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“Mummy!” Eight-year-old Dis shouted, storming into the dining room. “Thorin yelled at me!”
Fris Durin continued placing the plates on the table, not reacting to, nor needing to look at, her daughter for this conversation. “Did he, sweetie?”
“And he wouldn’t open his door and let me in!”
Fris nodded, again not reacting, as she began setting flatware at each place setting. “Did you knock politely?”
Dis thought about it for a second. “Yes.”
“And did you ask him nicely if you could come in?”
“Yes!” Dis stated.
Fris doubted both answers; she knew her daughter far to well and had the perfect image of Dis pounding on Thorin’s door and demanding entry. “And after you were … so nice—”
“He told me,” Dis said, putting her hands on her hips in her anger, “that if I didn’t go away, he’d sell me to a family in India!”
Fris nearly laughed, although Dis clearly saw nothing funny about it.
“Don’t worry about it, kiddo,” Dis’ twelve year old brother, Frerin, said. “He told me he’d flush me down the toilet when I tried.”
“I wanna know what he’s doing in there!” Dis demanded.
“No you don’t!” Thrain said, coming into the dining room. “A seventeen year old boy, locked in his room, alone, is not something you need to know anything about!”
It took a few long moments before Frerin got it. “Ewww, DAD! That’s so gross!”
“What?!” Dis said, looking quickly from her father to brother. “What’s gross? What’s he doing?! Tell me!”
“Enough,” Fris said, firmly, bringing the others to silence. She breathed a sigh and took control. “Dis, I don’t want to hear any more about it.”
Dis looked putout. “But …”
“No,” Fris stated. “Sit down at your place and leave your brother alone.” Fris turned to her youngest son. “Frerin, go and get milk for you and your sister. And glasses of water for father and I.”
Thrain walked over and whispered to his wife, “Glass of wine as well?”
Fris gave Thrain a leveled look, “Oh, yes. I think so.”
Thrain chuckled and went to open a bottle, while Fris decided that she needed to go see to her one missing child. Fris headed upstairs and gently knocked on Thorin’s door.
“Sweetheart,” Fris said, and was greeted with the sound of things being knock about on what she was sure was Thorin’s desk.
“Ah … yes, Mum?” Thorin’s deep voice sounded controlled, if a bit strained.
“Dinner’s ready, love.”
“I’m … I’m not hungry.”
“You can’t go without eating.”
There was a long pause before Thorin finally replied. “I’ll … have something later.”
Fris understood. “All right, there’ll be plenty of leftovers.”
“Thanks, Mum.”
However, she wasn’t going to give Thorin a complete pass. “But I’ll give you only an hour or so, before I come back and get you.”
Fris could swear she heard her son hang his head when he sighed out, “Fine.”
Fris smiled to herself and headed back to the dining room. She remember only too well being seventeen and in love.
-----ooooo-----
“I think … I think our son is doing drugs.”
Belladonna Baggins, standing at the stove, froze in mid-stir and slowly turned her head towards her husband, giving him an incredulous, unbelieving look, parroting her husband’s accusation, “You think our son is doing drugs.” She shook her head; has she heard that right? “Why?”
“He’s locked his bedroom door,” Bungo Baggins said with a pointed look, “and wouldn’t let me in when I knocked.”
Belladonna turned fully around and cocked an eyebrow at her husband. “Let me get this straight. You think our son … the straight A student … the one who re-laces his shoes if the shoelaces become even a centimeter uneven … the one who irons his jeans … the one who studied Latin ‘for the fun of it’ … is upstairs doing drugs, all because he wanted privacy in his own room?”
Bungo open and closed his mouth quickly, like a fish.
“Dear,” Belladonna said, turning back towards the stove, “please go set the table for dinner; it’s almost finished.”
“But …” Bungo stammered pointing upstairs in general direction of his son’s room.
“Just go set the table.”
“Yes, but—”
“Set the table, please.”
“What about Bilbo—”
“Bungo Baggins,” Belladonna said tersely, not bothering to turn around. “Go. Set. The table!”
Bungo stood there, feeling a complete loss of words for a several seconds before deflating. “Yes, dear.”
Belladonna had a pretty good idea what was going on upstairs in her son’s room, and she while she loved her husband with all her heart, she’d not let him ruin their sixteen year old son’s happiness. Not while she had breath in her body and a large wooden spoon, perfectly suited as a weapon, in her hand!
-----ooooo-----
The next morning, Fris was just getting out of bed, when she heard it. It was a faint sound, but she could tell it came from the front of the house.
Putting her dressing gown on, she went to her bedroom window and looked out. The pale morning light was still too dim to illuminate the street but the street lamps formed pools of light here and there.
She began to think she imagined the whole thing, when she spotted something, or more accurately someone, wrapped up tight against the February cold, was sneaking across the street. Correction, sneaking back across the street, to the Baggins’ house.
She smiled with her sigh; she was so happy for Thorin.
-----ooooo-----
Belladonna was up early. She wanted to make a special breakfast for her boys; waffles (Bilbo’s favorite), and soft boiled eggs with Hollandaise (Bungo’s favorite), fresh fruit salad, sausages, both links (Bungo) and patties (Bilbo), as well as bacon (for herself), lovely toast with the bread she had made just the day before and, of course, a huge pot of black tea, as well as coffee; just in case. Standing in the kitchen, having a small cup of coffee before she started, she was caught by the faintest of sounds; the squeak of metal.
Someone was out front and, unless she was mistaken, they were fiddling with their mailbox. She knew it wasn’t Bilbo, as she had heard him sneaking out earlier and then sneaking back in; like some teenage burglar. And Bungo was still sound asleep, so, not him either. She looked out the window just in time to see someone quickly cross the street, heading towards the Durin’s house.
She smiled to herself, happy that Bilbo would have an extra lovely morning.
-----ooooo-----
“Happy Valentine’s Day, Mummy!” Dis cried, bounding into the kitchen.
“Same to you, sweetie,” Fris said, bending to kiss her daughter.
“Is there candy?” Frerin said as he entered.
“Possibly,” Fris laughed. “But later.”
“I hope there’s coffee,” Thrain said, as he came in and kissed his wife.
“And Happy Valentine’s Day to you too,” Fris snarked with much love. “And I wouldn’t be so cruel as to wake you up and not have coffee for you.”
There was much chatter and jokes. Thrain poured milk for his two youngest, while they teased their parents over ‘lovey-dovey’ kisses and looks. It was just as they were getting ready to sit down to breakfast that Thorin dragged himself into the kitchen, still looking half asleep and barely coherent.
“Morning,” Thorin grumbled out.
“Good morning, sport,” Thrain said, amused.
“Good morning, darling,” Fris said, giving Thorin a quick kiss on the cheek.
“Is there coffee?” Thorin asked, blinking his eyes into focus.
“So like your father,” Fris sighed affectionately. “And yes, there is coffee.”
Thorin poured himself a cup, drank half of it and then refilled it. He made to sit down when his mother’s voice stopped him.
“There is post already,” Fris said quietly.
The Durins went silent for a few seconds before Thrain said, “What post?”
Fris pulled out a stack of cards from her apron pocket. “Valentines to be more precise.” She handed a large card to her husband, two small cards to Frerin and Dis, then handed Thorin his. They all opened them, thanking her for the cards and each of them produced one of their own for her. Fris declared that she would open her cards after eating, but then produced four small boxes; three were candies for her children and the fourth was a new watch for her husband.
“There’s a little something special for you, too,” Thrain said, and handed his wife a small wrapped gift. When opened it revealed a pendent; red rubies in the shape of a heart.
“It’s lovely!” Fris said, and loved how her burly husband almost blushed. “Thank you darling!” But Fris wasn’t finished yet. “And speaking of special things …” Fris pulled out a dark blue envelope that looked almost hand-made. While the other’s watched, Fris slowly held out this card to Thorin. “This one was in the mailbox.”
Thorin’s eyes went wide as he reached out a shaky hand, tentatively taking the card from his mother. Fris smiled as Thorin opened the card with unusual gentleness.
“Who’s that from?” Dis asked loudly.
“Who puts a card in the box on a Sunday?” Thrain asked, confused.
“What’s it say Thor?” Frerin asked.
Thorin ignored his family’s questions, too engrossed by the correspondence in his hands, but in the next moment he was sprinting for the front door, the blue card having been tossed aside. Thrain, Dis and Frerin all moved to grab it.
“STOP!” Fris commanded and the three others froze, their fingers mere centimeters from Thorin’s card. Fris moved gracefully, but quickly, and picked it up herself. Like the envelope, the card was deep blue but when opened, a pale blue heart, trimmed in white paper lace, unfolded, revealing the elegant script of Bilbo Baggins in the center.
I’m so Blue without you
~ Would you ~
Be my Valentine?
-----ooooo-----
“Breakfast is ready!” Belladonna called out and then heard the gentle tread of her husband and son.
“Good morning, dear,” Bungo said, as he kissed his wife.
“Good morning, Mum,” Bilbo stated, giving his mother a kiss on the cheek.
“Happy Valentines to you both,” Belladonna said, gesturing to the table. There, at each of their places was a wrapped gift and a card. Bungo’s was a new pipe, carved out of Oak and with an Ebony stem. Bilbo’s was a antique copy of English Love poems. “I thought it appropriate for the day,” Belladonna said, when Bilbo looked at her.
“Thank you, Mum,” Bilbo said, smiling.
“Yes, thank you,” Bungo said, putting his new pipe in his mouth and testing the fit. “Just the thing for a lazy Sunday afternoon.”
Belladonna laughed as she sat and then received gifts from her boys; a pair of hair-combs from Bungo and an elegant fountain pen from Bilbo.
But Belladonna has one more surprise. “Bilbo,” she said as she lay her napkin across her lap. “There is something else for you.” When Bilbo looked at her confused, she pointed to his plate, where there was a large envelope tucked under it.
Bilbo pulled it out slowly. It was long and pure white. Seeming to recognized the handwriting on it, Bilbo’s eyes grew wide and he stood suddenly, turning his back to his parents.
“Is that from you?” Bungo asked his wife.
Belladonna smiled but shook her head.
Bilbo let out a hitched breath, almost chocking on the air, before dropping his letter or whatever it was, then running out of the kitchen, grabbing his coat and scarf on his way, then flinging the front door open and leaving.
“What the hell was that?” Bungo startled.
Belladonna simply got up, reached for Bilbo’s card. It was thick and strangely teardrop shaped. But when she opened it, it unfolded to form a six-petal flower, each petal had something written on it; written in Thorin Durin’s neat, block hand-writing.
Roses are red, and Violets are blue.
Daisies are white; all this is true.
You’re lovelier than a bouquet
And brighter than the sun
You’re everything to me
You are my One
-----ooooo-----
He’d totally forgotten his jacket or scarf or any other winter cover-up. Thorin’s mind could only think of one thing; find Bilbo and lay his claim! As he jumped the stairs that led to his front door, Thorin had no idea if Bilbo had gotten his Valentine or not, but he didn’t care; he’d gotten Bilbo’s and that was enough for him!
Thorin wasn’t even to the street when The Baggins’ front door banged open and – oh his heart sang! – there was Bilbo rushing down his walk, heading right for Thorin.
He crossed the road and met Bilbo on the sidewalk, under the huge Oak Tree at the edge of the Baggins property.
They both stood there for a few seconds, just staring into each other’s eyes, no words really needed.
“Yes,” Thorin said finally as the both moved closer.
“What?” Bilbo blinked in surprise.
“You asked me a question,” Thorin explained. “You asked me to be your valentine. My answer is, yes.”
Bilbo smiled, it lit up the world in Thorin’s opinion, as both stepped forward and Bilbo slipped his arms around Thorin’s waist and pulled them together. Thorin wrapped his around Bilbo and they both sighed, feeling complete and happy.
“Aren’t you cold?” Bilbo asked a few moments later, sounding very concerned.
“No,” Thorin mumbled into Bilbo’s curls as he laid his cheek on Bilbo’s head. “Not at all.”
Still, Bilbo moved his arms so that he could lace them around Thorin’s neck. “Let me warm you anyway,” Bilbo whispered.
Thorin hugged Bilbo closer, breathing in Bilbo’s sweet scent.
“Are you sure you want to be mine?” Bilbo asked.
“I always have been,” Thorin said, burying his face in crook of Bilbo’s neck.
-----ooooo-----
“I hope they kiss!” Dis said, as she looked out the front window.
“I hope they don’t!” Frerin stated, screwing up his face.
“I want you both to go back to the table,” Fris said.
“But, Mum!” Both Dis and Frerin said in unison.
“No, ‘buts’ … go,” Fris made a shooing motion and her two younger children headed off.
Thrain, standing next to his wife and watching the young couple outside, said, “Have you known about this?”
Fris resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “Thorin has been mooning over Bilbo Baggins since the Bagginses moved in over a year ago.”
“Really?” Thrain was shocked.
Fris just nodded; her husband was so charmingly clueless.
Thrain shrugged his shoulders and returned to his breakfast. Fris couldn’t help but smile at her eldest son; Thorin and Bilbo did look adorable together. They were perfect for each other.
That was when she caught sight of her counterpart across the street.
-----ooooo-----
“He’s practically molesting our son,” Bungo said, as he and Belladonna watched through the glass door.
“He is not!” Belladonna actually laughed. “They’re only hold hands for goodness sake.” Bilbo and Thorin were now standing, both holding the hands of the other, Bilbo chattering, a huge smile on his face while Thorin wore a loopy kind of smile, as if drunk on Bilbo’s presence. Maybe he was.
“He had his hands all over Bilbo a minute ago!” Bungo protested.
“They were hugging,” Belladonna pointed out. “Besides, Bilbo had his arms around Thorin’s neck … what do say to that?”
Bungo didn’t say anything. They were both silent a few minutes before Bungo spoke again, gesturing to the couple outside with a nod. “And you approve of … of this?”
Belladonna turned an arched eyebrow to her husband. “And you don’t?”
“Well …” Bungo seemed to dither. “He’s kind of rough.”
“He’s a big marshmallow,” Belladonna countered. “At least where Bilbo is concerned. And that’s all that matters.”
Bungo nodded. “He’s …. he’s never been disrespectful.”
“And he comes from a good family.”
“True.”
“And he’ll treat Bilbo like gold I’m sure.”
“He’s not a bad boy,” Bungo conceded.
“He only looks like a bad boy,” Belladonna giggled. “Which is probably why Bilbo finds him so enticing.”
“Bella!” Bungo was shocked.
Belladonna just shrugged; who didn’t love a bad boy? She understood.
Bungo shook his head, gave in and returned to the table. But Belladonna had a hard time turning away; she was so very happy for her Bilbo, and, if truth be told, she was very happy for Thorin as well. They were good together.
Belladonna looked up and caught sight of Fris Durin doing exactly what she was doing, watching their boys find love. Both ladies smiled, as they gave each other two thumbs up.