will choose to marry one of the Royal Family, cementing an alliance that would secure food supplies for the dwarven Kingdom and gain new allies. All eligible dwarves are expected to attend a series of Balls. Unknown to the guests, there is a third royal child, manoeuvred out by his ambitious stepmother, for whom this may be his last chance of restoring his fortunes and escaping his fate…

Alone this Yuletide by Emsiecat: 'Alone this Yuletide? Irritated with prying and nosey family members? I am an out of work blacksmith currently trying to make my way by any means necessary that does not involve my resorting to thievery (prisons are most uncomfortable, I've unfortunate first hand experience). However, if you would like me to be your strictly platonic companion for any social function, but have me pretend that we are in a serious courtship, so as to torment your family and ward off unwanted suitors then I am more than obliging...' After becoming increasingly irritated by overtures of romance from various Shire residents following the death of his mother four years ago, Bilbo is more than ready to resort to desperate measures. That is, up to and including pretending to be in a serious relationship with a certain surly blacksmith currently inhabiting the Bindbale Woods. It's a good idea after all; all they have to do is pretend to be in love over the Yuletide period and Bilbo's family and suitors will surely leave him alone after that. It's perfect! And nothing can possibly go wrong, right? Certainly nothing as preposterous as falling for one another for real...

Modern au fics

Nothing gold can stay by perkynurples: Bilbo Baggins led a rather peaceful life, thank you very much, until an old acquaintance decided to turn it upside down, and he found himself agreeing to take a job that’s… let’s say not exactly up his alley, and might eventually cost him a little more than his treasured cozy lifestyle. Who would have thought tutoring a slightly menacing monarch’s more than slightly overbearing nephew could prove to be such an adventure?

Love-In-Idleness by perkynurples: Taking Bilbo Baggins, a successful movie actor who is only just getting used to the perks and intricacies of becoming A Face People Want To See, and putting him together with Thorin Oakenshield, with his very traditional (read: slightly backwards) ideas about what constitutes Real Art and Real Talent, might very well be viewed as just some clothead’s idea of a joke. But there are jokes, and then there are carefully calculated risks the size of controversial reproductions of classic Shakespearean plays - for Bilbo, it is the chance of a lifetime to prove himself to all those who have ever deemed him too one-dimensional to even attempt stage, while Thorin has the opportunity to get out of the rut that’s been hindering his career for so long now, and shine in a role worthy of his talent once again. That is if the two learn how to share the same space for more than ten minutes without wanting to tear each other’s hair out. The course of true love never did run smooth, after all…

Candid by northerntrash: Thorin wasn't entirely sure why there was a six-foot candid photograph of him hanging in this exhibition, but he was going to wring the neck of whoever had put it there. In which Bilbo is a photographer, Thorin an accidental model, and Gandalf just likes to make trouble for everyone.

How the west was won and where it got us by stickman: Bilbo is a harried 1st year British literature Ph.D. (early 20th century fiction) who happens to have an interest in spatial narrative structures, a lack of time-management skills, and a tiny apartment with a lot of books and very little furniture. He’s stressed, always, and doesn't quite know where he belongs. He tells himself that really, this is, in fact, what he wants to be doing. But sometimes, as much as he loves books, he gets an urge to do something with his hands. Thorin is a disgruntled M.Arch. 1 in his last year who can’t be arsed to shave and frightens his students, and, frankly, his profs, but his work is top-notch so no one can really say much. They can, however, bully him into running a hands-on design workshop on Saturday mornings, which is complete crap, because he’s used to drinking his Friday nights into oblivion so showing up at Milstein at 7:45 the next morning and trying to teach in a room of wall-to-wall windows as the sun rises is not at the top of his list. Besides, no one ever shows up. Except one morning, someone does. [graduate school AU]

Butterfly effect by eyra: Yoga wasn’t for him. Yoga was for interesting people. Luminous people; people who took gap years and spoke a foreign language. People who ate lentils and burned incense and had fantastic, colourful friends with fantastic, colourful lives full of travel and silent retreats and those baggy trousers with elephants on them. Yoga was decidedly not for people like Bilbo, who wore cardigans and ate beans on toast and whose linguistic capabilities stretched only as far as a rusty Spanish A-Level. Just your regular story of boy meets yoga instructor.

Remover of the obstacles by MistakenMagic: "Dis often chided her older brother for being a misanthropist. She did it so often it had become a term of endearment. It was true that Thorin struggled with people; he struggled to form and maintain relationships. Dr. Grey had diagnosed him with this and Thorin hadn’t the heart to tell him this wasn’t a symptom of his PTSD, it was a symptom of his personality. He exercised a sense of apathy with almost everyone he met… But Bilbo was different. Thorin actually found himself wanting to know more about him."

Color outside the lines by andquitefrankly: Kindergarten has just gotten significantly better. Just ask Thorin, who's got the biggest crush on the new kid in class, Bilbo Baggins. With the help of his friends, Thorin knows that he can take back the swings from the 1st graders, show up the K-1 class in the school pageant, and win the heart of one curly haired boy. Yup. Kindergarten is going to be a year to remember.

Bran' New Suit by pibroch (littleblackdog): Andrew's description had been sufficient to recognize him— a riot of honey brown curls, short in stature, a well-favoured face with expressive features— but it hadn't quite been enough to prepare Tom for the sharp, almost painful tug in his gut at the sight of the man. They had never met before, to the best of Tom's recollection, but there was something eerily and inexplicably familiar about him all the same.

Different species au fics

I've grown a hedge around my heart by pibroch (littleblackdog): "Thorin was the essence of so many Buckland oddities, distilled into one misfortunate young hobbit, much to his infinite embarrassment. Built like a stork, his father had said once, in an example of Thrain Brandybuck’s usual tactless humour. All beak and legs." Thorin Brandybuck, just recently come of age, still lives in his family’s smial in Buckland, with his parents and two younger siblings. Thorin is an odd duck amongst his relations and neighbours-- unsociable, grumpy, shy, and awkward. And beyond that, he looks rather strange even for a Bucklander, strongly favouring the thick, dark haired build of his Stoorish blood. It defies all sense and reason why Bilbo Baggins, an exemplar of all the respectable traits Thorin lacked, would ever desire a friendship with him. Bilbo, as Thorin discovers, is not always as sensible as he appears.

In which the dwarves are satyrs for reasons by HiddenKitty What the title says basically.

Bride of the demon king by DomesticGoddess: Thorin is King of the demons, a beast-like race feared by humans. Ever since the demons and humans formed a truce years ago, the humans have sent a young human every year as a tribute to the King of demons. Thorin is tired of having to deal with the tribute that has long since lost its meaning. The only tribute he'd be interested in is the boy he met fifteen years ago on the border of the demon and human realms. Despite his fantasies, Thorin knows the chances of ever seeing the boy again are slim to none, until they're not.

Lost He Wandered Under Leaves by serenbach: Thorin son of Thrain is a struggling blacksmith descended from a fallen line of kings. In an attempt to provide for his family over the winter, he reluctantly accepts an impossible sounding task - to hunt down an enchanted deer that lives in the Old Forest that borders the Shire, and make armour and weapons from its hide and antlers. He never expected to succeed. And he certainly never expected what he found to change his life so completely.

A Dryad's Tale by Bilbo Baggins by Moongazer12: Bilbo is a dryad (think little sibling to ents). Long ago a curse was placed upon him from destroying one of the rings of power. Whenever he touches someone with his bare skin he will make them insane. But despite this, he and Gandalf have gone on many adventures to help protect Middle Earth (What was the point to destroying the ring if something else destroyed it instead?) Gandalf has called on him once again to help on a quest, Bilbo just hopes that they read his amendments to the contract.

The quest but with a twist au fics

King, come at the red morning by Tawabids: Bilbo has heard fairytales of the lost prince of the dwarves, Thorin son of Thrain, who disappeared the day Smaug attacked the Lonely Mountain. But he does not believe in fairytales until he comes across the dwarf sleeping in the depths of Erebor, and kisses him back to life. Now Thorin - a hundred and fifty years out of his time - has to confront a world in which his city is empty, his people scattered, his baby brother Frerin is king, two nephews he's never met are missing in action, and a war is brewing right on his doorstep. And as if that wasn't complicated enough he's trapped in the body of an old man and falling stupidly in love with a gossipy, grudging little hobbit.

When the sun rises by Harry1981: Bilbo Baggins of Bag End was not a very respectable Hobbit. No respectable Hobbit had a sword and crossbow hanging in their home, nor did they have Dwarves as family. But Bilbo Baggins did, and all of Shire knew of his husband, blacksmith Thorin Oakenshield. When Bilbo comes home to find his Husband earlier than expected, he learns of a quest to reclaim Erebor. It is a death mission. Bilbo knows that Dwarves are stubborn creatures, and none more than Thorin himself. But nobody said that Bilbo himself was any less stubborn. So he will follow his dearest husband across all of Middle Earth, through plains and mountains and forests, all while hiding the true nature of their relationship (Dwarven politics never helped anyone), brushing off some old wounds (and getting new ones) and finding out new things about the dwarf Bilbo calls husband (and his extended family). Nobody ever said love was easy, after all.

Small, but fierce by DomesticGoddess: As a result of a magical mishap during the trip to the lonely mountain, Bilbo is reverted to a wee little hobbitling. Only in body, of course. His adult mind is still very aware of the indignity of it all (seriously! He doesn't need to be coddled, carried, and fed like a child). It turns out, dwarves love children and there is nothing cuter than Hobbit children. Bilbo soon realizes that he can get away with just about anything in his babyish form and starts taking full advantage of it. Even the grumpy brooding king can't deny the angelic little creature anything he desires (and Bilbo's going to milk that for all it's worth).

Your song like a home in my heart by Nennvial: In Middle Earth, all creatures have a soulmate. Not all have some, but if they do, it is a bond nothing can break, not even death. The more famous story of such a bound was the story of Bren and Luthien, who even defied detath. The way someone can find out that the other is one’s soulmate is through song: when they meet and hear the voice of the other, a song sings in their heart, which feels like home and makes them complete. They may refuse it if they wish to do so, but they hence risk a life of bitter looniness. Thorin Oakenshield and Bilbo Baggins are soulmates, but they must admit it to themselves throughout their journey to Erebor.

To Dungeons Deep (And Caverns Old) by KingUndertheMountain: Bilbo Baggins was not your average hobbit. Of course, he had the wonderfully groomed and well-taken-care-of hairy feet like every other one of his race, yes, but he was not like other hobbits. He was cursed. Or, as the witch who gave him the enchantment put it, was “gifted”. She had given him the “gift” of obedience – whenever there was a direct command given to him, for example “cook a large meal” or “take a walk”, he could not disobey. Not without a lot of pain and eventual submission.

Chocolate candy one-shots

The world is sleeping (my world is you) by katheneverwrites (mandolinearts): I asked Persephone, “How could you grow to love him? He took you from flowers to a kingdom where not a single living thing can grow.” Persephone smiled, “My darling, every flower on your earth withers. What Hades gave me was a crown made for the immortal flowers in my bones.” - Nikita Gill ---“What do you mean, my friend?” There is a line of thought that surfaces in Gandalf’s mind, but he drowns it before it can take root. Surely not. But Bilbo’s chuckle sets him on edge. The small, gentle god of harvest, nature, and flowers sits up straighter, and in his crown of flowers there is a wire of strong metal, his cloak is suddenly not colorful anymore but the deepest black and he is terrifying, horrific, powerful - “I married Thorin Oakenshield, King Under the World.”

Of seasons by northerntrash: As far as he could tell, he had been kidnapped, which in itself made this week more than a little unusual. In which Bilbo steals away the Lord of Death, and Thorin can't quite bring himself to stay angry about it.

Warm up by paranoid_fridge: On one of their walks, Bilbo tumbles into a stream. They make it back to Bag End and Bilbo demands Thorin warm him up.

Royal Blue And Crimson Red by Mistofstars: Here's what happened before and after Bilbo accidentally eavesdrops on Gandalf and Elrond at night in Rivendell, as they discuss Thorin's quest and his family's history. Oh, and Thorin and Bilbo share a room, of course ;)

I was young when I left home by Margo_Kim: There was a pity clapper somewhere in the third row. Thorin finished his fourth song to polite applause from the people who noticed that the song was finished, but within the smattering of claps was someone beating his hands together like he was trying to rhythmically kill a fly. There was usually one of those, the kind who notices that no one else is paying attention and so is determined to compensate for that regardless of how they feel about the actual music. Thorin ignored him. It was easy to do so—he'd always hated looking at the audience when the singing was done.

A matter of buttons by StupidFatPenguin: “Your shirt,” says Thorin, quite out of the blue, and Bilbo looks down his front to see if there is a spot of tea or jam or anything equally embarrassing spilled on it. He is relieved to find nothing of the sort and looks up at the dwarf with an eyebrow raised in question. Thorin sits mute, his still-smoking pipe forgotten in his hand. He looks on for long moments still, seems almost lost to a thought before he shifts and lifts his gaze to meet Bilbo’s inquiring face. “It is familiar to me. Did you not wear this on the eve we met?” In which Bilbo and Thorin re-enact the evening they met.

The ladder by Milliethekitty27: Inspired from a post made by wheeloffortune-design on tumblr. Tired of his lonely kitchen in Yavanna's Garden, Bilbo Baggins wonders if the dwarven love of being underground is true in death. If so, maybe his dwarves are living (ha ha) under the very land Bilbo is weeding. With that thought, Bilbo goes and asks Hamfast for a shovel.

Love hobbit by HybridOwl: Bilbo Baggins considers himself a bit of a cock up, all things considered. He never made it out of his small highway adjacent town, can't seem to stop chain-smoking, and overall has more to talk about with the plants in his shop than 90% of all the rest of Middle Earth. So when he's reading the morning paper and a love note that can't be for anyone but him pops up, he's pretty sure - almost positive, really - that he's being made fun of. "TO the chain-smoking little stud who collects two metros from Gamgee's Goods every morning, will you be my love hobbit? - Bearded Biker." (heavily inspired by tumblr posts)

Fusion with other fandoms au fics

The Second Time by authoressjean; Sebastian Moran can't pull the trigger on John Watson to save his own hide, and what the hell is it with the doctor, anyway? Then Gandalf shows up, meddlesome wizard, and reminds him none too gently of his past life: as Thorin Oakenshield, leader of a company that had once included a small hobbit named Bilbo Baggins. One that looked decidedly like John Watson. And this would be the perfect chance to make things right with Bilbo the way he really hadn't been able to before he died, and that's when Gandalf tells him John doesn't remember being Bilbo, and to leave him alone. Right. Like that's going to happen.

And sow a star divided in us by MistakenMagic: Short summary: Gays in space! Longer summary: After his first successful solo mission, Jedi Knight Bilbo Baggins, trained by High Council member and full-time nuisance, Master Gandalf, returns to the Jedi Temple on Coruscant. During an excursion to the sparring arena, he meets a group of Dwarven Jedi from Ered Luin, a mountainous planet located in the Outer Rim. Young padawans, Fili and Kili, are full of curiosity at this strange, barefoot Jedi, but Master Thorin, who appears to have the personality of a rancor and mental shields like blast doors, is less than impressed.

Comics you should definitely check

Every work by rutobuka, seriously they're criminally cute and they're not still favored by everyone without reason.

Retelling the Hobbit by Mellow_Comics: Bilbo has never been good at telling the "true" story of what happened on his journey to the Lonely Mountain. Now he's trying to turn the tale of his quest into a lighthearted children's book-- a bedtime story for his young nephew Frodo. But what really happened on his journey? And how did it actually affect him? This is a comic adaptation/retelling of the Hobbit! It's framed as a bedtime story that Bilbo is telling a younger Frodo.

For now these are some of my personal favourites! However, I'm sure my list will grow since my reading list has some gems still waiting for me to read, so be certain that there will be a part 2 of this list!

#bagginshield #fic list #bagginshield fic #they're a LOT #they're all great #thank you fic writers #thank you artists

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mordoriscalling · 1 year

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Assurance and Authority (2/25)

Chapter 2 also available on AO3

(Ch 1)

After Master Baggins’s return, Bag End was restored to its former glory. In order to achieve that, Master Baggins had to buy back most of the things that had been auctioned off, though it turned out to be no easy task. Some hobbits either just refused to give back their prizes, or only a large sum of money could persuade them, and even then, many hobbits were loath to part with the pieces of Bag End they managed to get their hands on.

Due to the fact that Master Baggins spent so much money on regaining the items that belonged to him, everyone assumed that he had acquired some unimaginable fortune. If coming back from the presumed dead hadn’t been enough to make him a subject of great curiosity, the rumours of his great wealth only fueled the speculation about his person. Everyone wondered: what on this green earth had he been doing in his absence to come into the possession of so much money, and why had he been gone for so long?

When asked about this, Master Baggins would give the oddest answers. He would speak of a great adventure, of dwarves, mountains, a dragon and hoards of treasure, as well as so many other strange things that everyone decided he must have gone mad. No one but little fauntlings believed or liked his stories, and many hobbits have ceased to hold him in high esteem due to his disrespectable adventure and beliefs, for he did talk about the trolls, orcs and dragons as though they truly existed.

Master Baggins’s reputation became greatly tainted after his return indeed. This was not only due to his adventure and beliefs alone, but also because of his changed attitude. He made no effort to improve his bad name and steadfastly ignored what other hobbits said about him. In fact, Master Baggins dismissed all gossip as well as whatever else he deemed to be “petty matters”. His adventure seemed to have uprooted all of his proper manners, instead planting the seeds of such directness that it offended the sensibilities of many in the Shire. His bluntness did not serve to win him much sympathy among fellow hobbits and thus, the number of callers on his door decreased to mainly those who had business dealings with him or Sackville-Bagginses. While the former were received with all the required cordiality and fairness, the latter were only met with closed doors.

The strangeness and lacking manners would have made Master Baggins nothing short of an outcast and a cautionary tale, if it hadn’t been for one thing: his generosity. Anyone who came to him with some struggle received advice and aid, while his business partners had no bad word to say about transactions with him. A few months after his return, master Baggins also threw a splendid birthday party and had a gift prepared for all of the numerous hobbits in attendance, even those who invited themselves. All this sealed the general belief that master Baggins was extremely rich and, since he shared his wealth easily with others (except the ones that were shamelessly greedy), his fortune came to be regarded as his most redeeming quality.

And so, in the end, Master Baggins’s oddness became mostly forgiven, if not forgotten. Hobbits would shake their heads when they saw him wandering around the Shire by himself, but they would still greet him and chat with him. If Master Baggins was not found at home for a period of time longer than that of an exerting walk, no one spared it a second thought, as it quickly became known that he often visited his relatives in Tuckborough and sometimes even Buckland. (In later years, he journeyed to Buckland more frequently because one of his cousins he was most fond of, Primula, settled there after marrying Drogo Baggins, also a cousin of his). When master Baggins was at home, he did not entertain many guests, to the displeasure of quite a few hobbits. Those to whom Bag End’s door was freely open were the Gamgees and some of master Baggins’s relatives, but then again, everyone knew that the Master of Bag End was peculiar; most hobbits could overlook his lack of interest in sociability as long as he didn’t become tight-fisted by any stretch.

Then, in the second year after master Baggins’s return, it turned out just how peculiar he had become when he hosted dwarves in Bag End, more than once! This naturally stirred up quite an uproar, for it was believed to be unseemly that a hobbit would rather welcome dwarves into his smial than those of his own kind. Master Baggins was completely unconcerned with the scandal he had caused, only replying to his critiques that it would have been more unseemly for him not to have welcomed those dwarves, as they were his good friends.

The friends in question were fellow members of the Company of Thorin Oakenshield, with whom Bilbo had gone on the Quest of Erebor. The first to visit him were Glóin and Bombur, together with his brothers Bofur and Bifur, who all were making a journey back to the Blue Mountains in order to bring their families to the Lonely Mountain safely. Bilbo happily hosted them on their way to as well as back from Ered Luin, more than glad to have Bag End filled with the sounds of voices and feet that were not only his own.

The next year, another member of the Company visited Bag End. It was Balin, who travelled to the Blue Mountains to carry out some orders in the name of King Thorin. Bilbo enjoyed hosting Balin as much as his previous guests. While the stay of Glóin, Bombur and their families was a merry occasion full of laughter, singing and stories, Balin and Bilbo reminisced more while enjoying a quiet smoke. From Balin, Bilbo was also able to learn in more detail about how Erebor fared, as well as about the well-being of the King and the two princes, and hearing only good news brought him great relief.

Both times when Bilbo’s guests were about to depart, they urged him to visit Erebor again, assuring him that he would be welcomed as a hero. Although Bilbo was delighted at the invitations both times, he made no promise as to when exactly he would come to the Lonely Mountain again. He did not know whether his friends knew why he parted on bad terms with the King or were aware of it at all. He definitely did not want to discuss it, so he did his best not to let his reluctance show, instead making sure to express his joy at having been invited.

No other dwarves visited him in the same year as Balin, nor in the next one. Bilbo would probably have felt this lack of dwarven guests more acutely if it had not been for the fact that he managed to make new dwarf friends.

The way that came about was that, in the year following Balin’s visit, Bilbo chipped an old kitchen knife. He decided to buy a new one instead of fixing the old one, as it was too well-used for his liking. On the nearest market day in Hobbiton, two dwarven metalsmiths - a bladesmith and a brownsmith - just happened to sell their wares, and Bilbo did not hesitate for a moment to approach the stall the two put up together. The bladesmith introduced himself as Seis, and the brownsmith together with him introduced himself as Darl.

When Bilbo gave them his name in return, Seis said, “Bilbo Baggins? I’ve heard your name before, master hobbit!”

“Have you?” Bilbo said. “Have other hobbits mentioned me to you?”

“No. I’ve heard your name from stories of the quest of Erebor! You’re the Burglar who faced the dragon and defended the King and the princes in the battle!”

A blush coloured Bilbo’s cheeks. ‘Yes,” he said. “That was me.”

Seis could not have been more enthusiastic in his response. He bowed to Bilbo deeply and thanked him for his role in the reclamation of Erebor, offering any of his wares for free as an expression of his gratitude. Darl did the same and, in a show of trust that Bilbo found most humbling, revealed that her name was in fact Umí, and that Seis was her husband. (Having met Glóin and Bombur’s wives, Bilbo now knew that if dwarrowdams travelled, they did so under an alias and dressed as dwarven men, for they were rare among their own kind and took every measure to protect themselves).

Bilbo did not want to agree to not paying for their work but neither would accept his money. The more Bilbo insisted, the more stubbornly the two refused, until the whole situation turned into quite a scene that attracted a large audience of nosy hobbits.

In the end, Bilbo relented. “Fine! I shall take a knife and a saucepan from you, but please, allow me to invite you to stay at my home tonight. I shall serve you supper in return for your kind offers.”

This Seis and Umí agreed to and thus Bilbo’s friendship with them began.

From the start, the couple was eager to learn more about him and his adventures. Bilbo found their openness to be refreshing and charming. Dwarves were known to be a secretive lot, and Bilbo remembered how long it took for other members of the Company to regard him as one of their own. Seis and Umí, in contrast, treated him as though he was their good old friend they were reconnecting with. As they asked him all sorts of questions about his life and the Quest of Erebor especially, all of his answers seemed to delight them.

“Is it really true, master Baggins,” Umí asked for example, during that first supper at Bag End, “That there are all kinds of treasures in the Mountain?”

“I suppose so, yes,” Bilbo replied. “I’ve seen hoards of gold, all kinds of precious gemstones, things made of silver and mithril - ”

“Mithril?!” Seis cried. “Are you certain it was mithril you’ve seen?”

“Why, yes -”

“Then you were so lucky to have come near it!” the dwarf said. “Many would near give their lives to be able to say the same.”

“What? What do you mean by that?” Bilbo asked.

“Mithril is now beyond price,” Umí replied. “No one has mined it for centuries and its properties make it extremely desirable. No blade can pierce it, yet it is as light as a feather.”

“To illustrate the value of mithril better to you, master hobbit,” Seis said, “Let me tell you about the piece of mithril I possess. I do not carry it with me, it’s far too precious for that, so I can’t show it to you, but it’s a throwing knife, about the size of my forearm. It’s a family heirloom, passed to me from my father, who received it as a gift of thanks from King Thráin himself. With that knife, I’d say one could buy well over twenty dozen hobbit-holes just like yours.”

“Twenty dozen?!” Bilbo exclaimed.

“Aye, it was a kingly gift indeed.”

Bilbo gave no answer to that, as he felt a bit faint. He possessed a large piece made of the unique metal himself: a whole shirt of chain mail, in fact, given to him by the King of Erebor, as a token of their friendship. At the time when he had received it, Bilbo had not been aware of the extraordinary worth of mithril. Now that he knew it, he realised just how expensive his shirt was. If he understood correctly, this single gift was worth more than the whole Shire, and wasn’t that a head-spinning thought!

His friendship having been valued more than his homeland, however, brought Bilbo only sorrow, for he was quite certain the King no longer held him in such high esteem. Indeed, even in his own head, Bilbo struggled to call them friends. They had used to be that, most definitely - true companions, who had survived remarkable dangers together, and had earned each other’s respect, trust and loyalty in hardship. Their friendship had undergone some severe trials, emerging only more strengthened, yet there was one thing it did not survive.

Heartbreak.

Bilbo forced all the memories and musings about the matter to retreat deep into his mind. It was no time for brooding; after all, he had guests to take care of. Bilbo offered his guests more ale and pork roast, which they accepted happily. As they ate and drank, Bilbo had just enough time to regain his composure.

“Aren’t you curious what deed inspired such generosity from King Thráin?” Seis said.

“My husband been itching to tell you the story this whole time, Master Baggins,” Umí laughed. ‘Be careful, or else he shall bore you to death!”

“I certainly shall not! It is an interesting story!”

“Let me hear it, then,” Bilbo said.

In response, Seis regaled Bilbo with the story of how his father Tawis played a pivotal role in helping King Thráin establish his settling in Ered Luin.

“My father was a blade smith just like I,” he said, “But he understood stone like the finest miner, and he was a Broadbeam, just like I. Our house has lived in the Mountains since the dawn of our kind. My father was already over a century old at that time, and with his wandering feet, he had got to know the whole mountain range backwards and forwards.”

Then, Seis went into staggering detail about each hall and little corridor his father helped construct, and each cave-in he helped avoid. The onslaught of specialist information about stone, mining and construction - which Bilbo really did not understand - almost made his head spin. Seis spoke of it with such pride and passion, however, that Bilbo did not have the heart to stop him. All the while, Umí shared amused glances Bilbo, until she took pity on him and interjected Seis from time to time, urging her husband to have a sip of his drink or taste more of the pork roast.

“In the end,” Seis finished his tale significant time later, “my father’s contributions were so great that Thráin was most grateful and gave him his own mithril knife. My father was so honoured by this gift that he decided to stay in the King’s service for good, and him and my mother settled along the Longbeards, like many other Broadbeams and Firebeams. The new halls kept growing prosperous, so we were eager to move there.” He leaned in towards Bilbo with a smile. ‘The fact that Longbeards turned out to be most comely was a great added bonus, I must say. Just look at my Umí here.”

Umí laughed and swatted her husband’s arm. “Oh, you Broadbeams always speak in such pretty words! Makes you wonder if you mean half the praise you say!”

“I would never flatter you untruthfully,” Seis said. ‘Never once.”

“Except for the times you know you’ve done something that would anger me.”

“I’m still truthful when I try to placate you, my gem. It’s just that I’d rather face a dragon than your ire.”

The couple kept bickering good-naturedly, which Bilbo observed indulgently, for it very much reminded him of the way his parents had talked to each other.

It was only after his guests left the next day, with promises of swift return, that Bilbo decided to poke at old wounds. He took the mithril shirt out of the chest he kept it in and studied it closely. He run his fingers over the tiny chain rings, marvelling at how apparently this one item was worth more than the whole Shire and everything in it.

“A kingly gift indeed,” Bilbo said to himself. “Oh, Thorin.”

Bilbo could not help but wonder what he would have done if he had known the true value of this gift. He suspected that this knowledge would have made the regard the dwarf King had for him more believable. As such, when Thorin had spoken of it for the first time, Bilbo had been convinced that the roundabout confession in the form of a sudden marriage proposal could not have been born of clear thinking. After all, Thorin had lain heavily wounded in his tent after the Battle of the Five Armies. Moreover, although both were certain about the trust, respect and loyalty they had for one another, neither of them had directly shown any signs deeper fondness. Thus, Bilbo found it impossible to believe that the King had truly reciprocated his affections, the depth of which he himself had only just begun to understand.

Now it seemed that Bilbo had been wrong. This whole time, ever since deciding to head back to the Shire after the battle, he had been assuring himself that he had done the right thing to leave Erebor and her King behind. He had been sure that Thorin could not have been serious in his proposal. Moreover, he had had it on good authority that at the time, Thorin’s mind might not have yet fully cleared of the sickness that had previously plagued it.

Yet, if Thorin had given him this shirt fully made of precious silver steel, it appeared that he must have truly cared Bilbo just as dearly as Bilbo still cared for him.

“Oh, Thorin,” Bilbo said again and wept, as bitterly as on the day of his mother’s passing.

#myfic #bagginshield #bilbo x thorin #persuasion au #I forgot to post the chapters here damn #I'm gonna post the remaining three ones every day from now

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