Me: Hello. I hope you like it. This is from a prompt in the Hobbit Kink Meme, though I've quite forgotten the page…

Thorin: I'll have your beard for this – for humiliating my friend!

Me: I'm a girl, King Under the Mountain. I don't grow beards.

Bilbo: Let it go, Thorin…

Disclaimer: I'm a girl, not a man, especially a man that's dead. I'm a girl from the 21st century, and sadly to say, I'm not a time-traveler either. So it's safe to say I don't own the Hobbit.

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It was raining. Again. Bilbo looked up to the sky, irritation and his damn hair plastered to his face. He loved his hair; really he did, with its softness, its honey color, and its curliness. But goodness, his hair covered his eyes as it was doing now and was about three centimeters above his shoulders and that wasn't a very Hobbit-y thing, now was it? and frankly, it annoyed him. How do Dwarrow cope with their hair, much less their beards? At least he was grateful he would never grow stubble.

And now, the blasted rain was making everyone miserable except Bofur, that happy-go-lucky Dwarf with the hat Bilbo found ridiculous, and Gandalf, who wasn't even within the Company, for he had disappeared to 'scout' ahead to make sure the path to his mysterious friend was safe.

The Hobbit looked around at the others and beyond them of course. He had his Elvish letter-opener out, hand clutched tight at the handle, just in case someone attacked him during his shift, despite Oin's disapproval. Bilbo almost regretted volunteering, but Dori still looked rattled after his near fall over the cliff with Ori. However, Manwë seemed to hate them for he sent them the rain.

The Dwarrow looked uncomfortable in their positions but otherwise rested, with the exception of Thorin, who was injured and under the care of their healer, and Dwalin, who simply looked tense with his rigid back and a hand curled on one of his axes. Fortunately, they found a well-shaded clearing before the rain started so they were relatively dry and their resident wizard left them to explore.

Unfortunately for Bilbo, he had gotten wet by straying near the edge and was still shivering from the accursed downpour, despite the change of clothes from the pack he miraculously still had and the fire Gloin made. He didn't complain, out loud at any rate, for he didn't want to wake the exhausted dwarves and have Oin at him.

He sighed, turning his head to the left sharply at a snap of a twig. Bilbo did have the right to be paranoid, with the ordeal of goblins, that horrid flesh-eating creature (he refused to think it was a Hobbit even with the height of the thing) that made a gollum gollum sound, and Azog the Defiler with his pack of orcs and wargs directly after happening not even a day ago.

Whap! The Hobbit hissed in pain as one of his wet locks smacked into his right eye. He rubbed the sting away as he glared at the offending strand dangling oh so innocently in front of him.

Oh, he hated his mane. Yes, mane. A decent Hobbit would never have such messy tresses if they could help it, and Yavannah bless him and all he held dear, Bilbo Baggins was one of the most reputed Hobbits of the Shire and Bree and he could help it! The rain was not helping matters too! Without the proper materials to save his hair, it would be all coarse and frizzy and straggly by morning and his split-ends were the worst of the lot!

Bilbo eyed his sword – to him, a knife for Men and Elves and possibly Dwarves too – and contemplated the advantages and disadvantages. He was getting quite tired of swiping his curls over his ears and it getting into his eyes when it's raining or running from, say, orcs and goblins or when the eagles snatched them into the air and he didn't get to enjoy the scenery from above (though it didn't help that he was pressing his face against the giant bird) or maybe when he was fighting (hah! That was more of a horrible attempt of killing someone!) or sparring with Dwalin. And he rather not borrow any pins and clasps from his companions; it might be insulting to them.

As for the disadvantages… well, he can't think of them now. He was too tired and maybe disoriented. So, cutting his hair off it was.

Slowly, carefully (he did not want to stab his eye out or cut his face), he lifted up his weapon to the front of his face. He had to make do with what he had or risked waking any dwarf up. He couldn't rummage his pack for a pair of scissors as it was all the way across the clearing. Off with his damned bangs. Snip. Then the right side of his mane. Snip. Then whatever was left. Snip.

In three cuts, his hair was the perfect length for a respectable Hobbit, even if it was uneven and slightly longer at the left side and very thick at the top where he didn't chop off his curls. And damn it, he was going to act like a proper hobbit despite his race was months and hundreds of miles away and he shed his respectability away when he went on an adventure, even if it was acting.

Oh, look at the moon. His shift was over. Time to wake up Balin for his shift and go to sleep.

It was a very content (I wouldn't say happy) hobbit who gathered his hair, sheathed his sword, woke up the old adviser and crawled into his waiting , safe and warm sleeping bag, still clutching his hair, oblivious of what the morning would entail.

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Bilbo woke up to the sound of outraged cries. He bolted up, clutching his weapon, and scanned around for the enemies his friends were surely fighting. He found none. Instead, the furious- and sad-looking dwarves were surrounding him, looking like they wanted to murder someone, specifically him.

"Good morning, everyone," he gulped, examining the clearing and ignored the gasps from the younger Dwarrow. It appeared their wizard was back from wherever he was and Gandalf was sitting on a rock, smoking his pipe. He looked at Thorin, one of the two calm dwarves. "What's wrong?"

At those words, Ori, Fili, and Kili broke. They launched themselves at the startled Hobbit, who dropped his letter-opener and the hair he had sheared off the night before in order to catch the Durin brothers on his shoulders and the youngest Ri brother on his stomach and was almost knocked over to the ground for all his effort.

The sight of Bilbo's curls made the three young Dwarves cry harder and the rest looked even more raged if that was possible. In unison, they gave a war cry and stormed off, spewing Khuzdûl and expletives and threats that Bilbo didn't understand; he was too busy comforting the Dwarrow on his person – except Thorin and Balin and Gandalf who had bemused and contemplative gazes.

The only words the Hobbit heard was 'your hair', 'how dare they', and 'I'll kill them'. The three youngsters were also blubbering out words and apologies.

"I'm so sorry, Mr. Bogggins!"

"Why didn't you wake us up?!" Fili shouted. "Aren't we friends?!"

Ori buried his tear-streaked face on his stomach, mumbling, "I thought you trusted us, Master Baggins?"

Bilbo almost panicked. Everything was jumbled to him, having just woken up and all. He could handle crying faunts; why couldn't he do the same to the trio on his lap? But he had never seen them so distraught before, not even when they almost died in the Misty Mountains.

"I do trust you, honest! We are friends, Fili!" Bilbo exclaimed. "And why would I wake you up? You were all so exhausted last night."

They looked up at his words, astonished. Bilbo gulped at the wide teary eyes in front of him. If possible, they looked even sadder and this time a little angered as well.

"Someone attacked you last night, Mr. Boggins," Kili screamed. "They cut off your hair!"

Fili interjected, "They need to pay for what they did!"

Ori just nodded, too choked up to say anything.

The youngest Durin jumped up, pulling Fili and Ori with him. "We'll look for this rukhs shirumund caragu (beardless orc dung), Mr. Boggins!" He started dragging the other two towards the line of trees. Fili and Ori didn't really fight Kili's hold, so it wasn't a struggle.

His brother nodded, calling over his shoulder to the Hobbit, "We'll give you some time to yourself, Mr. Baggins," Bilbo heard him continue as they disappeared behind the trees. "He's obviously still confused. That bastard must have hit him hard on the head. Poor Bilbo."

Poor Bilbo indeed. He was very much confused at the events that just transpired. If you could recall, he just woke up minutes ago, frightened at the cries of his friends. He only had an inkling of what the problem was (how could he not? Kili screamed at his face about it and Dwalin was muttering as he swung his axes about his hair!) and he turned to the ones left in the clearing besides him for better answers – Gandalf, Balin, and Thorin.

"What just happened?"

The wizard chuckled around his pipe. "They are talking about your hair, Master Baggins."

"Of course I know they're talking about my hair!" The Hobbit was annoyed. Couldn't the wizard stop talking about riddles and/or obvious things? He hadn't even had first breakfast yet (he doubted the Dwarrows had any too)! "Why do they look like someone murdered me?"

Balin stepped in. "Ah, that would be because your hair is short, Master Baggins. I assume you cut it before you woke me up, correct?"

"Yes, and I wasn't in any danger at all," Balin and Thorin exchanged glances which Bilbo didn't miss. "What's wrong?"

Thorin didn't look at him as he replied, "In Dwarven culture, Master Hobbit, to cut one's hair means they are shamed or grieving. It could also mean an attack on your person. I suppose the others thought someone else had cut it, as Dwarrow would never think of doing it themselves unless they've done a grave mistake against another."

Bilbo let it sink in before he exclaimed, "But I'm not a Dwarf! Your customs shouldn't apply to me, should it? And why do all of you keep calling me by my last name? You stopped being formal with me since Azog!"

"That is because you are a Dwarf-Friend, Bilbo," Gandalf interjected. "It was official when Thorin hugged you called you a friend at the Carrock yesterday, even if he never said it out loud, it was still insinuated," Both gentlehobbit and Dwarf king grew red at that. "And as you are among Dwarrow who aren't the smartest, they have simply forgotten you are a Hobbit and not a Dwarf."

"And the formality?" the burglar asked dryly as his mouth forgot to water itself.

The old advisor cleared his throat. "When a Dwarf cuts off his beard or hair, Dwarrow call them by their epithet or with the formal 'Master' or 'Mister' to show respect and whatnot."

"Yes, well, I am not a Dwarrow and I have not done a shameful thing recently, so you really shouldn't panic about it," Bilbo said awkwardly, not looking at the two Dwarrow or the wizrad. He was getting a headache and he was getting quite hungry too.

Thorin added, "You should explain that to the other then, Halfling. And next time, don't do it again."

"At the very least, Bilbo, warn us the next time you go off and do this again," Gandalf said merrily, eyes twinkling with amusement.

"Oh, confusticate and bebother the stupidity of Dwarves," the gentlehobbit muttered under his breath while rubbing his temple. He doubted his headache will go way after he tells the rest of his companions. After all, they were some of the worst drama queens he ever seen.

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He was quite right. The missing Dwarrow returned an hour later, all grumbling angrily and had sticks and leaves in their clothes and hair. The explanation made it worse and it took some time to finish with the random outbursts ("You did what, Mr. Boggins?!") but after a while, they settled down with grumblings and curses as they finally had their meager breakfast of nuts, berries, apples from a nearby tree, and some rabbits they've found in their hunt of Bilbo's 'attacker'.

The Hobbit was startled when the Durin princes plopped down on either side of him.

"You know," Fili started. "You could have let us braid your hair for you if it was really bothering you. Uncle braids quite nicely so he could have done it."

Kili added, "He could do it now! Your hair is long enough for a proper braid!"

Bilbo didn't look at the red Dwarf across him as he blushed. "N-no. I-it would be inconvenient for you if anyone of you have to braid my hair every day."

"Nonsense, lad," Bofur cried from the other side of the clearing. "You're our friend after all!"

Bilbo hid his smile as the clearing sounded with 'yeah's' and 'aye's'. He caught the eye of Thorin and the soon-to-be king gave him a small nod and almost invisible smile. Any doubts of being a true member of the Company vanished as the Hobbit relaxed with his friends.