Chapter Text
We were strangers, on a crazy adventure
Never dreaming, how our dreams would come true
Now here we stand, unafraid of the future
At the beginning with you
And life is a road that I wanna keep going
Love is a river, I wanna keep flowing
Life is a road, now and forever, wonderful journey
I'll be there when the world stops turning
I'll be there when the storm is through
In the end I wanna be standing
At the beginning with you
It was strange having Bilbo in his life, strange sharing his day to day with him. It was true that they didn’t live together, but they saw each other so often that it was as if they were preparing for it. In a way they were. It was strange in a nice way. Thorin had noticed how everything was easier, actions that previously cost him effort and dedication now were practically seamless. The king of Erebor was not a dwarf of diplomacy, he was not one of those kings used to leading his kingdom from a desk. He shone on action, with clear objectives and achievable goals. Ever since he had begun to rule Erebor, he had noticed part of him disappear, as if the burden of bureaucracy and agreements buried him, leaving only a shadow. Since Bilbo had returned, everything had changed. He now he had a goal, an objective. All his determination was to make Erebor a home for Bilbo, to have his people love the hobbit, and marry him.
He felt the door to his office open but didn't look up. He knew those silent steps.
“Turghalwê.” Bilbo said before kissing his cheek.
His accent was unlike any accent Thorin had ever heard. Strange as well as exotic, making it clear that the person speaking had not learned the language as a child, nor was he a dwarf. His pronunciation, however, was perfect.
“Kunh abhur mênu mabahrul?” Said Thorin more slowly than usual, moving the chair so that Bilbo could sit on his lap.
“Id-manar.” The hobbit replied with a smile, proud of understanding the question.
Thorin smiled as he caressed Bilbo's face. In recent months the hobbit had done so much. Not only had he made the fields start to come back to life; the color of the earth healthy, covered with grass and small wild flowers. He also had spent every remaining minute learning as much as possible about their culture and customs.
At first Thorin hadn't been very sure of Bilbo's proposal. He didn't know if it was really a good idea, he had never imagined ruling with someone. And when he had discovered that he was in love with the halfling, he had not imagined that he was going to fulfill the functions of consort. He had imagined him next to him, but not like this. Now, when the idea began to take shape, when he saw how much Bilbo had to contribute, how valuable his opinions were, the peace of mind it gave him when he had to solve something difficult, how easy everything was at his side, he realized that he didn’t know how there had ever been a time when he thought to leave Bilbo in the background. Every day he realized that he needed him, not only to be at peace, but to be a better king for his people.
“What are you doing tonight?” Asked the hobbit, returning to his native language.
"What do you propose?" His hands on Bilbo's hips. He had become addicted to the touch of his skin, the softness of his body.
“I’ve been picking up mushrooms these last few days, and I have enough to make a soup.”
Not only had Bilbo been learning from his culture, Thorin had learned from Bilbo's. It had been the king himself who had proposed it one night not far from their first night together. When he had finally asked the question that he had been carrying on his mind for several days.
"Is it normal?" He asked him once his breathing was steady again.
“What?” He noticed Bilbo hovering over him, lying down. He liked that position, feeling Bilbo's weight on him, seeing his face so closely, just having to move his arm to touch him.
“The number of times you get to…” He didn't have to finish the sentence. He could tell from Bilbo's flushed cheeks that the hobbit knew what he meant.
“Yes. At least among hobbits it is.”
Thorin laid his head on the pillow, thinking about what Bilbo had just told him.
"How many times is it normal?" He said without looking into his eyes. He noticed how Bilbo moved a little, as if he was uncomfortable. He didn't know why he was asking him that, but he needed to know. He needed to find out if he was giving him everything he needed or if he was finishing up too soon.
"I don't know." The hobbit's voice was lower, shy, and Thorin looked at him. "It's not like I had much experience before," he said looking away.
Thorin leaned back, shifting so that his back was against the headboard. What Bilbo had just told him had shaken him, for he hadn't expected it, not after being with him, how he had been with him.
"How many partners have you had?"
Bilbo looked away and Thorin didn't need an answer from him. A wave of worry ran through his body. He had been his first, the first person to touch him so privately, the first to enter him.
“It’s not like I’m inexperienced,” said the hobbit in response to Thorin. “It’s not like that… I don’t know how you guys are with this, but we hobbits are not that open. You don’t usually have relationships until you marry. I've had moments of fondling, but nothing serious, nothing like that and well…” Bilbo moved, sitting next to him, and Thorin took the opportunity to sit better. "It's just that I've never had the chance to go that far, I've never been with someone like that."
"Why didn't you tell me?" Thorin's tone hinted at his regret. “If I had known…”
"Would you have acted differently?" Bilbo said, finishing his sentence.
“Yes.”
Bilbo snorted. “That's why I didn't tell you anything, Thorin. I didn't want you to act differently, I didn't want to... Thorin, I've been wanting this for so long, waiting for someone to have what I have with you. I had thought it was never going to be possible.” Bilbo placed his hands on his chest, stroking the thick hair. "This, we, would never have been possible in the Shire." His voice was laden with grief, and Thorin understood.
The king realized then that there were many things he didn’t know about Bilbo, about hobbits. At that moment he realized that he didn’t know what the hobbit had been like before meeting him, he didn’t know his customs, his culture, no more than the little stories he had told him during the adventure. Thorin thought that was not right. If Bilbo was going to stay in Erebor, if he was going to learn from them, the least Thorin could do was learn from him too. He needed to know his culture if he wanted to make him happy. It was as simple as that.
“Since I met you, I have taken many things for granted and now I realize I shouldn't have, I know so little about you, Bilbo, about your culture, about your customs.” Thorin brought his forehead to the hobbit's. “I would like to learn.”
Bilbo nodded and Thorin felt his lips, sweet and firm, against his.
“I can be in your rooms by last working bell. I still have a lot to do,” said Thorin with resignation, for he knew how important mushrooms were to Bilbo, as the hobbit treasured them as if they were precious gems.
“I’ll wait for you.” He said getting up. Thorin let him go, missing the touch of him as soon as he did.
He said nothing more and left, and when he closed the door Thorin was left alone. He brushed the hair out of his face, and looked back at his documents. The sooner he finished the sooner he could leave.
***
Bofur ran grabbing his hat. “Bilbo!”
The hobbit turned and saw his friend come to meet him. Luckily he knew dwarves and stepped aside, thus preventing Bofur from collide with him when stopping.
“Bofur, what's going on?”
"Nothing." The dwarf replied. “I saw you and wanted to say hello. We haven't seen each other for a long time.” He said, quickly catching his breath.
"We had lunch three days ago." Bilbo's tone was cheerful, happy.
“Well, that was a long time ago. Come, let me buy you tea.” He said taking his friend by the arm. “There is a lot we have to talk about.”
Bilbo let Bofur guide him. It didn't take long for him to recognize where they were going. It was the teahouse they always frequent. One located in an upper corner of the Eastern district, with simple decorations reminiscent of past times of great splendor. It was pretty and cozy and there was a sofa at the end of the room that was practically reserved for them.
“Good afternoon, Ravor,” said Bilbo as he entered, greeting the owner.
“Good afternoon, mister Bilbo.” He replied with a sincere smile. “The usual?”
“Yes, thanks.”
"Some really good pecan cookies just came out of the oven."
"Can you bring us four?" Said the hobbit, in that polite tone that Ravor loved.
“Of course. You have your spot free.”
“Thank you,” said Bofur, taking Bilbo away.
The hobbit noticed how his friend was really eager to talk to him and said goodbye to the dwarf with a hand signal.
"What's wrong?" He asked as soon as he sat down.
"Today she came back," Bofur said in a whisper tone, but speaking just as loudly.
“Who?”
“The dwarf with the bow-shaped hairdo that has been coming for a month.”
"Ah." Bilbo knew who he was referring to. It had been a month since a dwarf had visited Bifur's toy store and bought nothing. Bofur had found out when his cousin had told him once when he had come to pay him a visit. She was always the same dwarf, more or less at the same time, on alternate days. Bifur hadn't thought it important, but Bofur thought he did. It was a mystery, one that he and his best friend had to solve.
"You haven't thought that she might be interested in Bifur?"
Bofur looked at him in surprise. His cousin was not exactly the ideal bachelor model, not with all the problems he had. Bofur and Bombur loved him and they hadn't minded taking care of him after he returned from the war with the axe. He had never been the same again, but he was still that sweet dwarf they had played with as children.
“I don't see why you are so surprised. Bifur is an interesting dwarf,” said Bilbo as he moved the small vase to make room for tea.
Bilbo had always know Bifur after the battle and he had never given too much importance to his being completely different from the rest, to having strange behaviors or not being able to communicate with him. Since they met, Bilbo had tried to be his friend, even with the problems that caused, and Bifur had reciprocated his feelings, finding in Bilbo someone with whom he could be silent and talk about anything without feeling judged. The fact that Bilbo was learning Khuzdul had only helped, for now Bilbo understood part of what Bifur was telling him.
“Yes, okay. You know I adore him, but he's not exactly someone to get into a relationship with. I don't know, Bilbo. I'm afraid she is after something. After all, Bifur is rich, he is a noble now, and I fear that her intentions are not the best.”
Bilbo helped himself to sugar while he thought about what Bofur just told him. It was an option, but rushing in wasn't right either.
“Why don't we both go one day when we know she's going to be there? So we observe and I talk to her, to see if we can find out something.”
Bofur smiled, that open and distinctive smile of his. "Bilbo, you are the best." He said hugging him. Bilbo smiled, glad he could help his friend.
***
“It's delicious,” Thorin said as soon as he tasted the soup. He had never eaten mushrooms in his entire life, he had always thought those things were poisonous, never until he had had a hobbit in his life. If Thorin had learned anything, it was that the hobbits valued mushrooms as if they were mithril. It was an honor that he invited him to the cream that he had made.
“Thank you,” said Bilbo with a smile, and he began to eat. They were both silent for a while, enjoying supper.
The rooms that had been assigned to Bilbo were not very large, not by dwarf standards, but they had everything the hobbit needed. A bedroom, a study, a kitchen, a bathroom, light, and being close to Thorin. Bilbo had been living there for a few months and felt comfortable, however there was a topic that he wanted to discuss with Thorin. He thought it was time to get it out.
“Thorin, I’d like to talk to you about something.” He said putting down his spoon to get some bread.
Thorin looked at him but didn’t stop eating.
“It's about the royal apartments. I was wondering if you could tell me why you don't live there.”
Thorin took what was left of the cream and put down the spoon. Bilbo hadn't brought the subject up in all that time, not since he'd realized that he didn't live where the king should. Thorin knew that sooner or later the subject would come up, but that didn’t mean that he had prepared an answer.
“It's where my grandfather lived.” He said being sincere. That was something new for him too, being able to open his heart to Bilbo, knowing that whatever he said would not play against him, that he could speak freely. The fact of not being his king, of not having to be an authority figure for someone, was new, but liberating.
"And I imagine all the kings before him." Bilbo said continuing with the topic, wanting to get to the point.
"I tried." He said looking at the half-empty wine glass. “I went to the rooms and opened the door, but I couldn't get in. It's like his shadow is still there.” Thorin stopped speaking, remembering the moment. He had smelled the dust, the closed air, he had looked around and seen everything he did not want to be. He didn't want to live like this, surrounded by gold, luxuries he had forgotten, luxuries he had lived without for over a hundred years. He didn't want to live in that place, not like this. Not surrounded by gold. Never again surrounded by gold. “It's all too much…”
Bilbo nodded, although he knew Thorin was not looking at him. He understood what Thorin meant, for he had felt the same way when he had been there. However, he knew that Thorin should live there, it was the right thing to do, he was the king, and he sent the wrong image that he didn’t. He had heard some rumors, not many, but enough to worry him.
"I was thinking maybe we could live there," Bilbo said and Thorin looked at him, surprised. “I’ve been thinking and maybe it would be a good idea. You know, we could redecorate everything, put the things I want to bring from Bag End. Make it ours.” His voice was light, as if wanting to dismiss the issue, something Thorin appreciated.
"The consort has separate apartments," Thorin said and Bilbo closed his mouth. Bilbo hadn't thought of that. Did he mean that they weren't going to live together? "Forget what I said," Thorin said quickly.
“No, I did not know. I thought we were going to live together.” Bilbo thought he was going to be able to build a home, a place where Thorin felt comfortable, where he wanted to be. Like his father had done for his mother.
“Bilbo, forget it. It is traditional for the consort or queen to have their own rooms on the same floor, but you do not have to use them. If I'm honest I hadn't thought about it, where we would live. But now that you say it, you are right. We need a place, the rooms I have now would be too small for us. We could do it.” He said, smiling slightly, reaching out to take Bilbo's hand. "We could reform it and make it our own." There was more confidence and excitement in his voice than he really felt.
Bilbo smiled and squeezed his hand.
***
Thorin opened the door slowly, feeling the specks of dust move. He entered, slowly, and looked around. For a moment he felt like a child again, entering uninvited, breaking the rules. He remembered one of the times he had done it, how the guards had kicked him out right away, as his grandfather was busy and he couldn't be bothered. He felt small, out of place, in the king's chambers. He closed his eyes.
He felt Bilbo's hand catch his, felt him join him, and stopped feeling small. He looked again and saw only a room full of junk and dust. They walked through the different rooms, putting aside bitter memories and insecurities. Thorin quickly began to realize that the place had potential. With each step he imagined everything he could do, how he could transform the rooms to make them more comfortable for Bilbo. The hobbit had not let go of his hand the entire way, marveling at the architecture and making inspiring comments. Thorin wrote down in his mind everything Bilbo said, the ideas he had, but just before leaving him, when they were a few steps from the door, he realized that all of his ideas were wrong. He stood up, pulling away from Bilbo and making him turn around. Bilbo had said many things about rehabilitating the spaces, but all he had said was to make Thorin feel more comfortable, to make it a home for him. That was wrong. Thorin didn’t want other rooms that were like the ones he already had but larger. Thorin wanted to make a home for Bilbo. He turned, waiting attention to the rooms, remembering every corner, every space, and locating his position on the mountain. An idea crossed his mind and he smiled. He knew what he had to do. He took Bilbo's hand and they left.
Bilbo didn't ask him what had happened, what he had thought about when he had let go of his hand. That was another one of the things he loved about Bilbo. The hobbit knew when to speak and when not to. Thorin dismissed Bilbo with a kiss on the forehead before heading to his office. He had a lot to think about, he had an idea in mind and he planned to carry it out. Hours later, Thorin found his sleeves rolled up, his vest on the chair, and plans all over the table. The one in front of him was the final model, a complete floor plan with the modifications he planned to make. He was going to put both rooms together, he was going to create different spaces, so that both could have privacy, but also spaces to be together. He was going to build a kitchen and cover it with wood, like every space that was just for Bilbo; he was going to lower the ceilings and imitate, as much as possible, the style of Bag End. The part that excited him the most was the part that he had to discuss with Balin. He was thinking of building a garden for Bilbo on the same floor, and he was thinking of using the magic that his ancestors had used in the past for it.
***
Rugur greeted his captain expectantly. He got up from his command chair and went to him.
"What news do you bring me?"
“Gundabad is still inhabited by orcs. Not many, but enough to pose a fight. The fort is still there, the roads are still intact, although there are modifications to the plans you gave me, uzbadê.”
"Do you think it can be done?" Asked the Lord of the Ironfists.
“I think it’s possible, but it’ll take time,” said the captain, taking off his traveling cloak. “The roads go between Azsâlul'abad and Zirinhanâd. We're going to need another route to get through without being seen.”
Rugur turned, walking towards the table he had in the middle of the room, where a giant map of the area was placed. He looked back at the mountain and the hills. He wanted to conquer Gundabad, it was something that he had put into his head and he could not get rid of it. Long ago it had belong to his people and it would be theirs again. It was the perfect occasion. He had met Thorin and knew that the king had no intention of taking back the old domain, he had no intention of going to war. But Rugur did. If he got Gundabad, the Gray Mountains would be no problem. And once they were in his power, he could get hold of all the gems and metals that were there. It was a perfect plan, because Rugur wanted power, he wanted to grow, he wanted to expand. Above all, he wanted jewels, precious stones that were not abundant in his domain. He knew that he could manipulate the rest to support him, and his time to attack was now, when Thorin had only been on the throne for a short time. When he was still weak.
He didn’t seek open warfare, in fact he didn’t seek war, hence the importance of subtlety, of planning everything to the smallest detail. Rugur was a patient dwarf, if time was needed, he would wait for the right moment. He had not forgotten Thorin's face, the way he had humiliated him at the Gala. He hadn't forgotten the anger that was in his eyes when he had mentioned the halfling. The hobbit… An idea began to take shape in the mind of the Lord of the Ironfists.
“Bavli, call Rumol." Rugur ordered his servant. “It’s about time we sent an ambassador to Erebor. I want to know about every movement of the earth, every stone extracted. I want to know if that halfling is still there.”
***
Balin went over the plan again. Everything had to be perfect, he was aware of how important it was that the courtship was carried out in the best way. Bilbo had been living in Erebor for a couple of months and everything seemed to be going well. Quite a few dwarves wondered what a hobbit was doing living with them, but they quickly fell silent, giving rise to no rumors. After all, the hobbit was not just any hobbit, he was the one who had recovered Erebor. The Ballad of Bilbo Baggins was known to all, it would have been impossible otherwise since Bofur had not stopped singing it every time he had the opportunity. Still they were restless.
It was not until early summer that Dale’s crops began to bear fruit. Not many, just the quick vegetables Bilbo had planted to rejuvenate the earth, not enough to feed two cities. It was still food, more food than they were used to, and word quickly spread that it was all thanks to the hobbit. That helped. Balin gathered up the papers and left his office. It had been a long time since there had been a royal courtship, not since Thror courted his wife over three hundred years ago. However, no dwarf had forgotten how it was done, at least the basics. Courtship was something ingrained in their culture. It was true that not always all the steps were followed, but this time they will be. It was how things had been done since their creation and it was how they would continue to be done, for the dwarves were a people who valued tradition above all else.
A royal courtship, however, was much more than courting someone, it was to make known to the people who would be the future royal consort. It was something decisive, because thanks to it the subjects would forge an opinion of the dwarf in question. In this case of the hobbit, Balin thought as he made his way to Thorin's office. It was not going to be easy, for Balin knew well that it was not something that would be received with open arms. Yet he understood why Thorin wanted to do it, why he had waited to announce it. It was a smart thing to do, give people time to get to know Bilbo and then introduce him. The story that Balin had prepared was that love had arisen when the hobbit had moved to Erebor, although there were feelings before, hence the courtship happening so late. It was a lie, of course, but they couldn't tell the truth. No one could know the intimacy of the relationship Thorin and Bilbo had. Intimacy that Balin did not fully know but that he could imagine. Sometimes he wondered what was going through Thorin's mind. He had been educated in Erebor, he knew the traditions better than anyone and valued history like few people. However, Bilbo spent more nights in the royal apartments than in his rooms. That was not right, they were not following the rules. No king of Erebor had married someone without the traditional courtship, and Thorin was not going to be the first. Not taking into account that he planned to make Bilbo the second most powerful person in the kingdom.
Balin smiled as he walked. Bilbo… If someone had told him that that insecure little hobbit he had known so long ago in his cozy hole in the ground would one day become Erebor's consort, he would have cut the beard of the daring dwarf. But here they were. Bilbo living in Erebor, Thorin being king. And Balin didn't know how, but every day he thanked Mahal for having put the hobbit in the way of his king. Bilbo was good for Thorin, he was more than good. Balin had to go back to when Thorin had been young and lived in the mountains to remember the last time he had seen him so happy, so peaceful. All of this was Bilbo's work, for not even reconquering their kingdom had had such an effect on Thorin. Balin still remembered Thorin's stares, the general apathy he had gone through since the hobbit left. Bilbo was good for Thorin, and Balin knew that he would be good for Erebor too. Hence his plan could not fail.
The old dwarf entered the office, expecting to meet Thorin working on the new tax rates on the excavation of semi-precious stones and instead found Bilbo's back, perched on Thorin's table, Thorin's hands gripping his waist and head. The old dwarf didn't have to keep walking to know what they were doing. He cleared his throat and reveled in Bilbo's astonished and embarrassed face, as well as Thorin's angry face.
"We had arranged to meet." He said in welcome.
Bilbo had turned away from Thorin, climbing down from the table and repositioning his vest. However, he had not gone far as Thorin was putting an arm around him. The hobbit's face was as red as the tomatoes he talked about so much. Bilbo looked at Thorin, waiting for an answer. By his face, Balin could understand that his king had not informed Bilbo of the meeting, at least not of the time.
"It is customary to knock before entering." Thorin said it with a slight hint of anger. Although Balin did not give it the slightest importance. He knew Thorin too well for that.
He shifted, sitting in the chair next to the sofa. “Shall we start?”
Bilbo stirred, quickly regaining his usual composure. "I'm going to ask for tea." He said leaving the room with that stealth and speed so characteristic of his race.
Balin looked at Thorin and Thorin made a gesture with his hand as if daring him to say something as he approached him.
"We better leave that to the privacy of your rooms,” said Balin.
"I'm in my office," Thorin answered by way of excuse.
Balin didn’t answer. He just waited for Bilbo to come back with tea and a bit calmer. Once the three of them were seated, Balin began to explain his proposal. They were to begin by announcing to the people Bilbo's intention of courtship and acceptance. After that, everything would go as usual. Thorin would give Bilbo a gift of his specialty, in the case of the king the forge, and Bilbo would accept, responding with a gift of his specialty, in the case of Bilbo... well, not all the points were yet very clear. They would have a public meal and visit different parts of Erebor in an official way, continuing with gifts and showing their acceptance until after two months later when they will announce their engagement. Balin hoped that all was well, that it was long enough for Erebor to see Bilbo with good eyes. It was important that they were satisfied, especially considering that Thorin planned to leave the kingdom once he announced the marriage.
From his side, Bilbo had learned about courtship and all the different steps and meanings of each gift in one of the many classes he had taken on the culture of his future adoptive people.
"Don't your people have something like that?" Balin had asked him that day, when he had seen Bilbo's astonished face.
“Yes of course. But nothing like this, not so… elaborate.” The hobbit replied. “The normal thing is to invite the hobbit over, give them flowers, and cook them your best dish. When things are serious, the family is usually invited to lunch.” He said, gesturing with the feather with which he used to take notes. “There are not so many… Steps. It's not that strict.”
“It’s tradition. But to be honest in general is not that different from yours. Although it takes longer. It is only in special cases, like yours, that it should be handled with more care.”
Bilbo looked to the side with an annoyed face. He would never have imagined that everything would be so complicated. Thorin hadn't made it complicated, he had made it extremely simple. Without steps, without rituals, without objects of devotion. He loved him and Bilbo loved him back. It was simple. Yet, Bilbo thought, he had long ago begun to understand that nothing was easy when one was to marry a king.
***
Frodo waved his hands, welcoming the raven, and said goodbye to his cousins, going to meet the animal. His uncle wrote to him monthly and that was always a joy for the little Baggins. Ever since Bilbo had gone, Frodo had missed him. When they had all lived together Bilbo had always told him stories and made him very good cookies. Much nicer than his mother's, although he hadn't said that. He missed him, but with each letter there was always a little story that his mother read to him at night. His uncle always remembered him, and Frodo couldn't wait to see him again.
“Mum! Dad!” He yelled as he entered the house. “A letter.”
Drogo went to meet him and took the letter from his son, stroked his hair, and went to the sofa to read it. He still remembered the first letter that had come from his cousin. Poor Hamfast had been the one who had received it tied to the leg of a crow. He could still hear the screams of surprise and his hurried footsteps to Bag End. That day Drogo was at home and had received him with the kettle about to ring.
Drogo had been glad to know that Bilbo was okay. He loved his cousin, he had always loved him more than the rest of his family. Maybe it was because Bilbo didn't interfere in his life. Bilbo was there when he needed him, but he was never impertinent, he didn’t meddle in his affairs or gave him his opinion when he had not asked. He had always taken care of Frodo when they couldn't and he had left his home to them for months. Drogo knew his cousin was weird, there was no denying it after he disappeared for a year with some dwarves, but that was no reason to call him crazy. Not like he heard from time to time at the market or the Green Dragon. Perhaps precisely because he knew Bilbo better than the rest, and because he had been there when he had left the second time, he was not surprised when he read that he was going to stay longer in those lands.
Months had passed since then and Bilbo had corresponded with him thanks to that raven. At first Drogo had been afraid, for he had never seen a crow like this, so big, with such intelligent eyes, but Frodo had not hesitated to touch him; and seeing that it did nothing to him, Drogo had removed the piece of paper that he had tied to his leg. Since then the raven visited them often and always waited until Drogo wrote a reply. It was as if he understood him, and sometimes Drogo thought the raven was about to speak. He knew that was absurd, crows don't speak, but still he thought so.
He opened the letter, carefully breaking the acorn-shaped wax seal, and began to read.
“Dear Drogo,
I hope everything is well and that the three of you are happy. As I mentioned in the previous letter, I now live in the Lonely Mountain. It is not as dark and cold as you imagine, it is a beautiful place. If you could see it, Drogo, you would be amazed. There is nothing like it in the world. You know that I have traveled a lot and believe me when I tell you that it is of a beauty without equal. Every day it is more rebuilt and you can see how it is full of life. Walking through the market is a unique experience, with stalls selling things from all over the world. Well... not all, there is nothing from the Shire. But it's still special. I like it.
I'm still working to help the men cultivate the fields. The soil is starting to bear fruit, but I think it won't come back to life for another year, hopefully. Fire swept through this land and it has been inert for a long time, still I have faith.
What I'm going to tell you next, I would appreciate it if the word got out as little as possible. I will return to the Shire at the end of the year. I have decided to stay here in Erebor. I know it must seem crazy to you, I can almost imagine your face right now, but I am determined. I am going to go with some friends to collect certain things. That doesn't mean you have to go, really. You can stay as long as you want, what's more, you can stay forever. We'll talk in person, but I have no intention of selling Bag End. I don't want to part with it because I plan to visit from time to time. That is precisely why I would love for you to stay with your family.
I will arrive for the winter. I really want to see you all. Give many kisses to Primula and Frodo. Here I send you another little story that I hope little Frodo would like. Say hello to Hamfast and tell him that I am following all of his advice and that all is well for now.
Regards,
Bilbo Baggins.”
Drogo dropped his arms and took a breath, then released it very slowly. He looked at his son, who was looking at him expectantly. He read the letter again. Yes. He had read it right. Well, he thought, I have to answer something. And with that thought he went to find paper and ink. He didn't use Bilbo's study, he hadn't touched it since he left, it seemed disrespectful to him, so he had brought his own desk and put it in one of the multiple rooms.
He picked up the feather and looked at the paper.
“Dear Bilbo,
Glad to hear you are coming. I'll have the house ready. It gives me impression that we have a lot to talk about. If you can let me know how many friends will come with you I’ll get the rooms ready. Also an approximate date.
Thanks. A big hug.
Drogo."
He looked at the letter. He didn't know what else to add. There wasn't much to say, not after what he'd read.
"PS: Frodo loves your stories, thanks for them."
He went outside and looked for the raven. He saw him perched on the mailbox. As soon as the animal saw that he was carrying a letter in his hand, it went to him and perched on the lamp post. Drogo put the letter on his paw, stroked his head, and watched him go, flying east.
Bilbo was coming, but not to stay, was all he thought as he entered the house accompanied by a Frodo full of questions about his uncle.
____
Turghalwê: My sweet beard.
Kunh abhur mênu mabahrul?: Where did you learn that?
‘Id-manar’: The market-place
Uzbadê: my Lord.
Azsâlul'abad: Lonely Mountain
Zirinhanâd: Iron Hills