- Death-Major Character
- Fix It
Six Months Later
The sound of footsteps echoed in the hallway outside the doors, tiny footsteps followed by larger thumping ones. Bilbo smiled and continued needing the dough in front of him. A small thud startled him and he looked at the door, but the only sound that followed was a small giggle.
The door creaked open and Thorin walked in, Dorin in his arms giggling and swinging his feet.
“Someone,” Thorin punctuated his words with a tickle that made Dorin squeal and squirm, “got away from me. He didn’t stop quite fast enough to avoid the door.”
“Papa! Are you making cookies!” Dorin squirmed for the ground and Thorin related him. He scampered over to Bilbo and hopped up and down. Bilbo leaned down and pulled the small body up and placed him on the counter next to him. Dorin leaned over, sniffing curiously.
“Are you a boy or a puppy?” Bilbo teased, brushing the dark hair back out of his son’s face.
“I’m a dwobbit!” Dorin chirped cheerfully.
“That you are,” Thorin laughed as he slumped into a chair with an exaggerated groan. “A very energetic little dwobbit. I swear, Fíli and Kíli were less excitable than you.”
Dorin giggled and Bilbo smiled softly at his husband. Though only three months old, dwobbits were quick to walk and talk, and had all the energy of a litter of kittens.
“Yes,” he kissed Dorin’s curls, “I’m making cookies. I thought your adad might want a treat. I know little dwobbits don’t like cookies.”
“Papa!” Dorin gasped, “I love cookies!”
“What? No, I swear I remember you saying no to cookies at dinner last night,” Bilbo tapped his chin thoughtfully and winked at Thorin.
Dorin shook his head furiously, “I had three!” He held up a hand with two raised fingers. Bilbo held back a chuckle and gently lifted one more finger on Dorin’s hand.
“Well, I think I do remember something like that. I don’t know what I was thinking.” Bilbo smiled at Dorin’s giggles and started forming the cookies. “What have you two been up to?”
“We were busy in the council chambers,” Thorin spoke up, “I swear, those windbags don’t have any idea what they’re doing.” He rolled over on his side, looking towards Bilbo, “I need you.”
“I don’t think so,” Bilbo laughed, “that’s your job now.”
“They don’t listen to me nearly as well as they listen to you,” Thorin grumbled with a frown.
“Just yell at them. I hear that sometimes works.” Thorin threw his head back and laughed.
“Dwalin’s been telling tales again.”
“Ori actually,” Bilbo leaned over to Dorin who was trying to sneak some of the cookie dough into his mouth. He grabbed his hand and took the dough back. “Don’t get any ideas from your adad, Dorin. We don’t yell at people, right?”
“Right, papa,” Dorin nodded, fingers creeping towards the dough again.
This time Bilbo let him steal a small bit before plucking him up again. He settled him on his hip, breathing in the smell of little boy as he carried Dorin over to Thorin. He plopped Dorin down next to his husband, “I think someone might need some time in the garden.”
Thorin nodded and led Dorin outside. Bilbo finished making the cookies as he listened to his family working in the garden and giggling. Although young, Dorin was a natural in the garden and happy to show his adad which was a weed and which was a plant. It also served to give Dorin some time outside in the sun, even after their harvest little hobbits needed daily sunlight to help them grow.
With the cookies cooling on the counter out of the reach of little fingers Bilbo headed outside. He leaned in the doorway to the terrace and watched his husband kneeling next to his son. Even now it made his heart beat a little faster, this sight he hadn’t thought he would ever see. Two dark heads close together as Dorin poked at a small white flower.
“It’s a weed adad,” Dorin said solemnly.
“But it’s a flower,” Thorin said slowly, confusion covering his face.
“Sometimes weeds have flowers,” Dorin nodded, “right papa?” The two turned to look at Bilbo.
“Right, Dorin. Good job,” Bilbo said as he straightened. “Now, I think someone has earned himself a cookie before we go see cousin Fíli and cousin Kíli.”
“Yay!” Dorin galloped back into the kitchen, Thorin close at his heels. Dorin went straight to the counter with the cookies and frowned up at them, out of his reach. Thorin picked up four cookies.
“Thorin, I said one!” Bilbo rubbed his head, exasperated.
“The other three are for me,” Thorin grinned back.
“Of course they are,” Bilbo sighed, “let’s get a move on. Kíli and Fíli wait for no one. We don’t want them running off to dinner without us.” Dorin gasped and his eyes widened.
“No! Hurry papa! Adad! We’ve got to go,” he grabbed his parents’ hands and pulled with all his might, neither went anywhere. “Come on!”
Thorin stumbled forward like his son had out-powered him and dragged him forward. “Off, we’re coming, we’re coming,” he said, tweaking a small, pointed ear. Dorin cheered and danced in a little circle without letting go of their hands. Bilbo and Thorin exchanged a smile.
They followed the tugging of their son down the hallway and through the mountain to the communal dining hall. Even after almost a year in the mountain, the dwarves still held dinner together, sharing in their home and comfort.
Dorin’s entrance was greeted with cheers and waves from his cousins. He dropped his parents hands at the door and scampered over to them, clambering up onto the bench between them. Fíli and Kíli both ducked low, heads cocked, no doubt listening to Dorin’s detailed descriptions of his day.
Bilbo leaned against his husband as they took in the full room full of laughing, smiling dwarves. Thorin leaned down and whispered, “Look at what you did, husband.”
Bilbo tilted his head up and looked at his husband, “What we did Thorin, what we did.”
The two walked over to their family. Thorin ruffled Dorin’s hair, who wrinkled his nose and smiled up at him. Next to him, Kíli fake-whimpered and made a pouting face. Smiling, Thorin ruffled Kíli’s hair, followed by Fíli. Bilbo looked across the table at Dís and smiled. She smiled back, softly.
Yes, Bilbo thought, look what we did.
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