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Dwarves were very different from hobbits.
They were taller, though that wasn’t so unusual. They were muscular. They valued hard work and resilience. They lived underground and worked with stones and gems. They valued the past and honoured those who were not with them anymore. They chose to remember the hard times, rather than forget once they were gone.
Bilbo had often thought it odd that the Hobbits forgot all that they had been through. They forgot about the wondering days, and about the great goblin wars and, very quickly after it happened, about the fell winter.
To think that Hobbits lived easy lives was an easy mistake to make and one that many people of Arda were content to believe, even Hobbits. For, apparently, when times got rough, Hobbits chose to forget rather than remember all they had been through.
Even as a faunt Bilbo thought it odd that no one would tell him of the goblin wars, it was only when he got older that he realised no one knew. Gandalf had a few stories, but even he could not recall all the details of those times, those days being difficult for many beings of middle earth and his power being stretched thin as he tried to accommodate all who needed him.
Bilbo’s mother had tried to learn more from the elves of Rivendell when he was a young faunt and though their texts proved enlightening to the history of hobbits, Bilbo, Belladonna and Bungo had been the only hobbits to ever read them. No matter how they tried to get the others interested.
When Bilbo began his journey with the dwarfs of Erebor, it surprised him how many of their customs revolved around remembering sorrow and the fact they had survived it.
It was one such celebration that had Bilbo and Thorin tucked together around their campsite, surrounded by the company as they made their way towards the lonely mountain.
The fire was lit, and the tree’s swayed gently in the breeze as the final song came to an end, a lovely lilting melody that acknowledged the heartbreak and joy of the past.
“What happens next?” Bilbo whispered into the crook of Thorin’s neck as he snuggled next to the exiled king.
“Now we go around the circle and everyone says the name or tells the story of someone they have lost; you do not have to partake if you do not wish to.” Thorin smiled at him then, a soft look in his eyes as Bilbo gave a warm gaze back before looking back to the group, now assembled in a strange circle shape.
Bofur went first, he told stories of heartbreak and true love, of brave warriors and hard times, by the end of his tale Bilbo let the tears fall from his cheeks freely, unable to stop the tide. Absently, Bilbo thought this tale was quite the modern tragedy, it could be told across middle earth and develop some deep meaning that was never intended, like never trust squirrels for they are nefarious and cruel.
As Bofur ended his tale, a cry went up from the surrounding dwarrow, “Idmi di-dum” reverberated around the hall as they all fell silent again and Fili began to talk about his father and grandparents.
Bilbo couldn’t seem to stop crying through this time, he was practically sobbing when Kili told a tale of an old friend of his who was involved in a terrible accident in Ered Luin, though tears persisted on a couple of the dwarrow’s faces as Kili spoke of pain that never faded.
Thorin went next, after the cry of “Idmi di-dum” had died down again.
“My father and grandfather were not heroes when they died. They were mad men who were taken by the gold and so, I feel it best to pretend that the day the dragon came was their last in middle earth, for their actions afterwards were not wise or made in the right mind. Those actions took so many lives, lives that should be here with us today. Frerin was one of those. He should not have died so young, and I regret that I did not step in sooner to stop the madness of my ancestors.
In their deaths, I hope they found what they could not here in Arda.”
The cry of “Idmi di-dum” went up from the group as all eyes turned to Bilbo.
“You do not have to participate, Amralime” Thorin whispered into the auburn curls on Bilbo’s head.
Bilbo took a deep breath before he spoke to the group, convincing himself that it was time to tell his friends of the tragedy of his youth. He squeezed Thorin’s hand and began to speak.
“Many creatures of Arda believe that the life of a Hobbit is a simple one, and in many ways, they are not wrong. We value relaxation and handkerchiefs and many other trivial things, but what a lot of people do not know is that it took us a long time to get there.
We used to be wanderers, scavengers across middle earth before we settled in Hobbiton. Then we fought great wars with the goblins, but eventually, we settled and forgot about the hardship. We forgot to keep our doors locked at night and to hold our loved ones close.
As you know, Hobbits meet their majority at 33. Well, when I was 19 one such hardship came to the shire and we were so unprepared to deal with it that two-thirds of the shire inhabitants died that winter…” Bilbo took a deep breath and tried not to look at the faces of pain and worry around him, “including my whole family.”
Thorin pulled him closer as he said this, and he could practically feel the group breath as they all settled into his tale; he’d never told anyone this before.
“I was born the youngest of 5, not an unusual sized family in the shire. My parents were Belladonna and Bungo, and my siblings Billa, Bell, Baileya and Balbo. We were a young family, none of my siblings having reached their majority yet and my parents still teaching us all how to become respectable hobbits.
Anyway… You probably experienced it too, the fell winter came.” There were sounds of agreement and shivers from the gathered dwarrow as Bilbo continued.
“We were all so unprepared, usually you can still grow seasonal vegetables during the winter in the shire and so not many people had made stores or reserves and very quickly we realised people were starving before the worst had even hit yet.
We were ok at that time; my mother had been on many an adventure and was always paranoid about keeping enough food in the house to last us as long as we needed it to, but a fever started spreading through the children.
My sister caught it first, Baileya, and she died 4 days later. We weren’t allowed to see her for fear we would catch whatever she had. She died alone and afraid.” Bilbo wasn’t crying anymore. He hadn’t cried at the time either.
“Baileya and Balbo had always been close, and her death hit him the hardest. He was taken by the same fever not a week later.
Unfortunately, this was the time when the Brandywine river had frozen over, connecting the shire to the forest that surrounded it. This meant that wargs and orcs and wolves descended on the shire and began to hunt travellers on the roads. They took all the food we had left and so we all began to starve. Sneaking about trying to hunt small animals was not a Hobbit's intended design and many people died in the pursuit of trying to feed their families.
Not so long after Balbo’s passing, Billa and Bell, they were twins and 27 at this time, went out to answer a distress signal from one of our neighbours. I remember my parents begging them to stay inside but they insisted that others needed help and left anyway. They didn’t come back.
That left me and my parents.
After two weeks of waiting for Billa and Bell to return my parents gave up, I could see they were not ever going to get over this winter but, for me, they decided to make one last ditch effort to get to safety and travel to the great smials of the Tooks. They were my mother’s family and had been housing many since the onset of winter.
It was not a long journey, not really.
But on the way, we encountered a warg pack… I still remember my parents screaming, telling me to run and not look back. I tried to forget, I tried to forget it all but, it’s all still there, just like the day it happened.
When spring finally came and the blanket of white that covered the shire finally fell we found all their bodies. The wargs and wolves had so much food to choose from they didn’t even eat them.
Bell and Billa had frozen to death with a group of other hobbits, obviously, all looking for help.
I buried them all and moved into Bag End by myself. I was 19 and alone.
Took me forever to move everybody’s stuff, but with some help, it got done.
I should have lived with the Tooks, but everything was in such disarray that people forgot about me.
It was only when Lobelia tried to claim Bag End for herself that people realised I was still there.
I hope…” Bilbo had to stop then, his throat beginning to close over as his voice kept cracking.
“I hope that wherever they all went, that they were together. I would hate for them to be as alone as I felt until I met you all.”
It was then that Bilbo squeezed Thorin’s hand and took a shuddering breath, giving a weak smile to the dwarrow at his side.
Bilbo didn’t feel better about the whole thing, but he did feel lighter. Like maybe he could go to sleep tonight and not think about it, like maybe thinking about it didn’t have to mean heartache but could eventually mean acceptance of his pain.
The group stayed quiet for a long time after that as the company dwelled on the difficulties of their burglar’s life. A life, they all realised, they knew nothing about.
Thorin was the first to move, putting his legs either side of Bilbo and pulling the hobbit into his lap, arms wrapping protectively over the smaller body.
Resting his head on Bilbo’s shoulder, Thorin whispered gently “Idmi di-dum” and kissed Bilbo’s shoulder as the smaller man folded into the warmth of the dwarrow and settled into the comfort of his lap.
Eventually, a chorus of “Idmi di-dum” went up from the assembled crowd and Bifur began to tell a story of brotherhood and first partings.
It took a while for the dwarrow to look at Bilbo the same way again. He didn’t mind it, not so much, he had lived it and still not processed all that had happened, so he understood that sometimes you learn things about people that make you reconsider all you know about them.
And though only a small reprise, at least they weren’t hobbits who would explain all his choices away by muttering about lost family and loneliness. That was a nice change really.
Eventually, it went back to normal, however, and Bilbo only occasionally thought of his loss, though it was getting more frequent as the snow began and the company faced the mountain and all that came with it.
Long after the battle and the pain of all that came with it, Bilbo hadn’t dwelled on his admittance to the dwarrow of his family for a long while, not since he was almost killed by Azog and his slow recovery over the winter months.
When the snow began to fall he thought about it though, and when people began tightening belts because they were afraid of running out of food he thought about it.
When the spring came he thought about it too. The second spring after the fell winter Bilbo didn’t leave his smial for two weeks, afraid of what he’d find in the snowbanks; he thought he’d got over that fear but, as the snow melted, he found he was reluctant to go outside despite how much he needed to see the sun.
He told Thorin about it one day, told him of his fear to go out into the crisp spring air for fear he’d find something he couldn’t unsee. He could see Thorin holding back tears at the admittance, see the crack in his love's heartbreak into a deep canyon as he realised just how Bilbo was scarred.
After that he was joined every day by some member of the company to accompany him outside the mountain, they would walk ahead and check for anything unseemly, not that they would admit to it by any means. Bilbo still appreciated the gesture.
Eventually, spring melted away just as the snow had done and Bilbo’s worries about going outside were trampled by the thousands of new dwarrow that flooded into the halls of Erebor every day.
Bilbo was put in charge of agriculture, housing, and diplomacy initially, though those commitments dropped substantially once others had arrived and the whole mountain was no longer populated by just 13 dwarrow and a hobbit.
Bilbo still sat in on diplomatic meetings and, in theory, had final say just as he had final say on housing developments, but he tended to spend most of his time conferring with Bard and the farmers from Dale as they worked on producing a decent crop for the next winter, a thought that always made Bilbo’s skin crawl.
Bilbo was running down the corridor as he dodged sturdy dwarrow dragging things around the mountain or walking to check something else, all calling warnings as he flew faster down the corridor towards the meeting he was certainly already late for.
As he threw himself down the corridors he couldn’t help but notice the noise of the beads in his hair clashing and drumming as they bounced around with his movements. He had been given one from almost every member of the company, all claiming him to their family (the ur’s, the ri’s the Durin's, etc) as well as a bead that proclaimed him as a dwarrow-friend, a master burglar, a scholar, a dragon hunter and one very special bead Thorin had offered him to announce their courtship. He now realised why dwarrow never cut their hair, they needed it all to hold the many beads that they all wore in there. Bilbo had considered putting all the beads on one braid but apparently, the braids themselves also meant something so, he was stuck with an insane assortment behind both ears and through his hair.
Bilbo was going at such a pace and so lost in his own thoughts that he ran headfirst into Thorin, dropping his paper all over the floor and sending them both crashing to the ground as Thorin took the force of the impact.
“Bilbo… Bilbo, you alright?” Bilbo came too as he sat up next to Thorin, rubbing his head slightly as he saw his papers scattered across the hallway.
“Thorin. Oh, oh I’m fine. Just late for a meeting with Ori about the library and when it will be open to the public.” Bilbo smiled at Thorin as he stopped for a minute to admire his lover, all dressed in his regal attire, even if he was sitting on the floor.
“Well, I have something to show you and I’m sure Ori won’t mind.” Thorin smiled a little mischievously as he dragged Bilbo to his feet and brushed the dust from his clothes. “Come on, givashel.”
And then Bilbo was being guided down a corridor, a warm hand on his back, and a chattering dwarven king at his side who would turn and beam at him every few minutes as they made their way.
Making their way towards the company’s meeting room, Bilbo was a little confused, they only ever gathered as the whole company in that room and only ever for important matters.
“Thorin, what’s…” But Bilbo was cut off by a kiss as they stopped outside the door of the room.
“Love”
“Yes, Thorin?”
“I hope you like it” and with another soft brush of their lips, Thorin pushed the doors open to reveal the whole company sat at the large 15-person table that permanently filled the room.
“What’s going on?” Bilbo said as he made his way to his seat, next to Thorin under the Durin blue insignia.
“Oh no, Bilbo you sit here now.” Balin manoeuvred Bilbo to Thorin’s other side where he finally saw what they wanted to show him.
There was a new banner on the wall, and his seat was a new colour.
It was all green. His seat now upholstered in a forest green as well as a flag with an insignia he didn’t know on the wall behind. It was beautiful, there was a giant acorn in the middle of a shield that seemed to be outlined in leaves and flowers with a round smial door surrounding the whole thing.
Bilbo was quiet for a long while before he finally choked out, “What’s this?”
“Well,” Thorin began, “This is your family crest. We asked Tharkun and he said you did not already have one, so we thought we would design one for you. If you do not like it we can always change it” Thorin was cut off mid ramble by Bilbo’s watery smile.
“No, I love it but, why?”
Thorin started again, “Well when you have a family crest, you can have family beads.”
At this Balin produced a box full of beads and placed it in Bilbo’s hands.
They were beautiful, silver with the emblem engraved in as well as some swirling leaves and flowers.
“Why are there so many?” Bilbo was touched but so far it would only be him, he didn’t need what looked like a box of at least 15.
“Well,” There’s one for you obviously but, if you’ll have us, we thought we could all wear one as well. So that everybody would know that we are all family, even though you already wear all our beads. Even Tharkun agreed to wear one if you wish it.”
Bilbo couldn’t stop the silent tears that flowed down his cheeks as he looked from the box of beads to the wall and his chair to the dwarrow that gathered around him.
“Of course, I wan-“ Bilbo had thrown himself at Thorin before he could finish his own sentence, head now lost in a tight embrace with his dwarrow.
Despite all that had to be done, they took the rest of the day for Bilbo the braid in the beads as he chatted and reminisced with his family.
It was late when he got to Thorin and, as he tied off the braid, he thought back on his siblings and his parents, how proud they’d be of him for living his life, going on adventures.
This didn’t replace them, it couldn’t do that, but it was something new, something brilliant. Something that meant he wasn’t so lonely anymore and that, when the snow begins to fall, he doesn’t have to face the cold alone.