Written for the Hobbit Kink Meme Prompt: ho bbit - kin k. livejournal 4373 . ht ml? thread= 8701717 #t12221973

7. Tell me why?

This is painful. Very painful.

Is being healed not supposed to make you feel better? He is being held down by a few quite strong weed-eaters, while Lord Elrond's elven magic is washing through his body. He feels as if he is being torn apart and put together again – and maybe he is, who can tell? – and he distantly hears his own voice, raw and pleading, begging for the pain to stop. The only thing he is thankful for is that the healer had sent the princes away, together with Bilbo and Frowin. They should not see him like this, writhing and screaming with pain.

It seems to take ages until the agony stops, and the elf makes him drink a few disgusting potions, before he sends for Bilbo.

"He should be with you as much as possible," he tells the exhausted dwarf. "That he has retaken the rejection means that your body is no longer destroying itself, but you were full of doubts for so long now – you will only allow yourself to heal properly if you really start to believe again that he loves you."

Bofur gulps. "I'm well enough to recover fully?" His voice is hoarse after all the screaming.

Lord Elrond's face is unreadable. "I could heal enough of the damage that you certainly can survive, but I cannot tell whether you will. This is all I can do at this point, your body has to do the rest."

The dwarf looks away. "How bad was it?" He needs to know, and he is most definitely not going to ask when Bilbo is present.

The healer's eyes are serious. "You would not have survived another day without my help." Then there are running feet, hurried, and the elf smiles. "I shall leave the two of you alone. Send for me if you should need me, I will make sure someone is around all the time."

Bilbo runs into the elven halls of healing, breathing heavily and his feet hitting the floor uncharacteristically loudly. His eyes have found Bofur's bed within seconds and then he is sitting next to him, both of the dwarf's hands between his own fingers, and Bofur only vaguely hears the closing of the door as the elf leaves. However, he could not be less interested in what the weed-eater does, for there are tears in his hobbit's eyes and Bilbo is shaking, trying to hold back the sobs. Bofur wraps his arms around him (he is tired after the treatment, but the exhaustion of the last months has finally left his body) and pulls him close until Bilbo is lying on the bed as well, pressed against the dwarf, his face buried in the chest of the older one, and clinging to his shirt (someone had peeled him out of his coat). The hobbit is sobbing hysterically and Bofur lets his fingers run through the dirty blond curls, trying to soothe him and enjoying holding him close again. Finally.

It takes long until Bilbo has calmed down again, but that is okay. For Bilbo can cry as much as he needs to, as long as he does so in Bofur's arms.

"Where's Frowin?" he asks, eventually, when his hobbit's tears have subsided and his breath is even again. He knows that this stupid huge grin is probably back, the second he thinks about his tiny son. His tiny, adorable, perfect little son.

"He's with Fili and Kili and some elves," Bilbo answers, smiling hesitantly when he sees Bofur's expression. "I hope they'll all be alive when I come back. Considering their races, they might try to kill each other over who gets to hold him. Seriously. But they were all cooing over Frowin when I left, so I doubt that they'll hurt him in the process." He rolls his eyes. "Never leave elves and dwarves alone in the same room."

Bofur chuckles. "Ye should've seen Thranduil and me. After he was done buggin' the princes we actually had a civilized conversation. All night long."

Bilbo raises his eyebrows in surprise. "I find it hard to believe that," he replies, joking, but his words are strained and he is tense, unable to hold the dwarf's eyes.

Bofur feels his heart drop. What- "What is it?"

The hobbit looks away, but suddenly he is crying again and his small fists are striking against Bofur's chest. "Don't ever do that again!" he sobs, looking at the older one with desperate eyes. "I just got you back and I was so happy, but then you were suddenly dying away before my very eyes and there was nothing I could do and it was obviously my fault and Elrond said he wasn't sure whether he could save you and-"

Bofur presses his lips against his hobbit's which effectively silences the younger one. Again he clings to the dwarf, desperate, and kisses him back, fervently, almost painfully. However, breathing through your nose is hard when you have just been crying and they have to break apart soon, Bofur rolling to his back and pulling Bilbo with him until the curly haired head is lying on his chest, the sweet face again buried in his shirt. "'m sorry," he whispers, nuzzling his nose into the unruly locks. "I didn't want to scare ye. I should've come earlier, then it wouldn't 've been so bad. I just didn't want to leave me family. I…" He sighs, and smiles, his arm around the hobbit's torso tightening. "I love ye. And I won't leave ye if I can."

Bilbo flinches, raises his head. "… you could still die," he understands, his words weak and tired. "I thought… Elrond…"

Bofur presses a kiss against his hobbit's forehead. "The fading – it's not just what sleep loss and malnutrition do to yer body. Once ye've reached the eating your body starts to destroy itself. Because a dwarf can go pretty long without eating, although he's not exactly in a nice state afterwards. So, to make it faster, me… organs destroyed themselves. The lung's last, and that's what initiates the breathing. Everything goes pretty fast then when ye've come to that point."

Bilbo obviously is afraid to ask. "Is… did you… your lung…"

Bofur's smile is sad. "Ye would've heard that," he murmurs, relieved that it had never gotten that far. "When yer lungs begin to give up – I probably wouldn't 've stopped coughing, and gasping for air."

The hobbit sighs, and his fingers are playing with a loose thread. "So it wasn't that bad?"

"'t was pretty close," Bofur admits slowly. He does not want Bilbo to know that, but he is not going to lie. "A few more hours and me lungs would've joined the party. I don't know whether Elrond could've done anything then, but as it is, he could. And I'll do me very best to stay with ye."

"You better will!" Bilbo mutters, again shocked to find out how close it had really been. "Is there… can I do anything?"

The dwarf smiles softly. "Be with me," he answers, pressing another kiss against his hobbit's forehead. "And maybe bring Frowin?"

Bilbo starts up, wanting to run for his son, but Bofur does not let go of him.

"Tomorrow," he grumbles. "I really want to see him, but I doubt that I'll be able to let ye go anytime soon."

Slowly, the hobbit smiles as well and looks the dwarf over, his eyes ghosting over the tired but happy face. Suddenly the pale green orbs are sparkling. "… smile?" he pleads, wriggling a little until he is lying comfortably again, head propped up on one arm, and watching him.

Bofur raises an eyebrow but complies, and then Bilbo is beaming and his lips are on the dwarf's face, his dimples, eyes, nose, and then, finally, his lips. He feels his heart rate quicken when his hobbit kisses him out of his mind, so deeply and lovingly that he stops thinking at all and just feels. Everything that had been wrong after the battle just falls back into place, because this – this is so right, this is how it is supposed to be. Bofur loses himself so deeply in this kiss that he thinks he would not have found his way back without Bilbo's help, but who cares?

The hobbit's eyes are sparkling mischievously when he stares right into Bofur's, their faces too close for thinking properly, and murmurs, so that the dwarf can feel the soft, swollen lips moving against the rough skin on his cheek: "Is that helpful?" His voice is too low and too rough for Bofur to concentrate and all he manages to do is nod his head and mutter something along the lines of "very much so" before he captures the younger one's lips again in a breath-taking kiss. Bilbo manages to climb atop him, and he is so close, he is everywhere, and this is torture, testing his self-control.

"One of the elves could come any time," he pants, opening his eyes only to see Bilbo grin.

"So what? It's not like we're doing anything they shouldn't see!"

Bofur whines.

"I don't think that you are well enough for that, my dear dwarf. You probably should sleep."

"Then stop keeping me awake." Bofur wishes he could flip them around and show his hobbit – his, his, his – that he is most definitely well enough to claim him, but unfortunately Bilbo is right. If he is not even strong enough to change their positions this is probably not a good idea at all.

Bilbo snickers. "I'm not keeping you from sleeping." He grins innocently and buries his face in the crook of Bofur's neck, sighing contently.

Bofur finds himself unable to complain because of that adorable little noise. Instead he decides to just enjoy the closeness. For a while he lets his thoughts ramble, until he remembers something Bilbo had said when he had woken up in the hobbit's hole, and asked for the reason. "Bilbo?" he whispers, not wanting to wake his beloved, should he be asleep.

"Mhm?"

"Did I understand ye correctly – if I want to do this properly, I'll have to marry ye before I can… take ye to me bed again?"

Bilbo raises his head, slowly. "… yes?"

Bofur whines once more. "But it's probably going to take ages to organize everything! Do we really have to wait that long?"

For a few seconds the hobbit seems to be confused, but then his smile is beaming and his eyes are shining. "Are you… asking me to- …"

Bofur smiles sheepishly. "I don't know how it's done the hobbity way," he admits and Bilbo smiles as well.

"Well, then why don't you to it the dwarvish way?"

The older one blushes slightly. "… I already did. When… I lay with ye."

"… oh." Bilbo also blushes, but then smiles broadly. "So, by dwarven standards we are already…"

"bound," Bofur helps him. "'tis basically a marriage without a ceremony."

"bound," the hobbit repeats, beaming. "Well, then there's no reason to wait. Apart from your poor health of course." Bofur groans, but then kisses his beloved and moves him until Bilbo's back is pressed against his chest, then wraps one of his arms around the younger one's torso, wriggling the other one underneath his hobbit's head like a pillow, and burring his nose in the wild curls.

"Sleep."

It is almost winter when they finally leave Rivendell. Elrond wants them to wait until spring, but Bofur is more than impatient and he wants to see his family again. His family, who probably think that he is dead. And who have to meet his son, who has already grown quite a bit (like babies do) and has eyes that can make his father do anything (after all they are Bilbo's eyes). No, he cannot stay here for at least four more months, and neither do the princes. Bilbo seems to be fine with whatever Bofur wants, thus they have decided to hurry and try to make it over the mountains before the snow makes a passing impossible.

It had taken two weeks of drinking vicious potions and being with his small family (which had included a lot of conversations that had been too cheesy to ever mention them to anyone) before the elf had finally been sure that yes, Bofur would survive. Which had been thanks to quite a lot of luck. Or rather to the healer's preparations. And Gandalf. As Lord Elrond had remarked – on the side, when looking at his patient once more – Bilbo had stayed in Rivendell on his journey home from the Lonely Mountain to the Shire to have help with birthing Frowin, and had not managed to keep the other father's identity a secret from the healer. (Because Gandalf's meddling is quite often planning ahead. And if the 'general good' is an excuse for gossiping? All the better.) The elf had known that Bilbo's love for Bofur had not dwindled, and that the dwarf would most likely try to come back and be healed, should he make it to the Shire. That he would want to live. Thus Elrond had prepared whatever he could before the dwarves and the hobbit had returned to Rivendell, and only because of that had he been able to help him like he did. Bofur does not think about what could have happened, had the wizard not 'intervened' once again. Anyway, why should he? He is perfectly well now.

After knowing that Bofur would make it Fili and Kili had finally left for Ered Luin, doing what they had come for in the first place, and the others had stayed with the elves. Waiting for their return – which had been long in coming – had given the miner enough time to recover. Unfortunately there had been quite a few problems with orcs along the princes' way and Bofur cannot help but feel guilty, because he should have gone with them. Protected the two boys, like their mother had told him to. However, he knows that he would have been of no help, at least not in the beginning. Still. Now the princes are sporting a few new scars, and maybe he could have prevented that. On the other hand he had gotten to spend a lot of time with Bilbo and Frowin, and imagining going anywhere without them? Impossible.

It has only been a few days since Fili and Kili have returned to Rivendell and Bofur is already urging for them to get back to Erebor, yet, he knows that they are as impatient as he is (although none of them are sure how to face Thorin). The dwarves had sent a raven with a message to the Lonely Mountain, but the animal had never come back and they still do not know whether their family had received the letter or not; and the Lord of Rivendell is reluctant to send another bird, maybe to its death.

It has been easy to talk the others into leaving quickly, despite Elrond's advice to wait, and now they are finally on their way. Home.

Bofur chuckles softly.

The always-present smile is back on his face (which very often earns him affectionate kisses, his dimples seem to make Bilbo do anything) and he is again the cheerful soul he is supposed to be. He can think about those painful months when he had been fading without any dark thoughts now, and everything is perfect (apart from the problem with Thorin). Because he has an adorable son. And an even more adorable husband. And they are finally going home.

He smiles affectionately at the bubbling sounds coming from his son's mouth, who is bound to Bofur's back this time and seems to be enjoying the ride. Fili and Bilbo are riding in front of him, Kili in the back, and they are already well into the mountains. It is cold, but Bofur has made sure that Frowin and his hobbit are warm and he is a dwarf, he is used to it. (Although, as he reminds himself happily, there is no need to be used to wandering and sleeping on the floor any longer, for he has a home now, a home he can enjoy.)

The hobbit turns around every few minutes, only to find his husband's eyes glued to him (which usually goes along with an adorable blush covering his cheeks) and Bofur remembers that night, after Elrond had told the others that he would survive. He thinks that this memory alone will always manage to make him happy, somehow. Because there is no way of forgetting what it had felt like, Bilbo's warm body pressed against his, being close, so close, and knowing that this was the first night of many following ones, nights spent with his hobbit in his arms and no bigger problems than the time they would have to rise in the morning.

Bilbo is still breathing heavily, and so is Bofur. The dwarf lets his fingers run through the younger one's hair, who raises his head and smiles tiredly.

"Bofur?"

"Mh?"

"What are we going to do now?"

And Bofur thinks about starting a tickle-attack, as punishment for ruining the moment, but manages to contain himself. "Now? Well, if ye aren't too tired-"

The hobbit rolls his eyes. "Not now-now. In-the-next-weeks-now. I mean, we'll be staying here until you've recovered completely and the boys are back from the Blue Mountains, but after that?" He sounds a little insecure.

Bofur sighs. He is not sure whether he can ask of Bilbo to come back to Erebor with him. And although he will miss the other dwarves, he will go wherever the hobbit goes. The Shire is nice, right? And the pantry in Bag End is even nicer. "I'll come with ye. Just say where."

Bilbo smiles affectionately. "I miss the others," he says hesitantly. "They're like family to me. And I also have family in the Shire, but no one I'm as close with as I was with the company. And I… after I came back I cut myself off from most of the other hobbits. Having a bastard child, and one that's half dwarf at that…" He looks away and Bofur tenses when he hears the words bastard child. His Frowin is not going to be called that! (Half-breed will be bad enough.)

Bilbo sees the anger in his husband's face and his smile returns. "Can we go to Erebor?" he asks, bluntly.

Bofur chokes. And beams. "If… if ye really want to?"

"Of course I do. Like I said, the others are family. I just got Fili and Kili back, and I don't think I could let them go again. And if we go to visit the Shire every once in a while… I want Frowin to at least know the land I'm from. But we can raise him in Erebor. If… if the others will accept him?"

"The company will," Bofur reassures him. "I'm not so sure 'bout the other dwarves, though."

Bilbo sighs and his smile is sad. "We'll see," he decides. "That is… if Thorin lets me come back."

"He will," the older one growls. "And if he doesn't – I know twelve dwarves who want ye to come home" the word draws a single tear from the hobbit's eyes "and have some very convincing arguments." He knows that Bilbo understands what 'dwarven arguments' are, after travelling with them for so long. "And, of course, there's also Dis. She'll just convince him until he agrees, if need be."

The younger one chuckles and raises an eyebrow. "His sister?"

"Oh yes. Never underestimate her. If there is one who can threaten Thorin into doing anything, it's her."

Bilbo snickers and Bofur buries his face in the soft curls, humming contently and holding his hobbit close.
They will be going home.

Travelling is easy with that memory in mind. And with Frowin babbling softly, warm underneath the endless layers of his father's clothing. Bofur smiles fondly and gives Bilbo a broad grin, which earns him an affectionate kiss. (The dimples?)

Fili and Kili are snickering and waiting for them to continue. "Don't fall off your pony again, Bilbo!"

The hobbit blushes and breaks away, and Bofur laughs with the two younger dwarves.

Until he hears the howling.

Bofur's mattock is crashing into the head of the orc who dares to try and come close to the child still bound to his back. He knows, he probably looks dreadful right now, bloodlusty as he is, and he cannot help but be glad that his son is still so young. That Frowin will not remember his father like that.

However, there is no time to think about it, for a warg is trying to sneak upon Bilbo – who is currently standing his ground against another orc, with that letter opener of his glowing sickly blue – and he knows that the princes will have his back when he launches himself on the attacker. No one touches his hobbit.

The screams of pain, coming from wounded orcs, mix with the cries of a young child.

Thranduil is a bugger. Seriously. Still, Bofur cannot help but like him. Somehow. (Because he knows now that the arrogant elf can also be very nice and helpful. If he wants to. Which he usually does not. But anyway, he is obviously only insulting them because it makes the two princes fume, which is rather amusing. Even for him and Bilbo. So he lets the weed-eater have his fun.) None the less he grants them a safe passage through his lands once again, and it is not long after they have left the edge of Mirkwood that they reach Laketown.

The sun has already set, but Fili and Kili press on, not wanting to delay their departure any further. They are almost home, why wait for the morning? It would not be the first time they have ridden through the night. Still, Bofur would not mind delaying their arrival for another day.

For as much as he wants to see his family, he still has no idea how to face Thorin. And he does not even have to look at his hobbit to know that Bilbo feels the same way.

Yet he does not speak up and they ride on. He has kept the princes from their mother long enough; he will not keep them any longer. He looks at his husband, who is riding beside him, and smiles affectionately. "C'mon," he murmurs, softly. "Let's go home."

Bilbo smiles back at him and nods, reaching out his hand and letting his fingers run over Frowin's barely recognizable forehead. The child is hidden beneath Bofur's coat again (because, let us be honest, the dwarf is the better equestrian), sleeping soundly, the flushed cheek resting against his father's back. When the hobbit pulls his hand back Bofur takes it, squeezing the smaller fingers gently. "It'll be fine," he whispers. "Thorin won't kick ye out." He has to admit he is not as sure about that as he tries to appear, but he knows that at least Bifur, Bombur and the princes will be quick to help him fight for Bilbo's right to stay.

The hobbit's smile is a little lopsided, but warm, and they follow the road holding hands for the next few minutes. The princes exchange a few amused looks, but do not say anything on the matter. However, they get impatient soon enough and Bofur lets go of his husband, running his pony to a canter. Frowin is still sleeping.

It is well past midnight when they reach the huge statues flanking the big gate.

Then they enter the blaze of the guards' torches and immediately there is an enormous uproar, those dwarves who are on nightshift trying to take care of their ponies and to inform the rest of the company – "Don't wake anyone!" – and asking thousands of questions, whether they are alright, where they had been for so long, are the princes okay?

Bofur is ridiculously thankful when Dwalin steps into the huge and unfamiliarly empty hall – they have been ushered into the mountain – and his face is as dark as his voice is thunderous. "What in Durin's name is going on here?"

The other dwarves fall silent and, after taking one single look at the warrior, return to their tasks without hesitation.

Dwalin gives the princes a crooked but relieved smile. "We were already worrying greatly. You were gone far longer than expected, and we sent ravens to you and the Blue Mountains, but none returned. Thorin was already close to ignoring Erebor's politics and sending half of the company after you."

Thorin.

Fili's countenance is stony. "We had to stay in Rivendell for longer than we wanted," is all he says on the matter. "Is uncle already asleep?"

Dwalin shakes his head. "I doubt it, and your mother'll probably still be awake as well. Come on, I'll take you to them."

Kili turns around and looks at Bofur. "Are you coming with us?"

It is only then that Dwalin sees the miner and the hobbit, and the surprise is clearly written across his face. "Bofur?"

The dwarf with the flap-eared hat smiles. "The one and only," he jokes.

Dwalin actually smiles a real smile, broad and happy – one of those smiles usually only Ori ever gets to see. "We didn't think we'd ever see you again," he says honestly, and Bofur feels Bilbo flinch next to him. Again he takes the hobbit's hand. With two big steps Dwalin is standing in front of the miner and he knocks his forehead against the younger dwarf's, like he had done when he had left the Lonely Mountain for the Shire. "You should look after Bombur," he warns. "He's already in mourning. We were wondering why Fili and Kili didn't tell us, but we all knew that you hadn't had much time left."

"We sent you a raven," Fili chips in. "That he was going to be okay, and that Bilbo was with us. But we never got an answer."

Dwalin knits his brows and his eyes are dark. "We'll have to discuss that matter with Thorin. But he'll be wanting to fuss over you first." He then turns to Bilbo. "Good to see you again," he says and nods, before he turns around and heads towards the royal quarters, his pace fast and edged.

The princes exchange a look before they trail him, Bilbo and Bofur following their example. Bofur has not let go of his hobbit's hand.

Frowin is still sleeping.

Dwalin does not talk while leading them through the silent, empty galleries, however, Fili and Kili do not keep quiet. (They never do.) Chattering away happily they make night-time Erebor a little less eerie for Bilbo, who is almost crawling into Bofur's side. And Bofur understands, he really does, because he remembers waiting in front of a hidden door, knowing that his love was alone with a dragon in a huge mountain he did not know, dark and confusing and scary, and how freaked out the hobbit really had been when he had come back, telling them about Smaug's weakness. He also remembers the crazy gleam in Thorin's eyes. Thus he wraps his free arm around Bilbo's shoulders and holds his shivering husband close, brushing his lips against the smooth skin of the younger one's cheek.

They reach the King's quarters within a few minutes and Dwalin barely takes the time to knock before he enters, pulling the princes along. Risking a glance Bofur sees Thorin and his sister rising from comfortable armchairs in front of the fireplace, surprise clearly visible on their faces.

Then Dis is running toward her sons, flinging her arms first around the younger one's neck and then around Fili's, her eyes roaming their bodies, looking for injuries. And with the talented eye of a mother who should not see something she immediately finds some of the new scars and her eyes grow dark and dangerous.

Bofur pulls Bilbo into the room and closes the door behind them. Maybe now would be a good time to intervene?

However, before he can say or do anything Thorin's eyes have fallen upon the unusual couple and something very rare happens: The King under the Mountain is left speechless. Then a genuine smile lights up his features and he hurries towards them, one arm falling heavily onto Bofur's shoulder.

"You are alive," he says and his voice is raw with emotions. "I thought… I am really sorry. We… I hope that you will hear me, so that I can tell you my reasons. They are not an excuse for what I have done, but maybe you will understand me better and accept my apology. I know that I do not deserve your forgiveness." He bows his head, addresses Bilbo directly. "I have already voided the banishment, shortly after Bofur left for you. I should have done so much earlier, I know that, and I regret making you suffer. Both of you. You will always be welcome in Erebor, Bilbo Baggins of the Shire, as you deserve. After all you are the one who has given my kingdom back to me, and my family – a family you are part of." Then he looks around, squints his eyes. "Where is-"

"Frowin," Bilbo helps him, obviously understanding what the king is looking for, his words crisp and cold.

"Frowin," Thorin repeats and actually smiles again. For a second his eyes stray towards where his nephews are standing with their mother, then he turns around. "You know that by dwarven standards the two of you are bound?"

"I do."

"Your son will always have a home here," he promises, sincerely. "However, I cannot guarantee that he will not be confronted with the prejudices of others living in this mountain."

Bilbo nods. "We know," he says, and then turns to look at Bofur. "Maybe you should go, wake Bombur and Bifur? I'm sure they want to see you."

Bofur smiles fondly. "Ye're right," he murmurs, and pecks the younger one on the lips. "I'll go, bring 'em here."

Thorin bows his head once more. "A good idea," he agrees. "I will send Fili and Kili for the rest of the company, they will be most excited to see you. Unfortunately Dwalin will have to return to the guardhouse, he is on duty tonight and responsible for all the other guards." He then turns around and walks towards his nephews, leaving the two alone.

Bofur smiles and pulls Bilbo into an embrace, burying his nose in the soft curls. He knows that the younger one blushes in that adorable shade.

"Bofur!"

"Aye?"

"What are you-"

"Huggin' ye," Bofur interrupts him, grinning fondly.

"But why-"

"Because I never get enough of that. But if ye don't want to hug me back – I'll go, find me brother and cousin." With that he lets go of his hobbit and, after a last grin over his shoulder, makes towards the rooms of Bombur.

Frowin is still sleeping.

He is shocked when he sees his brother.

Bombur has lost quite a lot of weight, and his eyes are red and puffy. When he sees the older one he turns around, shakes his head and murmurs something about dreaming. Bofur takes his battlespoon, which is leaning against the wall, and lets it collide with the back of Bombur's head. Softly, of course. (The dwarven softly.) The red-haired dwarf whips around and throws his arms around his brother's neck, sobbing heavily and nearly crushing the child on his back. Bofur hugs him back and lets him cry, holding his own tears back. The last time he had been with Bombur he had thought that he would never see him again.

"We sent a raven," he whispers. "'t never came back and we didn't get yours. Dwalin told us 'bout 'em."

Bombur snuffles and draws back, smiling hesitantly. "It's good to see you," he says, his hands still on Bofur's shoulders.

Bofur returns the smile, all brilliant and dimples, and considers telling him about Frowin, but no – he will wait until he is back with his husband, and the rest of the company is there.

"Bilbo," Bombur suddenly asks, as if he had been reading his brother's mind, "what 'bout him?"

"He's here with me," Bofur beams and Bombur's smile is kind. Understanding. He turns his head and looks at the door to his bedroom, where he knows his wife is waiting for him.

"Give me a second," he murmurs, "I'll go get dressed and tell her where I'll be, then I'll come with you, get Bifur." He all but runs into his bedroom and Bofur hears a few whispered words, then the younger one is back, no longer wearing his night clothes. "Let's go."

Frowin is still sleeping.

Bifur's reaction is a little more painful than Bombur's. He punches Bofur into the jaw, but then his forehead crashes against his cousin's and he is muttering soft words in Khuzdul, telling the younger one how happy he is to see him. Bofur carefully touches his jaw and smiles crookedly. It is going to bruise, but he can handle that. His hobbit is the one who cannot.

"Ye'll have to explain that to Bilbo," is all he says on the matter, his eyes sparkling. Because he knows that his cousin did not mean to hurt him. Just to make sure that he is real, for Bifur has experience with hallucinations. Thinking about that it is easy to forget the pain in his jaw.

They return to Thorin's rooms then, Bombur's hand never leaving Bofur's shoulder, and so far neither of them seems to have seen the small boy strapped to his back. Which is a small miracle. But they can be forgiven that, really, for they have just gotten the family member they had thought lost back, and there is nothing else on their mind.

The three of them find Thorin and Ori waiting for them, Dis having gone with the boys, and Bilbo sitting in a corner, as far away from Thorin as possible.

Bofur smiles at him and motions for his husband to join them. The hobbit complies and seconds later finds himself in a bone crushing hug, when Bombur wraps his arms around him.

"'m glad you're here," Bofur hears his brother whisper and he sees Bilbo's relieved smile. Bifur's slap on the hobbit's shoulder is almost as bone crushing as the hug, and most definitely as well meant.

Then Ori has managed to thrust everyone else aside and flings his arms around Bofur's neck, also barely missing Frowin, trying to hold back the tears. "I thought I'd never see you again!"

Bofur smiles apologetically. "Well, here I am." He pats the younger dwarf's back slightly awkwardly – it is a good thing that Dwalin is on duty – and gives the scribe time to calm down.

Ori is slowly pulling back and looking at him with big, round eyes, when the rest of the company burst into the room, all of them talking and hugging Bilbo and making a racket, as always, and it is loud.

And then Frowin is no longer sleeping.

When the cry of the child breaks through the air all of the others fall completely silent. Bofur turns his back into Bilbo's direction and the hobbit skilfully fishes their son out of the sling, cradling him and trying to calm the boy down, whose face has taken a remarkable shade of red by now.

Everyone turns to look at the miner.

Bofur raises an eyebrow.

"Whose child is it?" Gloin asks, squinting his eyes.

Bofur knots his brows. "Mine." His voice is dark. Whose else?

"But… - how? Nori chips in.

The dwarf with the flap-eared hat huffs. "I surely don't have to explain that to ye?"

Nori rolls his eyes. "Of course not! But the age can't fit, and he's a hobbit – and a male one at that!"

"Hobbits' pregnancies are shorter than dwarves'," Fili, who had been asking exactly the same question a few weeks ago, explains. "And, obviously, males can carry children. How a dwarf and a hobbit can have a child together? Not even the weed-eaters have an idea."

Bofur darts the blond prince a thankful glance and sighs. This is going to be a looooong night. He can tell that everyone has a whole lot of questions, and they all want to welcome him back. From the corner of his eyes he sees Bilbo retreat into his quiet corner, still cradling Frowin and humming a lullaby. The affectionate smile is not long in coming and he decides that he can face the probably very loud and very chaotic discussions that are going to come, if it gives his husband and son some rest. And anyway, this is family here.

Thorin is leaning against the railing, forearms resting on the strong stone, and staring into the night. "I did not think that he was your One," he says, honestly. "I figured that you had wanted to share some closeness on the road, and that Bilbo had been seeking it as well, being the outsider. When he told me that he was with child… well, I could not think clearly back then, and neither when I nearly killed him. But I could later on, during the battle, and afterwards. I knew that it had been him who had saved me. I knew that I should have voided the banishment. However, I…" He closes his eyes.
"I have seen a half-breed child before."

Bofur gasps for air.

"He was half dwarf, half human, and my brother… he was the father. When the girl came, saying that the babe was Frerin's son… grandfather was raging. Everyone who knew had to swear to their life that they would keep it a secret; and the child was… grandfather told Frerin to 'get rid of it'." His voice is dark and bitter. "He said that my brother had brought a terrible shame upon the line of Durin, and that no one could ever find out. Because we dwarves are a proud people, and we do not mix with other races." He huffs.

Bilbo clears his throat.

"Grandfather also made sure that the girl would never come close to any dwarves ever again. She was not Frerin's One, thus he could deal with her as he wished without hurting him. I have no idea what happened to her, and I doubt that I want to know. After that was done just… forgot the matter. Never talked about it ever again. However, from then on I listened closer to the rumours among the cityfolk, they always know more. I… I heard about at least four families who had been banished from Erebor for lying with someone of another race. Grandfather never talked about the topic, and neither did anyone else, but if you know where to look…" He finally turns around, looks at Bilbo and Bofur who are standing behind him, listening.

"I wanted to spare you the shame. Because I do not care who you love as long as you are happy, but while I am the King… I cannot tell my subjects what to think. I figured that Bilbo would have less problems in the Shire, because hobbits are so much less radical than dwarves in many things, and that not voiding the banishment would make it easier for everyone. It was hard for me, sending someone who is family away and knowing that they thought I hated them, but I really believed it to be best. I am sorry." Again he closes his eyes, turns his face away.

Bilbo takes a deep breath. "Why didn't you tell Bofur, when you realized that I was his One?"

Thorin laughs, bitterly. "We only found out that day the speaking had come upon him. Not many dwarves last more than a few weeks after that. I did not think that he would ever reach the Shire alive, and only telling him what you had told me would not have been enough. He had to hear it from you. I… we are all family now. And I could not send him away, knowing that he would probably never come back, when he could also spend the time with us. With Bombur and Bifur. It was a little egoistic, but every time I looked at Bombur… I knew that I could not take those last days he could have with his brother. I know that watching a fading is terrible, even if I only saw glimpses of my mother's pain. I knew what watching Bofur wilt away would mean to us – but I could not let him die somewhere on the road, alone, instead of with his family." His smile is sad.

"I have caused both of you a lot of pain. However, I never wanted to do that." Thorin shakes his head. "I already said that I do not ask for your forgiveness. I just hope that you will accept my apology, now that I told you my reasons."

Bilbo's smile is a little watery. "Apology accepted," he murmurs.

Bofur cannot help but smile as well – his lovely, sweet, too-good-to-be-true Bilbo – and nods. "And we've already forgiven ye," he says, knowing that his hobbit feels the same way. Thorin had only ever wanted to help them, he did not deserve any ill feelings for it. Not now, that they are back together.

Bilbo nods eagerly and his smile grows when he sees the surprise in Thorin's eyes. "Come on," he smiles. "It's cold out here. Let's go and rescue Frowin."

Bofur chuckles. Indeed, maybe they should save their son from the princes' love. They adore him, maybe even a little too much. "I'll stay here just a little longer," he says, smiling at his hobbit. "I'll come find ye in a few."

Bilbo nods, grabs the King's forearm and simply pulls him into the mountain.

The miner watches them leave before he turns around and stares into the night himself. The bright roofs of Dale are shining in the light of the almost full moon and in the distance the stars are being reflected in the dark water of the Long Lake. He thinks about bare feet on the floor of his rooms and small hands busy with pots and bowls, and the cry of a young child echoing in the company's room. And he also thinks about the tiredness in Balin's eyes, and the emptiness in Dori's. Life is not easy, he knows that, but with Bilbo by his side he can take anything. Even if it means hiding mirrors and a few selected books or paintings and staying awake all night, in order to help a friend. Even if it means losing some members of the family he has found on the road forever. Even if it means that it hurts.

Because that's life.

And as long as it's life with Bilbo it's all he could ever ask for.