When Frodo first arrived,
he was incredibly withdrawn. Always he clung to Bilbo’s tunic, and more oft
than not, he would hide his face in his cousin’s leg. Bilbo was the only one
able to communicate with the faunt, always in hushed, soft tones.
Thorin understood the
trauma Frodo had suffered was great. Dutifully, he kept a distance from Frodo, lest
he create feelings of unease. Dwarves were known as terribly loud, from their
heavy footfalls, to their oft-raised voices, uproarious laughs, and boisterous
snoring. It was his noisiness, perhaps, that Bilbo complained about the most.
Thorin never took his husband’s quips to heart, but after Frodo arrived, the
Dwarf made sure to imitate Hobbit quietness. It was no easy feat, but one look
at the small, skittish child, and the necessity of the task was impossible to
Despite not speaking to Frodo
directly, Bilbo encouraged Thorin to interact as much as possible. He would
converse with his husband as usual, provide aid in the kitchen, sit in the
garden, read a book aloud every night, often accompanied by a deep song. Bilbo
said it would help acclimatize the fauntling to his Dwarvish housemate.
For the longest time, Thorin
was convinced all was for naught. Even as the weeks eked on, and Frodo began
opening up more – whispering to his cousin, travelling through Bag End on his
own, accompanying them on trips to the markets – he would not talk to Thorin. The
Dwarf would have thought Frodo ignoring him altogether, if it was not for the wide-eyed
stares the fauntling sent him.
Always Bilbo was there to
assuage the Dwarf’s self-doubt. Frodo was still healing, and it is quite a shock, you must admit, to suddenly live with a Dwarf!
he would say. Even if he hardly believed it, Thorin still endeavoured to
make the orphaned boy happy at Bag End; never would anything come before
“Very good, Frodo,”
Thorin murmured to the small Hobbit sitting on his knee. The child leaned
forward over the desk, tongue caught between his teeth as he concentrated. The
quill clenched in his hand shivered slightly with the effort to make each
Frodo suddenly flipped
the paper over, seconds before a voice called, “What’s this, then?”
jumping up in his seat and jostling the little faunt with the movement. The boy
just laughed, always finding amusement in moments such as these. Of course he
would, Thorin thought mulishly; he was a co-conspirator when it came to Hobbity
“Nothing!” Dwarf and
faunt called at once, both turning to Bilbo with wide, blue eyes. Bilbo crossed
his arms, chin tilting down and brows lifting up in a look of total disbelief.
Something colliding with the back of Thorin’s head had the King whipping around, Orcrist drawn. Another attack came immediately, and before the battle-hardened warrior even had a chance to dodge the blow, he found himself with a face full of cold, hard wetness. Spluttering, the King wiped his eyes free, gloved hand coming away covered in snow.
“What in Mahal’s name?” he growled, glaring out into the vast snow-covered field.
A giggle came from his right. Spinning, the King turned just in time to see a small figure appear out of nowhere before running down field. The tiny frame gave away the creature instantly.
“Frodo!” Thorin yelled, running after his Hobbit ward. “We must get inside –”
The King stopped short as he was pelted with three balls of hard, clumped snow.
“Run, Frodo, run!” The Consort’s cry was unmistakable, golden curls popping up behind a snowy fortress before ducking down. Frodo ran as fast as his little legs could take him, and Thorin watched, flabbergasted, as he dove behind the stronghold with his elder cousin.
- copy this post into a new text post, remove my answers and put in
your own. when you are done tag up to 10 people and also tag the person
that tagged you…most importantly, have fun.
a / age – 32 b / biggest fear – Being Forever Alone c / current time – 1:31 am d / drink you had last – Cherry Pepsi f / favourite song – Is subject to change daily, currently all of Hamilton g / ghosts are real? – Sure. h / hometown – Pittsburgh i / in love with – Thranduil j / jealous of – People who don’t have to constantly worry about money k / killed someone – Only in fiction. l / last time you cried? – Consoling a friend who lost her cat, talking about my own that died last January m / middle name – Shh it’s a secret. n / number of siblings – None. o / one wish – This dumpster fire president doesn’t destroy the entire world and send us spiraling into a YF dystopia p / person you last called/texted – My boss. q / questions you’re always asked – How are you? r / reasons to smile – Cats s / song last sang – Who Lives Who Dies Who Tells Your Story (Hamilton) t / time you woke up – …2 pm u / underwear colour – Black. v / vacation destination – A nice warm beach with lots of wildlife w / worst habit – Is ‘lacking motivation’ a ‘habit’? Maybe also just abandoning a text/chat conversation without warning because I got distracted and wandered away. x / xrays you have had – Just my teeth. y / your favourite food – Chinese z / zodiac sign – Aries
I TAG EVERYONE. If you want to do this, go for it and say I tagged you.
nudged the mass on the floor with a steel toe, raising a skeptical brow at the answering
believe you have overindulged yourself,” Thorin commented as the Halfling
struggled to sit up. His round cheeks were flushed a dark crimson, and as hazel
eyes struggled to look up, Thorin noted their glassy gaze.
I haven’t,” Baggins drawled, words slurred as he reached a hand up. Likely, his
intention was to wipe at his sweat-prickled skin, but the hand came nowhere near
you stand?” Thorin asked with a straight face, prodding at the creature’s plump
backside. Baggins attempted to swat at the offending leg, but once again his aim
course I can bloody well stand,” Baggins hissed, impertinent as always. The Dwarf
took a pointed step back, allowing the Hobbit to do as he claimed unhindered.
Baggins placed two hands on the floor, bracing his weight as he straightened
his stubby legs. Back end in the air, Thorin watched with barely contained
amusement as he attempted to rely on shaky legs.
Thorin eyed the mountain of furs currently piled up on the bed, gauging whether or not a tiny Hobbit could actually survive under such weight. Just as he opened his mouth to call again, a half-hearted groan came from within the heap, accompanied by a shifting of movement. Thorin could easily picture Bilbo burying his face into his pillow, staving off awaking as long as possible.
“Bilbo, what in Mahal’s name are you doing?” the Dwarf asked, climbing onto the bed to face the gigantic mound. He began peeling off the blankets one-by-one, but this method proved much too slow; even by the handful, it took long minutes before the King was rewarded with a peek at golden curls.
“‘M cold,” came a muffled reply. A small pale hand darted out, just long enough to grab a fistful of furs and drape them back over the small body, hiding Bilbo from sight once more.
Thorin silently slipped
into his bedchambers, or as silently as a Dwarf could given their heavy layers
and heavier boots. The council meeting had dragged on far too long, thanks to the
quick tempers of guild leaders. Thorin knew his husband would be asleep by now,
accustomed to a life of easy comfort as Bilbo was. It was amazing the same
Hobbit who faced a dragon completely alone also complained endlessly about
early mornings and late second breakfasts.
True to his prediction, a
distinctly Hobbit-sized shape was hunched over in an armchair by the fire. It
was not uncommon for Bilbo to fall asleep while awaiting his husband’s return,
a fact that often tore at Thorin’s heart.
The Dwarf approached
slowly, aiming to bring his husband to a proper bed without rousing the
sleeping form. Yet as he came closer, soft gasping noises reached his ears. Belatedly
he realized Bilbo’s form was not still at all, but faintly trembling. While
Bilbo was not plagued by night terrors nearly as often as Thorin, it was still
easy to recognize.
Lotr alphabet: S- Speak friend and enter “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”