Chapter Text
Since losing their home in Erebor, the dwarves spent many years wandering.
Avoiding elves, they camped on the outskirts of various towns and villages and followed tales of mountains to call their own.
Their best luck came from humans, who were happy to barter for dwarven goods and hire their laborers and blacksmiths, though not always for a proper price. But the hobbits, they learned, were very wary of strangers.
Upon first glance, dwarves thought the hobbits appeared to be quite friendly. Too friendly.
To them, hobbits practically frolicked about half-naked, showing themselves off. From their tousled hair kept short or long locks tied up on their heads, both styles leaving their necks exposed, to the simple hobbit style of wearing as few layers as possible - often an undershirt and a loose vest or dress, if even that: no shoes, no hats or gloves, nothing. Meanwhile, the dwarves much preferred two or three layers at minimum, depending on the weather, as well as accessories.
So when Thorin met their supposed burglar, who wore only a single layer of clothes and had his neck exposed to the entire company, Thorin knew he would be a distraction. As he heard the commotion of the hobbit catching up to the company, he firmly reminded them that Bilbo comes from a different culture and to leave the thief alone. Otherwise, there was no doubt multiple members of his group would have tried to keep Bilbo warm that night.
Despite their differences, Bilbo was quick to prove himself. After making camp in Troll territory, Bilbo was sent in to figure out the source of an odd light they saw in the forest. Curiously, he crept forward through the shadows until he was met by the sight of three large trolls. The hobbit’s heart nearly stopped at the sight before returning in heavy pounds. He hurried back to camp to tell the others while holding the coin purse of one of the trolls. He figured that if he was going to be a thief, he might as well be a damn good one.
"Could be worth a fight." Dwalin offered, still a bit uncertain.
Dori agreed, "Aye, troll teeth and nails go fer a pretty penny, what with those alchemists. We could use their meat as bait for traps."
Bombur concurred, "Couldn't do too bad having roast hare for supper."
And so, a plan was made. Namely, Bilbo's one and only job was to stay back at camp while the thirteen dwarves attacked and overwhelmed the trolls.
To be fair, it was a really good plan. Their swiftest would take to the front to distract the trolls, leaving them open for the stronger and more experienced dwarves to knock them down. Then, lob off their heads and raid the cave.
Simple, effective, doable.
After half an hour, Bilbo wondered why none of them had returned yet. Surely, it would make sense to send some back to check on the hobbit and start bringing back their loot. Weaponless, he silently approached the edge of their camp and saw five dwarves tied to a spit, being turned over a fire, while the other eight were tied up and on the ground, being watched over by one of the trolls.
Shit.
Bilbo crouched down and closed his eyes, putting on one of the flower bracelets he made near the start of their journey and putting out a small satchel of religious paraphernalia. His heart raced once more and he took deep breaths as he sat back against a tree, trying to get his bearings. But with only a few scraps with other hobbits under his belt, there was no way he was facing down three trolls by himself.
"Yavanna, our Lady of the Shire, Keeper of the Ancient Ents, and Mistress of the Wilds. I ask my lips be honeyed and flow forth your will in my endeavors." He pulled out a small vial of honey and dripped some onto his lips as he spoke. "May I be successful in rescuing the creation of your dear husband, and if need be," he frowned, nervous but willing. "… if need be, may I be the savage hunter of the wilds."
The only way he saw himself winning was by tricking the trolls. With their low intelligence, he expected he could talk them into at least not eating anyone, getting them to let everyone go at best.
In all honesty, Bilbo would never truly know what gave him the confidence to confront the trolls a full seven hours before sunrise.
"Evening. Lovely night for a feast."
The dwarves immediately began freaking out when Bilbo revealed himself. He silently prayed the trolls would ignore them. But the trolls were quite shocked by the little man being so accepting of the scene before him. They were used to horror from the smaller races. So they decided to entertain the notion.
"You lost, little man?" Asked the first, leering at him as he turned the spit.
"Not lost at all!" He spoke confidently and with a cool smile. "I just couldn't help but notice this grand feast you have going on."
"Feast? Mm. These li'le men was tresspassin', and we's teachin' 'em a lesson!" Said the second, laughing at the dwarves that the first troll turned on the spit.
"Well, there's an art to cooking dwarves, you know. All that time in the mines really alters their taste. You know proper seasoning, don't you?" Bilbo asked.
He had no idea where his words came from. They were nearly all foreign to him as he distracted the trolls for a few hours with talk of seasoning and cooking techniques. The fire dulled over time due to the trolls’ lack of attention, which was a relief to the dwarves. The trolls were very intrigued by this little man, who seemed to be an expert on cooking dwarves. As all three turned their attention to the spit, Bilbo snuck about while engaging in the conversation, soon getting the trolls into an argument while he started untying some of the dwarves laid out. He freed Nori, Glóin, and Ori before having to stop.
At that point, he discovered that Dwalin had been knocked unconscious and began to perform a small ritual for his health, waking him up.
This came as a shock to the dwarves.
Most Valar, having dominion over large populations and many different things, were not so active in the lives of their followers. But Yavanna, being nature-focused and caring only for the hobbits and Ents, enjoyed being active in the lives of her followers. So for hobbits, rituals tended to solve most small problems. He just hoped she might be willing to assist with a larger one out of love for her husband, Mahal, creator of the dwarves.
Soon, only Thorin, Kíli, and Bifur remained tied up.
Eventually, he moved on to discuss where the dwarves came from and how the trolls came upon them.
"Well, they just came here." Said the third, now watching over the tied-up dwarves more carefully.
"Just … came here? You don’t know what mountain they’re from?”
"We're of Erebor!" Balín, who was tied to the spit, shouted.
"Oh, oh no!" Bilbo exclaimed.
"What?!" Shouted the first troll, now entirely consumed by the opinion of the hobbit.
"Well, dwarves of Erebor, you see … they have parasites and worms. Very deadly. Deadly even to the mightiest giants and trolls. You’re really best to throw them out."
At first, Kíli seemed insulted, until Thorin, wide-eyed and high on adrenaline, gave a sharp kick to his nephew.
"AH! Yes! I'm riddled with worms!" Kíli shouted.
They all followed suit. Making up worms and diseases they were infected with to get the trolls disinterested in them. With that, he kept the trolls busy and slowly freed the remaining three dwarves until dawn, when the sunlight peaked and turned the confused and arguing trolls to stone.
Ever since then, the dwarves were far more open with Bilbo. He also became more open with the dwarves.
They told stories, made jokes, sang songs, and shared ale. He even started sleeping by Fíli and Kíli, who idolized him as a proven hero.
The company learned that Bilbo absolutely adored his mother, Belladonna Took, making his pride obvious in his Took heritage through her, even though other hobbits are wary of their adventurous and wild nature. And once, while drunker than he meant to be, he admitted that, as a child, he used to pride himself on being the exact opposite of a Took, something he's now ashamed of.
Bilbo learned much about the company as well; Glóin and Bombur were married with wives and children, Bifur and Bofur were toymakers who dreamed of opening a little shop in Erebor, Óin wanted to open his own medical practice, and Fíli and Kíli's mother had been trying to get the two to settle down for nearly a decade with no luck.
"She'll probably try to marry us off once everything is settled." Fíli sighed as Kíli nodded.
As their conversations bled through night and day, growing more and more open with each other, it came out that the dwarves were pleasantly surprised by Bilbo's personality and disposition, and that it wasn't what they expected coming from a hobbit.
"And what exactly does that mean?" He countered.
Bofur gave an awkward smile. "Well, most hobbits are … timid. Bit shy to outsiders, is all."
Bilbo scoffed. "Shy to outsiders," he mumbled before speaking up, "rude is what they are. Nosy too. But only with other hobbits." His face then quickly fell. "Oh no." He said as he started rummaging through his bag.
Fíli raised an eyebrow. "Something wrong?"
"Next town we get to, I need to send a letter back to the Shire. Once that Lobelia Sackville-Baggins finds out I'm gone, she'll have me presumed dead and try to touch my things. No doubt she'll be after the silverware."
"No heirs?" Thorin wasn't sure why he asked. Though there was no evidence to suggest Bilbo had any children or was married, he found himself unable to resist the chance at a more personal question. He chalked it up to just wanting to get closer to the man who saved himself, his nephews, and his company.
Of all things, Bilbo went a bit red. "I adopted my little cousin as my heir. He’s nearly of age, but I ought to send a letter to reaffirm his status before Lobelia gets any ideas."
The journey carried on in relative peace for a few days. With every feat that would come under Bilbo’s belt, he would always attribute it to the blessings of Yavanna.
At first, they were satisfied with this. Yavanna was, after all, the patron Valar of hobbits and the wife of the creator of dwarves, Mahal. So they naturally held great respect for Yavanna. But eventually, it became obvious how devoted Bilbo, and all hobbits, are.
No one knows how hobbits came to be. Other races know their creation stories, but hobbits were said by other races to have simply appeared over the Misty Mountains one day, searching for a home. Yavanna was delighted to adopt them and create what is now known as the Shire and the surrounding area. Hobbits, ever thankful for her protection, became quite pious. In fact, it was his connection to the earth through Yavanna that let him feel the vibrations of the mountain that preluded the arrival of the goblins that would take them. There were too many to fight off, and there was nowhere to run. Though they didn't surrender, they accepted their fate as they were taken into the mountain to meet the Goblin King.
In the darkened halls, Bilbo once more prayed to Yavanna, silently, so as to not draw suspicion. 'Yavanna, our Lady of the Shire, Keeper of the Ancient Ents, and Mistress of the Wilds.' His mind went blank. He didn’t know what to pray for, but he was certain he couldn't talk his way out of this one. 'May the verdant path before me be bright and clear. And if need be, may I be the savage hunter of the wilds.'
Bilbo lay in wait near the dwarves, his breath quickening as he could hardly hear what the Goblin King was saying over the sound of his heart ringing in his head. But then, he saw it. A flicker of magic that he knew to be Gandalf. A clear path. So when the torches went out, he trusted it was Yavanna's will and that he would be protected as he grabbed the sword he found in the troll-cave, and lobbed off the head of the goblin-king in a flash of light that shook the dwarves at the sight of their small friend committing such an act.
In that moment, he decided his sword needed a name: Sting.
Bilbo and Sting found a flow, like wind slipping through trees. While they battled their way out, many of the goblins were too busy fighting each other to care. Why try and take a dead king's hostages when a power vacuum just opened up? As far as they were concerned, the chance to become king had just opened up to each individual goblin, and they all wanted it.
In the confusion, Bilbo was separated from the group, before one wrong move sent him tumbling down. Far down. Much farther than he thought the cave would go.
And yet, he wasn't dead.
That's where he would discover a ring that allowed him invisibility. In the process, he found a horrid and twisted little creature, Gollum, who would inadvertently lead him out of the mountain. Truly, Bilbo pitied the poor creature, who crept about and whispered to himself about matters Bilbo did not understand. But what he did understand was the primal horror that coursed through his body upon laying eyes on such a corrupt version of life. Something that life was never meant to become, and yet, of all the more adventurous races, this bastardizing of existence should happen to a fellow hobbit. Or, what was once a hobbit. And after a moment's hesitation, he would pierce his sword through Gollum, ending the creature's miserable existence.
In the meantime, the dwarves found themselves debating whether or not Bilbo could still be alive and if he was worth saving before the hobbit came running up with a wild smile on his face, no doubt on the adrenaline high of having escaped.
Bilbo would show off his skills once again when the eagles arrived after they nearly failed to hold off war parties of wargs and goblins. Óin, officially, was the group’s healer. But at the moment, he was on the other eagle. So, Bilbo, on the same eagle as a grunting and whining Nori, began undressing the dwarf’s upper half.
“Master burglar, an odd time, but … if you so insist.” Nori wheezed out his joke as Bilbo rolled his eyes and pulled out the arrowhead from between his ribs, drawing a curse shouted in Khuzdûl.
“Arms up.”
Nori did as he was told and watched Bilbo start to apply some sort of plant mush onto the wound. “Don’t touch it. When it dries, let it fall off on its own. Try to stretch your arms and torso as much as possible.” The hobbit instructed before turning to the rest of the group and shouting over the wind, “Any other injured?”
Dori raised his hand, and Bilbo went over to him, seeing Fíli and Ori were trying to tend to him. In the corner of his eye, he also saw Bombur swaying as he sat with slightly crossed eyes.
“What happened?”
“Knife to the shoulder. It’s deep.” Fíli spoke gravely, concerned by how serious this could be.
“Right, then. Undress him as carefully as you can.” He looked over and saw Bombur now on his back. “I think Bombur got a concussion.”
He crawled over to the dwarf and gave him a small smile. “How are you feeling?”
“Uhh, sleepy. Dizzy. ‘S too bright.”
Bilbo frowned. “Sounds like a concussion. Bofur!” He called, waving the dwarf over. “I need you to sit with Bombur. Keep him awake and don’t let him fall asleep, alright?”
Bofur nodded and started up a light conversation with Bombur as Bilbo went back over to the undressed Dori.
“Ori, Fíli, hold his arms down. Dori, when did this happen?”
Dori spoke through gritted teeth, but Bilbo didn’t actually listen. He waited a moment and then, in one swift movement, yanked the knife out before tying his jacket around Dori’s shoulder to stop the bleeding while the dwarf cursed under him in Khuzdûl.
“Too fuckin’ tight!”
“Not if you don’t want to bleed out. You two keep it on him. I’ll be back to make sure it doesn’t get infected. I need to go make sure Balín’s leg is okay.” He said this before crawling over to where Balín and Thorin were sitting by each other, cringing and groaning.
“How’s the leg?”
“Fractured. Mind Thorin’s shoulder?”
He looked over and saw the man’s shoulder was dislocated.
“Ready?” He asked, getting into position.
“Ready for w-OH! FUCK!”
Bilbo cracked a small smile and patted his back. “Rest that arm.” He said as he moved back from Thorin’s now-relocated shoulder.
“Don’t worry about me, lad. I just need your help wrapping it.”
Bilbo nodded and helped Balín wrap his leg up to keep it set.
“We don’t have horses anymore,” Bilbo commented. “You can’t walk on that or it’ll get worse. And that isn’t what we need facing down a dragon.”
“Aye, lad. I’ll be fine.”
Bilbo gave a nod before going back to Bombur and Bofur. The larger dwarf was sitting up again and talking. The light didn’t seem to bother him anymore.
Bilbo sat by them as he began digging through his things.
“What are those? Potions?” Bofur asked.
“Not quite. Medicine. I’m no healer, but being a devotee of Yavanna has its perks. I hope wherever we go, there’s a forest nearby. I’ll need time to scavenge and brew. But between Balín’s leg and your concussion, we shouldn’t be traveling for at least a week.”
“Healer’s orders.” Bombur joked.
“Here, take this.” He said, passing a vial over to Bombur, who drank it without question. Bilbo felt flattered to know the dwarves trusted him. “That should cut down your recovery time and keep any pain in check. Now I need to get back to Dori.”
He started over back to Dori before he was stopped by Bombur calling out a, “Thank you.” A grin broke out on the hobbit’s face that he couldn’t hold back and his cheeks went pink.
“Of course, Bombur.”
Now that he thought about it, he’d never heard any of the dwarves ever say “thank you” to anyone before, including each other.
The hobbit’s light green jacket around Dori’s arm had become a mess of brown and Dori complained his arm hurt from how tight it was.
“Good. That means it isn’t numb from blood loss.” He commented as he applied some sort of plant matter to the wound, giving the same instructions to never touch it.
As Bilbo put away his supplies, he realized most of the dwarves were watching him. Curious, thankful, confused, suspicious. Eventually, Thorin approached.
“I didn’t realize you were a healer, burglar.”
He gave a playful smile. “You also didn’t know I was an expert in cooking dwarves.” He commented. “Thankfully, I keep my medicines and rations on me at all times. Everything on the pony was just some cookware and a few books for when I got bored. Suppose I also lost my bedroll.”
“You may have our only rations, then."
“We can hunt. Bedrolls aren’t hard to make with skins, I can forage for more medicinals, and we can cure most any meat. Bombur and Balín need at least a week’s rest, anyways.”
Thorin gave a smile. “Aye, a break will do them good. We'll find somewhere to rest a while.”
Thankfully, Gandalf would then lead them to Beorn, a half-man, half-bear who would give them respite until the goblin and warg war parties calmed down and they could safely make their way to Mirkwood, the last leg of their adventure before arriving at the Lonely Mountain.
The break was wonderful.
Many of the dwarves happily went hunting with Beorn, while Bilbo stayed behind to get the animal pelts ready to be turned into bedrolls, foraged for medicinals and spices, and cured meats with what he found.
Eventually, in their two weeks of staying there, Bilbo would also be wrapped up in conversation with the quiet and soft-spoken Beorn.
Bilbo, with his knowledge of nature, was a bit wary of Beorn. While he knew not of this man's nature, he knew of the nature of bears and that they were particularly eager to breed in the warmer months, picking up in summer, which was at its height.
The much larger man would comment on Bilbo's nature, calling him soft and sweet. The hobbit would turn red and deflect. But the dwarves, especially those he was getting closer to, greatly enjoyed teasing him about it.
Kíli grinned. "He practically treats you like a housewife.”
Bilbo went red and said nothing.
"What?" Thorin asked, finding himself very interested, while Dwalin, Bofur, Nori, and Ori also perked up.
"Went as far as to nearly call you one." Added Fíli.
"It's nothing to be concerned about." Bilbo defended, not wishing to speak ill or gossip about their host.
"Wha's it all about, then?" Bofur grinned, eyeing Bilbo. Of all their companions, Bofur and Dwalin had found themselves the most outwardly interested in the hobbit. While it greatly excited them, things never progressed beyond their flirting and enjoying his shy reactions. It made him feel like a toy being played with, and he absolutely refused to examine why he enjoyed it.
“I- it’s really nothing.” He insisted. “It isn’t his fault. Bears breed in the warm months, and it … it gets worse in the summer.”
“He’s trying ta breed you?!” The breath nearly wheezed out of Thorin’s chest at such a statement.
Unfortunately, as the conversation continued, and as Bilbo tried to come to the defense of the half-bear, he would only screw himself over as he mentioned that everything Beorn had done was within what Bilbo expected. He was only surprised he was the target of Beorn’s affections. It all culminated in Bilbo giving a huff and saying, “Well at least he’s polite! Nowhere near as bad as you lot.”
This only excited the dwarves. They had already shared their previous impression of hobbits, and how Bilbo made them realize they were wrong. But surely, the hobbit had heard rumors of dwarves. All thirteen sat about, eager to hear if the hobbit had ever heard rumors about dwarven folk.
“Of course I have.” He mumbled, clearly embarrassed.
Mahal, being a Valar of dwarves, mining, metalwork, and smithing, unfortunately, also made him the Valar of caverns, banging hammers, hot forges, and a million other innuendoes. Many of which were invented by the dwarves themselves. It seemed to be a point of pride for them. Carnality, to say the least, was part of Mahal’s portfolio and, therefore, rumored to be a large part of dwarvish society. So the rumors surrounding them were, in Bilbo’s opinion, highly inappropriate.
Growing up, he even had friends who joked about the dangers of dwarves.
“You really must be careful,” his friend Mermis once warned, “those mountains over there are said to be the home of a secret clan of dwarves. And on nights like these, after prayers are said, Mahal sometimes will guide dwarves in search of bedfellows and spouses to these woods, where unlucky hobbits … are snatched!”
Nowadays, he felt like a fool for having believed anything his stupid friend made up about dwarves. Especially since he knew Mermis adored the idea of marrying someone taller and stronger than him, making a dwarf the perfect candidate. Sometimes he wondered if they were just tall tales or Mermis’ wishful thinking.
But upon retelling this story, the dwarves only seemed more and more amused, with Dwalin laughing and shouting, “That we do!”
Bilbo turned red and rolled his eyes. “Funny.”
“I can’t say I wouldn’ snatch a hobbit if I could.” Bofur mumbled as Bilbo went redder and tried to sit straighter, suddenly unable to look anyone in the eye.
Thorin, somehow, found himself both irritated and amused. He enjoyed the sight of Bilbo but didn’t like the fact that it was Dwalin and Bofur making the hobbit squirm. “Surely, hobbits take pleasure in their own ways and our prudish ideals of your people were mistaken.”
Bilbo looked a bit nervous. “Well. Ah …”
That got the whole group looking at him, including Beorn, who had joined their camp shortly after Bilbo began the story about his old friend.
“Well now you have ta say.” Kíli joked.
He frowned. “Hobbits don’t really have sex before marriage. Not to say it doesn’t happen but … sex is very taboo.”
Silence.
Somehow, that was worse than the jeering. So he filled the silence once more. “Like I said, it isn’t like it doesn’t happen! But, it’s rare. It’s impolite to go sleeping about.”
“’s impolite, Dwalin.”
“So I heard, Bofur.”
The two dwarves were red from fighting back their laughter, doing their best not to break down.
“So, have you never…?” Fíli really couldn’t help but to get out the question that had been plaguing his mind ever since the conversation first began.
Bilbo stared at his hands, folded in his lap. “I tried twice.” He shrugged. “Too drunk to do much the first time and the second … we didn’t get far before we just decided to stop.”
A soft growl came from Beorn as he retreated into the forest, taking the shape of his bear form and running off, suffering a frustration that Bilbo could sense, thanks to his attachment to Yavanna. It would seem the heat of the season, and the hobbit, were both beginning to bother the large man.
Bofur and Dwalin were silently debating the morals of openly playing rock, parchment, shears for Bilbo’s virginity.
But Thorin immediately came upon the idea that no one but himself was worthy of it, before quickly banishing the thought from his mind.