A/N: Hello! If you've come to this from one of my other Tolkien works I'm afraid this isn't related to either Dirty Paws or Bargaining and Gambling with Death. This is just a short ficlet that I'm writing over the next few days and over Christmas. I have so many feels for The Battle of Five Armies and I'm in a festive mood so I thought I'd try writing a short festive fic. I'm sort of combining various periods of Christmas/Winter holiday traditions so please don't rage about the various traditions/decorations/foods etc being mixed together.

Disclaimer: Only disclaimer for the fic, I do not own the Hobbit in any shape or form! It belongs to Tolkien, Peter Jackson, New Line Cinemas etc etc. If I owned it I would not be writing fanfiction about it!

The Hobbit:
A Dwarf is for Life not Just for Christmas

Chapter 1
Strangers in the Shire

Bilbo Baggins was many things. He who walks unseen, Barrel-rider, Thief in the Shadows, Child of the Kindly West, Cluefinder, Luckwearer, The Spider Stinger and Mad Baggins. But what not everyone knew about Bilbo Baggins was that he was also a coward. Of course when the time came for Bilbo to prove his worth he had done so many times on the Quest to Erebor. He had faced down trolls, won riddles in the dark, thrown himself at an orc who would have taken the King Under the Mountain's head, faced down a skinchanger, snuck around the Elf King's halls and liberated the company, bandied words with Smaug the Magnificent and come out relatively unscathed, he'd stolen the Arkenstone from the King Under the Mountain and brought Allies to fight against the orcs and goblins and he had run through the battlefield invisible and slaughtered orcs who had sought to do his dear friends harm.

None of this had left Bilbo unscathed however and no sooner than the Hobbit saw the end of the battle and briefly spoke with his beloved Dwarves than he had turned tail and run back to the West. The horror's that he had seen haunted his dreams.
"One day I'll remember." He had said to Gandalf. "I'll remember everything that happened. The good, the bad. Those who survived. And those that did not."

Bilbo Baggins remembered every moment of his life since he had returned to the Shire. It was as if his mind did not forgive him for leaving so much unsaid and so much forgotten. He saw Azog raising his mace against the King Under the Mountain. He saw Fili and Kili, Prince's of Erebor battling together against Bolg, the brutal and cruel spawn of Azog. He saw Beorn, the skinchanger, covered with wounds and arrows and spears rising out of his flanks in macabre and torturous points.
Thranduil's face twisted and burnt as he focussed so intently on his enemies that the spell masking his disfigurement fell away and a splatter of black orc blood arced across the wounds and over his eye. Legolas and Tauriel battling side by side, both so young by elf standards, not wearying against their never-ending foe but both heavy with the weight of the battle and its outcome. Bard whose children had screamed and cried when Smaug rained fire upon their town, fighting like a madman to protect his children and stop the swell of orcs from reaching the place where the survivors of Lake Town were sheltered.

He remembered the good things too, his friendship with the Dwarves, the kindness shown to him by Bard, Legolas and Tauriel. The interest and fondness Beorn bestowed upon the Halfling so far from home. The beauty of Erebor as it stood alone against the sky, strong, proud and beautiful. The wonder of Rivendell and the magic that throbbed and thrummed within the Hidden Valley. The freedom of soaring through the air on the backs of the Eagles of Manwe (Once he had gotten over his terror of not being on the ground).

Bilbo had not chosen to remember or recover with his friends though. Instead of staying in the East and recovering, healing with his friends (family) Bilbo had fled. Gone back to that which had at one time given him great comfort. His mother's doilies and West Farthing China. The smial that his father had created so that his wander-lusting mother would wish to remain at home. The friendly calls of Hamfast Gamgee, his gardener who was always open and available for a chat about plants and the like. Even to the visits from Lobelia Sackville-Baggins who had been most outraged and upset at Bilbo's safe and unexpected return.

It wasn't enough however and Bilbo had been back in the Shire for nine months, having spent three months approximately in Rivendell, exploring Elrond's home, his library and speaking with the Elf Lord of many things. Lord Elrond had sometimes tried to talk to Bilbo about the events that occurred on Bilbo's adventure but the Hobbit had always evaded the questions or answered with short and brief answers. He couldn't face talking about it when it was so raw and had only happened a few short months ago.

Now however it was the last month of the year. A festive time for Hobbits to be sure. The winter festival was shaping up to be one of the most extravagant seen in the Shire for several years. A thin blanket of snow had already covered the landscape, not like the thick and treacherous snow that had made the Shire so dangerous back in the Fell Winter when the Brandywine had frozen over. This was a pleasant snowfall. Just deep enough that fauntlings were making snow-Hobbits and having snowball fights without using up enough snow to show the frozen ground beneath.

Bilbo woke abruptly only a few days before Yule and cried out in horror and panic. His shout rang around his empty smial, down the lonely corridors that were the only things that heard his heartbroken sobs that followed the shout.

Bilbo spent a few moments curled up in his bed, allowing his sorrow to overwhelm him before he got out of bed, his toes curling up slightly at the cold floor. The fire had burnt out during the night allowing the bitter cold of the night to sneak into the room and consume the warmth. He spent a few minutes re-building the fire and making sure it was burning nicely before moving through the rooms re-lighting the fires in the rooms he used most often, his kitchen, study, living room and bathroom.

"Need more wood." He muttered absently to himself as he put his kettle of water over the fire. A nice comforting cup of tea, maybe a hint of chamomile to ease his nerves and his weary body. Nights of interrupted sleep were not pleasant on the body and sometimes, especially on particularly chilly days, Bilbo felt as if the ice was creeping into his soul and heart.

He shook his head to try and shake off the depressing thoughts and bustled over to his well-stocked pantry. He had been getting used to having seven meals a day but since his journey where food had sometimes been scarce Bilbo found that whilst he could eat seven times a day not every meal was as big as the others.

Eggs, bacon, tomatoes and some potatoes all went into a frying pan on his stove and soon Bilbo was tucking into a warm breakfast and a steaming cup of tea. As he ate Bilbo began to make a list in his head of things he needed to do for the winter festival.

It was expected for Hobbits to decorate their homes for the duration of the winter festival, sprigs of holly, ivy, mistletoe, pine and other greenery with berries and winter flowers in garlands and wreathes around the home. Some of the more well to do Hobbits sometimes had a small fir tree as well. Of course Bilbo would be expected to have such a tree and with lavish decorations so that any of his relatives and friends who came to visit would be able to admire it and then later gossip to others about Bilbo's wealth and respectable decorations for the winter festival.

He would also need to stock up on fruits, nuts, spices and other exotics in order to make some of the winter festival goodies. Rich, spiced fruit cakes, moist gingerbread covered in caramelised nuts, sugar mice for the fauntlings who came for stories, mince pies and of course marzipan creatures and objects. Then there was the food necessary for the two most important days of winter festival: the Eve before Yule and then Yule itself. Fish and other seafood on Yule Eve and then a sumptuous feast on Yule itself.

When Bilbo's parents had been alive the Yule meal had always been a large affair with a hog's head as the centrepiece, other meat laden dishes, roasted vegetables and pies and meat cakes. The sweets were also heavily spiced and rich, particularly when Bilbo had gotten older as Belladonna had always snuck in a few splashes of the best brandy into the pudding. Bilbo could still taste the thick cream that had been poured over the pudding and his nose twitched as if his mother was baking yule cakes and spiced puddings right there in the kitchen with him.

He found himself opening his mouth and calling for her as if expecting her to answer.

"Mother?"

The sound seemed flat and empty in the kitchen and Bilbo tutted.

"What were you thinking? It's not as if she's going to answer back from the grave." He chuckled at his own foolishness before going about his day.

First task was to go down and choose his Yule tree and arrange for it to be delivered to Bag End later that day. After that, well after lunch maybe, Bilbo would go walking in the woods and gather up the plants necessary for his Yule garlands. He would take his little cart with him and fill it to the brim with winter plants. Bilbo knew of a perfect spot where he would find oak mistletoe, not much of it grew in the shire, whereas the other variety was abundant on the many apple trees in the Shire.

"Maybe not mistletoe. It's not like there's anyone who I want to kiss. Certainly none of my relatives." Bilbo mumbled and then bustled off to get ready for the day.

*Winter*Festival*

Bilbo watched in fascination as his breath curled up in the air in trails of dragon-like smoke. It was so cold that his breath was visible in plumes of mist and his nose was turning pink from the cold. Bilbo rubbed his gloved hands together against the chill of the air. The soft fur-lined mittens were warm on his hands and he rubbed his ears hoping to relieve some of the cold that had settled into the points of his ears.

He was glad he had dug out his winter boots. Normally Hobbits hated the idea of footwear but snow was one of the few things that could affect a Hobbit's feet in a bad way. Particularly sharp rocks and stones were not forgiving on their feet but in the Shire there were few areas where that was an issue. Snow however was detrimental to their feet. The cold would sink in and numb a Hobbit's toes and sometimes if they stayed out for too long the toes would be unsalvageable, frostnip would settle in and then turn to frostbite and the toes would sometimes turn black and have to be removed.

No Hobbit would dare go out in public with damaged feet and so in snowy times boots were a necessary evil. Bilbo's were of the finest quality. Soft leather, lined with fur that sank between his toes and tickled his ankles. He could almost forget his feet were covered.

He strolled down Bag Lane in the low light of the morning, that special and magical winter feeling descending over Hobbiton. As he passed the Gamgee's smial he noticed that Hamfast was out in his garden with little Samwise, both bundled up in winter coats with bright red scarfs wrapped around their necks.

"Good morning Hamfast, Master Samwise." Bilbo called, a cheery smile forced on his face.

Hamfast looked up from where he was mending the fence post that had rotted through and broken under the weight of the snow. Samwise squeaked and dived behind his father, almost dropping the hammer that he had been holding for his father on his booted toes.

"Aye Master Baggins. It's a fine morning to be sure. Pleasant day to be had." Hamfast straightened up and nodded to Bilbo. "You off to market Mr Bilbo?"

"Yes. Going to choose my Yule tree and arrange for it to be delivered later this afternoon." A sudden thought occurred to Bilbo and he grinned excitedly before nervously licking his lips. "I was wondering if you and your family would like to come help me decorate this year? Young Master Samwise could advise me on which plants should go where and your youngest ones could have some of the sweets I'll be making later this morning?"

Hamfast scratched his head pleased at the invitation but also reluctant to take up the offer.
"I don't know Mr Bilbo. The likes of us treading around your home, I can't guarantee that Bag End would survive my brood."

"Oh please Dad! Mr Bilbo always has the nicest plants at Yule! I want to see his oak mistletoe, and his yule tree! Mr Frodo said it has amazing decorations! Please Dad!" Samwise popped out from behind his father's legs and looked up with wide-eyes that were almost brimming with tears.

Bilbo laughed loudly and shook his head.

"I don't think I could say no to those eyes Gaffer!"

Hamfast chuckled and rubbed his hand on Sam's head, his calloused fingers catching the blond and brown curls on his roughened skin. Sam grinned and whooped before diving into the house shouting the news to his siblings and his mother.

"Thank you Master Baggins. It'll be a right treat for the young'uns. You've always been so kind to us and the children always love your stories. I'll make sure the faunts are on their best behaviour."

"No need to worry so Gaffer. Twelve Dwarves and a Wizard are far more trouble than your pleasant offspring. At least I know they won't destroy my plumbing! That bathroom hasn't been the same since!"

"Aye Mr Bilbo. I imagine that Dwarves are not the most well-mannered of folk, especially when it comes to food. Your pantry was bare when I went round and checked, I haven't seen such a sorry sight since my tomatoes were destroyed by those pesky tomato worms!"

"A sad state of affairs indeed." Bilbo chuckled before glancing up at the sky. "I'd best be off to the market Gaffer, must get the best tree or else Lobelia will be spreading rumours of my miserliness all the way to Bree!"

"I'll see you later Master Baggins."

"Hmm, come around tea time, I'll have baked a few treats, brought in my plants and found the decorations by then so everything will be ready for your family to come and help me decorate."

Hamfast nodded and bowed slightly to Bilbo before turning his attention back to the fence post. Bilbo continued on his way down to the market, the thought of having company for even a brief period chasing away the memories and the sorrow that throbbed continuously in his heart and mind.

*Winter*Festival*

Bilbo grimaced as Lobelia's shrill voice rang through the market. Gossip was rife today in the market. Lots of stories of strangers wandering the Shire. For the past few months there had been Dwarf caravans passing through the Shire, the Dwarves of Ered Luin who had been forced from Erebor were returning to their homeland. Occasionally some Dwarf traders would set up shop in the market in front of the Green Dragon and whilst their wares were always wonderful the Dwarves were not always so well accepted. Bilbo tried to avoid market when he knew there were going to be Dwarves around and had succeeded for the most part.

Bilbo stood on tiptoe and peered over a particularly rotund Hobbit only to see Lobelia shaking her parasol and going red in the face as she shouted at a poor Dwarfling who had bumped into her with sticky fingers and covered her dress in jammy hand prints. To be honest Bilbo thought it an improvement to the frankly alarming shade of salmon that Lobelia was wearing.

All the inhabitants of Hobbiton were watching with a mixture of glee and horror as Lobelia screeched and squawked at the Dwarfling who was cowering and crying before the angry female Hobbit. Bilbo's temper rose and he strode through the crowd, shoving Hobbits aside until he was standing next to the Dwarfling.

"Enough Lobelia. It was an accident!" Bilbo snapped and he moved to stand slightly in front of the Dwarfling. Lobelia was stunned into silence for a brief moment before her mouth opened and she continued her ranting this time directing her cruel words at Bilbo.

Bilbo Baggins had faced down Smaug, exchanged riddles with Gollum and sung songs to spiders in Mirkwood. Lobelia was nothing to those foes. Mid-way through her speech Bilbo had the audacity to yawn and Lobelia spluttered and fumed as Bilbo turned his attention to the Dwarfling who had grabbed his trouser leg and placed sticky prints all over Bilbo's trousers.

"Let's get you cleaned up." Bilbo said cheerfully and guided the Dwarfling away from the crowds, ignoring Lobelia and her raving. Glancing back Bilbo saw that some of the other Hobbits, having seen the Head of the Baggins family ignore her, had chosen to tell her off and shoo her away from the market. The last Bilbo saw of Lobelia was her parasol disappearing round past the fish stall.

Shaking his head in despair Bilbo turned his attention to the Dwarfling's sticky hands. Scooping up snow the Hobbit rubbed the snow over the small but strong hands, washing away the jam and the red stains that attempted to linger. As soon as the Dwarfling's hands were clean Bilbo pulled out his handkerchief from his coat pocket and rubbed them dry. Bilbo had no idea how susceptible Dwarves were to colds, especially Dwarf children but he wasn't about to take any risks.

"Now, what's your name little one?" Bilbo asked the Dwarfling and looked over the child searching for any sign of a family name.

"Sibit." The Dwarfling said and Bilbo realised that there was a chance this Dwarfling was a girl. Bright ginger hair (that looked so much like Bombur's that it sent a pang through Bilbo's heart) cascaded down the Sibit's back and the Dwarfling had bright green eyes and a small button nose, quite unlike any Dwarf nose Bilbo had seen before.

"Do you know where your parents are Sibit?" Bilbo said and held out his hand to the Dwarfling. Sibit looked at the hand with suspicion before reaching up slightly and taking hold. Sibit was quite small for a Dwarf and Bilbo reckoned she or he wasn't much older than Frodo in Dwarf equivalent ages. Still a fauntling rather than a tween.

"Mama's minding the stall. Papa's off with his friends." Sibit said and then began tugging Bilbo towards a stand towards the centre of the market, covered in glass bead necklaces, bracelets and other trinkets.

A round Dwarf was manning the stall, Sibit's mother Bilbo presumed, and when she heard the patter of Dwarven boots she spun round and scooped up Sibit.

"Thank you Master Hobbit! I can't keep an eye on all my young ones! Barely set up stall and they were off exploring and getting into mischief. I can't thank you enough." The Dwarrow said and bowed to Bilbo whilst balancing Sibit on her hip. A golden beard was carefully braided and looped in two rings and up into her long hair. Tiny bells had been woven into her hair and they rang as she bowed creating a pretty tinkling noise. Sibit immediately became distracted and buried her hands in her mother's beard, tapping the bells to make them ring.

"It was no trouble at all. I'm afraid Sibit had a run in with one of my least pleasant relatives. I couldn't stand by and watch a Dwarfling be yelled at."

The Dwarrow bowed once more before nuzzling Sibit's red hair with the tip of her button nose. Whilst Sibit hadn't inherited her mother's colouring she had gained the same green eyes and pert nose.

"May I ask your name?" The Dwarrow said and rummaged through the wares on her table sorting them and displaying them to sell.

"Bilbo Baggins at your service." Bilbo bowed and in doing so missed the wide-eyed look the Dwarrow gave him.

"And you Mistress Dwarf?" Bilbo smiled pleasantly and looked over her wares with a keen eye.

It was not often Dwarves sold glass, they preferred metal and leather jewellery but occasionally the odd glass item appeared. Bilbo whistled at a glass dragon that sat on the edge of the stall. It was a large glass ornament, clear for the majority of its shape but had been painted with gold dust and red paint. Its neck was outstretched and its mouth open wide with orange and gold flames bursting from its spread jaws. Gold dusted the spine and wings and the tail was tipped with a blood red painted that shone brightly despite the wintery sun. Bilbo was reminded almost fondly of Smaug and with careful hands he picked up the glass dragon and inspected it.

"I am Sibreg, Daughter of Terreg, at your service." The Dwarrow said and watched Bilbo with a sharp look. Bilbo assumed the look was because of his handling the glass dragon and he carefully placed it down before reaching into his pocket and bringing out his coin purse.

"How much for the glass dragon Mistress Sibreg?"

Sibreg gave Bilbo a price that was far less than Bilbo had expected and he protested loudly at her asking so little.

"I owe you Master Baggins. As do all Dwarves of Erebor. You helped reclaim my home from Smaug and you created the alliance that fought against the orcs and goblins who came for Erebor. It is I who cannot ask much of you."

Bilbo spluttered and flushed as other Dwarves whose stalls were nearby began whispering (rather loudly, Dwarves were never brilliant at whispering, except for Nori but Bilbo didn't want to think about Nori).

Bilbo handed over the requested coins with some embarrassment and then carefully cradled the wrapped glass dragon to his touch.

"Thank you Mistress Sibreg." Bilbo bowed and then without another glance backward scurried away from the Dwarrow and her fellows who all watched Bilbo with distinct interest.

"Mama." Sibit said once Bilbo was out of sight and earshot.

"Yes darling?" Sibreg said distractedly. The Dwarfling tugged hard on her mother's golden hair and growled when her mother continued to stare after Bilbo Baggins.

"Is that Papa's Master Baggins? The one who spoke to the Calamity Smaug?" Sibrit pulled harder and wriggled in her mother's grasp finally managing to draw her attention back to her child.

"I believe it was. We shall tell Papa when we see him." Sibreg turned her attention to the sudden swarm of Hobbits who had until now been avoiding the Dwarven stalls for some unfathomable reason. Questions about her work flooded the Dwarrow with the occasional attempt at sly questions about Bilbo Baggins but Sibreg had not been a trader and craftswomen for more than a hundred years without learning to evade and avoid answering questions she had no care to answer.

Some of the Hobbits who visited her stall left empty-handed but a few left with no gossip but some delightful glass creations. Sibit and Sibreg felt however they had gotten the better end of the bargain as they now had news of Bilbo Baggins, Hero of Erebor.

*Winter*Festival*

Bilbo hummed and sang to himself as he pulled a tray of spiced biscuits from the oven and put in a tin with a gingerbread loaf ready to bake. His smial was rather messy at the present time. His living room furniture had been shifted around in order to put his Yule Tree up near the window and it had been put in a heavy pot with sand in it so that the fir tree wouldn't tip over. Trying to put a tree back up on your own when you are just a small Hobbit is quite difficult as Bilbo knew from previous experience when the first Winter Festival after his parent's death he hadn't put enough weight in the tree's pot and spent the majority of his first day of the holiday pushing the tree back up and filling the pot with rocks from his garden.

The entranceway to his smial was full to the brim with sprigs of ivy, holly, mistletoe and a few branches of evergreens and silver pines. Some herbs that grew in his garden were resilient in the cold and so Bilbo had crouched down brushing snow off plants and cutting off sprigs of rosemary, bay and laurel that were sweetly scenting his entrance way. Bilbo had also found some pansies that had escaped the snow and plucked them. Throughout Bag End there were tiny posies in little jars or vases of deep blue pansies (blue like the King Under the Mountain's eyes, like Fili and Kili, lying so still). Bilbo hadn't been able to put any of the flowers in his room. Too many memories came flooding back at the sight of the various blue flowers (pansies mottled and shaded, almost white and glowing like that thrice-damned Arkenstone).

Bilbo had baked several sweet treats for the Gamgee fauntling's and had also pulled out the box with his tree decorations. There were pinecones, ribbons, bells, wooden figurines of animals and Hobbits being merry, tiny glass ornaments that sparkled in the candlelight and the flicker of the fire.

The glass dragon that Bilbo had bought from Sibreg, tiny Smaug as Bilbo had taken to calling it had been carefully hung in the round window so that it would catch the light throughout the day from sunrise until the last few rays disappeared behind the rolling hills of the Shire.

It was almost tea time and Bilbo hurried to put the kettle on the fire and set out his third best china set (no point using best china where fauntlings are concerned, there were always accidents and Bilbo believed he had a complete set of china made of mis-matched pieces that came from different sets that had survived the handling of many faunts) along with some sweet cakes, spicy treats and a few biscuits.

There was a tentative knock at his front door and Bilbo straightened his waistcoat, peered into the mirror on the wall in the hall and grimaced at his red-rimmed eyes. Crying never looked attractive on anyone Bilbo thought, apart from possibly on newly-wedded Hobbit lasses and Bilbo for certain knew he looked pathetic and snotty when he cried. He pinched his cheeks as he trotted down the corridor to the front door, hoping to brighten his pale cheeks up somewhat.

He swung the door open and grinned happily at the sight of Hamfast and Bell Gamgee and their six children.

"Afternoon Mr Bilbo!" Hamfast said cheerily and wiped his boots off on the mat inside the door. His children followed after him, each copying their Dad in wiping the snow from their boots and then removing gloves, scarves, hats and coats and hanging them up on the pegs of the coat rack slightly further in the hobbit hole.

Bell Gamgee came in last with their youngest, Marigold, in her arms. Marigold was sucking on her thumb and had her other hand wrapped around her mother's neck whilst she peered through Bilbo's hobbit hole with a keen curiosity.
Marigold was only three years old and although she had been in Bag End a couple of times before she had only just reached the age where she had begun to recall and memorise places. Of course Bag End smelt and looked slightly different as it was far messier than it had been before Bilbo went on his Adventure and the entranceway was covered in plants.

"Lovely to see you Bell." Bilbo said and pressed a soft kiss to Bell's ruddy cheek. Bell Gamgee nee Goodchild was a pretty Hobbit lass with golden hair that her children had inherited rather than her husband's brown locks and she had a light dusting of freckles over her cheeks and nose. Bell controlled her brood as well as any general and her children rarely disobeyed her but Bilbo had never met a sweeter soul with a sharp tongue. Few of the Hobbit women dared get on Bell's bad side as her sharp tongue and keen wit could reduce a grown male Hobbit to a wimpering mess.

Indeed it was Bell Gamgee who had quelled the gossip-mongering that had taken place after Bilbo's return. Hobbiton had been rife with rumour, speculation and wild stories that seemed to grow and grow with each telling and many of them had not been kind to Bilbo. Bell would not stand for any Hobbit disrespecting Bilbo who always had time for her and her family and would often spend time in their house and entertained her faunts when she needed to get work done. Now the Hobbits of Hobbiton only called Bilbo 'Mad Baggins' when they were certain Bell Gamgee couldn't hear them. Bell also had a wicked hand with a ladle and had rapped more than one Hobbit or fauntling over the head or on the back of the hand with the metal spoon.

"And you Mr Bilbo. You should come down more often. The children love your stories and I'd be glad of the company."

Bilbo chuckled and looked sheepish. Bell was one of the few people Bilbo let scold him and he felt the wave of love and affection she and her family felt for him wash over him, briefly chasing away the bad memories and the sorrow.

"Come on then. Tea should be ready and I have lots of cakes and sweets for you all to try. Then we can get on with decorating."

Bilbo led the way through Bag End to the living room and smiled happily at the awed sounds the fauntlings made at the sight of the large Yule Tree. It was a splendid tree. Tall, almost brushing the ceiling of Bag End and wide too (the width of Bombur almost twice) it was a deep, emerald green with thick branches and plenty of space for decorations.

To Bilbo's delight the children also noticed tiny Smaug and peered up at the glass dragon that was still sparkling in the fading light. Hamson, Halfred, Daisy and May all sat and began going through the box of decorations that Bilbo had put out near the tree whilst Samwise had brought a few sprigs of the plants from the hallway with him and was beginning to wind and weave them together round a wooden circle that his father had seemingly produced from nowhere.

"Need a hand Mr Bilbo?" Hamfast asked and wiped his already clean hands down on his trousers. Bilbo smiled affectionately and led the other Hobbit to the kitchen. Together the older Hobbits made two pots of tea and carried heavily laden trays into the living room and served tea and milk for the fauntlings. Bell had sat down with Marigold in her lap and the little faunt was staring at tiny Smaug with her thumb still in her mouth.

"Where did you get the dragon Mr Bilbo?" Bell asked. She, like her daughter was intrigued by the ornament but for a different reason. Occasionally Bilbo fell asleep when he was minding her faunts and she couldn't help but notice his disturbed sleep and the many names he would call or murmur. "Dragon!" had been a word that occurred frequently and Bell wondered what Bilbo truly had seen and done on his travels.

"From one of the Dwarf stalls in the market this morning." Bilbo said briefly before handing Bell a cup of tea and a biscuit. Bell and Hamfast both watched Bilbo with keen eyes and shared a knowing glance before beginning to chat about various unimportant and trivial things.

*Winter*Festival*

Bilbo leaned back in his chair and cradled a cup of tea in his hands. The faunts had, had a wonderful time decorating the Yule tree and Bilbo thought it looked spectacular, far nicer than if he had decorated it on his own. Sprigs of various plants had been hung over doorways, picture frames and over windows and turned into garlands. Samwise and Hamfast had made a wreath too and it now hung proudly outside on the little green door at the front of Bag End.

Bell had drifted off to sleep at some point during the afternoon and little Marigold had sat on the floor playing with some toys that Bilbo had kept from his childhood. The other fauntlings had scampered off to run around the hallways of Bag End. Winter was not a good time for fauntlings, the snow forcing them to stay inside because of their more sensitive and delicate bodies so energy quickly pent up and built up.

Hamfast was whittling away at a chunk of wood, carving something or other that had yet to take a recognisable form. All of a sudden Bilbo heard a crash and he sat forward in his chair, placing his teacup on the little table to the side of his chair, ready to leap up and into action. Hamfast was not unaware of the hyper-aware state of his employer, little noises set Bilbo off; even the noises of fauntling's crying was enough to send Bilbo into some sort of warrior state. The older Hobbit's eyes sharpened and his face grew stern and resolved, quite un-hobbitlike.

There was a pattering of bare feet and Bilbo relaxed slightly until the faunts came tumbling into the living room Hamson and Halfred tugging at something between them and yelling at each other. So intent were the two older brothers on taking the item from the other, that they failed to notice little Marigold sat before the fire and they tumbled into her, knocking the faunt over and forcing her towards the fire.

Bilbo leapt to his feet with a shout as the tiny Hobbit lass slid into the fire. Her gold locks caught fire and Bilbo quickly picked her up, pulling her from the flames reach and smothered the flames eating her golden hair with his bare hands. He barely noticed the smell of singed flesh that rose up from his hands, so intent on checking Marigold over to make sure she wasn't hurt anywhere else.

Bell had awoken at Bilbo's cry and was watching with an open mouth as Bilbo pulled his burnt hands away from Marigold's singed and burnt hair.

"Bilbo!" Bell cried at the state of the older Hobbit's hands. Bright red blisters had already formed and his hands seemed to be a deep red colour already. She sank down onto the rug next to Marigold who was crying and pulled Bilbo's hands to her to look at them. Marigold continued wailing loudly in fright and upset and Samwise who had been trailing after his rambunctious siblings stepped forward and pulled her out of the way, cuddling his little sister to him.

"There, there little sun. You're alright. Only a little singed but we'll cut off those nasty bits and you'll be as golden as you were before. Mr Bilbo saved you from the fire didn't he? Like a knight in the tales of old. You'll be alright little sun." Samwise crooned and Daisy and May sank down and cuddled their younger siblings. They too had been frightened by the events and needed to give and receive comfort by hugging their siblings. Hamson and Halfred were stood next to Bilbo with teary eyes and pale faces, their bottom lips trembling at the sight of poor Mr Bilbo's hands.

"Here's some snow." Hamfast said and produced a big cooking bowl that he had retrieved from the kitchen and run outside with to gather a large amount of snow. Bell plunged Bilbo's hands into the icy cold bowl instantly and gasped at the coolness that settled into her own flesh almost immediately. Bilbo however didn't make a sound.

"Bilbo?" Bell said tentatively and peered into his eyes. Bilbo stared back at her with a rueful smile.

"I'm alright Bell, Hamfast. Doesn't burn half as much as dragon fire." Bilbo said almost laughingly.

"We're so sorry Master Bilbo!" Hamson and Halfred cried and the tears that had been brimming spilt over.

"It's quite alright boys." Bilbo smiled at them and his hands twitched in the snow as if he wanted to pull them from the cold and embrace the two distraught fauntlings. "I'm just glad Marigold wasn't hurt. Anyway, what were you bringing to me with such excitement?"

The two boys pulled out the object that they had been tussling over and Bilbo let out a pained gasp at the sight of his mithril shirt glimmering in the light of the fire and the sparkling light of tiny Smaug.

"We wanted to ask you about this shiny shirt Mr Bilbo." Hamson said meekly. All the other faunts looked up too at the sight of the shiny shirt and even little Marigold stopped crying and reached out with both hands to pull the edge of the mithril to her and inspect it with her tiny fingers, her brush with fire all but forgotten at the sight of the sparkling shirt.

"That, my boys, is a memento of my adventure. A mithril shirt. Given to me by a Dwarven King." Bilbo said and then to Bell and Hamfast's amazement he asked the faunts if they would like to hear about Bilbo's Adventure. They had spent months trying to find out anything about Mr Baggins' trip but it seemed a brush with fire had loosened the iron grip he had, had on his tale.

The faunts settled down in a semi-circle before Bilbo, Marigold sitting in the middle playing with the mithril shirt. Hamfast settled back into an armchair ready to go and get anything needed to treat Bilbo's burns.

Whilst Bilbo spoke Bell kept an eye on his hands and after a while she pulled his hands from the melting snow and inspected them. The burns weren't too bad. She left the living room and padded across to the pantry, all the while keeping an ear on the story. She also visited Bilbo's bathroom on the way back and returned to the living room with a jar of honey. Listening to Bilbo's story she spread the thick, golden honey on the bandages that she had retrieved from Bilbo's bathroom and then began to lay them on his burnt palms before covering the honey soaked scraps with clean and honey free bandages, tying them onto his hands securely. The only sign Bilbo gave of any discomfort was a slight tensing of his muscles but he did not falter in his story at all.

It took him an hour or so to tell the condensed and fauntling friendly version of his adventures and by the time he had finished Marigold and Samwise had fallen asleep but the other faunts had hung onto his every word as had their parents.

"Bilbo." Bell said softly as she and Hamfast had picked up on the true relationship between their dear Hobbit and the King Under the Mountain and the heartbreak that had crept into his voice when he spoke of some of his friends.

"There you go. Now you all know the tale of Mad Baggins." Bilbo smiled bitterly before clambering clumsily to his feet. The clock over the mantelpiece showed it to be nearing 6:30pm. "You had best be off home, faunts to feed and all that."

"Please Bilbo, don't do that." Bell said softly and placed a hand on his arm. "Don't shut us out."

"I'm trying not to Bell. But I haven't told any of that to anyone. Not since it happened. I just need some time to myself to think it all through and just be alone for a while."

"Alright Mr Bilbo. We'll take the young ones home now and Bell can come up later to change your bandages for the night." Hamfast took control and gathered his brood, picking up Marigold who still had her singed hair and Samwise who was clutching a lone blue pansy that had somehow fallen under the table earlier in the day and been missed by Bilbo (it was so damn blue! He hated it! Blue everywhere but at the same time it made him happy and reminded him of memories that he tried to bury). The other faunts gathered around their father and followed the older Hobbit out into the hallway, putting on their winter garments and boots.

"I'll come by after Supper." Bell said softly. "A few honey bandages should take the worst of it and after that we can go to lavender oil. You should be right as rain in a few days."

"Thank you Bell." Bilbo murmured and he sank into his armchair, already lost in thought as he gazed at tiny Smaug no longer shining with the light of the sun as it had long since set.

The Hobbit lady left Bag End after her unruly family feeling great sorrow and grief for Bilbo. So intent was she on getting down to Bagshot Row that she failed to hear the crunching of heavy booted feet settling deep in the snow, nor the clanking of armour and the rumbling voices of larger beings.

Bilbo stared absently at the Yule Tree and his decorated smial. It was so quiet. So still. So lonely. So empty. With a cry of rage Bibo swept a pile of books from a table and they thudded to the floor and hit the wall as Bibo yelped in pain as his bandaged hands throbbed from the violent action. He cursed and swore and bit his lip pretending the tears that trickled down were from the pain in his hands and not from his heart.

A loud knock came from his front door and Bilbo considered ignoring it for a moment but then the knock came again.

"Curse it!" The Hobbit said and dashed the tears angrily away from his cheeks with the backs of his bandaged hands. Another knock came as he entered the hallway to his front door and Bilbo sped up his feet slapping the floor loudly.

He grasped the handle gingerly with his bandaged fingers and lifted the latch and tugged the door open. Having his hands all bandaged up and throbbing slightly as if fire was lurking under his skin Bilbo wasn't quite in control of his strength and he pulled the door wide open.

"Whoops." He muttered and stepped back to allow the door to swing open before he looked up at the visitor on his doorstep.

"Bilbo Baggins." The voice that haunted his dreams stroked each syllable, each moment of his name as the owner seemingly stood before him.

"It cannot be." Bilbo whispered and his face paled as his eyes drifted over the assembly gathered before his front door. They were all standing still and peering at him with an almost desperate look in their eyes. Balin stood near the front of the group and he furrowed his brow as he looked at the trembling Hobbit.

"I assure you it is." Balin said. "We, the Company of Thorin Oakenshield have come to speak with you Master Baggins."

Bilbo chuckled weakly and looked at the Dwarves gathered on his doorstep. They were all as he remembered them. Bofur with his silly hat and moustache, Bombur seemingly even larger than last time he had arrived at Bag End. Dori with his immaculate braids, Ori still clad in his knitted garments but with more braids and a longer beard. Bifur with the axe in his forehead pulling at the ivy trailing down by the front door, Oin standing near the back of the group a new ear trumpet pointed in Bilbo's direction so as to hear everything going on (Bilbo absentmindedly noticed that this ear trumpet was made of mithril), Dwalin with a few new scars and tattoos visible on his skin but still wearing that grumpy scowl, Balin with his formal clothing and grandfatherly manner. Fili so bright and golden and Kili grinning widely and bouncing on the balls of his feet as if wishing to lunge forward and hug Bilbo. And then there was him.

King Under the Mountain, High King of the Seven Dwarf Kingdoms. Lord of Silver Fountains. King of Durin's folk. Oakenshield.

"Thorin." Bilbo breathed and his eyes roved over the King, taking in the new silver lines in his dark mane of hair, the slightly longer beard, Orcrist strapped to his back, a luxurious fur coat and a desperately hopeful and longing look in those blue eyes the same colour as the pansies that Bilbo wouldn't, couldn't put in his bedroom.

"Aye Burglar. I have missed you Bilbo." Thorin rumbled, his voice caressing Bilbo's name and trembling slightly, not like the other times the King had said his name.

"You cannot be here. I must be dreaming. Yes, dreaming." Bilbo said in a high-pitched and wavering voice.

"You are not dreaming Bilbo Baggins. We are here." Thorin said his brow furrowing as he noticed the swaying of Bilbo's body as he stood next to the front door. The Dwarf King also noticed how thin Bilbo seemed to be, not the portly Hobbit who had left from this very same smial well over a year ago.

"Oh." Bilbo stammered out weakly and his tongue darted out to lick his suddenly dry lips. "Well, I suppose you had better come in."

Before Bilbo could step aside to let the Company in his vision blurred and he felt his breath leave his body and his body tumbled forward.

"Bilbo!" Thorin shouted and lunged to catch the Hobbit before he could hit the floor. The last Bilbo heard was Thorin calling for Oin and the smell of the King Under the Mountain filled his nose as Thorin cradled the small Hobbit to his chest…

A/N: You may have noticed that I've fiddled with the ages slightly but I'm not going to confirm any particular age. Needless to say Samwise and Frodo aren't actually born in the events of the Hobbit book but for the sake of this fic I'm making them roughly around 8-10 years old. Just because it works with the fic.
Please review! Hopefully have another chapter up by the end of the weekend if there's any interest in this fic!