Chapter Text
When Bilbo returned to the Shire, he half-expected to return to the mundane, unexciting life he’d lived before his adventure. After the debacle with his furniture being sold—and with Lobelia Sackville-Baggins attempting to steal his spoons, nasty old biddy that she was—he moved back into Bag End and resigned himself to a comfortable if boring life of gardening and housekeeping.
He really ought to have known better.
“We simply can’t care for him any longer,” Menegilda Brandybuck explained. She had arrived around noon one day, insisting that Bilbo speak with her immediately. Bilbo had learned from experience never to deny a Brandybuck, so here she was, sitting in his living room with a cup of tea.
“It’s not that we don’t want to,” Menegilda continued. “It’s just that Rorimac and I already have two sons, and there really isn’t enough space in Brandy Hall. We were hoping you might be able to step in and take care of Frodo for a while.”
Bilbo leaned back and tapped the arm of his chair. “How long would a ‘while’ be?” he asked.
Menegilda shrugged. “Just until we can care for him again properly,” she said innocently.
Bilbo resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He knew Menegilda had no real intentions of taking Frodo back, no matter what she said. “Where is the boy now?” he asked instead.
“Just outside. I’ll bring him in, if you like.” Menegilda stood before Bilbo could say anything and briskly walked towards the door.
Bilbo sighed and rubbed his forehead. The last thing he had expected was having to take care of a small child, but it wasn’t like he had anything better to do with his time. And he knew Frodo had been through enough with his parents’ deaths—maybe a steady home in Bag End would be good for the lad.
Menegilda pushed a little fauntling into the room and crossed her arms. “Say hello, Frodo,” she prompted.
The boy was no more than a babe. He had dark, curling locks and bright blue eyes, so like his father that Bilbo felt a surge of longing for his deceased cousin. Frodo shuffled forward nervously, clutching his hands together behind his back. He glanced up at Bilbo through dark lashes and smiled nervously.
“Hi,” he whispered. Bilbo smiled in spite of himself and leaned down to Frodo’s level.
“Hello, little one,” he greeted. “I’ve heard you’ll be staying with me for a bit. Is that alright?”
Frodo shuffled another step forward, nodding nervously. “Yes,” he said softly. Bilbo nodded and stood up to level his gaze on Menegilda. She shifted uncomfortably and tucked her hair behind her ear.
“So you’ll take him then?” she asked.
Bilbo glanced down at the little boy, who was watching them with wide eyes. “Of course,” he replied. “I’ll take care of Frodo.”
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Frodo was a shy, sweet little boy. As soon as Menegilda left, he toddled over to Bilbo and grabbed at his trousers gently. “I hungry,” he said simply. Bilbo grinned and bent down to scoop the fauntling up.
“Well, you’re certainly a Hobbit,” he replied. “Come on, then, let’s get you something warm in your belly.” He poked Frodo’s stomach for emphasis and the little boy giggled.
As they ate the soup he heated up, Bilbo watched the fauntling carefully. He still had his baby fat—chubby cheeks, stout legs, rounded belly—but there was something far too serious in his eyes that unnerved Bilbo. The poor thing had clearly been through quite a hardship over the past several months.
Bilbo had heard the story not long after he returned from Erebor. Primula and Drogo had taken their son out to Brandywine River for a day in the sun. Primula and Drogo had gone out on their boat to fish for supper, and a freak accident sank their boat and left Frodo an orphan. Since then the boy had been staying with the Brandybucks as an apparently unwanted third child.
“More?” Frodo asked hopefully, holding up his empty bowl. Bilbo smiled and ladled a bit more in. He tore a chunk of bread off a loaf on the table and handed that to the boy, too.
“Do you have some things?” Bilbo asked. “Clothes, toys, things like that?”
Frodo nodded, cheeks stuffed with bread. He quickly swallowed and said, “At Unca Rory’s.”
“We’ll have to go over later and pick them up, then.”
Bilbo finished eating and stood up to wash his bowl out. As he worked, he thought about what he could do. Bag End was large enough for the two of them, certainly, but it tended to get lonely up here. Bilbo was used to it by now, but a boy like Frodo would want to play with other children. He would want a wide-open space, free to play and enjoy life surrounded by people who cared for him. Bilbo simply couldn’t provide that himself.
He could move somewhere else in the Shire, but it simply wouldn’t feel the same. They could go to Rivendell, but elves were distant and mature beyond their years, and Frodo would be miserable there. Really, Bilbo could only think of one option.
“Frodo, are you up for an adventure?” he asked. Frodo glanced up at him and nodded enthusiastically.
“Where we goin’?” he asked.
“Somewhere very far away,” Bilbo replied. “It’s called the Lonely Mountain. You heard that I went on an adventure?” Frodo nodded, and Bilbo continued, “Well, on that adventure I went to the mountain with some very good friends of mine and helped them get their home back. So now they live there.”
“I meet ‘em?” Frodo asked.
“Of course,” Bilbo replied. “They’re dwarves, you know.”
Frodo's mouth fell open. “Never met dwarves a’fore,” he said. “Is t'ey big?”
“A little bigger then us, but not as big as elves.”
Frodo began bouncing in his seat excitedly and Bilbo couldn’t help but laugh. “We go? Please, please, please?”
Bilbo glanced around his little hobbit-hole and felt a surge of longing for the rowdy band of dwarves he’d come to know so well. “We’ll leave in a month,” he promised. “But we’ll have a lot to pack, okay?”
Frodo nodded and hopped off his chair. He toddled towards Bilbo and tugged on his trousers until the older hobbit picked him up. “Wanna stay wi’ you, Unca Bilbo,” he said decisively.
Bilbo smiled and kissed the boy’s cheek. “And that’s exactly what you’ll do, my lad,” he promised.
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The journey was much longer the second time around, considering that now Bilbo had a small child to carry with him. They set out at the beginning of spring, taking their leisurely time as they walked along. Frodo chased butterflies and picked flowers to weave into little crowns, and every night Bilbo sat them down around a fire and told him a story from his adventure with the dwarves.
“…and then, just when it seemed like the trolls would eat us all up, Gandalf appeared and split the rock behind them in half, revealing the sun. And all the trolls turned into stone, and they’re still there today.”
Frodo's mouth was hanging wide open by now, his bowl of stew long forgotten. “We see ‘em?” he asked excitedly.
“We may pass by them, yes,” Bilbo replied. “They’re all moldy and covered in vines, now, but they’re still there.”
“'Nother!” Frodo prompted. He bounced on Bilbo's lap and tugged on the older hobbit’s shirt expectantly.
“Only if you eat your stew,” Bilbo said. Frodo picked up the bowl immediately and looked up at Bilbo. “Okay, how about the time we got caught in the goblin caves?”
Even though it took far longer the second trip, it was also far more enjoyable. They hardly ran across any trouble, even in the rougher parts of the forests. They stayed in Rivendell for a week, and Bilbo made sure to keep them on the elven path through Mirkwood. Frodo was fascinated by everything they saw—from the elves of Rivendell, to the butterflies in Mirkwood, and even by a small group of goblins that the forest elves hunted down while they passed through Thranduil’s kingdom.
By the time the Lonely Mountain came into view, however, Bilbo was thoroughly exhausted. They’d been travelling for almost eight months, and he was certain Frodo was as ready to arrive at their new home as Bilbo was if the amount of questions he kept asking were any indication.
“Is dwarves friendly? Is t'ey beards real long? I touch ‘em?” the boy chattered as they walked up the steep path to the entrance of Erebor. Bilbo shifted him on his hip and peered up at the enormous statues.
“Yes, they are friendly, and their beards can be very long. And I’m certain if you ask nicely they might let you touch their beards,” Bilbo dutifully answered. Frodo had been asking questions constantly since they had arrived in Dale last night and had seen the Lonely Mountain for the first time.
A dwarf greeted them at the gate with a drawn sword and piercing scowl. Bilbo rolled his eyes. “I’m Bilbo Baggins and I'm here to see the Company of dwarves,” he called out before the dwarf could even speak. The guard’s expression immediately changed and he ushered them out of the rain and through the gate quickly.
“I’ll find someone from the Company for ye, sir,” the dwarf promised as he raced off. Bilbo nodded his thanks and surveyed the kingdom around them.
The dwarves had clearly made progress since Bilbo had last been here. What once had been rubble and dust now gave way to an elegant, regal chamber filled with statues and other fineries. Bilbo glanced down one of the long hallways and saw that many of the rooms were cleared away and refurnished.
“Lookit,” Frodo whispered. He was gazing up at one of the statues with awe, and Bilbo followed his gaze to meet the eye of a scowling dwarf that looked similar to Thorin.
“That must be Thror,” he said. “That’s Thorin's grandfather. He used to be king here.”
“Who king now?” Frodo asked.
“Thorin is,” Bilbo replied. “And his nephew Fíli is his heir, and Fíli’s brother Kíli is next in line after that.”
“Torin, Fíli, Kíli,” Frodo recited. Bilbo had been attempting to teach him the names of the dwarves, but the only ones that really seemed to stick with him were Thorin—even though he pronounced it ‘Torin’— and Bombur.
“Very good,” Bilbo praised the lad. “And speaking of Fíli and Kíli…” He glanced down the hall and grinned at the sight of the two dwarves racing towards them. “Here they come now.”
“Bilbo!” they cried as they ran. Fíli arrived first, panting, and immediately threw his arms around Bilbo's shoulders. Kíli followed close behind and did the same, until Bilbo was wrapped in their embrace on both sides.
“We missed you,” Kíli said once they finally pulled away. “Uncle seemed to think you’d never return, but we told him you were just relaxing back in your hobbit-hole.”
“Hello, hello, who is this little thing?” Fíli asked as he inspected Frodo. The fauntling buried his nose in the crook of Bilbo's neck shyly. “Why, if I didn’t know better I’d say it was our burglar’s babe.”
“A hobbit babe?” Kíli leaned forward and carefully fingered Frodo's curls. “It is a hobbit babe!”
“He’s a tiny little chit, isn’t he?”
“Tiniest thing I ever saw. Chubby, too. So where’d you get him, Bilbo?”
“Find him on the street, did you?”
“Alright, enough,” Bilbo laughed. He waved them off and smoothed Frodo's curls back soothingly. “This is my nephew, Frodo,” he introduced. “Frodo, this is Fíli and Kíli. They’re the dwarf princes, remember?”
Frodo lifted his head shyly and waved at each of the dwarves. “Hi,” he blushed.
The brothers melted. “He’s adorable,” Kíli whispered dramatically.
“Can we keep him?” Fíli asked excitedly. “Tell me you two are staying.”
“Oh, yes! You have to stay; we’ve got a room already made up for you. Had it since you left for the Shire, didn’t want to take any chances.”
“And it’s certainly big enough for a little thing like Frodo here.”
“Besides,” Kíli winked at Frodo, “we’ve got a kitchen big enough to fill even the stomachs of two hobbits. And Bombur's just finished making supper, so it’s still nice and warm for you.”
Frodo perked up at the mention of food. “We go? Unca, we go eat?” he asked Bilbo urgently. “Please?”
“Of course we’re going,” Bilbo replied. He shooed the two dwarves off and followed them down the winding halls. “And we would like to stay, if it’s not too much trouble.”
Fíli waved off Bilbo's concerns and shot a grin over his shoulder. “Mountain’s more than big enough to fit two more halflings,” he replied cheekily. “We’ll find a place for you, don’t you worry.”
“Bombur’ll be happy to have you helping in the kitchen again,” Kíli added. “And we’ve got a room for you in the royal hallway, all nice and cozy.”
“That’s not necessary,” Bilbo replied quickly. “Just whatever room you’ve got to spare.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Everyone from the Company’s got a room in that wing of the palace, and so will you,” Kíli said. He pushed open a wooden door and slapped Bombur's shoulder as they passed him. “Look who we brought.”
Bombur turned and grinned at Bilbo. “Well, well, our Hobbit’s returned to us,” he greeted. Bilbo was once again swept into a rib-cracking hug, and Frodo giggled when Bombur’s beard tickled over his nose. “And you’ve brought a wee Hobbit with you.”
“I Frodo,” the little boy spoke up. He seemed to be growing more confident the longer they were in Erebor. Bilbo took it as a good sign.
“Gamut sanu yenet, Frodo,” Bombur greeted. “You’re just in time for my famous rabbit stew.”
Frodo clapped and squirmed out of Bilbo's arms to race towards the kitchen table. Bilbo followed and sighed in relief when he sat on the warm wooden bench and grabbed a bowl. They’d been rationing the last of their food the past few days, and Bilbo was half-starved by now.
“Here, come sit with us, Frodo,” Kíli called. Frodo ducked under the table and came up in between Kíli’s knees. The dwarf scooped him up and plopped him down in his lap, sliding a bowl of stew closer so Frodo could reach out and grab it.
“Uncle’s not going to be able to resist this one,” Fíli said as he sat beside his brother.
“Where is Thorin?” Bilbo asked.
“Still in a meeting with his advisors,” Kíli replied. “The other dwarves’ll be along soon, though; they always come running when they smell Bombur’s rabbit stew.”
Sure enough, not five minutes passed before they heard the rumbling and clanging of heavy boots on the stairs. Frodo whipped his head around, trying to find the source of the noise, and jumped when the doors slammed open and the rest of the Company filed through.
“Bilbo!” they cried when they saw him. Bilbo sighed and stood up to greet each of them, knowing he’d never be able to continue eating until he had. Frodo watched them with wide eyes the whole time.
“Good to have you back, lad,” Balin said cheerfully. He clapped Bilbo on the shoulder and grabbed a bowl from Bombur. “I heard from a guard that you’ve brought a little halfling with you. Where’s the boy now?”
“Here,” Kíli called out. He patted Frodo on the head and grinned when the others swarmed around to get a glance of the little boy. “Easy, easy, the boy’s shy around new folks like us.”
“He looks an awful lot like our Bilbo,” Bofur commented as he sat at the table.
“Are you here to stay, then?” Glóin asked Bilbo.
“As long as we’re welcome,” Bilbo replied.
“Of course you’re welcome! You’re a member of the Company, you’ll always have a home in Erebor,” Nori grinned. “Now, introduce us to the little chit you’ve brought with you.”
Bilbo sat back at the table and waited until everyone was situated and mostly quiet before he spoke again. “This is my nephew, Frodo,” he said, gesturing to the little boy who was now attempting to hide himself in Kíli’s long hair. “He’s still a babe, and he’s shy at first, but he’s a good lad and he won’t cause any trouble.”
“That’s a shame,” Fíli joked.
Dwalin slapped him over the head and rolled his eyes. “As if we need another troublemaker besides ye an' yer idiot brother.”
“I’ll have you know I am heir to a throne, I never cause trouble—”
“Oh? Then the ink incident last month must’ve been a runaway squirrel in the palace.”
“That was one time, just because you’re still bitter over it—”
“It was all over the maps an' books we had spread over the table! Ori’s still tryin' to recreate them an' even then he’s not nearly close to done—”
“I hungry,” Frodo interrupted loudly. All conversation halted as thirteen pairs of eyes turned towards the Hobbit in Kíli’s lap. “Please?” he asked with wide eyes as he held up his bowl.
Bombur shot out of his seat and had Frodo's bowl refilled before anyone could even speak. The boy smiled in thanks and happily stuffed a spoonful of stew into his mouth. Bilbo resisted the urge to roll his eyes.
“Be careful, or he’ll end up wrapping you all around his finger,” he warned.
“Seems a bit too late for that, my boy,” Balin replied quietly. He nodded towards Kíli, who was cooing over Frodo and carefully untangling his curls. The other younger dwarves were crowding around him and arguing over who would hold him next. “But at least you know he’ll have a good home here.”
“Aye, he’ll be safe as a locked box,” Dwalin agreed with a smirk. “Those boys would sooner die than let any harm fall on him, I can tell already.”
“And he’s barely even been here an hour,” Óin added. “Just imagine what a week’ll do for him.”
“Gracious, he’ll practically be running the whole mountain,” Bilbo exclaimed. He smiled over fondly at the little boy as Kíli helped him clean up some of the stew he’d spilled over his front.
“How’d you come by a little thing like that, anyways?” Glóin asked.
“His parents died in a boating accident about a year ago,” Bilbo replied. “He was staying with some relatives of ours, but they have two boys of their own and couldn’t take care of him. So they asked if I would help and I agreed.”
“Why come here, then?” Nori asked next. “You had a home in Hobbiton. Why travel half a year to live with a bunch of grumpy old dwarves?”
Bilbo smiled as he watched Ori lift Frodo above his head with a laugh. “Because I knew we’d have a home here, too.”
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After supper finished, Fíli and Kíli insisted on escorting Frodo and Bilbo to their rooms. Fíli pointed out several statues as they walked, explaining the stories of their ancestors to a fascinated Frodo.
“This is the Company hallway,” Kíli said when they arrived at a long, wide hall with several doors. “That’s Fíli’s room, and mine, and that’s Thorin's, and here’s yours right across from mine!” He gestured to a grand, wooden door with a grin. Bilbo had half a mind to object, but he silenced himself when he saw Kíli’s look of delight at how near Bilbo and Frodo would be to him.
“There’s a sitting room inside, and a bedroom with a bed big enough for the two of you, even though we can get a second bed later,” Fíli said as he opened the door with a shove. “Oh! And a washroom with a tub, complete with running hot water.”
“How in Eru’s name did you manage that?” Bilbo asked in shock.
“There are hot springs under the mountain,” Kíli explained. “We funnel the water in through pipes and they can fill all the tubs in the mountain. Then it filters out through the drain when you uncork it and goes back into the springs, where the hot water cleans it out again.”
“That’s amazing.” Bilbo peeked into the washroom and nearly swooned when he saw how big the sunken tub was. He could easily fit ten Hobbits in there and still have room to spare! “Is everything so large here in the mountain?”
“Dwarves like a lot of room,” Fíli replied with a dismissive wave. “Anyways, we already had all your clothes and supplies brought up, and Dori said he’d help sew some new things for you so you aren’t just stuck in the old clothes you’ve brought. After you get washed up, we usually meet in the common room down the hall to smoke and drink and tell stories every night.”
“We’ll see how tuckered out the little one is,” Bilbo replied. He bounced Frodo in his arms, but the boy was too busy staring up at the patterns on the ceiling to listen.
Kíli and Fíli took their leave soon after, and Bilbo managed to figure out how the tub worked to fill it out with steaming water. Frodo eyed the tub warily and stuck a finger in.
“Don’ wan’ a bath,” he complained.
“We haven’t properly bathed since Rivendell,” Bilbo replied. “You need a bath unless you want mushrooms to grow all over you.” He quickly undressed and stepped in the tub, then turned and helped Frodo slip his filthy clothes off. “Come here, darling, I promise I won’t let you go,” he soothed. The boy cautiously stepped to the edge of the tub and held out his arms for Bilbo to lift him in.
Frodo was still fearful of water ever since his parent’s deaths, but he was getting better about it. When they had first started their journey, the boy wouldn’t even let them go near a riverside or lakeshore. It made for finding fresh water very difficult, but Bilbo had managed. Now, at least, he was okay with baths and small pools of water. He still made sure to keep a firm grip on Bilbo whenever they were near any water. Bilbo figured that Frodo didn’t want to lose him to the water, as well.
There was a fresh bar of soap on the tub’s edge that smelled like rain and sandalwood, so Bilbo used that to scrub Frodo down. Frodo winced when a bit of soap got in his eyes, but other than that he never fussed. After Bilbo sat him on the edge of the tub, he even started splashing a bit and playing with the water while Bilbo cleaned himself.
“Alright, then, out you go,” Bilbo said once they were both scrubbed clean and fresh. “Let’s find you some pajamas, and then we’ll see about going to find the dwarves for a little bit, alright?”
“Okay.” Frodo beamed and scampered off into the bedroom. Bilbo eased himself out and wrapped a towel around himself as he followed.
Just as Fíli had said, all of their clothes were laid out on the massive bed that took up most of the room. Bilbo found a pair of trousers and a shirt for himself and a nightshirt for Frodo to slip into, and then dug into his sack for a comb to tame Frodo's curls.
“Wan’ Kíli to do it,” Frodo protested when Bilbo tried to untangle his hair. He pushed Bilbo's hand away and crossed his arms stubbornly.
Bilbo sighed and tucked the comb into his pocket. “Alright, then, come on.” Frodo smiled and hopped out of the room and down the hall, following the sounds of laughter to the common room where the other dwarves were.
A shout rose up when they arrived, and Kíli was immediately at Frodo's side. Frodo tugged on the dwarf’s trousers and stared up at him. “Wan’ you to do it,” he said insistently, pointing to the comb in Bilbo's pocket.
Kíli gave Bilbo a hopeful look, and the Hobbit sighed before producing the comb. “I see you’ve stolen my nephew already,” he mockingly griped.
Kíli lifted Frodo up and tossed him carefully in the air. He took the comb from Bilbo with a smile and a shrug. “What can I say? I’ve got magic hands when it comes to hair. Now hold still, gimlìth,” he instructed Frodo. The boy obediently sat still while Kíli sat in a chair and began to comb out the curls carefully.
“He’s right,” Fíli agreed. “Only one who knows how to untangle knots without pulling or tugging too hard.”
“Maybe if your uncle lets me, I can put a braid in your curls,” Kíli told the boy as he worked.
Frodo turned to Bilbo with wide eyes. “Unca? Please?” he begged.
Bilbo smiled and sat in a chair next to them. “We’ll see, darling.”
Frodo bounced in Kíli’s lap until the dwarf settled him down with a hand to his head. After that he curled against Kíli’s chest and watched the fire.
For a while, Bilbo alternated between watching Kíli carefully brush Frodo's hair and listening to Dwalin tell a story he heard in the mines. Once Kíli was done brushing it, he looked at Bilbo and raised his eyebrows meaningfully, pointing to one of his own braids. Bilbo nodded, and Kíli beamed and began separating pieces of hair to braid.
The room grew quiet when the large wooden doors slammed open after about an hour. Bilbo stood and waited while Thorin finished speaking to one of the guards following him, suddenly nervous. As much as the other dwarves had accepted them, he knew that it all came down to whether or not Thorin wanted them to stay in his mountain. He was, after all, King of Erebor now.
Thorin turned and blinked in surprise when he saw Bilbo. “I see our burglar has returned,” he said quietly. Bilbo smiled and gave a little wave.
“And he brought a little halfling with him,” Dwalin added. He nodded towards Frodo on Kíli’s lap, who ducked his head and blushed at the attention. Thorin surveyed the boy carefully for a moment with a blank expression.
For a moment Bilbo was afraid that the dwarf was angry, but then he was pulled into familiar, strong arms as Thorin swept him into a tight hug. “Welcome back, Master Baggins,” Thorin said with a chuckle. He stepped back and clapped a hand to Bilbo's shoulder. “You and your kin are welcome here.”