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They were only a week into their journey when the hounds of war came running after them.
All right, so maybe Bilbo was being a touch dramatic in referring to a contingent of Very Important hobbits speeding their way toward them in a sturdy farming cart in the same way as he’d think of a pack of wild wargs. But in Bilbo’s defense he had been having a very stressful week since his mother’s meddlesome old friend had so rudely interrupted his morning smoke. His home had been invaded by a baker’s dozen of very loud and presumptuous dwarves. He had been forcibly dragged out of his very comfortable life into the wild and dangerous unknown. All right, so he had actually ran enthusiastically out the door. Nevermind that. And nevermind that the middle of Buckland was hardly the wild unknown. He was sure they would reach that bit eventually.
He had been sleeping on the ground and only allowed to eat twice a day. He had been sniffling and sneezing from horsehair all week and made to use a rough scrap of cloth as a handkerchief to handle the leaky faucet that was his nose. And to add insult to injury, every night he’d been dealing with uncomfortable dreams of the sort that he hadn’t suffered since he was a hormonal tween and he’d needed to hide his laundry from his parents. All of this stress was thanks to the surly yet unfairly handsome leader of this traveling band of adventurers, the dwarf who had seduced Bilbo’s imagination with his talk and his song of reclaiming homelands and hearts yearning for their long-gone mountain home.
So, yes, Bilbo had been having a very stressful week and he felt that a touch of drama in the privacy of his own thoughts could be excused when he’d heard the distant call of “Wait! Halt! I say, Master Baggins, you must stop!” and the clatter of a cart coming from far behind their train of ponies. Even with the voices and faces too far away for him to recognize he could make a very educated guess as to the identities of his pursuers. Bilbo sighed mightily and closed his eyes against the headache he knew was about to be inflicted upon him. They hadn’t even made it to the eastern border of Buckland; the near edge of the Old Forest barely darkened the southeastern horizon. Thorin, impatient as he had been to get moving and make good time every day, would undoubtedly be unhappy with this delay and with Bilbo himself for being the reason for it, for all that Bilbo had done nothing to bring this upon them all.
If only the company had ridden faster. If only their group had been traveling on foot instead of on ponyback. They probably could have avoided all of the fuss that was about to unfold by moving through the fields and woods instead of along a more well trodden path. They could have avoided the gaze of Buckland’s bounders, for undoubtedly it had been one of the scouts who had spied their very conspicuous troupe with its lone and very identifiable hobbit companion. No doubt the news of Master Baggins among a group of dwarves had spread far and wide at the swiftest speed in all of known Arda: that of hobbits gossiping. And that had undoubtedly led to—he squinted over his shoulder at the approaching party—three Very Important hobbits leaving the comforts of their homes at what must have been far before second breakfast to chase him down before he left the Shire proper.
As Bilbo pondered all of the ways that the upcoming encounter could have been avoided if only anyone had used any common sense, the cries for their party to stop continued to grow in volume and urgency. Inevitably the voices became loud enough that the dwarves finally heard them over the sounds of their friendly chattering. At the head of the line Bilbo saw Thorin signal for the group to halt followed by another set hand of motions he didn’t recognize, but he figured it had something to do with everyone maneuvering their ponies into a loose outward-facing circle. Bilbo on his reluctant steed had been at the back of the line this morning and was left floundering near the edge of the circle that faced the path behind them. He found himself face to face with a scowling Dwalin who was unstrapping his battle axes from his back ready to take on the supposed foe head on. He wasn’t the only one of the dwarves who was readying their preferred weapon. They all looked to be preparing for imminent battle.
Bilbo closed his eyes in resignation once more. Confound it, where was Gandalf when you needed him? Dear sweet Eru, if anything could make this encounter go from bad to worse it was thirteen people on edge and bristling with weapons, expecting that they would need to defend themselves. Well, twelve people actually, because it looked like Thorin was making his way around the outside of the circle back toward where Bilbo was still sitting on his pony facing the wrong way and looking dumbfounded at preparations for war—and the sight of his companions preparing for an actual battle after Bilbo had compared the oncoming hobbit group to war hounds made him giggle with a bit of a hysterical edge. How in the world was he ever going to handle this mess?
Thorin’s eyes sharpened on him at the sound and he maneuvered his pony alongside Bilbo’s on his right—though Thorin was facing the correct way of course, that is, facing the supposed enemy and not giving them his back as Bilbo was. Bilbo still hadn’t done anything to get out of the way of the daggers and arrows that would potentially soon be flying. It brought him and Thorin closer than they’d been in days and Bilbo blushed when he realized that even anger and war looked good on Thorin. He promptly flushed harder, though this time in anger at himself for the misplaced thought.
Thorin’s eyes narrowed. “Do you find our imminent danger at the hands of your people something to be laughed at, Master Baggins?”
Bilbo glanced over his shoulder again at the mention of the hobbits riding toward them with all haste. With the proximity he could now confirm the identities of the three hobbits bouncing along in the back of the cart and see a much smaller hobbit sitting up front holding the reins. He couldn’t help but laugh a little more at the thought of those three hobbits in particular posing any sort of physical threat to his dwarven companions—even young Ori could probably take all three without breathing hard. Laughing turned out to be the perfectly wrong thing to do as it only made Thorin angrier, so Bilbo let his amusement go and reluctantly embraced the seriousness of the situation. He gave Thorin what he hoped was a reassuring smile.
“My apologies, Master Oakenshield, I was not laughing at the thought of you or any of our companions being harmed, but at the thought that our incipient guests posed any danger whatsoever. In fact, I doubt if they will pay any of you any mind at all.” At Thorin’s confused look, Bilbo clarified, “They’re here for me, not you. And the only danger they pose to me is one of status and reputation. They consider themselves Very Important,” and he tried to emphasize the words like they were a title which, in the way of hobbits, they essentially were, “and therefore they consider it their duty to harangue me before I leave. I do not wish to undermine your authority, Master Oakenshield, but I beg you to let me handle this situation. I am confident that I can resolve it with little difficulty.” Even if I have no idea how, he added silently. He would do this and he would prove himself to Thorin, ahem, to the Company to be more than the useless tagalong they all took him for. His assertion probably would have been delivered better if his pony had not at that moment decided to react to the tension of the other beasts around it and start to fuss and shake its head and nervously clomp its feet on the ground. Bilbo tried to get the creature under control but what little riding skills he had acquired in the past week did not include calming nervous mounts. He huffed his annoyance and dismounted, stumbling only a little as one of his perfectly normal sized feet got caught up in a too-small stirrup.
“Master Baggins,” Thorin hissed, mindful of the horse and cart that was now within earshot. “We might need to ride at a moment’s notice. Get back up there at once!”
Bilbo finally succeeded in freeing himself and straightened his clothing. After this whole questing business was over he was never riding a pony again! He moved carefully behind his skittish mare and skirted around in front of Thorin’s pony, warily eying the creature as it chomped a little at the bit between its teeth. Finally, as he heard the hobbit cart come to a halt a little ways away, Bilbo reached Thorin’s left side and very gently reached up to touch Thorin’s knee. He craned his neck to look Thorin in the eye. “There will be no need for fleeing and there will be no need for fighting. This is a conflict that will be solved with words, not weapons.” At Thorin’s continued hesitance Bilbo added softly, “Please, Thorin. Trust me.”
Thorin looked at him silently for a long moment, judging what exactly Bilbo did not know, but finally Thorin nodded sharply. He swiftly dismounted (with far more grace than Bilbo had, it had to be said), gathered up the reins of both their mounts, and led the creatures over to where Dwalin had been watching their exchange. All right then, it seemed that Thorin was coming with him to deal with the meddlesome hobbits who had interrupted their journey. Bilbo wondered how much diplomatic training came with being a warrior king-in-exile.
Thorin finished having a quiet word with Dwalin in that language Bilbo had never heard prior to this past week and Bilbo smiled gratefully as the leader made his way back to where Bilbo was waiting. When he drew level Thorin paused and gave Bilbo an expectant look. “Well? After you, then, Master Baggins.”
Right. Right, of course, Bilbo thought, no use putting this off any longer. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, mentally girding himself. He’d need all his mother’s wits, all the well-bred manners his father had instilled in him, and all the sharpness of tongue he’d developed on his own over the years. He hadn’t needed them since he ran out his door a week ago and so it took him a moment to recall the mask he had spent decades perfecting. He opened his eyes, straightened his shoulders, and gave one last tug on his admittedly dirty waistcoat before plastering on the blandly polite smile of the Master of Bag End. He was hardly a Very Important hobbit like the three interlopers, but his wealth and family made him Important enough in most circles. Bilbo could handle this. He ignored Thorin’s look of curiosity as he turned sharply on one heel and strode slowly toward where the other hobbits were waiting, keeping his mien as casual and relaxed as if he was just strolling through Hobbiton on market day. Thorin kept pace at his left like some sort of honor guard, the relaxed country gentleman and the fierce-looking noble warrior, and Bilbo knew that they would paint quite the striking contrast.
His mind gave a jolt, though his steps did not falter. Well now. That was certainly an interesting idea to get them out of this particular quandary. The three hobbits before him were of his parents’ generation, older and more traditional than many of Bilbo’s peers. No doubt it was this traditionalism that had spurred the trio to not only leave the considerable comforts of their own homes but to actually agree to work together to stop Bilbo from leaving. He knew that under typical circumstances if one of the three said that grass was green and the Brandywine wet the other two would argue for blue and dry until sundown—these three in particular would hardly agree to put aside their differences for anything less than the astounding break from propriety that Bilbo was currently undertaking.
So, perhaps the best way to combat their desire for traditionalism was for Bilbo to prove that he was, in fact, being the most traditional of hobbits by journeying far and wide. After all, there was one very old hobbit tradition that encouraged such a thing, expected it even: two hobbits, newly betrothed or married, who disappear without warning for a year and return in wedded bliss. The practice of a yearlong honeymoon away was nearly as old as the Shire itself. It was meant to prove a couple’s dedication and resilience when far from home and hearth, as well as allow those inclined to build a family the privacy to do so away from nosy relatives. A couple returning from their year away was often received with great fanfare and celebration. Although the tradition had largely fallen out of favor in the past few generations, at least one or two couples attempted it every few years. It was usually a couple of young and foolhardy Brandybucks or Tooks that thought it the grandest and most romantic of gestures, but it might be just the sort of thing people would believe the eccentric bachelor of Bag End would do. It would require him to pretend an affection to Thorin obvious enough for the hobbits to notice but subtle enough that Thorin wouldn’t catch on to the subterfuge. And Thorin would have to remain unaware. It would save Bilbo a considerable amount of embarrassment along the journey if Thorin remained in the dark, even if it would make coming back to the Shire alone in a year’s time that much more scandalous. No use worrying about that right now, though. It was a problem for the future. He glanced at Thorin out of the corner of his eye and told himself that his decision to use this tactic was in no way influenced by his strong reaction to the dwarven king. No sir, none whatsoever.
The hobbit delegation was waiting for them just ahead, three rather portly hobbits a decade or more Bilbo’s senior standing shoulder to shoulder across the path. Despite the impatience visible on their faces Bilbo kept his and Thorin’s pace deliberately moderate, forcing them to wait upon his convenience. It was only proper after all, Bilbo thought with no little bit of satisfaction, as this interruption to their journey was neither expected nor desired. Uninvited guests should hardly expect their hosts to unduly inconvenience themselves at such an imposition, he reminded the newcomers with a raised eyebrow. The polite look on Fortinbras’s face remained unchanged, his bland smile a match for Bilbo’s. Bilbo saw Bodo visibly bristle at the subtle reprimand Bilbo’s raised brow conveyed, but he thought he noticed an amused gleam in Gorbadoc’s eye. Perfect, he thought as he and Thorin came to a halt a few paces away from the group. They are not so in agreement as they would have me believe. He could work with that.
“Gentlemen,” Bilbo greeted with faked affability. “What an unexpected pleasure to see you all this fine morning. I do hope your journey was easy.”
Bodo opened his mouth to speak but Fortinbras beat him to it. “Master Baggins,” the older hobbit greeted in return. Fortinbras always was one to observe the ritual banalities. “Indeed, our travel was smooth and the weather fair. I trust your own journey has been similar.” Fortinbras’s tone conveyed quite clearly that he knew that Bilbo was just playing at propriety and that, for now at least, he’d play along. That was to be expected, for even though Fortinbras was a Took, he assuredly knew how to play this game as well as if not better than Bilbo.
“Our travel has been quite pleasant, I assure you,” Bilbo replied with a slight tilt of his head. “Forgive me, gentlemen, but I must ask what matter brings you so near to the border of Buckland so early in the season. Surely it must be a most urgent matter for you to travel so far from your families and homes.”
This time Fortinbras was not quick enough to stop Bodo. “You know very well why we are here, Master Baggins,” Bodo replied in a tone that he might have used to remonstrate an errant fauntling caught stealing pies from a windowsill or staying out well past dark. Bilbo almost rolled his eyes at the patronization. Bodo had only gotten more pretentious since his election to Mayor. “I’m afraid that your little adventure must come to an end now. I must ask that you come with us back to Hobbiton at once.”
“I’m afraid I don’t understand,” Bilbo replied with mock concern. “Is there some emergency back in Hobbiton that requires my immediate presence? If there is not, I have full confidence in my steward to handle my affairs while I’m away.”
Ha, by the looks on their faces he knew perfectly well that there was no such emergency that required the presence of the Master of Bag End. Well, he supposed that some hobbits did consider juicy gossip and potential scandal an emergency. Fortinbras was likely here for the former, Bodo for the latter, and Gorbadoc… was yet to be determined. Bodo’s face turned a bit red at Bilbo’s question, for he knew as well as Bilbo did that nothing short of a Shire-wide food shortage or an invasion would truly require Bilbo to turn around, and such a thing would definitely have been noticed before now.
“There is no emergency, Master Baggins,” Gorbadoc assured. “There were some concerning reports about you leaving your home rather abruptly and in… surprising company. Some have raised concerns about the propriety of such a thing.”
Bilbo felt more than saw Thorin straighten his shoulders at the careful reference to his group of dwarves, no doubt on guard for any hint of a slight. A delicate touch was in order here to not further rouse Thorin’s pride. “A matter of propriety?” Bilbo asked. “I’m quite sure I don’t understand your meaning, Gorbadoc. Surely there can be no impropriety of a hobbit of my age traveling with a group of friends.” And surely no hobbit of any standing would dare to insult a person directly to their face, especially if that person happened to have a rather large sword strapped to their back.
He shouldn’t have underestimated Bodo’s shamelessness. “It is not a matter of your age, Master Baggins, but of the nature of your companions! We must insist that you come with us at once! It is one thing to go haring off and forsaking your responsibilities to Hobbiton and quite another to do so in the company of… of…”
“Of what, Master Hobbit?” Thorin rumbled lowly, dangerously, hearing the clear insult in Bodo’s response. Bilbo sighed out loud this time. There went the delicate approach. That was fine. Bilbo found had little patience for this game of manners right now; he preferred to be direct anyway.
“Thorin,” he said gently, reaching out with one hand to stroke his fingers deliberately across the back of Thorin’s clenched fist in the manner of soothing a loved one. He valiantly fought down a blush at the bold action, trying to act like it was something he did all the time. He had to repeat the motion before Thorin startled and released his fist, looking down at Bilbo with widened eyes. Likely it was Thorin’s shock at Bilbo’s touch that had moved him away from aggression more so than any real desire to deescalate the situation. It was incredibly forward of him, Bilbo knew, and he hoped that Thorin would forgive him the imposition when this whole encounter was over. “He did not know what insult he offered, and it was my own fault for not providing proper introductions,” Bilbo continued, his words for Thorin but with a stern glare at Bodo. Thorin’s jaw clenched but he reached out and touched Bilbo’s hand gently in acceptance.
It played well into the act Bilbo was putting on, but as Thorin didn’t know about that yet Bilbo had to fight down another blush at the touch. He sent a small grateful smile up at Thorin. Right, introductions, Bilbo shook himself. He had a task he needed to focus on.
“Thorin, might I introduce to you Fortinbras Took II of Tuckborough,” he said pleasantly and gestured to the hobbit on the left of the group with hair as curly as Bilbo’s if a bit more gray than golden, “twenty-eighth Thain of the Shire, Master of the Shire-moot, Captain of the Shire-muster, keeper of the Great Smials, and head of the largest and oldest family in the Shire.” Fortinbras visibly startled at the incredibly formal introduction for what had been until now a more informal conversation. But the reminder of his station prompted Fortinbras to nod respectfully to Thorin.
Bilbo gestured to the figure on the right side of the group and closest to Bilbo, who stood with a solid stance with feet shoulder width apart. “Gorbadoc Brandybuck, Master of Buckland, the land through which we currently ride. Keeper of the Horn of Buckland and head of the Buckland militia.” Gorbadoc gave a sharp nod. He had earned his military-style bearing in his youth defending the eastern border during the Fell Winter and although his serious mien and salt-colored hair suggested an aged sternness, he smiled wide enough to show the lines at the corners of his eyes. Life had been kind to him in his later years. Bilbo saw Thorin return the acknowledgement, one warrior to another.
Bilbo turned his attention to the third member of the group, the one he was less than pleased to deal with. “And Bodo Proudfoot, elected Mayor of the Shire, whose office in Michel Delving maintains the Messenger Service and the Watch, which protects the Shire with its sheriffs and bounders.” Bodo straightened up, but did not incline his head or give any other show of respect. Bilbo fought not to roll his eyes. How very typical.
As Bilbo went through his introductions he saw Thorin’s bearing grow taller and straighter, and was glad to see that Thorin clearly understood Bilbo’s implication that they were speaking with what constituted the social, military, and political leaders of the Shire. Well, at least to the extent to which hobbits had such things. Bilbo faced the hobbits. “Gentlemen, may I present to you His Majesty Thorin II, son of Thrain, son of Thror, of the House of Durin. Called Oakenshield by his people. Renowned warrior, leader of the dwarves of the Blue Mountains, and rightful heir to the throne of the Kingdom of Erebor in the Lonely Mountain to the east.”
Thorin gave a respectful nod, not quite a bow, to the hobbit leaders before him. Fortinbras and Bodo were looking at Thorin with wide, startled eyes, but Bilbo saw Gorbadoc look at Thorin with more than a bit of awe. Bilbo had called Thorin a renowned warrior more to embellish than because he actually knew anything about such tales, but he wondered just how widely known Thorin’s deeds were if stories of his prowess had reached warriors in isolated Buckland. When Thorin straightened up he placed his hands behind his back, and as he replied with, “Well met, Thain Took, Master Brandybuck, Mayor Proudfoot,” Bilbo could see Thorin’s hands making sharp gestures hidden behind his back. He was clearly signaling something toward the dwarves who were still gathered a little ways down the road but Bilbo had no idea what it could mean.
With Thorin’s respectability established, it was time to diffuse the tension. “And last but not least,” Bilbo continued in a lighter tone, “if my eyes don’t deceive me that shy young lad over there who is driving the cart is Halfred Gamgee, second son of two of my tenants and longtime dear friends, Hamfast and Bell.”
Freddy squeaked and startled where he was still seated at the front of the cart and nearly fell to the ground. He righted himself with a bit of effort and tried to sit taller at being introduced so formally alongside his more self-important companions. Bilbo smiled genuinely at the boy, red-headed and gangly, but strong at fifteen summers. The lad gave an embarrassed little wave.
“Freddy dear, I do hope that your parents won’t be missing you while you’re away on this Very Important errand,” Bilbo called to him.
“N- n- no sir, Master Bilbo, sir,” Freddy stammered, face turning a bit ruddy at the combined attention of the five adults.
“I’m glad, Freddy lad. Make sure to tell your parents I give you express permission to claim my emergency biscuit stash for your trouble. I’m sure these good fellows behind me didn’t manage to find it.” He winked. “It’s in the main pantry behind the painting of Old Woody Hollow, you know the one.”
Freddy brightened at this information. “Thank you, Master Bilbo!” the boy shouted.
Bilbo laughed a little at the enthusiasm. “Be sure to share with your siblings.” He turned back to Thorin to continue with their conversation, only to be arrested by the sight of the usually gruff dwarf smiling fondly at the antics of the young hobbit, a touch of both wonder and grief in his eyes. The look softened him in Bilbo’s eyes even as he wondered why the sight of a small child would be both miraculous and melancholy. He resolved to ask Thorin about it later in private. He was about to turn back to the hobbits when Balin startled him by joining the group. He wondered why Balin was here when he remembered Thorin gesturing behind his back. He must have been requesting backup when he realized the status of the hobbits who had intercepted the company.
“My apologies,” Bilbo added, a touch wrong footed at Balin’s sudden appearance, “it seems there’s one more introduction in order. This is Balin, ah…” he hesitated, unsure of how to continue. He felt sheepish that he hardly knew half as much about his companions’ histories as he did about Thorin’s.
“Balin, son of Fundin,” Thorin picked up where Bilbo faltered, also returning his attention to the older hobbits, “son of Farin, also of the House of Durin. Lord Steward of Thorin’s Halls in the Blue Mountains, my chief advisor, and future seneschal of the Kingdom of Erebor.” Bilbo schooled his features to neutrality as Balin gave a polite bow and Thorin introduced the hobbits to Balin… who was apparently far more than an old friend of Thorin’s. He and Thorin were of the same house. Did dwarven houses work like Shire families, branching out and intertwining such that one could claim relation to a hundred others? Or were they more tight knit and linear than that? He wondered a bit hysterically if the other dwarves of the company had such illustrious histories as Balin. Were they all related and hadn’t told Bilbo? There was still much for him to learn about his traveling companions. He would definitely be sitting down to ask them as soon as possible.
The fact that Balin was related to Thorin in some way or another would actually be useful for Bilbo’s plan. He could play it off as having a chaperone. But he needed to get back to the task at hand. “Right,” Bilbo said brightly, “now that we are all introduced properly, let us address the matter at hand. It seems that you are concerned about my abrupt departure from Hobbiton and delegation of responsibilities for the duration of my travel, and also about the respectability of my traveling companions. Is that right?” He glanced at the three.
“Truth be told, Bilbo, I take no issue with how you handle your responsibilities or with your illustrious companions,” Gorbadoc admitted readily. “I came here to keep the peace in my lands,” he added with a pointed glance at Fortinbras and Bodo. Ah, yes, that made much more sense. Bilbo had wondered at Gorbadoc’s motivation in trying to stop him from leaving. The grizzled hobbit had never been much for the niceties and proprieties of hobbits who lived in the inner parts of the Shire—a straightforward military man, that one—and so it seemed that he had chosen to join his fellow leaders to keep them in line. Bilbo could only be grateful for the unexpected ally.
“I’m glad to hear it, Uncle,” Bilbo thanked him and then addressed the rest of the party. “If it is the matter of my responsibilities, you have nothing to worry about. Hamfast will act as my steward as he always does while I’m away, and will ensure the collection of rent and the dispensing of wages.” Bilbo’s family owned much of the land surrounding Bag End as well as a fair few of the shops in town that were leased to others, and Bilbo had been responsible for running the estate since his father passed. “He has always performed admirably at this and I have complete trust in him. Should anything come up that he has not handled before, he knows where to find the relevant instructions and documents in my study.” He hoped this explanation would assuage Fortinbras who, aside from gossip, likely only cared that the residents and shop owners in Hobbiton would be cared for in Bilbo’s absence. The older Took nodded in approval.
“And I do hope that the acceptability of my choice of companions has likewise been put to rest now that we are all introduced,” he added with a nod toward Thorin. He could see Bodo getting ready to protest again regardless of the insult he would offer to who he now knew was royalty, but Bilbo cut him off with his gambit. “After all, a respectable hobbit such as myself would hardly choose to embark on a yearlong journey with just anyone.”
There. That was as clear as he dared say it without tipping off Thorin or Balin as to his intentions. There was silent astonishment on the faces of the hobbits standing across from him at the bold declaration. They clearly understood what Bilbo was referring to and he was nervous at how they would respond to this statement, but there was nothing for it but to move forward. It was out there now and all he could do was ensure this ridiculous plan of his worked. Bilbo wasn’t surprised to see Gorbadoc’s surprise morph into a broad delighted grin; adventurous hobbits were the Brandybucks, and most of the couples who still underwent the yearlong tradition came from their side of the river. No doubt Gorbadoc had immediately and correctly guessed what Bilbo was implying. Fortinbras still looked surprised and a bit uncertain, as if he couldn’t quite believe that Bilbo was serious. Bodo’s surprise was starting to look more and more scandalized as he figured it out. Bilbo also wasn’t surprised at Bodo’s outrage. The Proudfoots, as a family, tended to be a laid back and humble group but Bodo had always been the odd one of the bunch, proud enough to run for Mayor and ambitious enough to court and marry Linda Baggins, thus tying him to one of the more wealthy, influential, and staid hobbit families. Bodo looked less than thrilled at the implication that an outsider, and a dwarf one, would share in the honor of hobbit traditions.
Fortinbras broke the silence first. “Bilbo,” he asked tentatively, dropping the honorifics, “are you telling us that you will be undergoing a yearlong journey with, with Master Oakenshield,” his eyes darted to Thorin quickly, and then dropped his voice, “in the manner of hobbits?”
Bilbo laughed a little at Fortinbras’s dramatics. “Why yes, Fortinbras, in the manner of hobbits, indeed.” He glanced up at Thorin in a way he hoped looked fond and amused. “Well, nearly so, anyway. Thorin and I, along with his kith and kin,” he gestured at Balin and more broadly company in the distance, “will be traveling east across the mountains to pay homage to their ancestral homeland and so that we may meet with more of their kin who dwell in the distant Iron Hills.” Bilbo was glad that the cover story that the dwarves had explained to him fit so well with the tale he was spinning for the hobbits. “I realize that a large group of travelers somewhat goes against tradition, but the journey is long and many dangers may lie between here and our destination.” A fire breathing dragon most definitely counted as such. “I expect to return once our… business there is concluded. If we should encounter no delays, the journey there and back again ought to take a year.”
At this point in Bilbo’s explanation Gorbadoc had gone from grinning to outright laughing and it was enough to convince Fortinbras that Bilbo was indeed being serious about it. To Bilbo’s relief, Fortinbras seemed relieved.
“Well now, Bilbo lad, I have to say that I am surprised! I had never thought to see the day that you would finally take this step. And in such a way!” he exclaimed grandly. He shared a happy look with Gorbadoc and joined him in chuckling. “You sure do take after your mother, don’t you? I know that dear Bella would have loved to go on her own yearlong adventure with your father but, well, old Mungo wouldn’t hear of it. Stuffy old Baggins, he was, not like us Tooks.”
Fortinbras’s and Gorbadoc’s renewed laughter nearly drowned out Balin’s startled noise of comprehension. Oh no. Confound it, how did Balin know of such an obscure hobbit tradition? Bilbo turned to the old dwarf in time to see him make more of those hand gestures at Thorin. What was he saying? Were those gestures more than mere battle signs as Bilbo had assumed? Was it a proper language? If so, Balin was probably explaining to Thorin what he had figured out of Bilbo’s plan, and any hope of Bilbo escaping embarrassment and teasing for the next year had just gone up in smoke.
“Will both of you be quiet!” Bodo interjected angrily, interrupting the other hobbits’ laughter, Bilbo’s internal panic, and Thorin and Balin’s silent conversation. How very rude of him, Bilbo thought a bit manically, to not leave a hobbit to die of embarrassment in peace. “I cannot believe you both would sanction such a thing!” The older hobbit turned toward Bilbo and put on what he probably thought was a kindly smile but looked more like a pained grimace. “Bilbo, have a care. You can hardly think this is a good idea, can you? No matter his… storied past,” Bodo said with a distasteful look at Thorin’s sword, “you are a Baggins of Bag End. You are the Baggins of Bag End. What would your dearly departed father think? As your family, I must advise you to think of what you are doing—”
“I should thank you to keep your opinions about my father to yourself, if you please,” Bilbo interrupted sharply, temper flaring, “as well as your opinion about what is suitable for the Master of Bag End. I know very well the responsibility I carry, as I always have.”
Bilbo’s tone cut off any lingering chuckles from the other hobbits and brought the dwarfs’ focus back to him. This time it was Thorin who reached out to calm Bilbo’s temper. Bilbo startled at the first touch of a large, warm hand on his shoulder but soon found his anger draining down into the earth at Thorin’s reassuring touch. Once Bilbo felt calm enough he reached up and squeezed the hand on his shoulder and looked up at Thorin with a grateful smile. It was an act, he reminded himself. Thorin knew what the game was now and was just playing along with it. But still, Bilbo was grateful at the reminder to keep his head.
“Bilbo, amrâl,” Thorin said with a noticeably sweet voice. By all that was green and growing, Thorin wasn’t just going along with the plan he was actively helping it along now, wasn’t he? Bilbo had no idea what that word meant but the tone of it made him blush horribly while his heart started beating double time. This development, Thorin being in on the plan, would either be very good in that it would sell the other hobbits on the lie of it or very, very bad in that it would make Bilbo’s currently mild attraction to the dwarf out of control. He hoped he survived this. “When you made your introductions you didn’t mention that we were meeting your family. Family is of the utmost importance in our culture,” Thorin turned a winning smile at the others, “and I should hate to think I have not shown the proper respect to yours.” The hand that had been on Bilbo’s shoulder migrated to the nape of his neck and Thorin started moving his fingers through the curls at the base of his head.
Bilbo shivered at the sensation. Dear sweet Eru. He cleared his throat and tried to pull together some semblance of the confidence with which he’d started this encounter. “Right you are, darling,” he answered, voice gone a bit rough. He cleared his throat again. “So sorry about the oversight.” He turned to Gorbadoc, who was watching Bilbo and Thorin interact with unconcealed amusement. “This is my Uncle Gorbadoc, who is married to my Aunt Mirabella, sister of my late mother Belladonna. He was always supplying my mother and I with slingshots and stones when she would take me on my tiny childhood adventures. Fortinbras,” he moved on with a nod, “though my elder by some years, is a first cousin on my mother’s side, son of one of my mother’s brothers, Isumbras the Fourth, who, incidentally, was also the Thain before him. I can also vouch that old Tinny here was an incorrigible troublemaker and mushroom thief in our shared youth. Don’t let him fool you otherwise,” he added with a wink and a smile at Fortinbras, who chuckled good-naturedly at the reminder of their youthful hijinks.
He turned to the final member of the party with a far cooler expression. “Bodo Proudfoot is also my uncle. Married to my Aunt Linda Baggins, sister to my late father Bungo. Although ‘Uncle’ implies a bit more of a familial relationship than perhaps is warranted in this case, as I do believe that Bodo here refused to take tea with my late father during the entirety of his marriage for… what was it again, dear Uncle? Ah yes, ‘for bringing shame upon the respectable Baggins name by marrying that unnaturally wild Took woman.’” Fortinbras and Gorbadoc glared at Bodo for his well-known disdain for the dearly departed Belladonna. Bilbo knew that his father had not held his sister Linda or her husband in high esteem after his marriage due to how they treated Belladonna, and would not have accepted an invitation to tea had it ever been extended. But in this instance Bilbo wasn’t above using his complicated and grudge-filled family history to his advantage.
He shook his head in mock disappointment at Bodo. “If only your shunning of my beloved parents hadn’t extended to their only son after their death when I refused to turn over control of my inheritance to you. If only you hadn’t attempted to smear my name, the Baggins name, by claiming I was irreparably tainted with Took blood while simultaneously pushing your nephew at a Bracegirdle.” Bilbo wrinkled his nose at the reminder that he largely had Bodo to thank for the continued nuisance of Lobelia in his life. But then he grinned and it was far toothier than the polite smile he’d initially greeted them with. “Maybe then you’d have some room to claim familial concern, Mayor Proudfoot, but as everyone here knows that you assuredly do not, I suggest you restrain your comments to those concerns that fall under the purview of your position and mine.”
Bilbo tried to keep his breathing steady even as he aired his disdain for his unfortunate relation, though he was afraid that his ire had probably seeped through and crossed the bounds of propriety. He was abruptly reminded of Thorin’s hand on his nape as it started to massage muscles that had grown tenser the longer he spoke. Once again Bilbo had to struggle to both breathe evenly and to not blush at the feeling. It was good as a distraction from his anger at Bodo’s behavior, but perhaps it was too good.
While Gorbadoc and Fortinbras were occupied with glaring at Bodo and Thorin and Bilbo were distracted with each other, it seemed that Balin took it upon himself to diffuse the tension. “And in the interest of full disclosure, Thorin failed to mention before that in addition to my roles assisting him as a ruler, I am also a distant cousin.” Bilbo startled at Balin’s calm voice, having been utterly derailed from the task at hand by Thorin’s active participation in their ruse. He really was terribly grateful for Balin’s presence—he clearly knew how to play this game of niceties as well as any hobbit Bilbo had met. “And also traveling among our companions is my brother Dwalin, Oín and Gloín who are also cousins of ours, and Thorin’s nephews Fíli and Kíli. Regretfully their mother, Thorin’s sister Dís, was unable to join us on this most auspicious journey, but alas, she was needed to rule in Thorin’s place in the Blue Mountains. She eagerly awaits news of her brother’s… adventure.” Balin said this last with a smile and a wink at Bilbo, and Bilbo thought that sinking into the ground would actually be quite nice right about now. He took back all his previous gratitude that Balin had joined them. He really needed to end this whole encounter before something even more disastrous happened.
He cleared his throat and tried to fight down the blush that had overtaken his face at the combination of Thorin’s continued touch on his neck and Balin’s suggestive words. “Well now gentlemen, we have established that my responsibilities at home will be well in hand until my return. And as you can see, Thorin’s family is well aware of our current journey and clearly approves of it so there should be no more concern for any sort of impropriety.” He raised his eyebrow once more in an attempt at reclaiming the calm demeanor of the Master of Bag End once more, but he was quite sure he was undermined in his efforts by his previous fluster. “If that is all, gentlemen, I do believe that we had best be getting on our way. We do, after all, have quite the journey ahead of us.”
“In the manner of hobbits,” Thorin added with a smile and slid his hand from its resting place on the back of Bilbo’s neck to his opposite shoulder in an embrace. Bilbo thought that his face might be forever stuck in this shade of tomato red.
Gorbadoc and Fortinbras laughed at Bilbo’s red face and Thorin’s apparent happiness with the prospect, while Bodo continued to fume silently. “Quite so, lad, quite so,” Gorbadoc chuckled merrily. “Come along now, Fortinbras, Bodo, let’s let these lads get going. We’ve kept them long enough.” He used an arm to shuffle his two Very Important companions back toward the horse cart. “All the best to you, dear Bilbo, on your journey,” he called back over his shoulder.
“Yes, good luck, Bilbo!” Fortinbras added with a jovial wave even as Gorbadoc kept herding him toward the cart. “Do stop by the smial when you get back to tell us all about it!” Bilbo somehow managed to keep his polite smile on his face even as he realized exactly which details Tinny was alluding to with his exaggerated wink and salacious grin. Dear sweet Eru.
After far more shuffling and grumbling than three Very Important hobbits would ever admit to, the group was finally installed on the cart and bouncing along back toward the center of the Shire. Bilbo, Thorin, and Balin remained where they were for long minutes and watched as the cart grew more distant and the murmur of voices discussing all that they had learned grew fainter. Just as the cart crested the far hill that would take them from view, Freddy’s high-pitched voice cut clear across the distance, “Congratulations on your engagement, Master Bilbo! My Da will be real happy for you and Mister Thorin!” And then the cart was gone.
Thorin and Balin broke down in laughter at Freddy’s parting gift. Bilbo finally gave in to his embarrassment and hid his face in his hands and groaned. There was no way that the other dwarfs in the company hadn’t heard that. He was officially going to be teased and laughed at by his companions for the next year with no hope of escape.
Balin’s laughter finally settled down and he patted Bilbo on the shoulder with good cheer. “Ah, not to worry, Master Baggins, ‘twas well meant on the lad’s part. You did well to think of something that would appease your kin without giving away our true purpose in traveling.”
“Thank you, Master Balin,” Bilbo said, voice still muffled by his hands. He finally raised his head. “Although I do wonder where in the world you heard of such an obscure hobbit tradition as this.”
Balin hummed a little. “Most wouldn’t have, I assure you. With the nature of our ongoing misfortunes the dwarfs of Erebor have by necessity traveled far and wide over the years. I came across one such hobbit couple about four decades ago in a small town north of Tharbad. A pair of young Tooks, I believe it was.”
“Oh! You must have met Uncle Hildigrim and Aunt Rosa, then,” Bilbo exclaimed with delighted recognition. Those two had certainly caused a scandal when they’d eloped for a year, especially given Rosa Baggins’s more rigidly isolationist parents. “More relations of mine, on both my mother’s and father’s side, actually.”
Balin smiled warmly. “Aye, the names are familiar. It sounds like adventure runs in your blood, Master Baggins.” Bilbo blushed at the reminder of his deception. “And don’t despair too much over what the gents over there will say. I’ll do my best to keep them in line,” he added with a wink. He gave a single nod to Thorin in acknowledgement and then turned and strolled merrily back toward the company, shoulders gently shaking with continued mirth.
A soft squeeze on his shoulder brought Bilbo’s attention back to his companion and the arm that was still gently embracing him. It felt so comfortable and natural that Bilbo had entirely forgotten it was there. Bilbo jumped back and Thorin’s arm fell away. “Oh goodness! Master Oakenshield I do apologize for all of this. I made a rather outlandish presumption just now and you have been most kind in playing along with my little ruse. Far more kind than you needed to be, really, but I thank you for your assistance just the same.” Somehow he managed to get through his apology without stammering too much, though trying not to blush was a lost cause at that point.
Thorin chuckled again and smiled. “It was no trouble at all, Master Baggins, really. It was a… creative way to diffuse the situation, but I admit you were right that it was far more effective than drawn swords would have been.” He paused. “Though I do have to question whether the ruse was entirely necessary. Are you truly prevented from leaving the Shire without such a… traditional reason?”
Bilbo blushed again. “Well, truth be told, probably not, but it was the first thing I could think of that would satisfy both their traditionalist sensibilities and incurable need for gossip. It likely saved me the trouble of explaining the whole of our quest to them, and believe you me, once one of them knew the entirety of the Shire would know and all hope of secrecy on our journey would have been lost.”
Thorin winced. “Ah, yes, well then, I commend you for protecting the secrecy of our quest.”
Bilbo waved it off, embarrassed at accepting praise for what he’d done. “No thanks are necessary really. Honestly, it was just as much for me as for you. If I hadn’t given them something I probably would have come back in a year to Bodo’s greedy niece having me declared dead so she could take over my home and possessions. Practically a dragon in her own right, that one,” he added with a shake of his head. Thorin laughed. “Honestly, I really wasn’t as careful as I should have been when leaving. I did leave a note for Hamfast like I said, but I didn’t really tell anyone where I was going or when to expect me back. Believe it or not, the rumors that will spread about this will save me considerable trouble later and will create far less fuss than if I’d told them I’ve been hired on as a burglar to steal a dwarven heirloom from a dragon.” He huffed and straightened his jacket again. “Some things are just not proper for a hobbit of my standing.”
Thorin smiled a little at his fussiness, before asking seriously, “And you’re sure that no one will think ill of you for this? You have agreed to help my kin and I would be loath to think that doing so puts you at odds with yours.”
His concern for Bilbo was touching and part of him was gladdened that Thorin actually cared about him outside of the pretense he had fabricated. “A bit of lost reputation, maybe. It will probably cause quite a bit of gossip and scandal for a year or two. After all, it’s not like I will actually be coming back with a husband to show for it.”
“Hmm,” Thorin responded, a thoughtful look on his face. He looked at Bilbo for a long, silent moment as though giving Bilbo’s words careful consideration. Eventually Thorin reached out and gently clasped Bilbo’s right hand in his own, raising it up while he simultaneously bowed at the waist. Bilbo gasped when Thorin pressed a warm and gentle kiss onto the back of his hand. Thorin’s smile when he straightened back up was like watching the sun rise over green hills on a spring morning. “The journey has only just begun, Master Baggins, and we have far left to travel,” he said smoothly, continuing to smile. “I look forward to seeing where it will take us, burglar mine.”
Bilbo shivered both at the sensation of Thorin’s calloused thumb stroking gently across his knuckles and at the promise in Thorin’s eyes. Dear sweet Eru. With one last gentle squeeze of his hand, Thorin released him and walked calmly back toward the group of ponies as if nothing extraordinary had happened, as if Bilbo wasn’t currently fighting not to melt into a puddle on the ground. When Bilbo was sure that his suddenly shaky legs would hold him he took a deep, fortifying breath and followed after Thorin with suddenly far more excitement than he’d had before for whatever the next year would bring.