#hobbitsecretsanta

Traditions

It was the very end of the autumn in the 2961st year of the Third Age of Middle Earth, and cold winds were just beginning to blow round the slopes of Erebor, the peak which housed the great kingdom of King Thorin II Oakenshield. 

In the depths of the mountain, two figures were walking the stone corridors together: a short figure, a halfling, his bare feet moving doubly quick to keep up with his taller companion, a regal dwarf clad in a simple tunic of dark blue, with an ornate silver crown sitting on his greying head, whose deep voice echoed into the adjoining halls. 

“It is simply impossible for me to be away from my kingdom for that length of time, Master Baggins," Thorin said as he continued to stride along the path to the chambers of the court, “It’s a very long journey to Duban Felekulbizar – to Rivendell.” He watched his own boots scuff along the marble floor, until he realized the hobbit’s feet were no longer walking beside his.  

When Thorin turned around, he saw that Bilbo had stopped several yards down the corridor. 

Standing with his hands on his hips, Bilbo said, “Now don’t you go ‘Master Baggins’-ing me, Thorin, we’ve been married for nearly twenty years. I think you can afford to call me Bilbo.”

Thorin sighed. “Bilbo, this simply can’t be done. Who exactly is supposed to rule while I’m gone?” 

“Why, Fili of course!” Bilbo said, like it was a stunningly obvious answer: “you’ve been complaining since last Midsummer that he needs some real political work to dig into. Please, Thorin? I’ve been writing to Lord Elrond about it for years, now.”

Thorin hemmed and hawed, muttering into his beard, which gave Bilbo to the opportunity to kiss him soundly on the cheek and announce, "It's settled then. You and I and a small company shall go to Rivendell for Yuletide, Fili and Kili can keep an eye on things here, Balin can keep an eye on the two of them, we'll all have a grand old time, and be back here for the first feasts of spring!" 

And Thorin found himself swept down the hallway toward the council chambers, apparently with the intention of handing the throne to his nephews for the season, and going off to spend “Yuletide” with the elves instead of being with his people for Sulûn Kheled Kibil and the candle-lighting. 

Durin’s beard, Thorin cursed. How had it come to this? 

~

The day after the first whisper of frost began to grace Erebor’s highest point, the King Under the Mountain rode out the grand front gates, accompanied by his husband the Prince Consort, and a company, consisting of Lord Dwalin son of Fundin, Lords Ori and Nori, sons of Korin, and Lady Dís daughter of Thrain. Their ponies were the sturdy creatures now bred in Dale, built like the draft horses of men, with soft dark coats and thick white feathers about their heavy hooves. 

The company moved in relative safety through the Greenwood, quiet and frosted with winter's snow. The plains north of the Gladden Fields were similarly dressed in glittering ice, the long grass trailing its tips, dry and brown, through the thinner snow drifts. 

Through a pass high in the Mountains of Mist their paths led, and, wary of arousing undesired attention, the company were quiet, and they bound the feet of their ponies with cloth so their hooves would not strike the hard rock, and they made no fire despite the cold. The tall peaks and sheer cliffs passed this way on either side, until they came safely to the green western lands. 

There at the feet of the mountains they made their first real camp since they had left the shelter of the Greenwood, and Dwalin and Ori set a fire going, and there was roast meat and cooked apples all round. 

All was well – the Lady Dís was telling a story of her brother during their childhood and Bilbo was trying very hard not to laugh – until the company heard the sound of hoofbeats rapidly approaching. Everyone quickly jumped to their feet, and dust was kicked over the fire.

A company on horseback rode now swiftly toward them. Instinctively, Thorin pulled Bilbo behind him, and his fingers twitched toward his weapons. But Bilbo was unconcerned. He put a gentle hand on Thorin’s shoulder, and, stepping around him, called out to the rider on the foremost horse, a huge white stallion with grey threaded through his mane. 

“Is that Glorfindel and mighty Asfaloth I see?” Bilbo asked, a smile playing on his lips. 

“Indeed it is,” came the reply. The elf leapt down from his saddle and removed his helm. A joyous grin was on his golden face as he said, “Hail, Bilbo Baggins of Erebor. Hail Thorin King. You are most welcome in Imladris.  But why do you dwell in the shadows of the valley? You are long expected at the House of Elrond.” 

Again Bilbo spoke for the group, though now his hand had gone around his husband’s waist: “We did not know we were so close to the Last Homely House! We thought surely we had several days of travel ere we reached you – but come, Lord Glorfindel, let us depart from these woods and come instead to your starlit home.” 

In this way, a company of the Dwarves of Erebor entered Rivendell on the first night of Turuhalmë. 

~

They were given a short tour of the House of Elrond by a quiet, dark Elf whose dark grey robes only partly succeeded in hiding the ink-stains on his fingers. When Bilbo – still the only member of the group inclined to talk to the Elves – asked his name, he replied, “I am Erestor, a counselor of Lord Elrond. I was told my Lord’s Steward, Lindir, refused his duties today.” And Dwalin chuckled. Erestor gave him a look, but said nothing, and merely led them through the darkened halls of Rivendell, through which the sounds of merriment echoed. 

In this way their ponies were taken in at the stables, and their bedchambers were pointed out – Elrond, their guide told them, had presumed the company would need five rooms – for Dís, Dwalin, Ori, Nori, and a grand room for the King and his Consort – but if this was not the case, arrangements could easily be made. Dwalin and Ori looked to each other briefly, with small smiles on their faces, but said nothing, for they saw the connecting door between the two north-most chambers. The company was then given warm water so they could cleanse themselves before they exchanged their traveling clothes for robes more suitable for the festivities. 

With this done, Erestor led them to the Hall of Fire, where there was feasting and dancing and a great log-fire in the fireplace, around which many Elves sat listening to Lord Elrond tell of the deeds of Finrod Felagund in the First Age. 

The Lady Dís took her leave as soon as they reached the hall, saying, “Thorin, brother, I’m going to go explore – take good care of Bilbo, and do try to enjoy yourself,” before approaching the group of Elves who appeared to be hanging ornaments of silver and gold and glass from the bows of a tree which had been placed in the corner of the Hall. Bilbo could hear her introduce herself to a smiling Elf maiden, who bowed in turn and named herself Arwen Úndomiel, and handed Dís several ornaments to hang. 

But Thorin stood awkwardly in the doorway, and would not let himself be dragged to the myth-fire, or to the feast table, or even to the mistletoe – the purpose of which Bilbo explained with a giggle. 

Bilbo quickly realized something was wrong, as he watched Thorin’s brow furrow. He asked his husband, “Thorin, love, are you alright?”

The Dwarven King glanced at Bilbo with his piercing blue eyes and said under his breath, “This place is very strange – there are no candles, and the singing is in one of the Elven tongues so I cannot understand it. And I know none besides our host and our guide. Bilbo, I wish we had not come.” 

At this, Bilbo’s heart fell, and he lashed out, “But, but we’ve come all the way here – Thorin, why must you distrust everything? Why must you wallow in sadness when there is so much delight to be found here if you would only accept it?!” 

By now, Thorin’s mouth was a grim slash, and he whispered back angrily, “Because I have a home, and it is where my nephews and my people are, where we do things the way we have always done them, Bilbo! Why must that change, why must you feel the need to change it? It is not good enough for you?” And with this Thorin left the Hall of Fire without another word, storming back into the hallways from which they had come. 

Bilbo’s mouth felt sour and his chest felt empty. He left the Hall as well and wandered the corridors aimlessly, going up stairs and away from the parts of the House which he knew, until he found a quiet-looking room which turned out to be a library, full of grand stone shelves packed with heavy books.

Bilbo curled against the cold stone of one of the bookshelf, and told himself Thorin would forgive him, had always forgiven him. But images of the terrible time following the Battle of the Five Armies flashed through his mind. 

Thorin had coughed weakly, over and over, his body trembling on the furs of the sick-bed. “Marry me, halfling. I want to do something right for once,” he whispered, as loudly as his scratched throat would allow. 

Bilbo struggled to get any sort of word out. “Thorin, no–” he started, and then shook his head roughly, holding back tears. “Valar bless, I will not be a widower so soon after becoming a husband. No, Thorin, no. You cannot do this to me.” 

Thorin tried to lift himself up, and then fell back with a grimace. “Then marry me when I am well,” he replied, even more quietly, “and you will not have to fear that.” 

“Oh Thorin,” Bilbo sighed, running his hands through the tangles of Thorin’s dark hair which lay upon the furs. 

Thorin shuddered and Bilbo wrenched his hand away. Now the dwarven king was back to the horrid, ragged coughing – bad enough that he couldn’t speak. Thorin’s mouth was still moving, and Bilbo frantically leaned down toward him, begging, “Thorin, speak to me, what do you need? Thorin? Thorin!”

But Thorin could not speak. Bilbo read upon his lips, “B, b, – p, pro… promise, promise? b, b, b-m, me promise me – is that it, Thorin? I promise, I promise. What ever you wish, Thorin. Please, please be well, Thorin. Stay with me, Thorin!” 

As the last plea left Bilbo’s mouth, the last breath left Thorin’s. Bilbo was left with the weight of the king in his arms, staring down in horror as the seconds stretched out. Then he was up, sprinting for the tent’s entrance, screaming, “Gandalf! Gandalf, Oin, somebody HELP!” 

~

Several agonizing hours later, Bilbo, sitting on the cold rock with his arms wrapped tightly around his knees, saw Gandalf finally leaving the sick-tent, staff in hand, with his big hat crumpled in the other hand and his eyes to the ground. Bilbo’s heart sank. “Gandalf,” he croaked, his voice cracked from crying and disuse. “Gandalf, I – is, is he...?” 

“He lives yet, Master Baggins,” Gandalf said, though the sorrow did not leave his face: “but he will not wake.” 

“He will not–” Bilbo swallowed harshly, saying, “he will not wake… ever?”

Gandalf eased himself down next to Bilbo on the rocky ground. “He will not wake for me, dear Bilbo, and he will not wake today. He may wake someday, but that I cannot promise.” 

At the word “promise,” tears began running down Bilbo’s cheeks again, re-drawing their tracks though the battle-dust. Bilbo slumped over, muttering, “I promised him, I promised him, I promised…” until the wizard drew his grey cloak over the hobbit’s small shoulders, and held him as he sobbed. 

~

Through the many months of snowy winter following the battle, Thorin lay as one upon a grave. It was agreed that, not knowing whether Thorin would ever rise to claim the throne, Balin son of Fundin would serve as regent, until such a time as the throne much pass to Thorin’s heir, his eldest nephew Fili, who had been wounded in the battle himself, and – besides which – who refused to leave his brother’s sick-tent, where Kili was recovering from more grievous wounds. 

The passing of the year in the counting of Men and Elves came and went, unnoticed and unmarked by the company of Thorin Oakenshield – his friends, and his family, and the quiet halfling who came and sat beside the would-be king’s bed every day, and held the Dwarf’s unmoving hands between both of his own. 

Through the blossoming of the first flowers and the coming of the first fruit, Thorin refused to wake. Though the first brisk breeze of spring through the heavy heat of summer, Thorin spoke no word. 

It was not until the first blush of red kissed the trees of the Greenwood the following autumn that Thorin again moved, and muttered in his shallow sleep, “I need him, where is he?”  and Bilbo was brought to his bedside as Oin and Gandalf tended to the king once more. 

“Dwarves are strong, immovable as the stone from which they came,” Gandalf explained to the wide-eyed hobbit. “Thorin is very close to the surface now. You must reach for him, tell him to come back to us.” 

And this Bilbo did; he kissed Thorin’s hand, and said, “I promise, I promise,” until the king’s eyes opened and he smiled once more. And it felt to Bilbo that the smile did not leave Thorin’s face at all for many months, up through the first snow, when they were wedded in a grand celebration in the Gallery of the Kings and Bilbo could not remember being happier.

~

Bilbo was still sitting alone when Lord Elrond came into the library and found him in the corner. A look of great concern grew on Elrond’s kindly face, and he asked, “Master Baggins, are you alright? Is there anything I might do to help?” 

The halfling got to his feet and dusted off his breeches. “No, thank you, Lord Elrond, I am fine. I just – I think my husband is upset with me.” 

Elrond set a comforting hand on the hobbit’s shoulder and said, “This may be, but I think he needs your company more than he needs room to think. I know you find my halls homely and good, as I do, but King Thorin may not feel the same way. I think he finds this house strange, and I think having you by his side will help.” 

Bilbo smiled up at the grey-eyed Elven Lord and nodded. “I think I shall go and try to find him,” Bilbo said and politely took his leave, as Elrond returned the book he had been reading at the myth-fire to its proper place. 

~ 

Returning from Elrond’s library, Bilbo found Thorin waiting for him in the hallway outside the door to the chambers Erestor had pointed out to them. The Dwarven King was sitting on the floor stones, looking somewhat lost. 

Bilbo felt as though a great vice had closed around his heart. He knelt down next to his husband, and took up one of the king’s hands, and only then did Thorin look up at the hobbit – Bilbo thought it almost looked as though he’d been crying. Bilbo pulled Thorin up, and led him into their rooms. 

Then a silence fell, and Thorin moved away to look sadly out at the valley. 

“Do you remember that night – our night – the winter of year after the Quest?” Bilbo finally managed to say, feeling awkward. 

Thorin didn’t say anything in reply, but turned around and slowly nodded, his dark braids tumbling over his eyes. 

Bilbo gathered his courage and went on: “Remember how the feast hall was absolutely glowing with lanterns? And there was such music and revelry, for the winter celebrations and the wedding party were all wrapped up together?” 

Bilbo turned away from Thorin, trying very hard not to cry.  In a rough voice, Bilbo murmured, “And it was snowing outside – you could see the flakes waft in when the guests from the Iron Hills arrived.” 

Now, Thorin spoke. “Indeed, Bilbo,” he said, and moving close to Bilbo, he drew a strong hand over the halfling’s shoulders, and whispered close to Bilbo’s ear, “I do remember that.”

Thorin led him to the edge of the bed that had provided for them, and pulled the halfling down gently into his lap. Lifting his eyes hesitantly to meet his husband’s, Thorin said, “I do not understand these Elves, Bilbo, with their celebrations of garlands and trees the words of other tongues. But I love you, and if these things please you, we shall have them as our traditions, my treasure. I am sorry I upset you.” 

And Bilbo twisted in the dwarf’s lap, and kissed his lips reverently, and replied, “Oh my love, my king, I am sorry. I love you, and I did not mean to prevent you from your traditions and your family and your home. I love the candle-lighting for the new snows. I love Fili and Kili’s antics during the singing. I just – I have always felt about your winter celebrations the way you tell me you feel about the customs of the Elves. These years, I have been writing to Lord Elrond, and his descriptions of Turuhalmë sounded so like Yuletide that I do believe I got a bit homesick.”

“Bilbo, my love,” Thorin said, hugging Bilbo to his chest, “I did not know this. We can have a Yule celebration in Erebor – it is not a hardship to hang mistletoe and build a myth-fire in the great fireplace! Would this please you?”

Bilbo nodded. “I would love that,” the hobbit said, “but also – I know that it is not permitted for me to learn the meanings of your songs, or the words of Khuzdul beyond the names of places, but I still feel a bit… left out when the rituals of the winter celebrations come along.” 

Running a gentle hand through Bilbo’s curly hair, Thorin agreed, “I understand how unpleasant that must be. I suppose I can tell you about the reasons for our celebrations, and a few words –  but these you must not repeat. Would this help?” 

Bilbo nodded, so Thorin continued, “We call the lighting of seven candles Sulûn Kheled Kibil – the Falling of Silver Glass, and it commemorates the first snowfall upon Azanulbizar – the Dimrill Dale – after the founding of Khazad-dûm. Lines of candles were set upon the ridges of stone and one of the forefathers of Narvi, the great craftsman who built the Doors of Durin, carved a great candelabra in which seven candles were set – one for each of the seven houses of the dwarves. And so Khazad-dûm was lit as with the brightest of stars through the falling snow.”

“It sounds beautiful,” said Bilbo softly. 

Thorin made a sound of agreement. “It was. Khazad-dûm, lost though it is, and bloodied from battle, is a symbol of my people, and the peace we had there those early days. This is why we light the candles – to remember those halls and the joy our people once found in them.”

“Thank you,” Bilbo replied, “for giving me this.” And he kissed Thorin’s brow and then his lips, and Thorin laid them both down upon the bed as they caressed each other happily. 

~

When they had finished, Thorin pulled the enormous quilt from their bed, and wrapped himself and his husband together up in it, and they sat, thus blanketed in soft Elven silk, on the windowsill. From their perch, Thorin and Bilbo could see the balcony and the Hall of Fire, and the members of the company conversing happily with the Elves. 

Dís seemed to be continuing her conversation with the Lady Arwen, though the pair of them had now moved to the railing of the balcony, where Arwen was gesturing to the sky as if pointing out the patterns of the stars. 

Ori was speaking to Lord Erestor, who had led the dwarven scribe to the edge of the balcony where snow drifts had begun to pile up, so that the two could practice drawing tengwar characters in the soft flakes. Dwalin sat quietly next to these two, watching them closely, a bit of suspicion still on his face. 

Nori had struck up a conversation with Lord Glorfindel. From their gestures, Bilbo presumed they were talking about ways to hide weapons within one’s garments. Eventually, Dwalin seemed content that Ori was safe with Lord Erestor, and went over to join Nori and Glorfindel. He listened for a few minutes, and then said something that made the tall golden Elf roar with laughter. 

And Thorin and Bilbo smiled, and all was well. 

   A/N – According to Tolkien, hobbits did in fact celebrate Yuletide, and the Elvish holiday I co-opted, Turuhalmë [Note: Quenya for “log drawing”] was celebrated by the Elves of Tol Eressëa long after the end of the Third Age. [Note: Information about Turuhalmë can be found at the website of the Silmarillion Writers Guild.] It’s not completely implausible, however, that a version of this holiday may have been celebrated by the Elves of Imladris, especially given what we know of the celebrations held in the Hall of Fire. 

  Sulûn Kheled Kibil, as Thorin explains, is Khuzdul for “The Falling of Silver Glass.” [Note: I have limited experience with Khudzul; if you think I may have made a grammatical error, you’re probably right! Please message me with any corrections. For vocabulary reference, I used Henry Kånge Fauskanger’s notes on Khuzdul, which can be found at his website Ardalambion.] I have completely made up this holiday, and the traditions associated, though some of them are based loosely on my knowledge of Hanukkah traditions. [Note: Similarly to the above note, I was raised in a Christian family, so if I have been in any way offensive in my use of Jewish cultural elements, please don’t hesitate to let me know.]

___________________________________________________

Thorin looked at Bilbo who was sitting opposite of him on the great banquet table they had sat up in the Great Hall of Erebor. The hall had been decorated with countless candles which spread their soft light and softened even the hardest edges of the old dwarven walls.

It had been one year since they had been retaken Erebor, slain a dragon and defeated an army of Orcs.

The reconstruction of the old dwarven kingdom went slowly but with great care and with every detail that was necessary to let it shine again in its old greatness. Right before the battle he had not been at his greatest. He had been mad for the gold inside the treasury.

The first time he had laid eyes on it after long decades he was overwhelmed by the sheer amount of it. It was all his. He did get clear again after he saw the dragon approaching. But after that the episodes of the gold sickness had become longer and longer. It had taken a battle and his nephews deeply wounded to set him entirely free from the influence of the gold.

His nephews, Fili and Kili, the Golden Lion of Erebor and his brother the Fierce Wolf, who had just shortly before the quest discovered their feelings for each other, had nearly paid for his stupidity. Now they were sitting next to each other, flirting shamelessly while feasting. Thorin smiled when he saw them like that. He was glad they had gotten back to their old spirits.

He looked over the table, his eye catching Dwalin who was sitting next to Ori. They were such an unlikely couple but yet they complemented each other perfectly. Where Dwalin was big and strong Ori was small and soft. It had taken long for them to allow the mutual feelings they shared, in Dwalin's case the fact that Ori was the brother to Nori, a thief he had tried to catch multiple times in Ered Luin. It had taken a long while for them but finally they had admitted their feelings for each other and would even marry in a few weeks.

Thorin looked over the table to Bilbo. He was basked in candlelight and looked more beautiful than ever. Candlelight suited Bilbo, as did every light, Thorin scolded himself, but it had been candlelight Thorin had gotten the first proper sight of his Hobbit. He immediately thought him beautiful. Even more beautiful than every gem and gold he had set his eyes on. Bilbo's hair shone like the purest of gold while his eyes twinkled like emeralds.

“-rin. Thorin! Are you even listening?” He must have been deeply lost in his thoughts because he only just noticed that Bilbo had asked him a question.

“Yes, yes. I am listening.”

“Well then ...what did I just say?”

“That you … like the roasted meat?”

Bilbo had to laugh. “I never liked that. Why should I now?” Bilbo stood up and walked around the table to Thorin. He laid his hand upon the dwarfs arm. “What troubles you, my King? The last I saw you that thoughtful was right after the battle.”

“Nothing troubles me, my Bilbo, my dear Bilbo. But one year ago I hadn't dared to think that we would sit this peacefully in that hall. One year ago I nearly lost everything that was dear to me.”

“Shhhh, don't talk any more.” Bilbo laid a finger upon Thorin's lips. “Everything is well now.”

Thorin smiled at Bilbo. He nearly had killed the kind Hobbit and yet he was loyal to him and supported him where he could. Bilbo had really to be in love with him. As he was with Bilbo.

“Did I ever tell you what I was thinking when I first saw you?”

“Yes, you told me that very clearly and in a mocking way. You thought me a grocer.”

Thorin had to laugh. “You will hold that against me for the next fifty years, won't you?” The King said softly.

Now Bilbo had to laugh. “Maybe.”

Thorin pulled Bilbo into his lap. It was just them and the company, so he didn't care to show his affection for Bilbo besides touching and linking their fingers as he did in court.

“I thought, all those month ago and half a world to the west, that you had to be the most kind and beautiful creature in the whole of Middle Earth. The first real look I got on you was in candlelight and it suited you so very well. You looked like an angel, like a saviour. My saviour.”

Bilbo had gotten red and looked up under heavy eyelashes. “Am I that? Your saviour?”

“That and so much more.” Thorin leaned in and kissed Bilbo deeply. He took all the time in the world and ignored the hail of catcalls from the company.

As he parted from Bilbo's lips he looked his Hobbit deep in the eyes. “Will you do me the honour and marry me, Bilbo Baggins? Will you do me the honour and become my Consort?”

Bilbo was wandering around Erebor, escaping from the noisy dwarves celebrating Mahal’s day. There wasn’t a lot of food —it was barely a few weeks after the battle, after all— but the wine was running freely. Nori had found an intact wine cellar, and Thorin had ordered for some bottles to be opened for the occasion.

  They had so many things to celebrate; First of all having survived the battle, all in one piece though not unscathed. Fíli still couldn’t walk, and Kíli had his arm in a sling. The other dwarves had sustained from hits and minor wounds, but the hobbit was the worst of them. Trying to save Thorin, he had confronted Azog, again.

  This time he hadn’t been as lucky as the first one. Though he had been wearing the ring at the moment, the Orc managed to stab him in the thigh, dangerously close to the femoral artery.

  He had been saved only because Thorin had seen Azog receiving a wound that opened itself on his leg. After finishing his old enemy, Thorin had looked for Bilbo and had found him. He had known about the ring since the hobbit had appeared repeatedly out of nowhere in front of him, in Mirkwood’s cells.

  Thorin had found him easily, following the blood drops that appeared on the floor. Even when the battle was not over, the King had grabbed the hobbit, after removing the ring, and carried him on his shoulder to the mountain, still fighting with his sword on the other hand.

  After three days of fever and delirious dreams, Bilbo Had pulled through, just to find himself again into the mountain, under the care of Dáin’s healers. Thorin was there, sitting at the food of the enormous bed.

  Bilbo hadn’t known what to expect then, after the last time they had talked. Thorin could as easily call him a thief and exile him as he could thank him for saving his life. Again.

  Thorin did neither, he just asked if he was well, as if he hadn’t been about to kill him for giving away the Arkestone.

  Trying to ignore the fact that the King seemed not have cleaned himself after the battle, Bilbo had answered with polite words, even when he was fearing Thorin’s reaction.

  The lack of trust was all on his side, though. Thorin had offered him new clothes, even when he was wearing the battle ones. Thorin had even talked about giving him a room close to his one, not asking him whether he was going to stay at Erebor.

  Bilbo had thought Thorin had forgotten what happened with the Arkenstone, but after days together, the dwarf was looking at him with such remorse, that it could only show his regret.

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    Dáin and his people were celebrating Mahal’s day too, before departing for the Iron Hills.

  Bilbo liked them, especially the dwarf Lord, but they were nosier, if possible, than his friends. So he decided to skip the last part of the celebration, retiring to his rooms. But before he arrived there, Thorin called him.

  “¡Bilbo! Are you well?”

  “Yes, yes, I am.”

  “Then, why did you go away before the end of the party?”

  “I’m just tired,” Bilbo lied.

  “ You’re still weak; you must not to walk without your walking stick.”

  “I’m not weak, thank you very much,” Bilbo said, infuriated.

  “Calm, my friend, I know you’re brave enough. But even Fíli knows the magnitude of his wounds. Would you go with me?” Thorin said suddenly, extending his hand to Bilbo.

  “Go with you where?” Bilbo asked, His voice filled with suspicion.

  “I had a Mahal’s day tradition, when I lived into the mountain. Don’t you want to witness it?” offered Thorin, with a kind smile and hopefully eyes.

  Bilbo gave him his hand, sighing deeply. He still didn’t trust Thorin completely, but he was always helpless faced with the dwarf’s smile.

  Thorin lead him up the mountain, not where Bilbo thought they were going, to the treasure hall. Instead, Thorin showed him a room in the part of Erebor not yet cleaned.

  Dust and ashes covered all the surfaces, but Bilbo could see a bed, so similar with the one he had in his room. In fact, close to the bed was a space cleaner than the rest of the floor of the room.

  “This was my childhood room,” said Thorin, startling him.

  “Then, my bed…” Bilbo knew his bed was small for a dwarf, though was perfect for a hobbit size.

  “Yes, it was my bed. This one was my brother’s,” he said, siting on it, not minding the dust of years on top of it. He signalled for Bilbo to sit by his side. The hobbit looked more proper for the small bed than the big dwarf did. “Frerin and I loved Mahal’s day. At midnight, our mother used to come here with Dís and she told us the story of how Mahal created The Seven Fathers of the Dwarves.”

  Bilbo was touched that Thorin had shared such an intimate memory with him. And so he told him.

  “It’s a beautiful thing to remember. I myself treasure some pleasant memories of my father’s tales. Thorin, why did you want to share this tradition with me?”

  “Because I treasure the moments I spend with you, halfling,” answered the dwarf, staring at Bilbo with expectation. “I didn’t ask for forgiveness, nor have thanked you for saving my life, again.”

  “No, you didn’t,” said Bilbo, astonished. He hadn’t expected these words, even though he wanted to hear an explanation about Thorin’s deeds.

  “Are you waiting for these things, before you return to the Shire?” Bilbo nodded without hesitation. He was eager to know what the king thought about him, if he still saw him as a thief or as a friend. “Then I’ll never say anything to you, for I don’t want you to go back to your home.”

  Hearing that, Bilbo first reaction was outrage. But then, he felt Thorin’s eyes on him, and he realised the dwarf was too close. In fact, the next heartbeat he felt Thorin’s lips on his own. That was really unexpected. And exquisite.

  “Your plan was to seduce me in your childhood room?” Bilbo asked with a happy smile in his face.

  “Maybe. Did I do it well?” Thorin said mockingly.

  “You did amazingly,” Bilbo asnwered, reaching again for the King’s lips.

  They kissed for a while, until they ended up lying on the old and dusty bed. Thorin finally told Bilbo his old mother’s tale about his forefathers, while he was absently caressing the hobbit’s hair.

1. TAKEN

Prompt: Crackers

Preferred pairings: preferably Gen

Extras: I would love love love it to be Gen with no romantic pairings (or at least have them only in the background), maybe a first big yule celebration for the youngest of the dwarves: Ori, Kili, Fili (+ baby Gimli please with a cherry on top). I just ask that if there are pairings involved, none of them include the younger dwarves (since, presumably, they will be very little).

2. TAKEN

Prompt: Snowball Fight

Things to avoid: no NSFW or m/m or f/f pairings

Extras: this person has requested art!

3. TAKEN

Prompt: Mulled Wine

Preferred pairings: Boffins (Bofur/Bilbo)

Extras: “Bofur is windbag even without alcohol but after having too much of wine he just start to throw up plenty of words at Bilbo. And even if it's cute at first Bilbo is getting embarrassed pretty fast. There is so many people with them! So yeah something like that. Basically Boffins. Any rating!”

  4. TAKEN

Prompt: Carols

Preferred pairings: can be gen, Bilbo/Thorin, Bilbo/Bofur

Things to avoid: angst

Extras: “I'd love to see the "Carols" prompt filled. I'm fine with either no parings, Bilbo/Thorin or Bilbo/Bofur, and young hobbits (Frodo&Sam Merry&Pippin) plus background/obscure Tolkien lore would be greatly appreciated. NSFW / adult content is fine, minimal angst please? Thanks!”

5. TAKEN

Prompt: Candlelight

Preferred pairings: Bilbo/Thorin

Things to avoid: NSFW

Extras: “I would like to have #12 Candlelight filled). Um, my favourite pairing is Bagginshield, and I really wouldn't like to have NSFW, because it's Christmas, you know)). Anyway, this idea is amazing and I love the concept of Christmas in Middle Earth, and it will be really amazing to fill in someones prompt)).”

6. TAKEN

Prompt: Traditions

Preferred pairings: gen, any

Pairings to avoid: none

Extras: “I'd like to see the prompt 'traditions' filled. My only request is that it features the Durin family in some way, especially Thorin, Fili and Kili, with optional Dis. (Pairing of your choice - seriously, I probably like all of them, and I would be perfectly happy with gen as well.)”

7. TAKEN

Prompt: Traditions

Preferred pairings: Thorin/Bilbo

Extras: “I like the traditions prompt. My preferred pairing is Thorin/Bilbo but I love having Fili and Kili around as well. It can be NSFW if you like, but doesn't have to be. I would love to see what kinds of traditions the dwarves might have if that gives any ideas to anyone. Thanks!”

8. TAKEN

Prompt: Candlelight

Preferred pairings: Thorin/Bilbo (with possible secondary pairings Kili/Fili, Dwalin/Ori)

Pairings to avoid:

Extras: “As the prompt I choose "candlelight", and the main pairing would be Bagginshield. I don't mind other (secondary) pairings such as Fili/Kili or Dwalin/Ori or others. However I really wouldn't like it if Thorin or Bilbo were also paired up with someone else than each other. I suppose there's nothing triggering for me so that'll be all”

9. TAKEN

Prompt: Jumpers

Preferred pairings: any pairings, but Tauriel/ofc would be cool

Pairings to avoid:

Extras: “hey id like to request prompt 16: jumpers to be filled and i dont mind any pairings but tauriel/ofc would be cool but not necessary.”

10. TAKEN

Prompt: Midnight

Preferred pairings: Bilbo with any of the Dwarves. Order of preference: Thorin, Dwalin, Bofur, Fíli, Kíli, Balin, Nori, Dori

Things to avoid: het, crossgen, noncon, sad endings

Extras: “I choose the prompt: Day 14: Midnight. I like my hobbit with any of the dwarves ^^ Order of preference: Thorin, Dwalin, Bofur, Fíli, Kíli, Balin, Nori, Dori... I love all my dwarves with Bilbo ^^ No het or crossgen please. I don't like noncon or sad endings. Thanks so much!”

11. TAKEN

Prompt: Traditions

Preferred pairings: Thorin/Bilbo

Things to avoid: fem!Bilbo or fem!Thorin

Extras: “The prompt I would like to see filled is "traditions" with a nice little Bagginshield (my guilty pleasure ;)) - it shouldn't include any fem!Bilbo or fem!Thorin, with everything else I would like to be surprised :) Thank you!”

12. TAKEN

Prompt: Family

Preferred pairings: Thorin/Kili or Thorin/Dis

Things to avoid: partner betrayal, serious angst