Chapter Text
They were all lying in the great royal bed. Bilbo was between the two Dwarves, his back leaning against Thorin’s chest. This was the hobbit’s favourite way of sleeping, and their most common one, for the Dwarves found advantages in it too: since they were bigger that their little burglar, they were able to hold each other over him. This was also one of the few sleeping positions in which Thorin would not accidentally throw one of them out of bed during the night. He could move a lot when he was not holding anything.
I had been almost a year and a half since Erebor was regained. They had been through a lot; Thorin’s deadly wounds almost killed him, and the mere thought of it still made Bofur and Bilbo shiver with fear. He had lost a part of his left leg during the Battle of the Five Armies, which had to be cut a bit under the knee. During the day, he would put a metal leg at the end of his limb to be able to walk properly – he never admitted that it was the only way for him to walk without a cane, though everyone had already figured that up.
Almost a year, and their relationship was known to each one of their friends. They had all accepted it cheerfully, because if holding his lovers against him during the day made Thorin smile and laugh with them, nobody had anything against it. The only one that seemed a tiny bit unhappy about it was Fili, who would sometimes complain about being doomed to be the first heir to the throne. He was ready to say to anyone that he hated learning and was not in a hurry for experiencing “real political mess”.
So everything was just fine at the moment. Gandalf had also come back from the Shire, and had talked to Bilbo the previous evening, and…
…and well, he now had an announcement to make.
“I need to go back to the Shire.”
Bilbo felt Thorin’s arms tense as they held both him and Bofur tighter. He did not like bad news in the morning at all.
“After all we’ve been through?”, he heard the dwarf ask in a cold tone. “Do you even care about us?”
“Shh, Love, listen to what he has to say.” Bofur said as he softly caressed Thorin’s chin, trying to calm him down. He was always really good at it, for the king was very fond of his lover’s low voice.
Bilbo took a deep breath and glanced at Thorin over his shoulder, offering him a sorry smile.
“Gandalf told me yesterday that he arrived in the middle of an auction held in my own house, and, well, I don’t like the idea of it. I mean, I’m not that attached to my belongings, and I don’t really give a damn about my knives, forks and plates anymore…”
Hearing about the knives and forks, Bofur laughed softly from the back of his throat, before humming a well-known melody to the ears of the hobbit. Bilbo shivered – because well, who did not like Bofur’s voice – and stopped in the middle of his sentence.
“Don’t even mention that, I’m still mad at you for it!”
The dwarf laughed softly, rubbing the other’s bare cheeks, before whispering softly to him, half-singing: “that’s what Bilbo Baggins hates.”
Bilbo sighed and turned to the other side, only to face Thorin who looked torn between being angry at Bilbo planning to leave and jealous about the private joke.
“Sometimes I am wondering if you two really care about me or if I am only here to warm the blankets.”
Both Bilbo and Bofur protested at this, and it took a great amount of reassuring words and loving kisses to finally soften the king.
~#~
It took them a while, but both Bofur and Thorin finally agreed to Bilbo’s leaving. He would leave alone with Gandalf the next week, and Bofur would leave the city under the mountain exactly one year after his departure. By the time he would arrive in Bag-End, Bilbo would have finished to sort out his belongings, gift some to his family and sell what he did not want to bring nor gift. The rest would have to be brought to Erebor, and that was why Bofur would come, to ensure he would travel safely. That was in fact a safer plan than asking Gandalf to escort Bilbo back to the mountain, since you never knew when the wizard would leave you on your own. At first they had planned for Bofur to leave with Bilbo, but Thorin had looked so miserable at the mere idea of he being alone for maybe more than a year, while knowing that they would get to spend time together. But it still pained the king to let one of his beloved ones go and leave them.
“Are you sure that more than one year away from us won’t prevent you from coming back?”
Bilbo rolled his eyes and allowed himself a smile.
“Of course not, Thorin. And even if I changed my mind, I’m sure Bofur would still come and drag me back to the mountain.”
“Aye, I’ll carry him on me back if I have to, don’t ye worry.”
Thorin let out a sigh, apparently feeling better. Only apparently, for he frowned slightly before taking both his lovers’ hands in his, and softly kissed each of them.
“Bilbo, before you leave, there is something I would like us to do. All three of us”
Two kind smiles. “Just tell us.”
Thorin seemed a bit embarrassed – well, at least for people really knowing him, because no one had seen the king being something else that fabulously fabulous. He took a deep breath, and laid his eyes of Bofur.
“I’d like us three to be wed. No… no great feast. Just the hair rings, you know?”
The other dwarf chuckled soflty, and turned to Bilbo to explain him.
“It’s a tradition ‘mong dwarves. Ye braid yer lover’s hair, and end the braid with a ring ye made yerself. It can be made of anythin’, really: gold, silver, bronze, stone, or wood… usually it indicate ye social rank too.”
The Hobbit smiled and nodded, but they could read on his face that he was not agreeing fully to this. “I like the idea, but if we get to have a dwarven wedding, I’d also like a hobbit touch to it.”
The others shared a look. “Which is?”
“Well we hobbits like to party. I know Thorin doesn’t want to have a great feast because he does not want the whole mountain to know about us (Thorin opened his mouth to protest, but Bilbo smiled softy and put his hand on his lips to prevent him from even trying), but I’d like to have a least a small party with our friends.”
“Sounds like a great idea to me!”
“Alright”, finally whispered Thorin before kissing his beloved hobbit.
~#~
They held the small party in one of the old banquet rooms. Officially, it was supposed to celebrate Bilbo’s departure with all his friends, hence no one asked questions when Thorin specified that they should not be disturbed at any rate, and added that if Thandruil was to choose this very day to pay a visit to the “Friend of the Elves”, he could take a chair and read the ten pages-long hate-letter that the king had written to him.
All had participated in preparing the feast: Bombur had been in the kitchens for two days, busy cooking, the youngers had hung the decorations and set the table (which Balin, Dori, Nori and Bifur had made themselves after chopping down a huge pine tree), and Gloin had brought his wife and son “to honour the feast with their presence.” And of course, Gandalf had brought some fireworks with him. It lasted for a whole afternoon and a great part of the night. Or maybe the whole night, Bilbo was not sure, for he, Bofur and Thorin had left in the middle of the night, to “consume the wedding”, as the toy-maker had whispered to him with a wink. He might have blushed really hard at that moment. And maybe moments later too.
The wedding night ended with the braiding in dwarf tradition. After a romantic bath – and when they had clothes back on –, the three of them sat on the bed with Bilbo in the middle. He was the first one to get his hair braided by his now husbands, and, well, could not prevent from blushing all the time at the mere thought that things were getting very real and that these braids really meant straight-forwardly “This hobbit belongs to a king and a skilled artisan”. He heard the both of them chuckle.
“You don’t need to feel so embarrassed, Bilbo,” Thorin said with a loving smile.
“I know, but… you know, us hobbits don’t really show physically to the world that we are married…”
“Then I’m sure they won’t get it, eh?” Bofur asked, a large smile on his face. “What’s important is that we know it matters to us. Ye shouldn’t care about others.”
Bilbo nodded, a smile coming back on his lips as he kissed each one of them. Then Thorin held him a glass so he could see the braids. They were made to fall right before his ears, and were thin and elegant. Bilbo honestly did not think that Thorin and Bofur were capable of such fine art. He was also amazed when looking at the hair rings he was now discovering: Thorin’s was made of mithril, and was covered with dwarvish designs; and Bofur’s was made of a red stone, in which were carved small birds with amazing details.
“Do you like them?”
“If I like them? You… you both made an amazing work and everything, but I really thought the material did not matter and now I just feel stupid and not loving you enough and…”
“Shh, Bilbo. Looka’me.”
Bilbo turned his head towards Bofur, still worried. He was really convinced he should have put more work on his side, at least to deserve them as his lovers.
But Bofur softly kissed him and some of his worries faded away.
“Whatever ye did, it will please us. Because ye did it for us, and it will remind us of ye. Understood?”
“I – I think, but…”
He felt Thorin’s hand on his shoulder and turned his head towards him.
“Why not showing us the ones you made? I’m sure we will love them.”
How could he say no to that smile. Bilbo sighed and took out two wooden rings, which he had carved the best he could to make nice leaf patterns on the outside; the kind of leaves you would find in the Shire only.
“I think they are perfect,” the king said before kissing his hobbit on one cheek.
“But it’s only wood…”
“But it’s something ye can carve and which suits ye,” Bilbo replied with a kiss on his other cheek. “D’ye mind braiding my hair now? I’d like to see how it looks like on a braid.”
Bilbo was never allowed to complain again about his gift to them, and they were eventually able to finish the braiding.
~#~
Leaving the mountain was hard. Bilbo finally understood Thorin’s fear of being alone while knowing that his two beloved ones still had each other. He kept on turning his head towards the mountain, focused on the two dwarves standing in front of its doors. While doing so, he could feel the small hair rings bump against his cheeks, which would sometimes make him smile. He hoped he would get used to the weight by the metal and the stone.
“Bilbo Baggins.”
As he caught view of the hobbit’s lost gaze, the wizard smiled and forced Bilbo’s pony to move forward.
“It will take us ages to go back to the Shire if you don’t stop turning around and waving, you know.”
“But they are still…”
“Yes, they are still standing at the doors of the mountain, and they will be as long as we are in sight. Now let us go before Thorin Oakenshield changes his mind and runs after us to fetch you back!”
Bilbo sighed but followed Gandalf’s advice. They had a long way to go, that was true.
He turned one last time, nonetheless.
Or maybe two or three more.