A/N: So I am a little late for Christmas but that shouldn't really matter. This story was originally going to be a little one-shot, a couple of thousand words at most, but my brain ran away and came up with this and it's turned into this behemoth of a story. So all I can say is that I really hope you enjoy it! :3

Note: This is an AU, so everyone lived. Frodo is young but I have no set age (canon timelines wouldn't work anyway) so he's whatever age you think fits. And lastly, Bilbo returned to the Shire 6 years ago and Frodo has lived with him for 3.

This was written as a Christmas mathom for the super wonderful DancingChestnut - my dear, I hope you like it! :D

A Winter's Tale

The looming shape of the Lonely Mountain towered above them, the snow-covered city of Dale lying in its shadow. The city was much changed - no longer was it empty, deserted husks of buildings silent in the wintry air; now it was busy and teeming with activity as the citizens went about their business, Yuletide markets bright and filling the air with the smells of spices, fruit and pine.

The pony Bilbo was riding took it all in her stride unaffected by the hustle and bustle of the town. Bilbo was more concerned for his little nephew, tucked tightly in front of Bilbo on the saddle and gaping around him. It was so new to him, so big, and Bilbo could feel the excitement thrumming through his little nephew. He rested a hand on Frodo's shoulder and the lad turned to look at him with bright eyes.

'Can we buy some gingerbread, Uncle Bilbo?' he asked, as the pony trotted past a stall selling slices of particularly delicious-looking gingerbread. Bilbo chuckled.

'Perhaps later, Frodo,' he said. 'First we need to rest for a while - we don't want you falling off now, do we?'

Finally they reached their host's home: the large, ornate gates of the house Bard now resided in. He was King of Dale now, just as his ancestors had once been, and judging by the prosperity of the city now he was doing a fine job.

However, he was not the King that Bilbo was here to see.

Bard was waiting for them by the gates to his home, a welcoming smile on his face as Bilbo dismounted from the pony, helping Frodo down after him.

'You are welcome here, Mister Baggins,' Bard said, shaking Bilbo's hand warmly.

'Thank you, Your Highness, for your hospitality,' Bilbo replied, returning the handshake before lifting Frodo onto his hip. Now the boy was off the pony, he was leaning on Bilbo's legs as he became sleepy.

'Who is this fine young lad?' Bard asked, bending slightly to smile at Frodo. Frodo looked uncertain, but he didn't hide his face. 'He's yours?'

'In a sense,' Bilbo replied, ruffling Frodo's curls and ignoring Bard's raised eyebrow. 'This is Frodo, my cousin and my nephew. His parents...were in an accident a few years ago, so I'm now his legal guardian,' Bilbo said, fisting a hand gently into Frodo's dark head of curls, a comforting gesture to both himself and the lad; his throat felt tight when he thought of his cousins and their unfair, untimely deaths, even after three years.

'I'm sorry to hear that,' Bard said, a small frown on his face. He rested a hand gently on Frodo's arm before letting his hand drop. 'Oh, but you must come inside! It's far too cold to be standing out here.'

He led them up the large pathway leading to the residence. There were many fires crackling merrily in the grates and it was immediately warmer; Bilbo's fingers tingled at the sudden change in temperature and he held Frodo's hands in his own to help the boy acclimatise more easily.

'I'd imagine you'd like to rest before dinner?' Bard said, smiling as Frodo looked up at the word "dinner". Bilbo nodded gratefully and Bard began to show them up a flight of stairs, a couple of pageboys following carrying their luggage. 'There's warm water to wash and extra layers, if Dale's winter is harsher than you anticipated,' the Man said as he stopped outside a door. 'I hope everything is to your liking.'

'I'm sure it will be, thank you, Bard,' Bilbo replied, a deep tiredness settling in his bones. He stifled a yawn as he felt Frodo sagging against him and Bard gestured for them to enter.

'Rest well, Mister Baggins. Dinner will be served at seven o'clock.'

Wearily Bilbo merely nodded and stepped into the bedroom, gesturing that the pages could leave their packs by the door. He'd sort them later; for now he just wanted to get Frodo to bed. The boy was desperately trying to keep his eyes open, and managing fairly well, but Bilbo knew the glaziness that stole over Frodo's blue eyes when he grew tired.

The bed was Man-sized and plenty big enough for the both of them, with luxurious throws and soft, silk sheets. Bilbo pulled the cover back on one side of the bed and gently loosed Frodo from his hip and placed him on the bed, tucking the covers tightly around him.

'Sleep for a while, Frodo lad, and maybe when you wake up we could see about that gingerbread, eh?' Bilbo said, and Frodo grinned sleepily up at him. Bilbo pressed a soft kiss to his forehead - a gesture he'd seen Primula carry out on numerous occasions - and Frodo closed his eyes, his breathing gradually slowing as he dropped into sleep.

Bilbo didn't get into bed, instead sinking into one of the plush armchairs by the fire, lighting a pipe and gazing into the flames. His thoughts wandered, travelling out of Dale and across the plains and down deep into the mighty Kingdom of Erebor. To the one who sat on the throne, a crown of mithril adorning his head. Bilbo wondered what it would be like to see Thorin again.

Bilbo soon fell asleep, warm by the fire and anticipation curling in his gut.

When he woke, it was half past five and dark outside. Frodo had woken up and was staring out of the window at the lights of the city below.

'Uncle Bilbo, look,' he whispered when he heard Bilbo stretching behind him. 'It's so big.'

Bilbo joined his nephew at the window, laughing gently at the way Frodo's curls were sticking up every which way, and stared out through the glass panes at the orange glow of the lamps and candles down below and the softly falling snow. He hoped the snow wouldn't make their journey the next day too difficult.

Billbo then moved away and ran a bath - there was a fine porcelain tub in the small adjoining bathroom and a water pipe system which looked distinctly dwarvish in origin, and the water that came out of the tap was mercifully hot and soothing. He pulled out a clean set of clothes for them both and a fluffy towel from the pile before carrying Frodo into the bath. The lad resisted at first but when he saw the gentle steam rising off the water he obeyed and quickly got into the water, succumbing to Bilbo's ministrations. Bilbo chuckled and helped Frodo wash, and clean his hair, before towelling him down and getting him dressed in the clean set of clothes.

'Now, go and read your book while you wait for me, alright?' he said, and Frodo nodded before scampering off and rummaging through his little knapsack for his book. It was one Bilbo had written and illustrated for him and since Bilbo had taken him in, Frodo insisted on taking it everywhere with him. Once satisfied that Frodo was not about to get up to any mischief, Bilbo got into the bath and sighed at the luxury of the warm water - something they'd sorely missed during their journey - as the heat soothed his tired bones. When he heard Frodo beginning to pad around next door he hurried out and got dressed, before the lad could break anything.

They still had half an hour until dinner, so Bilbo resumed his place in the armchair and Frodo climbed onto his lap.

'Would you tell me again about the dwarves?' he asked, looking up at Bilbo with his big eyes.

'We're going to see them tomorrow,' Bilbo chuckled, pulling a deep breath on his pipe; but Frodo just looked at him. 'Alright! Well, there was Bifur, Bofur, Bombur...' Frodo joined in as he recited their names. '...Dori, Nori, Ori, Óin, Glóin, Dwalin, Balin, Fíli, Kíli and T - Thorin.' He managed to mask the slight stumble he made over Thorin's name.

'Was Mr Thorin your favourite, Uncle Bilbo?' Frodo asked solemnly.

'What? Why?' Bilbo sat a little straighter in shock.

'You always look away when you say his name,' Frodo said, 'as if you're looking for him. Mummy used to look like that when she was talking about Daddy.'

'Oh! Goodness me, no, Frodo. Thorin's not my favourite. I don't have a favourite,' he said, trying not to show Frodo how discomfited by that remark he was. Yavanna would forgive him for the white lie, surely? He hadn't let himself think like that in years - six years had gone by in which he'd pushed away all those thoughts. He couldn't let them back in now just because he was going to see Thorin again. Besides, he had Frodo now; the affections of a dwarf King were not among his priorities. Even so, he was surprised at how astute little Frodo was.

Frodo shrugged and turned to pick at a loose thread on Bilbo's shoulder as Bilbo continued the story. He'd told Frodo the tale so many times before but the lad never tired of hearing it. At some parts, Frodo joined in, laughing as his Uncle made a funny face or put on a silly voice, until a knock sounded at the door and a pageboy entered to tell them it was time for dinner.

Pressing a soft kiss to Frodo's head, Bilbo scooted him off his lap, picked up the jewel-bright blue waistcoat of Frodo's and put it on him, before following the page with Frodo's hand tucked firmly in his own.

Bard's home was large but still comfy, tapestries lining the walls and soft furnishings everywhere. The page led them through the house to the large, open dining room, where Bard sat with his daughters and son. He stood when Bilbo entered the room and gestured that they should come and sit in the seats on Bard's right hand side. They sat, Bilbo making sure Frodo could reach the table (with the help of a few cushions) and the meal began. The conversation was just pleasantries, as Bard asked if the room was satisfactory and Bilbo praising it - but especially the food. Bard's youngest daughter and son were smiling at Frodo, who eyed them warily and leaned a little closer to Bilbo; but when Bain forwent all propriety to throw a chestnut in the air and catch it in his mouth (earning a disapproving look from his father) Frodo grinned back and immediately shifted closer to them.

Once Frodo was deep in conversation with Tilda and Bain, Bard leaned in a little closer to Bilbo as he spoke, his voice lowering just a little.

'So you leave for Erebor tomorrow morning? I will provide you with an escort, of course.'

'Thank you, Bard,' Bilbo said gratefully.

'It is of no matter,' Bard smiled. 'After all, perhaps your presence will do some good in the Mountain.'

Immediately Bilbo tensed. 'Why? Is something wrong?'

'Oh, don't fear - it is not the gold-lust returning, of that you can rest assured. But Erebor is not as happy as it once was; recently King Thorin has been...withdrawn at our meetings.'

Bilbo frowned and looked down at his plate as his stomach knotted. Was he about to take Frodo into a Kingdom full of political unrest and rebellion? 'I am not sure what good I can do, Your Highness.'

'Oh, you underestimate yourself, Mister Baggins. And surely you know the joy a child can bring? Your young nephew will liven things up, I've no doubt.' Bard tapped his hand lightly as he returned to his food. 'But please, don't worry yourself; I would hate for you to be unrested tomorrow because of a few words on my part.'

Bilbo nodded, but the food wouldn't go down so easily and he struggled to swallow. Erebor was unhappy and Thorin withdrawn? Why had none of the dwarves spoken about this in their letters? A sense of foreboding settled over his heart, but he had no chance to focus on it as Frodo tugged on his sleeve as the dinner plates were being collected and asked, 'Uncle, could we get some of that gingerbread now please?'

It made Bard chuckle and the King of Dale ordered that warmed milk and gingerbread be brought out for the younger ones. Frodo was delighted and scoffed his down quickly - Bilbo sent him a pointed look about his manners - but soon he was becoming drowsy again, his head lolling against Bilbo's shoulder.

After a few more pleasantries with Bard, Bilbo scooped up his little nephew and carried him back to their room. He made Frodo wake up enough to change into his night clothes and then swiftly tucked him into bed before he got cold, pulling the covers close. Not long after he joined Frodo in the bed, holding him close as the snow fell outside in the cold, wintry night.

They woke early the next morning, while the sky outside was a dark, muted grey. Bilbo could see the first rays of the sun turning the easternmost sky a pale, blueish pink as he began his ascent.

He had a little trouble waking Frodo, who clung to Bilbo as his uncle tried to leave the bed and then curled into a ball and clutched at the covers when Bilbo tried to prise them from him. Bilbo had to eventually promise that they'd buy some gingerbread in order to get Frodo to even open his eyes.

With a tired hobbitling to dress, the sky was already fully light by the time they were finally dressed and breakfasted, Bard providing them with the finest fruits and cereals Dale's winter markets had to offer.

The snow crunched satisfyingly underfoot as the two hobbits, well bundled up in many jackets and jumpers, finally crossed the yard to the stables carrying their packs, where Bard was waiting with their well-rested and fed pony already saddled.

'Goodbye for now, Mister Baggins,' Bard said warmly, shaking Bilbo's hands. ' You are always most welcome here - we do not forget what you did for us.'

At Bard's words, Bilbo tried to swallow against the lump in his throat as he returned the handshake, and merely nodded in reply. Then Bard called out and his children appeared, carrying packs which looked deliciously full of food. Tilda grinned at Frodo as she passed her pack to Bilbo, who secured it tightly to the pony along with their luggage and the other food supplies, and when Bilbo turned she was giving Frodo a hug. He smiled at the sight.

But then it was time to go and he lifted Frodo up into the saddle first before climbing up himself. Once he'd made sure Frodo was tucked safely in front of him and wasn't about to slide off, he waved a final goodbye to Bard and his family before he nudged the pony forward and joined the contingent of guards who would lead them to the mountain.

True to his word, he stopped at the already bustling market and purchased some gingerbread for Frodo which mercifully kept him quiet - at least, until they reached the city gates. He was a hobbit, after all.

The journey was a surprisingly easy one, despite the snowfall the night before - it wasn't deep and while the slopes were occasionally a little slippy the pony was sure-footed and navigated the snowy rock well. Which meant all Bilbo had to deal with was the incessant questions coming from Frodo - he had no idea where he got some of the questions from, but he went along with it as his nephew nattered on and on.

But as they drew closer to the Mountain Bilbo's throat constricted and nerves began shifting in his gut, but he pushed away his own anticipation when Frodo grew silent and and leaned into him slightly, eyes wide as he watched the looming gates to Erebor draw closer.

'What's up, Frodo-lad?' he whispered into Frodo's ear.

'It's so big, Uncle,' came the muttered reply. 'And I'm scared.'

'Frodo Baggins. You have met elves, travelled through Mirkwood and been an honoured guest of the King of Dale. You've even lived with your old uncle Mad Baggins. Are you going to let a couple of silly dwarves scare you?' he said softly.

'I don't think you're mad, uncle. But you said the dwarves had weapons and were good fighters. What if they don't like me?' he asked plaintively.

'They will love you, Frodo, I'm certain of it. And if they don't, then they'll have me to answer to,' Bilbo reassured him, protectiveness welling up in him. He reached forward and took hold of Frodo's hands and the lad clutched at him gratefully; it did the trick and soon Bilbo was once more having to keep careful hold of Frodo lest he fall right out of the saddle.

Eventually they reached the gates, as the sun began his early descent down behind the horizon, and after one of the guards from Dale conversed with the sentry at the gatehouse, a great horn blasted and the Front Gates were being opened to receive them.

Suddenly it was Bilbo clutching at Frodo's hand and it wasn't to confort the lad; it was Bilbo who sought comfort from that small warm grip as the pony trotted slowly inside. He was here, he was back in Erebor, and he was going to see his dwarves again.

And Thorin. He was going to see Thorin again.

Quickly he pushed the thought away, remembering Frodo's comments from the evening before, and suddenly all the breath was expelled from his body in a gasp when he saw them. They were standing there in a group in the middle of the courtyard, hustle and bustle all around but all Bilbo saw was the group of dwarves he'd known, that he'd saved and been saved by on numerous occasions.

And when a pair of piercing blue eyes met his own and a set of finely-chiselled lips curved into a small smile, Frodo let out a small "ouch" and Bilbo immediately loosened the grip he'd unconsciously tightened on the boy's hand.

Oh Yavanna, here was here. Thorin was here and Bilbo had no time to compose himself; six years of trying to forget the silly emotions that flooded through him whenever he remembered Thorin's face was immediately nullified with that one look. Six years of denial swept away with a single smile and Bilbo was left breathless.

Their pony and the mounted guards eventually stopped and Bilbo dismounted, helping Frodo down after him, carrying him on his hip as the dwarves came forward. Frodo was getting slightly too big to be carried and Bilbo wasn't usually one for babying him, but if he though it was odd he didn't say anything, especially as Bilbo's grip tightened when the dwarves stood there in front of him, grinning like mad.

There was silence for a moment as they simply stared at each other, Bilbo drinking in the sight of his friends after six long years but deliberately avoiding meeting the gaze of a certain king. But then Thorin stepped forward and Bilbo had no choice but to look at him before the dwarf swept into a low bow.

'Thorin Oakenshield, at your service.' He straightened and smiled at Bilbo, who hastily returned the bow - albeit a little clumsily what with Frodo in his arms - so that he could hide the blush starting to creep up his neck.

'Bilbo Baggins at yours,' he said, smiling, as he straightened. He nudged Frodo gently.

'And Frodo Baggins, sir,' Frodo piped up, meeting the curious gazes of of the dwarves without flinching. His hand was was curled into Bilbo's hair at the nape of his neck, so he was not entirely at ease but Bilbo beamed at the lad's bravery.

Thorin's eyes widened in recognition at the name, and he looked at Bilbo again. 'So this is your nephew?' Bilbo nodded, and Thorin's gaze softened as he turned back to Frodo. 'You are most welcome here, Frodo Baggins of the Shire,' he smiled gently. His eyes travelled back to Bilbo whose heart was thumping wildly, and he shifted Frodo on his hip to hide his discomfort. Then all propriety and etiquette was swept out of the door as the dwarves crowded Bilbo, hugging him (and Frodo in the process), or in the case of the extremely enthusiastic Fíli and Kíli, smashing their heads against his.

When they'd settled down and Bilbo was breathless with emotion and laughter, Frodo whispered into his ear, 'Uncle, I'm cold,' and buried his face in Bilbo's neck. At his words Bilbo realised quite how chilly it was, the sky still overcast and the clouds a dark grey, as if they were ready to start snowing at any moment. He looked apologetically at the dwarves who immediately apologised for keeping them outside in these inhospitable conditions for any longer than necessary.

Thorin ordered Fíli and Kíli to collect Bilbo and Frodo's packs from the pony and lead them to the stable; after a quick word of thanks to the guards with a message of gratefulness to Bard, Bilbo, along with Frodo on his hip, was following his old friends into Erebor.

Bilbo was unsure how to feel about this place. It was his friends' home and where they were happy; it was also the place he'd been hurt, his heart broken twice - before Thorin had lived to (unknowingly) patch it up slightly - enough that Bilbo could pretend it had never been broken but he still would still wake sometimes in the dead of night, chest tight and breath coming in short gasps.

But he forgot all that when he saw the dwarven city. It was humongous, as it had been when he'd seen it before, but if possible it was even larger now it had been cleaned and restored. It was magnificent and Bilbo could only stare around him.

Thorin was walking beside him, insisting that Bilbo take the pace of honour at his side, and Bilbo would have felt uncomfortable if he had not been in such awe. On his hip, Frodo too was gaping at the magnitude of the city and when he looked at Bilbo they were wide and blue. Oh Yavanna, they were the same blue as Thorin's... Bilbo had noticed it before, but it had been easy to forget when it was only little Frodo, cheeks flushed pink with excitement or exertion; but now he had two pairs of brilliant sapphire eyes trained on him, one of which seemed determined to get under his skin, and it made him breathless.

Thorin and the Company led Bilbo and Frodo up to the Royal Quarters, all the servants and maids they saw bowing low to Thorin as they passed. They climbed the stairs, Frodo growing increasingly heavy in Bilbo's arms but he was reluctant to let him go.

'How are you feeling?' Thorin asked, turning to Bilbo, who felt himself flushing at the intensity in his gaze.

'What, sorry?' he asked, flustered by the question.

'Are you tired? Would you like rest or food?' Thorin asked. Bilbo sighed in relief and turned to Frodo in his arms to try and hide his embarrassment. Oh, by the Green Lady, Thorin's gaze was so distracting and he was finding it increasingly difficult to keep the thoughts he'd kept locked away for six years hidden in the face of that piercing gaze.

'Frodo, are you hungry? Or do you want sleep?'

Frodo looked thoughtful for a moment before he decided food was the most important. The dwarves all gave a little cheer at that and Frodo buried his face in Bilbo's neck again before Bilbo could coax him back out. Frodo was getting very heavy now so he whispered softly in the lad's ear before setting him on the ground and holding his hand tightly. When he looked up, Thorin had a strange look in his eyes as he regarded Bilbo.

Suddenly incredibly self-conscious, Bilbo busied himself with straightening out Frodo's waistcoat and jacket. When he looked back up Thorin's face was once more reserved and unreadable.

Thorin and Balin then led them all to the dining room which Dori quickly explained was used for the small, informal dinners Thorin would sometimes have with his old Company. Frodo pottered along beside him, clutching Bilbo's hand as they walked through the stone corridors, still gawking at his surroundings.

They reached the dining room and Bilbo was struck by the sight that met them. The room was decked out for the Solstice, but this was unlike anything Bilbo had ever seen before. Around the room and attached to the walls were gems and precious jewels, all hollowed out and a little flickering candle placed inside, the flame sending little jumping flecks of coloured light onto the walls, which were adorned with rubies and emeralds where the table had clear diamonds casting out a pale orange light. Bilbo and Frodo stared at the sight as the dwarves took their seats, looking extremely pleased at the reaction of their hobbit to the decorations.

A gentle touch on his shoulder made Bilbo jump, however, and he span around to see Thorin, one hand lightly resting on Bilbo's shoulder as he gestured with the other hand that Bilbo should take his seat - at the end of the table, next to Thorin's. Bilbo's stomach was backflipping at the contact but he refused to let it go to his head; he was determined not to blush but it was difficult when their chairs were close enough that Bilbo could feel the heat emanating from Thorin and occasionally the fur on the dwarf's coat tickled Bilbo's shoulder. Bilbo was grateful for the ambient lighting of the room, because he was sure his face was bright red.

Frodo was shy again at the start of the meal, pressing close to Bilbo, but at Balin's kindly wink and Fíli's and Kíli's mischievous grins he soon warmed up to them.

'Do you know who we are, Frodo?' Kíli asked, cheeky grin on his face. Frodo smiled back.

'Of course. You're Kíli - Uncle Bilbo told me you hadn't grown your beard yet.' Kíli scowled a little at that, but Fíli couldn't stop laughing. 'Uncle's told me all about you all.'

'Good things, I hope,' Thorin rumbled from beside Bilbo, and the hobbit had to repress a shiver that threatened to run down his spine. 'There's more to us than just fighting and metalwork.' His voice was unexpectedly soft when he said that, and Bilbo couldn't resist shooting a look at him, but he hastily averted his eyes when he realised Thorin was looking at him with unexpected gentleness.

'Oh yes, of course,' Frodo said. 'He's told me all the stories, and about how happy he was. And he always seems happy when he remembers-' Frodo broke off, a little uncertainly, but Bilbo reassured him with gentle touch to his dark curls.

'I'm glad of that.' Thorin smiled gently at Bilbo, who returned it with a quick smile of his own before returning to his food. Oh Yavanna... How was he going to survive another few weeks of this, if he could barely keep himself in check after an hour in the dwarf's company?

'It is the Solstice celebration in three days' time,' Balin was saying, 'and you will of course be the guests of honour...'

'Will there be gingerbread?' Frodo asked, tugging on Bilbo's sleeve, before clapping his hand over his mouth when he realised he'd interrupted, eyes wide, but the dwarves just laughed, amused chuckles sounding from even Dwalin.

'Of course there'll be gingerbread!' Bombur laughed. 'And marzipan, and fruit cake, and pies...' Frodo's eyes widened in delight when he heard that and he looked at Bilbo with such eagerness on his face that Bilbo couldn't suppress the wave of affection that rose up in him, and he pressed a kiss to Frodo's curls. He could feel Thorin's eyes on him but he didn't turn around, instead smiling down at Frodo and the rest of the Company.

But then Thorin was addressing him formally and Bilbo had to face him as he said, 'there's someone I'd like you to meet.' Immediately Bilbo was alert. 'Bilbo, Frodo, I'd like you to meet my sister, Dís.'

Bilbo jumped to his feet as the Lady Dís walked in; she was the spitting image of Thorin with her dark hair and noble, sharp features, but her mouth was already turned up into a ready smile.

'Hello, Mr Baggins,' she greeted him warmly, clasping his hand. 'My brother and my sons have told me so much about you, it's truly an honour to meet you.'

'And you, my Lady,' was all Bilbo could stutter out, self-conscious as he was of Thorin's gaze on him, but Dís didn't seem to mind as she was already crouching down to talk to Frodo, who had stood when Bilbo did.

'Hello, young man,' she said, and Bilbo could tell she was good with children immediately. Frodo didn't look wary of her at all, instead grinning at the mischievous glint in Dís' eyes. Funny, Bilbo thought, how she could be so cheerful when Thorin was most decidedly not so cheerful... Although, he wasn't doing too badly on that front tonight, Bilbo had to admit.

As Dís made friends with Frodo, Fíli and Kíli joining their mother and no doubt filling Frodo's head with mischief and trouble, Thorin drew Bilbo to one side. He tapped Bilbo lightly on the shoulder (which made Bilbo's heart veritably leap into his throat) and gestured that they should move away from the table slightly.

Thorin's voice was low and husky when he spoke and it sent definite shivers down Bilbo's spine as he tried to focus on Thorin's words, not his lips, and definitely not letting himself think of other scenarios Thorin would be speaking in such a manner.

'Bilbo, I... I know that we did not part on the best of terms-'

'Oh, Thorin - Your Highness-'

'Please, Bilbo, let me finish.' There was a pleading look in his eyes and Bilbo swallowed and nodded. 'I know we parted on barely lukewarm terms, but six years is a long time for a dwarf to think and regret his folly.' He gave a wry smile and looked at his feet. 'Six years have passed and that is six years too many that you have been away from us, although I understand that you had to return home. But Bilbo - I would that you knew that your presence has been sorely missed here.'

He paused for a moment, a frown appearing on his face. For his part, Bilbo was too struck to speak. Thorin had...missed him? Oh Lady, his heart wasn't going to forget that, judging from the way it was threatening to break out of his ribcage when Thorin looked him directly in the eye and smiled. 'I am glad you are back, Bilbo.'

Oh, and if that didn't just make Bilbo grin something silly! He was afraid his heart might burst if Thorin continued to look at him like that, so he hastily looked away, trying to hide the happiness bubbling just below the surface, before rejoining Dís and the boys.

'Bilbo, your boy really is adorable,' Dís was saying, before Bilbo corrected her.

'My nephew, my lady. Frodo's my nephew and cousin.'

Dís immediately apologised, looking a little abashed, but then she paused before she said, 'so you're not married?'

Bilbo stifled laughter. 'No, my lady, I'm not. But I've got Frodo now.' He smiled down at his nephew, who grinned back at him, before launching into a series of questions about Erebor to the boys. Bilbo then moved to talk with the rest of the Company properly, with many more hugs and head-bashing. Bombur and his wife had had another child, while Glóin's son Gimli had grown into a fine lad with a beard to rival his father's and was taking axe lessons from the master himself, Dwalin.

In the corner of his eye Bilbo could see Thorin; he tried to ignore the way the flickering candlelight made the dwarf look younger, turning his hair as black as it had been before the stress of their quest and smoothing out the lines that had imprinted on his face.

When Frodo began to yawn, no matter how quickly he tried to stifle them before Bilbo could notice, Bilbo insisted on taking Frodo to bed, and Dís and Balin showed him the way to their bedchamber where their packs had already been deposited, while Bilbo led a heavy-footed Frodo along until it was quicker to just carry him. When he said goodnight to Dís and Balin at the door of their chamber he was unsure if he should be relieved that Thorin wasn't there, or disappointed... But he irritably pushed those thoughts away (this was getting silly now!) as he concentrated on getting a sleepy Frodo into his night clothes and into bed.

The lad tried to protest weakly - 'it's only just gone seven!' - but when his yawn lasted for a good ten seconds he stopped arguing and leant back into the pillows among the furs, especially when Bilbo curled up in the large bed with him.

It was cold under the mountain and soon Frodo was pressing his icy feet against Bilbo's legs in an attempt to warm them, making Bilbo jump at the contact.

'You cheeky rascal,' Bilbo chuckled affectionately, ruffling Frodo's hair before pulling the boy closer and simply holding him as Frodo's breathing slowed and evened out, feet still pressed to Bilbo's legs. Bilbo looked down at his nephew in the light from the lone, flickering candle, and saw the faint shine of Frodo's eyes as he blinked.

'Uncle Bilbo, what did Mr Thorin say to you that made you smile so much?' Frodo piped up, his voice quiet in the dark room.

'What? Oh. Just that he and the others were glad I was back.'

'He's missed you, Uncle. He looked so happy to see you again.'

Bilbo sat up and looked at his nephew incredulously; he could just see Frodo's outline in the low light, swamped as he was by blankets. 'Honestly, Frodo, how do you - actually, never mind.' He shook his head and lay back down, unresisting when Frodo nestled against him. But Frodo's words echoed in his mind - really, when had Frodo become so observant? He'd already seen through Bilbo once before and now he supposedly saw through Thorin. It was impressive, if disconcerting but not altogether surprising - Primula had always been able to tell when Bilbo was lying, although it was usually about whether or not he'd nabbed one of her biscuits.

The candle slowly flickered out and Bilbo pulled Frodo closer to him before he fell asleep. No doubt the next few days - weeks - were going to be trying, especially as it appeared Fíli and Kíli had not grown up at all in the six years he'd not seen them; and if how emotionally drained Bilbo was feeling then was any indication, the next few weeks of seeing Thorin would also be exhausting. He may as well get what sleep he could.

And in fact, on his first night after months of travelling that he didn't need to be up early the next morning preparing or leaving, Bilbo was able to sleep soundly. He slept like a log that night, peacefully and deeply, if full of dreams of Thorin.