Note: This is the last day! I hope you all enjoyed the 30-days of fics!
Pairing: Bilbo x Reader
It shouldnât be this hard.
Kissing the love of your life to show affection. Shouldnât be hard at all. But for Bilbo, it was like facing Smaug all over again. Terror ran through his veins as he thought of your reaction. You were only courting for a few months, your personality and charm winning him over instantly when you first met. So why is it so darn hard?
âItâs because youâre scared of pushing them awayâ Bilboâs inner conscience answered, his eyes widening as he stared at his reflection in the mirror. Just having washed his face, water droplets dripped from his eyelashes, nose, and chin, making a pitter-patter sound against the sink.
âNo more excuses.â He told himself, his Took confidence coming out as he dried his face quickly.
Today would be the day.
.
.
.
.
Or so he thought.
As the Erebor Yuletide party continued around him, Bilbo wondered if heâd ever meet his goal. When he saw you arrive, he was breathless. Your clothes accentuating all the right places, your hair not even a dash out of place, your smile wide and glowing. Bilboâs confidence deflated completely, so he decided to resort to moping in the corner.
Nursing his mug of ale, Bilbo observed the room, seemingly unseen by the party goers. Several drunken couples kissing clumsily in the corner got his brows furrowing as his mouth imitated the movement of kissing.
âWhat are you doing, Bilbo?â You raised a brow at him, walking up with your own drink in your hand. Jumping, Bilbo sloshed the drink over his sleeve causing him to mentally curse. âN-nothing, just observing the party is all, e-excuse me, I need to go wash off my sleeve,â Bilbo stammered, remembering why he was avoiding you. âIf I canât even kiss (Y/n), what am I doing trying to win their affection,â He scolded himself as he made a dash to the bathroom to go wash his sleeve.
Pacing in the bathroom, Bilbo thought through a million different scenarios on how to approach the topic, while the Took side of him just screamed âGo kiss, no talk!â
Sighing, Bilbo rubbed his temples as he tried to come up with a solution.
When Bilbo left, a wave of concern flew over you as you tried to think of why he was avoiding you. Did he not want to court anymore? Did he find someone else? Biting your lip you took a deep breath and sat down your drink on a tray, following where Bilbo ran off to only minutes before.
âBilbo?â You called, worry clear in your voice as you knocked on the bathroom door. Nearly jumping out of his skin, Bilboâs heart raced a mile a minute, panic settling in. âJust a second!â Bilbo called, his voice high and nasally as he struggled to come up with an excuse for why itâs taking him so long.
âBilbo, are you alright?â You questioned in a softer tone, getting no response this time.
âBilbo, Iâm coming in.â You announced, turning the doorknob to check to see if it was locked.
Opening the door, your gaze softened when you saw Bilbo leaning against the wall, his hands covering his face. âWhatâs going on Bilbo?â You questioned, walking up to him and carefully prying one of his hands away from his face. âI-I..â Bilbo didnât want to say it, he didnât want you to break off the courtship, he didnât want you to leave.
âIâm sorry.â Bilbo started, suddenly looking up at you with a glint in his eye. âWha--â Before you could finish asking him what for, his lips were on yours in a deep kiss. Eyes widening you squeaked slightly before slowly pushing back, responding to the kiss happily.
When the two of you pulled away you were breathless and Bilbo had a smug smile before it turned into a worried frown.
âIâmsorry(Y/n)IjusthadtogetitoutanddoitalreadyIwasstressingsomuchoverthethoughtofyouleavingmebecauseIhadnâteverkissedyoubecausewearefarinourcourtshipandItrulydocareaboutyouanddonâtwanttoloseyouandIâmsorryIdidthatwithoutyourpermissioncanyoueverforgiveme?â Bilbo rushed, his face bright red with embarrassment as he rambled.
âBilbo,â You interrupted, pressing your finger to his lips with a smile as he muttered a small âWhat?â
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Prompt from the Drabble Games (now closed): âSweetheart, what did you bury in the garden?â requested by @givemeadecentusername || Also incorporating this from @imaginexhobbit âImagine Bilbo getting blushy because you always kiss the tippy tips of his ears.â || Drabble games fics || More Bilbo fics || More fics about âOf Lips and Fingersâ (my idea of a ânaughty bookâ in Middle Earth) || Fanfiction masterlist || Fluff, humor, innuendo
More than six months had passed since making your half-hearted request that when âitâ finally arrived - wrapped in plain brown paper with your initials in block letters  - you honestly couldnât recall what youâd asked for.
The package was unceremoniously dropped at the front door with such a thud that it awoke you from your afternoon nap. You had run to the door, hoping it was Bilbo, returning home hours earlier than expected from a farmer friendâs abundant tobacco leaf harvest far on the other end of the Shire. But to your disappointment, there was only the mysterious package. No note. Â
After giving the surrounding lush greenery of the beautiful hilly landscape a sweeping glance from left to right, hoping to catch the person who brought you the bundle, you shrugged, picked it up and went back inside, yawning and craving a cup of tea that your new husband so expertly made. You didnât think you would miss him quite so much, especially since he hadnât been gone very long.
As you shuffled past the piles of books and papers of the house you had called home since your festive wedding, it dawned on you what the package felt like: a book. Â Â
Your eyes wide, you dug your nails into the thick paper. Bits and pieces sailed this way and that until you uncovered the mystery, confirming your suspicions.
You gulped as you stroked the edges of the cover and read the title of the salacious book in silence: âOf Lips and Fingers.â Â Â Â Â
You couldnât help but laugh out loud. What a different state of mind you were in when you overheard a few rambunctious people at the pub table behind you cackling about the detailed illustrations in the book, which had apparently made the rounds from one end of Middle Earth to another over many years.Â
It was actually refreshing to listen in on the conversation. You had just returned from one of the most harrowing adventures youâd ever signed up for, in which you and Bilbo came dangerously close to losing your own lives and those of three friends, the heirs of Durin. And you had fallen desperately, unexpectedly in love with someone you were sure wanted nothing to do with you romantically, a person you could never imagine desiring before the journey: the fastidious, kind and brave Bilbo Baggins.
Given everything youâd been through, getting distracted by a naughty book enticed you. You told the rowdy group of men, women and Shirefolk your name and that youâd be staying in the beautiful area for at least three months, helping your dear friend Bilbo get re-settled before figuring out your next move. If they ever came across the book again, you asked that they drop it by your quarters at the nearby inn. Â
âMight take longer ân three moons to get to you, my friend,â one of the women said. âPeople tend to get hung up on those drawings for a bit.â Â Â
âHung, indeed!â someone else said, setting off several seconds of laughter at the table.
âAlright,â the woman said, âsoon as itâs made the rounds back to these parts, if youâre still here, itâs all yours  - as long as you donât mind teaching us a few moves with that fancy sword on your hip.âÂ
You bumped mugs with her in agreement, even though you were in no mood to wield your sword any time soon, even for instructional purposes. But you doubted any of this would come to fruition anyway, so what difference would it make?
âDeal,â you said.
And then, just a day later as you helped him re-shelve his cherished books, Bilbo made his timid confession of love. Like a whirlwind, you went from a weary soldier-for-hire to an over-the-moon bride-to-be.
Cradling âOf Lips and Fingersâ in your hands, you opened to the title page that had a simple line drawing. At first, it loosely resembled fingers around a pickle. Then you remembered the subject matter and did a double take: Â Â
âIs that what I think it is?â you whispered.
Oh it was. And that was just the beginning. Â Â
Thirty minutes passed as you you sat propped against the wall in the parlor, alternating between giggling, gasping, frowning, turning the book sideways and upside down to understand what you were looking at, and missing your hairy-footed lamb chop with a deep, fiery longing. Â Â
âHello, hello! Iâm home!â Â Â
Startled at hearing Bilboâs voice exactly when you were thinking of him, you jumped. The sudden movement, combined with slamming the book shut, caused âOf Lips and Fingersâ to pop out of your hands, fly into the air, and clip your nose on the way to the floor. ·    Â
âOW!â Â Â
You rubbed your sniffer with one hand, scooped the book up with the other and stood, looking for a quick hiding place. Â Â Â Â Â
âDarling? Are you hurt?â Bilbo called.Â
âIâm fine, lamb chop!â I was just looking at drawings of nude strangers enjoying themselvesâŠ
âIâve got quite a harvest here. Meet me in the garden to have a look and give your lamb chop proper welcome home?â Â
âUhâŠâ You glanced at the stacks of books. You could stick the book in any number of piles but - and maybe it was just your nerves - you just KNEW Bilbo would sniff it out. No new book got by him. Â
âIâll be right there!â you called. Â Â
In fact, you could beat him there, if he indeed had the bounty he claimed he had. It would take him a minute to drag the sack of leaves to the garden. Plus, his legs were shorter than yours. You could outrun him to the garden, stick the book into some freshly-turned earth and he would be none the wiser. Â
On the way out, you put on your slippers from the bedroom, then exited through the back. You tiptoed up to the well and crouched, peeking from behind it to make sure he couldnât see you. He was still struggling with the sack. You dashed to the garden, shoved âOf Lips and Fingersâ into a patch of loose earth, brushed off your house coat and then ran toward Bilbo. He turned around just in time to receive your warm embrace. Â
âIâm so glad youâre home!â Bending down so that your cheek rested on his shoulder close to his neck, you were in the perfect spot: near his right ear. You lifted your head and kissed the tip of it, felt him shiver in your arms, then switched to the left ear and gave him another gentle kiss. He laughed through a short sigh. You broke the hug, and smiled as you took note of his cheeks, which reddened whenever you kissed his ear tips.
âIâm glad to be back, too. But I was only gone for a few hours,â he said. Â
âThis is the first few hours weâve spent apart since the wedding,â you reminded him. Â
Bilbo gave you a smile as bright as sunrise and nodded. âTrue, true. Care to help me lug this away from the door?â Â
âCertainly.â You grabbed the top of the cinched sack and dragged it to the garden with ease. Â
âCareful! It nearly flattened me, getting it off the wagonâŠâ Bilboâs voice trailed off while he followed you, watching you handle the sack as if it were empty.
âSometimes I forget how strong and fast you are,â he said, looking embarrassed.
âYears of training.â You took a quick look at the odd mound of dirt covering the book and wished youâd pushed it deeper into the soil. Â Â
âTraining didnât give you those long limbs.â Bilbo dropped his head for a moment, as he did sometimes when he thought too hard about the differences between the two of you. âWhat did you ever see in me, fair lady?â Â
You bent down and kissed his cheek. âWeâll be out here all day if I answer that. Next question.â Â
Bilbo grinned and placed a small kiss on the tip of your nose. When he pulled away, his eyes were on the dirt. Â Â Â
âSweetheart, what did you bury in the garden?â Â Â
Curses! Â
Straightening up and glancing behind you, you intentionally didnât look in the direction of the buried book. Â Â
âUmâŠwhat? Nothing.â Â
Bilbo tapped your shoulder and beckoned you to lower to his eye level again. You complied, melting in his tender, concerned gaze.
âYou have never lied to me,â he said.
You sighed and stood erect. âIâm sorry, Bilbo. I lied because Iâm ashamed.â Â Â Â
âAbout what, my dear?â Â
You walked over to the book and pulled it out of the dirt. After you brushed the soil off it, you handed it to Bilbo, and his eyes lit up.
âA new book, for me?â he asked, before opening it. Â Â
âIt was for me. Iâm borrowing it, I guess.â Â
Bilbo ran his hand over the cover. He started turning the pages. âWhy would a book embarrass you, love? I know how much you like to readâŠoh! My.â  Â
Wanting to run and hide, you took a step back instead and bit your lip.
Bilbo stopped at one drawing and his jaw dropped. âMy goodness, sheâs certainly limber, isnât she?â He brought his face closer to the page. âTheyâŠthey both are. My, my, my. Wherever did you get this?â Bilbo fanned through more pages. Â
âItâs a long story.â Â
Bilbo held the book at armâs length, squinting and angling it, just as you had.Â
âThese look like elaborate tricks performed by contortionists,â he said, amazed. He moved from the images to the bookâs ridiculous narrative on lovemaking. âHm. Iâve never read of coupling referred to as âtwo entangled flowers...â â Â Â Â Â Â
âBilbo, please stop.â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â
He closed it and looked up at you. âThese actsâŠthey interest you?â·    Â
âNo. I mean, in a way. Maybe a few. But itâs not something Iâm asking you to do. I was just curious. I asked to see this book before we got married - before I even knew how you felt about me. I didnât think we could have a future together. Iâm happier than Iâve ever been in my life.â
âBut you could be happier. More satisfied, yes?â Â
âI am already satisfied. That is no lie.â Â
Bilbo looked at the plain cover again, then placed it on top of the sack and reached for your hands. Â
âI must admit, Iâve always been intrigued by the positions on page forty-three,â he said.
You wrinkled your brow. âForty-three?â Â
âYes. The page you bent.â Â
You stifled a laugh but failed to hide your shy smile. Â Â
âShall we try them?â he asked, keeping your hands in his, and taking a step toward you.
 Your face got hot. âUhâŠwhich ones?â
âEvery trick in the book.â
At once flustered and aroused, you werenât sure what to say. You didnât know if Bilbo was just proposing the shenanigans to please you or because he really wanted to try them. Maybe he felt self-conscious. The men and women in those drawings, with the same long limbs heâd just remarked about you, werenât Hobbits. Maybe he felt inferior to them, and wanted something to prove. Â
âYouâre a perfect lover, Bilbo. The illustrators and writers of that book could learn a thing or two from you.â Â Â
He smiled and rocked on his heels. âLetâs practice the suggestions weâll submit to them for a second volume, then.â
âLamb chop!â you gasped, followed by a surprised and pleased smile.
Bilbo laughed, grabbed the book with one hand and with the other started leading you to the back door of the house, closest to the bedroom. Â Â
Pt. 1, Twin Peaks || Pt. 2 is based on: Imagine Bilbo telling you heâs in love with you || thank you @pureimagination01 for the request :)
When you returned to camp, all you first saw was a rush of scurrying feet kicking up dust as they rounded a bend in the dense forest, with Bilbo whispering for everyone to âgo, get out, get out!â
âWhere are they headed in such a hurry?â you asked.
âUhâŠthe corn hash was a bit spicy for their stomachs. They all had to relieve themselves.â Bilbo rocked on his heels and scratched the back of his neck.Â
âAt the same time?â You picked one of several suddenly-available rocks and took a seat.
âWell, you know. They like to do everything together.â
You frowned and looked from side to side. âAll rightyâŠ..â
âAnyway, itâs good weâre alone. Thereâs something I need to tell you,â Bilbo said, arching backwards and checking to make sure the lads truly had disappeared.
Uh-oh. You squirmed. Those last seven words were usually the lead-in to some awful news. You crossed your legs and laced your fingers together at your knees, waiting nervously.
When he was convinced that no one was peeking or listening in, Bilbo straightened up and looked at you sheepishly.
âW-wâŠâ Bilbo started, his gaze sliding from your face toward the fire. âWhenâŠuh..â
You resisted the urge to ask him to just spit it out. Â Whatever he had to say was obviously difficult enough without added pressure, but you were ready to scream in anticipation.
âWhen you were off a while ago,â Bilbo finally shot his words out, and met your eyes again, âI came after you to ask about supperâŠhow much you wanted me to save you, and all that.â
You uncrossed your legs, then re-crossed them, switching which leg was on the bottom and returning your folded hands to your knees. You tried your best to remain expressionless.
âBut what happened instead isâŠâ Bilboâs Adamâs apple bobbed, and he looked absolutely horrified just thinking of what he had to say next. Bringing his chin down, he peered at you with shameful eyes. âI saw you.â
As you processed his confession, from the beginning mumbling and stuttering to the last three truthful words, it looked to Bilbo as if youâd become petrified stone. You no longer fidgeted. The only things obviously moving on you were your blinking eyelids and rising and falling chest, which Bilbo tried to avoid looking at.
Finally, you released your hands from your knees and slid your top leg off the other, slanting them together slightly.
âThank you for telling me, Bilbo.â
Your voice was calm, as was your demeanor.
âIt was an accident, I swear it,â Bilbo said, answering as if youâd yelled at him accusingly, which is what he expected.Â
âI understand,â you replied.
Bilbo shook his head. This was going entirely too smoothly.
âThatâs not all,â he blurted. âI, perhaps, looked for longer than a second. It may have been ten seconds.â
âIt sounds as if you were in shock.â
âAnd I made up a poem about you. No, not you exactlyâŠwell, yes, yes it was about you, but it was supposed to be about nature. A view of nature. I told it to the company, thinking they wouldnât understand. But they guessed it, straight away. I didnât tell them anything impolite, butâŠthey knew.â
âA poem, about me? Iâm flattered. I should like to hear it sometime.â
Bilbo dropped his head and swished it from side to side again, his curls becoming a blur.
âPlease donât ask me to say it again,â he asked.
âAll right, Bilbo. As you wish.â
He raised his head and cocked it, his mouth agape, deep lines pulling his brows down.
âYou are taking this incredibly well,â he said. âWhy? Why arenât you furious at me?â
You took a deep breath, leaned back and pressed your palms into the rough rock, slightly reclining with your straight arms as support.
âWell, it all sounds like a mistake. There isnât a rude bone in you, Bilbo.â
âAnd what of the revealing poem?â
âUmâŠcreative inspiration.â
âAnd the company? They know!â
You twisted your bottom lip in and bit it for a moment until you conjured up another answer.
âYou had a very perceptive, captive audience. Those lads are quite smart.â
âNo no no no no no!â Bilbo said, Â pacing before the fire pit. If he couldnât get a rise out of you, he could do it all by himself.
âWhatâs wrong, Bilbo?â
âWhatâs wrong? WHATâS WRONG?â He stopped about a yard in front of you. âI came upon the most beautiful sight I have ever seen, or will ever see, in my entire life, and I stayed for longer than I should have, because I was completely spellbound, and because I am thoroughly and madly in love with you and want to spend my life with you, and you donât put up one objection?â
Having completely emptied his soul, Bilbo felt woozy, realizing that his big confession about seeing you nude had turned to an even bigger confession of wanting to be your lover.Â
He managed to stay upright, and watched a slow smile spread across your face, and your eyes shine with glee.
You stood and contained your own sudden dizziness as you moved closer to Bilbo.
âWhy would I object,â you said, placing your hands on his shoulders, âwhen I rather hoped you would see me?â
His mouth hung in a long oval. âYou did? Why?â
âBecauseâŠ.â You gathered your nerve. âBecause I love you, too, Bilbo. I canât recite off-the-cuff poetry about it, but I do.â
Bilboâs face was aglow with amazement over how these awkward few moments had quickly evolved into the most surprisingly enlightening experience he ever had.
âYou love me?â he whispered. Your smile said it all.
Bilbo lifted his hands to the sides of your face, framing you in them like delicate artwork.
âWhen were you going to tell me, my dear?â he asked.
You cleared your throat and stalled for a bit, then said, âafter I made a confession of my own.â
Dropping his hands to your shoulders, Bilboâs face fell into a confused expression, all frown and shifty-eyes, broken by a nervous smile.
âWhat confession would that be?â
âWhen we stopped at Beornâs house, and after you went off to bathe, I searched for you to ask if it was all right if you had water with breakfast, since Fili was drinking all the fresh milk-â
âI WAS NOT!â Filiâs voice shouted from behind a large bush. Immediately there was a chorus of âshhh!,â âshut up, you idiot!â and the familiar swatting sound of Bofurâs hat to Filiâs head. You smiled at the interruption and eavesdropping while Bilbo rolled his eyes and shook his head.
âAnyway,â you said, âI saw you.â
Bilboâs eyes widened. âYou-you did?â
âI sure did, and let me tell you.â You brought your arms around him, and he followed your lead. âIâm not sorry. You are highly favored, Bilbo. Highly. I was already in love with you, and then I really fell.â
Bilbo threw his head back and laughed. Part of him felt like such a cad for finding your observation so flattering, and the other part of him did not care one stinking bit.
He leaned forward and planted a small, tender peck on your lips, then smiled proudly as he snuggled against your twin peaks.
âDid you hear that, lads? I am highly favored!â he shouted.
There was an envious grumble of recognition as the company emerged from their eavesdropping spot.
âAye, we heard,â Bofur encouraged, ânow shut up and enjoy the view!âÂ
Before instituting a self-imposed no-more-writing-about-traveling-to-Middle-Earth rule, I submitted the madness above to @thefandomimagine || Warnings: cursing (lyrics) || for @eringobragh96
Your time in Middle Earth was brief; youâd been advised this was the rule when visiting fictional realms, never the exception.
The only time that the magicae argentum allotted you was three days. Then, you were to return back to the comfort and realness of home.
Passed down from your earliest alchemist ancestors, the âmagic silverâ coin would give you the once-a-year opportunity of stepping into whatever make-believe world you whispered into it just before giving it a flip.Â
As soon as it landed, you would be in your fictional fantasy, where you had absolutely no honorable or fate-changing purpose whatsoever.Â
Your task was simply this: to have a good time in your chosen realm, in whatever manner your heart desired, until time was up.Â
No coin, no return.
When you came of age and for the first time flipped the dull, rusted and rough coin into reclaimed Erebor, you - the devilish soul you were - happened to be in the mood to make two kinds of trouble while there.
Arriving right near the sea of gold inside the Lonely Mountain, you let out a quick yelp and spin as you excitedly took in your surroundings, falling down and laughing hysterically over the fact that you were actually in Middle Earth.Â
Within seconds, the Dwarves of Erebor had surrounded you, pointing weapons at you and demanding to know who you were.Â
Because you didnât look like much of a threat, they accepted your story that you were an honest person on the run from some shady people you owed money to, and had been hiding out nearby ever since the dragon fled. You told them that you only recently stepped inside.Â
Thorin opposed granting you asylum, but he was already too deep into the gold sickness to keep up the fight.
Bilbo took an instant special liking to you. He mistakenly thought it was alarm he saw on your face as you adjusted to an unexpected adventure. He could relate.
But it was nothing more than mischief twinkling in your eyes. Knowing all you knew about Tolkienâs story and Bilboâs role in it, you made him your target.
âIâve already told you, Thorin, I have not seen the Arkenstone,â Bilbo said for at least the third time on the second day of your visit. You were standing next to him on the throne dais, before the weary king.
âHmmm ohh my god,â you muttered, too low for anyone to hear the lyrics, but just enough to get on their nerves. âStop fuc-â
âWhat is that grating tune again?â Thorin demanded. You had mumbled the parody song before then, much quieter, every time Thorin asked Bilbo point-blank if heâd seen the heart of the mountain. But no one had asked you about it until that moment.
âWhy You Always Lying.â You smiled and winked at the Hobbit, who gulped as you kept low-key singing.
You stopped when Thorin shot up angrily from the hallowed seat.Â
âWhat are you accusing me of, stranger?â he asked, his eyes wild.
âNothing, nothing! Please excuse us,â Bilbo said, taking your hand and hurrying you down the platform stairs.
Walking fast out of Thorinâs sight, Bilbo asked what possessed you to sing such a song about the king.
âI wasnât singing it about him, Bilbo!â you cackled.
âThen, toâŠwho, me? What have I stolen?â
âI wonder if he knows that I know that heâs lying right now!â you recited, pointing to his waist coat.
âWhat?â Just then, he patted his pocket, and in a sudden panic, you did the same.Â
Thatâs when you realized you were without your coin.Â
You stopped walking, released Bilboâs hand and screamed, sending an echo through the wide halls. Bilbo implored you to hush, until you explained your loss, but not the magic of it. You only said that without your coin, you could never go back home.
If there was one thing Bilbo understood, it was the importance of home. So he didnât hesitate to start helping you retrace your steps in agonizing detail, for another day, to no avail.
As time sped forward, your hyperventilating kept you from thinking straight. War was coming! How would you ever get back home?
You couldnât say anything to anyone about the true importance of that coin, not even to your friend, whose dishonesty with Thorin was becoming annoyingly more noticeable to you.
After Dori offered you some potent spirits in an effort to calm you down, the more you started to see Bilbo as a lying little ass who was playing games with not just poor Thorinâs crumbling mind, but everyone elseâs as well.Â
For all I know, he has my coin! you thought, not once considering it was the Dwarvish wine talking.
âWhat is that?!â You heard Thorin snap the words as he emerged from a dark corridor, rushing over to you and Bilbo with murder in his eyes.Â
The two of you were sitting on a bench. Bilbo was exhausted from the futile search for your coin, and you were exhausted, tipsy and agitated by his secret.
âIn your hand!â Thorin boomed, as Bilbo stood up, frightened.
âItâs - itâs nothing,â Bilbo said.
âHmm oh my GOD!â you sang with angst, pulling at your hair and rocking in your seat like a stark raving mad lunatic, distraught over having to stay in this realm.
âNot now,â Bilbo pleaded.
Thorin looked at you, puzzled.
âWhy are you singing that lying song again?â Thorin barked.
All at once you bolted up from the bench, bent into a squat, and placed your hands on your knees, trying to get at Bilboâs eye level. You nearly lit him on fire with your breath.
â âȘ Why you always lyingâŠâȘâ
âL-lying?â Bilbo sputtered, looking from you to Thorin with a nervous smile. âAll right, then, I think the wine finally got to you.âÂ
He attempted to take you by the arm, but you stood upright and spun out of his grasp. You started replicating Nicholas Fraserâs moves from the âWhy You Always Lyingâ video that you make you laugh until your face hurt.Â
Then you launched into the lyrics, louder than you had previously:
ââȘ Why the fuck you lying
Why you always lying
Hmmm ohh my god
Stop fucking lying! âȘâ
âENOUGH! What is this absconder and cheat talking about?â Thorin demanded of Bilbo, who only shrugged. âAre you lying about something, Bilbo?â
âââSconder? Cheeeeeeet?â you slurred, before Bilbo could answer. âYou donât know the Half-ling about cheats!â
Bilbo pulled on your shirt. Â âCome now, off to bed!â he chirped.
âTake your thieving hands off me, you liar!â
âThieving?â Thorin growled, his eyes blazing through Bilbo. âWhat did he steal?â
âGive me my coin, Bilbo!!â you hollered.
His expression, one of pure hurt, pierced through your tipsiness and despair, and made you want to take him in your arms and hug him forever.
âI do not have your coin,â Bilbo said quietly.
But what really shot you into sobriety was the rage in the kingâs eyes. You couldnât let things unfold this way. It wasnât up to you to reveal Bilboâs secret.
âThorin,â you said quickly, stepping between him and Bilbo, and forcing yourself not to teeter. âBilboâs right. He didnât take it. I lost my coin because I was careless.âÂ
You turned to your friend. âIâm sorry, Bilbo.â He accepted your apology with a small smile.
Thorin kept his eyes on you suspiciously as he reached inside his lovely fur coat and retrieved something from it, holding it out to you as you looked back at him.
âAre you speaking of this coin?â he asked. âI found this ugly thing yesterday.â
Gasping with delight, you snatched your special magic silver from his palm and shrieked your thanks and kissed the coin.Â
Thorin just shook his head at you while Bilbo smiled brighter, glad to see you so happy and relieved.
After your brief celebration, you hugged Bilbo and whispered right into his ear, âYou really do need to stop lying. But I know you will in good time. Best of luck, Bilbo.â
You kissed his cheek, then turned to Thorin. You were about to bow to him when you remembered the other trouble you wanted to make while you were in Middle Earth.
Grabbing him by his fur collar, you pulled Thorin to you and planted a kiss on his lips, with plenty of tongue. He was perplexed, but didnât pull away.
âYou are a such a good kisser,â you breathed, âand that is no lie.â Breaking from him as the coin started to feel hot in your hands, you knew it was ready to get to work, as this was the end of the third and final day of your visit.
You could have sworn that you saw a glimmer of sanity in Thorin as he touched his hand to his overworked lips. Your sudden smooch was more like true lustâs kiss than true loveâs, but if it helped him climb out of the gold sickness any faster, maybe you really did serve an honorable purpose there.Â
And maybe, because of that silly song, Bilbo would confess a little sooner that he had the Arkenstone, and his reasons behind taking it.
The last thing you imparted to Thorin was not to ever take on Azog alone. His only response was a frown, but somehow, you knew the advice sank in. Â
When they asked where you were walking off to, you explained that, now that you had your coin, it was time to go home.
âButâŠâ Bilbo said as you left. Youâd stamped an odd impression on him, to say the least. But he would miss you terribly.
âShow him whatâs in your hand, Bilbo!â you called as you ran down the corridor, out of their view. You heard the beginning of the acorn conversation just before you whispered into the coin and flipped it, back to the comfort and realness of home.
Based on this imagine from imaginexhobbit:Â Imagine Bilbo seeing you naked and being so fascinated by your beauty and breasts that he accidentally tells the Company all about what he saw || Setting: at camp, in the woods || Genre: humor, hint of romance || More Bilbo fics || Fanfiction masterlist
Pt. 2 is here: Double Whammy
Poem by Averil-of-Fairlea
Thorin was standing with Gandalf and pointing to a pastoral expanse of land when Bilbo, dazed but not confused, strode up from the wood line and plopped onto a large rock without giving a second thought to discomfort.Â
âThe safest path is through those hills,â Thorin said to Gandalf, who nodded in agreement.
âWeâll stay low, in the valley,â suggested the wizard.
Thorin shook his head. âNo. If thereâs trouble weâll have a better advantage on the peaks.â
âPeaks. Hmmm,â Bilbo sighed as he placed his elbow on his knee and rested his chin on the back of his hand. His eyes twinkled, and he was looking far-off.Â
âWhatâs that, Bilbo?â asked Bofur, ladling into his bowl some corn hash from the simmering kettle, held up by two stones over the camp fire.
âJust thinking of âŠuhâŠa lovely view I saw of some hills,â Bilbo stumbled, putting his hand down to join the other in his lap and twiddling his thumbs.
âThe ones Thorinâs pointing to?â Bofur looked over at the nondescript mounds. âWhatâs so special about those?â
âNot those, Bofur.â Bilbo rolled his lips in tight, regretting that he said anything.
âWell, which ones are youâŠ?â Bofurâs voice trailed off.  His hat flaps bounced as he took a quick look around the incomplete circle. âSay, whereâs our newest member?â
âProbably washing up,â Dwalin guessed.Â
Kili shook his head. âMum always insisted on us washing up before supper, too. What is it about-â
Bilbo blocked out the rest. His stare was the equivalent of kicking dirt in Kiliâs eye.
âThere is nothing inherently womanly about washing up,â he said, his tone and look harsher than the lads were used to.
Kili frowned. âUh, Bilbo, I didnât say anything like that.âÂ
Bilbo didnât care. âYou could stand to wash up more often.âÂ
The Hobbitâs jab got Thorin and Gandalfâs attention, and they stopped debating about the route to take their choice of rock or tree stump around the fire to listen in on more digs.
âHa-ha-ha! Somethingâs got the Halfling fired up!â Fili said.Â
âPity. He was just fawning over a couple of hills a second ago,â Bofur said.
âHills?â Thorin asked dubiously, filling his pipe with tobacco, then coming close to the flame to carefully light it. âWho swoons over hills?â
âAll of you would.â AGHK! Â Bilbo chided himself. Too much!
Thorin snorted as he returned to his seat. âMust be something with Hobbits.â He took a puff and exchanged a nod with Dwalin.
âI think itâs fair to say that you swoon over a mountain,â Bilbo retorted.
Thorin tightened his jaw and weighed whether or not it was worth it to school Bilbo in front of the others. He decided it wasnât.
âThese pretty hills you speak of sound like the stuff of poetry, Bilbo,â Bofur said.
âDONâT!â Thorin and Dwalin roared in unison, at the exact moment that Bofur, Dori, Balin and Ori started urging Bilbo to ârecite a few lovely Shire verses.â
A sudden poetic inspiration blazed brilliantly through Bilboâs mind like Gandalfâs finest fireworks, ignited by the sight heâd accidentally stumbled upon but vowed he would never reveal: you, naked. Heâd walked up behind a breathtaking weeping cherry just in time to see you peeling out of your mud-splattered garments and changing into your extra set of clothes.
The only reason he came after you was to ask how many bowls of food you wanted him to save you, like he always did.Â
He didnât think youâd be naked. Actually, he didnât know what he thought, blindly pursuing you like that into the woods. It never dawned on Bilbo that what he really wanted was just some alone time with you.
Bilbo cleared his throat and looked behind him, checking for you. You still hadnât emerged from the woods; last he saw when he finally scurried away, you were scraping off the stubborn mud from your boots with a stick.
âCome on, Bilbo,â Balin said. âI think a poetry night is in order. This lot could use a little culture.â
There was no getting out of it. Whether he wrote it in his journal, said it aloud now, or murmured it in his sleep, Bilbo resigned himself to the fact that this poem was going to get out.Â
But these chaps wouldnât know he was talking about you, right?Â
Right.
So Bilbo allowed his gaze to fix on the kettle, then the fire, falling into a trance as he effortlessly began his ode:
âMy plodding feet led me to lovely twin peaks
Though to see them was not my intent
So rapt was I by their sheer perfection
That ever closer, my feet went
I dared not cross the weeping cherry tree
Behind its trunk I remained hidden
I lost my manners to that enchanting view
And rejoiced that it was forbidden
I saw a patch of dark grass between two strong stems
A thick and abundant wild cluster
Then my eyes hiked the trail âround the landscapeâs small divot
Till I shone in the hillsâ brilliant luster
Sun rays warmed the peaksâ small sweet buds
A beautiful firm dot on each summitâŠâ
âEr, Bilbo?â
The Hobbit stopped upon hearing Bofur say his name, and more importantly, at hearing the shock in it.
And for the first time since the spontaneous poem came to him, Bilboâs stare broke from the fire to the stunned faces of the Dwarves and wizard.Â
Whatever theyâd had up to their mouths - pipes, spoonfuls of food, flutes, clarinets, mugs - were now gripped in their hands, pushed steadily lower by every stanza of the provocative poem.
âYou saw her, didnât you? NAKED!â Kili blurted with a bright smile on his face, pointing at BilboÂ
The Hobbit laughed nervously, which told everyone Kili had guessed correctly.
âWhatever are you talking about?â Bilbo shrieked, looking around for you. Thankfully, you still hadnât materialized.
ââDark grassâ? âWild cluster?â Thatâs her carpet!â Kili exclaimed.
âVulgar,â Bilbo mumbled.
Thorin was a bit louder to Kili. âIâll remember to tell your mother of your ignorant choice of words.â
Fili picked up a nearby pine cone and threw it against his brotherâs shoulder. âI told you thatâs not what itâs called!â
âOhhhâŠI see,â Bofur said slowly, his mouth hanging open for a moment as he put everything together. âAnd the lovely twin peaks must have been her-â
âSHHH!â BIlbo felt like he was about to implode.Â
âBilbo Baggins!â Gandalf said, disappointment in his voice. âBelladona Took would be turning over in her grave if she knew -â
âNo, Gandalf, itâs not like that!âÂ
âWhy, you sly Hobbit fox,â Nori remarked in awe.Â
âI didnât do it on purpose!â Bilbo forced himself to take a breath, then he quieted, not wanting you to come upon the scene hearing his confession.Â
âYouâve got to believe me!â Bilbo added in a ragged whisper, terrified that you would magically appear right in front of him at any second.
âHeh-heh, ho ho!â Fili laughed, âwe definitely believe you, mate. Youâre a burglar, certainly not an ogler.â
Bilboâs facial expressions scrunched into a dozen different twists as he tried to figure out whether Fili was praising him or teasing him.
He decided he had bigger problems to fret over.
âPlease, please donât-â
â-tell?â Thorin asked, one eyebrow up.
Bilbo nodded emphatically. âPlease.â
âAs long as there is no more ârejoicing in the forbidden,â â Thorin glared at Bilbo. He was dead serious, and rather pleased that he was schooling the Halfling after all.
âNo more, no more! Just please, let me talk to her. Iâll handle it.â
âAll right, Bilbo. There, there. Your secret is under lock and key.â Bofur walked up behind him, bent down and clutched his shoulder until he looked up. âJust tell us this, friend: is she really as beautiful as your poem says?â
Bilbo turned away and looked at the last of the hissing orange embers.
âMore,â he said, hearing the twigs snap under your feet as you made your way back to camp.Â
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based on this imagine from @imaginexhobbit || Setting: forest along the quest before arriving at Beornâs house || Warnings: Removal of braces by a handsome blacksmith. Do not try this at home. || Songspiration: Trust by Megadeath (I actually love the intro more than the rest of the song, which has nothing to do with orthodontics)
For your own sanity, you started to put your entry into this world far in the back of your mind. Â
Though you still had a plethora of questions about why the flight of stairs marked âDO NOT ENTERâ at the Halloween haunted house led you to good and bad fictional worlds (you couldnât get out of Kingâs Landing fast enough! Stupid Joffrey was still alive!), you realized that understanding the details might scare you more than you could handle at this point.
You stepped into worlds one after the other like you were turning pages in a very thick storybook. Westeros, Neverland, and now, Middle Earth.
As fictional fate would have it, you were on the heels of the Company of Thorin Oakenshield.
Only Bilbo acknowledged you until he was rebuffed by both Thorin and Dwalin. A few days after that, Gandalf defied the two grouches and took it upon himself to hang back from the group to talk to you.
You told him your unusual tale, and he thought on it for a few minutes as you walked the dusty road together.
âYou would be wise to steer clear of anything presenting itself as âhaunted,â â Gandalf said gravely.
âIt was supposed to be fun.â
âThere are harmless tricksters, and then there are demons. In taking those stairs, you stumbled upon the latter. How else would you explain encountering that malicious King Joffrey you mentioned?â
No argument there. No more haunted anything.
âAbout your predicament,â Gandalf said, âI can send word to the head of my order asking how to return you, but it will take a few weeks, Iâm afraid.â
Weeks? It was like a punch to the gut, but what could you do?Â
âI understand,â you said meekly.
âNow, onto another matter,â he said, first making sure the others werenât within earshot before going on. âWhy are there metal chains on your teeth?â
And thatâs the question that moved your obsessive thoughts from the creepy stairs and world-jumping to what was supposed to happen the day after Halloween: finally getting your braces off.
The Nov. 1 appointment had been set for several weeks. You had even planned a little party to celebrate, and cleared your phoneâs storage to handle a boatload of selfies and group shots with your friends.
You had the traditional kind of braces, with the brackets and wires. You explained to Gandalf what they were and how they worked.
Then you asked him not to tell the company about your teeth chains or where you came from. You were a strange enough bird to them; no need to make them any more suspicious of you than they already were.
After that conversation, when you werenât creeping behind the group, Â you dashed into every business you encountered in every little town, looking for a Middle Earth version of an orthodontist to remove your braces.
You were getting quite desperate. Of all things, you simply needed the normalcy of a dental visit, a reminder that you were still you.
But - and it should not have come as a surprise - no one knew how to help you, and actually looked at your corrective metalwork in fear.
Sitting behind a wide-trunked pine tree one late afternoon in a wood hissing with noisy insect life, about to eat a handful of blueberries, you suddenly heard a voice above you say, âdonât eat those, child!â
Your head jerked up to see the white-haired Dwarf named Balin standing over you, his eyes wide.
âWhy not?â you asked, placing your berry-free hand in front of your mouth.
âThose are pokeberries. Theyâre poisonous.â
You gasped and threw them away from you. Terrific.
âGlad I came over,â he said.
âYes, thanks. What brings you?â You were used to being avoided, not approached. Lowering your hand, you reminded yourself to keep your lips tight when you spoke, so you wouldnât startle him - yet.
âGandalf will be back in a bit, but he wanted me to tell you his friend Saruman had good news about getting you home, though it still wonât be as quick as youâd probably like, he said.â
Your heart leaped anyway at just hearing the word âhome.â Gandalf had found a way!Â
âIâd be happy to give you some food and a mug of water,â Balin added, turning around to see if his leader was watching: he was. With disdain.Â
Bilbo used to sneak you food but Thorin told him to stop doing that, as you might be a âspy.â
You stood. The top of Balinâs head came to your chin.
âInstead of food, good sir,â you said, âdo you know someone who can get rid of these?â You stretched your mouth into an exaggerated smile, and Balin stumbled back.
âWhat in thunder are those?!â Balin asked, his voice rising.
âBraces. I need them to be taken off.â
âIâll say!! Why are your teeth in torture devices?!!â
You shook your head. âNo, no, you see, they straightened my crooked teeth. But now the job is done and I need to get them off.â
âEr, why not wait till youâre home, child? Didnât someone there put them on?â
âYes, but I donât know when that will be. And without proper oral hygiene and all this harsh water Iâve been drinking, theyâre really starting to bother me.â
He frowned as he stared at your mouth. Finally, he said he had an idea of someone who might be able to help, and that heâd be back. You leaned on your tree and waited, watching him return to camp and talk to Thorin.
And a few minutes later, who should stroll up but the company leader himself.
âYou have metal on your teeth, spy?â he said, frowning harder at you than Balin did.
You straightened up quickly from your tree post and nodded, forcing yourself to talk through your onset of both jitters and irritation. âIâm not a spy, and yes, I have metal on my teeth that needs to be removed.â
âStoop and open your mouth.â
You did as he barked, and he got so close to your mouth to peer inside that you actually felt like you were in Dr. Craigâs chair for a second.
Thorin backed up, and you straightened your legs.
âWhat else is there besides metal? A plaster of some sort?â he asked.
âYes, exactly⊠sort of! Bonding cement.â You were so glad he got the gist. âIn my land, the people who put these on and take them off are called orthodontists. Is there someone like that here?â
Thorin turned around and started walking off, toward camp.
âStay there,â he said over his shoulder.
You returned to your tree lean, facing away from the companyâs camp this time as you silently gave thanks. You were ecstatic  that even though Thorin was obviously still dubious of you, he was being speedy about summoning a professional. FINALLY!Â
But after several minutes, Thorin came back with a small box of tools, accompanied only by Balin, Dwalin and Bilbo.
In each hand, Balin was holding buckets of very hot water from the nearby spring, boiled over the campfire. Anxious-looking Bilbo juggled several towels and a lantern, while Dwalin held a bottle of whiskey in one hand and in the other, a small bowl with a white blob in it: lard.
âIs this a cooking class?â you asked nervously. âWhere is the orthodontist?â
âI am he. Sit on that stump,â Thorin said, gesturing toward the hunk of wood a couple of yards away.
âAnd here,â Dwalin said, handing you the whiskey. âTake a few swigs.â
âWait a second,â you said, hyperventilating and backing away from the bottle. âYouâre going to do it? Do you know what youâre doing? These are my teeth!â
âHeâs worked as a blacksmith, child,â Balin said, setting the pails next to the stump.
âSO WHAT?â
âMetal is metal, spy. Sit down,â said Thorin.
 Dwalin set the lard on the ground to unscrew the whiskey bottle top.
âI donât drink.â
âTrust me,â Dwalin said, both of you looking at Thorinâs daunting âdentalâ tools, âyou do today.â
You grabbed the bottle, trepidatiously took a few swallows of the burning whiskey and coughed like you were dying before thrusting the bottle back in Dwalin's hands. Then you started toward the stump, wringing your hands the whole way.
You would gladly forget what happened over the next two hours if you could.
Dwalin sloppily applied the nasty lard on your teeth, trying to help loosen the bonding agent. Thorin sterilized his rudimentary tools in one pail of hot water, and at several points during the arduous procedure, he had you lean over the other bucket, teeth bared like a rabid animal, and a towel tented over your head in an effort to further weaken the stubborn cement.
As a side benefit, the steam opened your facial pores nicely.
The rest of the company left camp but stayed back, gathered in a circle, craning their necks to see what was going on.Â
Throughout the ordeal, Bilbo held the lantern up in one hand and with the other  patted your shoulder reassuringly. When he got in Thorinâs way, he handed Balin the lantern and went to your leaning tree, calling out, âYouâre doing great!â while you howled.
âIhyooo weh ma tee ow, ah wih kihyooo!!!â you growled to Thorin, your head tilted back as far as you could go while Thorin twisted and bent your wires with two different tools.
âWhat was that gibberish?!â Dwalin roared, not expecting an answer.
Thorin interpreted as he worked: âThe spy said, âif you rip my teeth out, I will kill you.â â
âI NUH UH PY!!!â
âSure, youâre not a spy. Now stay still!â
âI SEH, I NUH UH PY!!!â
âQuiet.â
About 30,000 tugs later, Thorin was done.
Your brackets and wires and the peeled off adhesive lay in a small pile on one of the towels that Bilbo brought. With another, he gently wiped your face and told you how brave you were. Everyone else was busy cleaning up.
Your neck, cheeks, gums and tongue were sore, as if youâd been repeatedly pummeled. Your teeth felt gritty in some spots, slimy in others. You used one untouched end of the face towel to run along each pearly white row.Â
Even though you were applying very soft pressure, it hurt. But you didnât want to imagine how bad the pain would have been without the whiskey.Â
Delving into your back pocket, you brought out your phone and turned it on for the first time in weeks.Â
âAnother torture device?â Balin asked, staring at the phone curiously, along with the others.
You laughed. It was the most accurate description of a phone youâd ever heard.
You had shut the phone down at 40 percent battery power after it became painfully apparent that Verizon didnât have service in fictional worlds.
Switching to your camera, you looked at your wonderfully straight teeth, smiling like there was no tomorrow.
âOk, time to celebrate!â you announced happily, leaping from the stump. âBraces are off, and Iâm going back homeâŠsomeday soon, I hope. Gather âround the torture device!â
Bewildered, everyone, including the onlookers, did as you asked, with Thorin standing beside you.
âWeâll have to do this a few times to get everyone,â you advised.Â
âDo what?â was the murmur.
They all had a thousand questions about the unusual rectangle in your hands, which you promised youâd answer later. You raised the camera up high and told them to smile. They didnât ask why they were grinning at a flattened box with a looking glass in it; they just obliged.
At the last second, before you pressed the button, you leaned over, pecked Thorinâs cheek and whispered âthank you, doctor.â
His face heated up to the boiling point as you snapped the photo.
âYou are welcome, spâŠâ he started, until you flashed a bright, beautiful, grateful smile at him. âYou are welcome.â
Imagine  |  Characters: Bilbo x Reader  |  Words: 1028  |  Part One
Warnings: Mentions of Alcohol
â... And then you bend it at the crease here, to make the wings.â
âHere?â
âNo, there.â
âOh, sorry.â
âAnd there you have it,â You said, proudly holding up your master creation, âA paper bird.â
Bilbo looked from your skilfully folded bird, to his own in his lap, which looked more like an oddly formed horse.
âIâm afraid Iâll never quite get the knack of it,â Bilbo said, shrugging soberly.
âOf course you will, you just need to practice,â You said, encouragingly, âAlthough, I think Ori will be reluctant to lend us any more of his parchment.â
You turned in unison to glance at the youngest Ri brother, who was rubbing the crease in his journal where he had ripped the pieces from, looking forlorn.
You caught Bilboâs eye and couldnât help but grin, a small giggle bursting from your mouth.
You had become quite fond of the hobbits company in the past weeks of travelling. You noticed that he seemed to be tripping and stuttering much less, which you saw as a good sign that his little addiction was fading... or he had simply run out of whiskey to drink.
Bomburâs voice rang around the campsite, signalling that dinner was ready. You leapt eagerly from your seat, your stomach growling.
Unbeknownst to you, the hobbit remained seated firmly in his place, gazing fondly after you with a dazed smile.
When you had finally managed to elbow you way back through the throng of hungry dwarves, you saw that your place beside Bilbo had been taken by Gloin.
And, quite eager to avoid the arduous stories bragging of his son Gimliâs many achievements, you took a spot beside Gandalf.
The wizard smiled warmly in your direction and continued to puff on his long pipe, every now and then emitting the odd ring of smoke.
â... Had a full grown beard by his fifteenth birthday, my lad Gimli did. Did I tell you about the time...â
Bilbo caught your amused gaze and mouthed a silent âhelp me!â before nodding politely towards Gloin, as if he were actually listening.
You let out a snort of laughter, and began to tuck into your dinner.
âI see you have become close to our burglar.â
You looked curiously to see who it was Gandalf was speaking to, and started when you saw his sparkling eyes on you.
âO-oh! Um, yes, I sâpose so,â You said, âHe is quite lovely... once you get past the tripping and the stuttering...â
The wizard chuckled heartily, the action releasing a ring of smoke into the air before him.
âYouâll have to forgive him for that,â He said, âHe means well, as all hobbits do. Though even the gentlest of folk fall victim to nerves.â
You paused, mulling over his words, and watch as he blew a tiny ship to sail mesmerisingly through the smoke ring.
â... Nerves?â You repeated, skeptically.
âWell of course,â Gandalf said, âYou said it yourself; the tripping and the stuttering... all nerves.â
âBut...â You faltered, your gaze flickering from Bilbo, to Fili and Kili. âYouâre sure, Gandalf? He isnât just... fond of the drink?â
At this, Gandalfâs considerate smile spread to a wide grin, and his booming laughter echoed through the campsite.
âI believe, if Iâm not mistaken, that you have been made victim to one of young Fili and Kiliâs pranks, my dear, â the wizard said, still chuckling to himself.
You bit your lips, deep in thought. You couldnât help but feel slightly annoyed at the wizardâs obvious amusement at your predicament.
âSo... if it wasnât drinking that made him act like that,â You thought aloud, âThen what in Mahalâs name would make him that nerv- oh.â
Bilbo was still listening ever politely to Gloinâs ramblings, completely unaware of your epiphany. When you caught his eye, you grinned warmly and waved. He immediately blushed and knocked over the cup resting beside him.
You giggled to yourself, unaware that you also were blushing furiously. You jumped up and headed for the smallest dwarf in the campsite, who was clutching a journal protectively to his chest.Â
âOri! Iâm going to need some more parchment!â
+ this imagine: Imagine Dwalin making you breakfast in the morning while wearing nothing but an apron || Setting: Bilboâs house in the present a few years after the war in which all Durins survive; flashback of Readerâs house before the quest || Characters: Fem!Reader, Dwalin, Bilbo, Bilboâs wife || Genre: humor, romance, fluff || Songspiration:  âHow Sweet It Is To Be Loved By Youâ (James Taylor) (Marvin Gaye) || Note: Bilboâs wife Arya is not the GoT character of the same name :)
 âHow Did Dwalin Propose to You?â
Mr. and Mrs. Bilbo Baggins had an absolutely gorgeous table set to welcome you and your husband Dwalin to first breakfast.
As much as you enjoyed the decadent meals served on gilded chargers in the mountain kingdomâs lavish dining hall, you loved the genuineness and comfort of Bilboâs display of fresh fruits, breads, boiled eggs and cheeses.
He had even cultivated the seeds from the chocolate lily flower heâd found on the way to the Lonely Mountain, the same flowers from which heâd plucked petals and sprinkled them over your âhoneymoon suiteâ in the middle of a wood. The beautiful buds were the ideal, sentimental touch.
Last night was spent settling into the guest room in the hole in the ground after your long journey, hugging and sipping wine, and sharing memories of the companyâs quest, of which you were all a part. This morning you looked forward to catching up on Bilboâ and Aryaâs life since the reclamation of the Lonely Mountain and the war.
As the couple sat across from you and Dwalin and gushed at each other, it dawned on you that you didnât know how Bilbo had proposed. So you asked.
They could hardly stop smiling and giving each other lovey-dovey eyes throughout the story of Bilboâs impromptu question on bended knee, within hours of arriving in Bag End after leaving Erebor.
âThatâs absolutely adorable,â you said, while Dwalin just grunted. You smiled at your gruff hunk of burly love as you sipped your peppermint tea and he plopped six boiled eggs on his plate.
âSo tell us,â Bilbo said, taking a small bite from a square of bread, âhow did Dwalin propose to you?â
âPZZZZZZZ!âÂ
The tea in your mouth sprayed forth like a geyser, showering Bilbo, Arya, and all their food.
Years before, pre-Lonely Mountain Quest:
âSo, what do you think of this getup?âÂ
Dwalin stood before you in what appeared to be only a red and white plaid apron with frilly sleeves. His bulky thighs popped out from under the hem, and his hands gripped the sides of a tarnished silver tray as if doing so was keeping him dying of embarrassment. The smell of blackened bread wafted from a plate.
Looking up from your pillow, you squinted, then widened your eyes, then squinted again. You sat up.
âWhat are you doing here? AndâŠwhat are you wearing?!â
Dwalin decided to turn around slowly, so you could see EVERYTHING.
âFirst tell me how I look,â he said.
âWell!â you exclaimed, hoping you were fully awake, âI, uh, I-I think you look -â
â-f*%~ing ridiculous, right?â
âNo. You look wonderful.â
âHow does my ass look?â
âNot as good as mine-â
âNo one can compete with that!â
â-but lovely, nonetheless. Why are you in an apron?â
âI asked those imbecile Ri brothers for advice on a way to ask ya something important, something youâd remember. Those knobs came up with this. I should have listened to Thorin.â
âAsk me what?â
He put the tray at the foot of your bed and came to your side. He opened his mouth, he closed it. Then he frowned.
âCome on, I didnât put that courting braid in your hair for nothing, did I?â
You propped up on your elbows and looked at him with narrowed eyes..
âSurely that isnât your important question, Dwalin.â
He gulped and sat down beside you, then stroked your special braid, from root to the end of the hair bead he made you.
âIâm just a brute. But you - you are magic. And you make me feelâŠwhatâs the word?
âLovely?âÂ
âAye. Lovely.â He meant it, too. âWill you marry me?â
âYes I will, you lovely brute.â
âItâs a funny storyâŠâ
âI am so sorry!!!!â You felt around for your napkin so you could sop up the mess from your tea spray. Meanwhile, Dwalin threw his head back and cackled to the ceiling.
You got up to pat Bilbo and Arya dry, mortified that youâd actually spit on your hosts and friends.
âMust have been quite some proposal,â Arya remarked as you wiped her forehead.Â
âItâs a funny story, thatâs for sure. So sorry about this. Iâll prepare some more food.â
âNo, no, dear. Weâll clean up in a moment and refill on second breakfast later,â Bilbo said. âGo on with your story.â
Returning to your seat, you wondered why the images churning in your head were greatly exaggerating what actually happened.Â
In reality, the apron hem fell just above Dwalinâs knee.
But in very bad hindsight, all you could see was the apron stopping much higher, letting his sexy war hammer peek through.
âBWAHAHA!â you laughed maniacally as you threw down your napkin. Dwalin chimed in with chortles of his own. Bilbo and Arya stared at you both, borderline frightened.Â
Dwalin beamed as he sat all the way back in his chair and popped an egg in his mouth. He put his feet up on the table, right next to the empty boiled egg platter.
When he proposed, the tray had a small plate of curved strawberry slices on it, clumsily cut with the side of a spoon, and a slice of bread, slightly burnt on the edges.
But your distorted recollection showed everything on fire, including the tray.
You gave Bilbo and Arya the âwait a secondâ sign with your lifted right index finger as another laugh crashed over your lips and into your tea cup.
âHOO HA HOO HOO!â
âYou know, you can tell us some other time,â Bilbo said politely, exchanging a smile with his sweetheart. Â
But you didnât hear him. Reaching up and over to Dwalin, you slapped his shoulder hard a few times, your belly and shoulders still bouncing.Â
âHee-heeâŠoh, Mahal, oh MahalâŠ.let me catch my breathâŠ.Ok, Ok, so first he called for me from my front door while I was still in bedâŠand then when he walked around the corner to my roomâŠheh hehâŠDwalin was wearing thisâŠthisâŠ.PLEH HAHA!!!!!!â
Dwalin grabbed you into a bear hug, sat back and kissed your forehead as you roared together.Â
Mr. and Mrs. Baggins joined in with their own giggles, and thought of Bilboâs proposal - Â how informal, Â unexpected, and insanely romantic it was. Â
It might not have been for everyone, but it was perfect for the two of them, just as Dwalinâs proposal was perfect for the two of you.