Chapter Text
LET IT BE KNOWN
That the obituary printed in this paper’s death notices on the ninth day of August, 1342 for BILBO BAGGINS, was a PREMATURE OBITUARY that the said hobbit is not deceased, and is in fact, alive. In addition, he asks that the editor print a notice of his marriage, to one Mr. Thorin Oakshield, a dwarf of some note from the Outside. Parties wishing to send congratulations may address post to Bilbo Baggins, ℅ The Proprietor of the Ivy Bush, Hobbiton.
The Editor is also informed by Mr. Baggins of other sundry supposed errors printed in his obituary, which he strongly objects to and wishes to have retracted. Several of the claims cannot be verified at this time, but when Certain Matters are cleared up, be assured that our paper will print a full and fair accounting of the matter.
-Dick Proudfoot, Editor of the Hobbiton-Bywater Weekly Leader
“Certain Matters cleared up!” Bilbo shouted, and shook his newspaper at Dick Proudfoot, who sat across from him, braced against Bilbo’s fury. Beside Bilbo was a large dark haired dwarf, who observed the hobbit with a serious air. At Bilbo’s raised voice, several patrons turned to look at him, but Bilbo went on, oblivious. “Dick Proudfoot! Your father would be ashamed that the paper has become such a rag!”
“Mr. Bilbo, that’s not a nice thing to say,” Dick said.
“Well it’s not nice to print half truths and obfuscation! And,” Bilbo leaned across the table and banged his fist on the table, making the plates jump, “you spelled my husband’s name wrong! And this whole thing- a dwarf of some note- what is that? I clearly told you he is King Under the Mountain! Successful leader of the lucky number company, victor at the battle of the five armies, eagle guest, elf “guest”, slayer of the goblin king, and he who reclaimed his ancestral home from Smaug the terrible!”
“Gandalf slew the goblin king,” Thorin said distractedly.
“Hm? Oh, well. I wasn’t there for that part,” Bilbo turned and eyed Dick with morbid glee, “I was busy then, playing riddles with a cave lake murder cannibal in utter darkness.”
“Oh. My. Word,” Dick muttered, horrified.
“In any case,” Bilbo went on, “I’m quite sure I spent some time detailing my husband’s deeds and reputation.”
“Aye, yes, you did at that,” Dick agreed and glanced nervously at Thorin. The dwarf though didn’t look offended in the least. He looked more interested in the serving staff, bring out plates of food. Apart from that, he would glance adoringly at Bilbo ever so often. “My readers don’t know what all that is about,” Dick said quickly, “I did the best I could, Mr. Bilbo. You know I weren’t trying to slight you, nor you, Mr. Thorin.” Bilbo huffed and sipped his tea. Thorin smiled.
“Alright,” Bilbo said tightly, “but then I want to know why you didn’t print a retraction about the Sackville-Bagginses being my heirs. That is clearly not true.”
“You say that,” Dick said, wincing as he did, “but I was at the Town Hole when Mr. Otho was appointed administrator or your estate. What with you dying without a will and all,” the young hobbit winced at Bilbo’s flush of fury and corrected himself quickly, “I mean! Going off for a bit. And. And. Being intestate. As it were.”
“Intestate implies that I died,” Bilbo said between his teeth.
“Lor' Mr. Bilbo, what do you want me to call it then?” Dick asked testily.
“Horseshit.”
“I can’t print that and you know it.” Dick sighed, “Look here, how is what I print going to make a difference? If you’re all het up about the Sackville-Bagginses owning Bag End now, then going after me ain’t going to make a difference. It’s the Mayor and Town Hole you need to be at.”
“I have been there,” Bilbo said icily.
“You see, Mr. Proudfoot,” Thorin said, turning his full attention to the young hobbit for the first time. Dick tensed under the scrutiny of those dark eyes. “The court will not take any action unless my husband is declared alive.”
“Aye?” Dick said carefully.
“It will be helpful in our case to have a notice of his return and that he will be returning to his rightful home. We need that printed in the legal organ newspaper of the Farthing of Residence.”
“I printed that he come back, didn’t I?”
“You wrote it to be more like a society notice,” Bilbo huffed.
“You got married Mr. Bilbo. That’s what folks will be wanting to know about.”
“It’s a retraction of an obituary. It’s not the same as saying that I am entitled to my name and property and that the Sackville-Bagginses must leave.”
“I printed you was not dead,” Dick sighed and stood, “That’s legal notice. Tis what we agreed on. The other bit- that you are who you say you are and you’ve a right to your name and property, that’s up the courts. Not me. I can’t make them say you have a right to it all. And I sure can’t print that the Sackville-Bagginses have until the end of the month to leave Bag End.”
“The courts are unfortunately, a bit slow-moving with these sorts of things, as I understand it,” Thorin said carefully.
“I’m sorry about that.”
“Oh bother it all,” Bilbo sighed, “I’m sorry I’m being so unreasonable with you Dick. I’m just very frustrated.”
“That’s understandable, sir,” Dick said.
“He worked so very hard to give me back my home,” Thorin said, putting his hand on Bilbo’s shoulder. Bilbo turned to look up at him, “and now, my dear has lost his own.” Thorin turned to Dick, “Perhaps you cannot compel these interlopers from my husband’s home, but I wonder if it wouldn’t be appropriate to give them some warning. I will see him returned.” Thorin returned his gaze to Bilbo and they shared a look between them. Dick was both flustered by the threat and warmed by the obvious devotion between the two.
“Ah. Well, sir,” Dick said, “I think you are better equipped to deliver that warning than I am,” he said diplomatically. “I do wonder,” he added, “if you’ve thought of going to the Thain?”
“The Thain?” Bilbo said slowly, removing his gaze from Thorin with some difficulty.
“Aye. The words of a newspaper hobbit are one thing. The Thain’s another. Maybe he could work up some kind of… proclamation?”
“Oh,” Bilbo blinked. “Proclamation…?”
“I thought the Mayor was in charge of the Shire?” Thorin said slowly, frowning, “who is the Thain?”
“Sort of… a… another ruler,” Bilbo said, distractedly, “Head of the Tooks.”
“Another ruler,” Thorin said slowly, “are there ever wars between them?”
“Of course not!” Nick said disdainfully.
“There was that thing about who could preside over the harvest fair, remember,” Bilbo said, conscientious that he did not misrepresent hobbit society. “Who got to crown the holly king, who makes the first toast at Yule and who at Lithe. And who gets to make speeches at high feast.” He frowned. “I could settle that. Usurp that duty. I wonder if they could stop me…”
“I don’t think I understand.”
“That’s alright,” Bilbo said kindly, “it’s a complicated bit of hobbitry.”
Thorin was silent, pondering this. He took his mug and sipped in silence.
⁂
“You may not have helped your case, stealing that spoon,” Thorin murmured.
“It’s my damned spoon,” Bilbo growled. They were walking down the Hill, heading back to Bywater. They’d made one more attempt to appeal to Lobelia and Otho’s sense of familial fairness. It hadn’t worked.
“Well your cousins won’t be shifted in any case.”
“It would take a dragon to run the Sackville-Bagginses off. And it would be a near thing,” Bilbo grumbled. Thorin didn’t look amused. Bilbo sighed and continued, “But I think an order from the Thain will be difficult for them to ignore.”
“The Thain,” Thorin mused, “I am glad there is someone else to appeal to.”
“Yes. And the Tooks, they’re good hobbits. If anyone will understand going off for a bit on an adventure, it’s them. They should know that I ought not to have to lose my name and property for a bit of… going off.”
“Then I will put my faith in your Thain,” Thorin said slowly, “And pray that he will intercede on your behalf. Our behalf,” he corrected himself. He paused and asked, “Have you met him?”
“The Thain?” Bilbo asked absently, “yes, of course. He’s family.”
“Family?” Thorin paused, “then you’re hobbit royalty?”
“No,” Bilbo laughed, “the Thain isn’t royal. He’s a leader. And I’m not directly in line at all. They consider me very distant. Still,” Bilbo sighed, “I hope that I can expect a bit of help.”
⁂
“I’m sorry, what do you want?”
Bilbo stifled his urge to snap out something incredible petty. Instead he only glowered at old Thain Fortinbras, as they walked together through the Great Smials gardens.
“My rightful name,” Bilbo said.
“You’ve got that, haven’t you?”
“And the property that comes with it,” Bilbo added.
“Oh now, that’s a matter for the West Farthing court of Ordinary, right?” Fortinbras said.
“You know very well it will take them an age, and besides, they’re demanding proof of my identity!”
“So give them proof,” Fortinbras frowned.
“I have! But they refuse to accept my proof.”
“Hm. And you want me to vouch for you?” Fortinbras sighed.
“Yes.”
“But then, how do I know that you’re not an impostor?”
“You know very well it’s me.”
“No I don’t,” he said, “you could be… hm. Wizard figment.”
“What?”
“Your last known sighting was two years ago, two months. The same time that we had reports of a wizard about.”
“That was Gandalf. You know Gandalf. He didn’t do anything.”
“I’ve had all kinds of reports of wizard mischief. I’m thinking of cracking down on it.”
“You’re going to stop Gandalf from doing as he pleases?” Bilbo scoffed.
“It would be better all around if he stopped coming in here and causing mischief,” the Thain sniffed. “Anyway, are you saying that he didn’t change you?”
“Ah. He didn’t. No,” Bilbo said.
“But you are changed.”
“I had some experiences. Of course I-”
“Can’t rule out changeling then.”
“Oh for heavensakes!” Bilbo growled.
“Get me some proof. That’s all I ask.”
“What proof? I can’t think what you might want.”
“Find someone who can vouch for you. That you really are you. Your husband doesn’t count.”
“Why not?” Bilbo asked sharply.
“Didn’t know him before all this, did you? Need someone who knew you before you left, who can ask something that only you would know.”
“Oh,” Bilbo said unhappily. Who could do that? He hadn’t been very close with anyone before he left. Not since his parents died. “... I’ve neighbors. My gardeners! Holman and his apprentice. They might-”
“They would know something about you that only you would know?”
“Hmm,” Bilbo frowned.
“Think about it. Let me know when you come up with something,” Fortinbras said. “In the meantime, you and your husband are welcome to stay here.”
“Well, I do thank you for that,” Bilbo said slowly, “But honestly, you’ve known me all my life. Can’t you see it’s me?”
“No,” Fortinbras said, “I’ve seen a bit of this world, and it’s taught me to be wary. People aren’t always what they appear to be. I’m very sorry, but I’m not staking my word on you. Not yet.”
Bilbo bowed his head.
“Very well.”
⁂
Bilbo stretched his legs out before him on the grass and sighed. He and Thorin were lounging on the grassy field near the east wing of the Great Smials. Children played nearby and someone had brought a keg of ale out, which drew a small crowd of Tooks on the field. Bilbo watched them, feeling vaguely tempted to go and get a mug, but he was feeling too lazy.
“The Thain refused you?” Thorin scowled. Bilbo blinked and drew himself back into the conversation.
“He didn’t refuse. He just asked me for proof. And unlike the Ordinary, I think he means it.”
“What proof does he want?” Thorin asked, still frowning. Bilbo sighed.
“He just wants-”
“Uncle!”
A young hobbit bounded across the green toward them. Bilbo frowned and sat up, letting out a startled cry as the hobbit boy showed no signs of slowing and plowed into him, throwing his arms around his chest.
“Frodo! Lad!” Bilbo coughed and patted his head. He expected the boy to sit up and launch into a stream of chatter, the way he had the last few times Bilbo had chanced to meet the boy at family gatherings, but the young hobbit remained quiet, only holding tight to him. Bilbo glanced over at Thorin, who was looking down at the boy with curiosity. Bilbo patted the boy’s head again, trying to dislodge him, but Frodo clung stubbornly. And he was crying.
“Hey! Young lad? What is it?” Bilbo asked, startled by the tears.
“They said you died,” Frodo said quietly.
Bilbo winced and moved his hand down to pat Frodo’s back.
“Well. I didn’t. Although, that would come as a surprise to certain bureaucratic court systems,” he paused. There was a better joke in there somewhere and though he was tempted to find it, Frodo’s distress was beginning to concern him. Had he really meant that much to the boy? He hadn’t thought so. Frodo was just another one of the little hobbits who had enjoyed the stories Bilbo told of his mother’s adventures.
“Bilbo Baggins has not died,” Thorin said, unexpectedly. Bilbo blinked and glanced at him. “He has returned, triumphant. From lands far, after accomplishing great deeds that are sung of in the Halls of my people.” Frodo’s fists unclenched and he lifted his head, blinking as he looked up at Thorin. Bilbo drew out a pocket handkerchief and wiped Frodo’s cheeks. He frowned again and glanced around the green. Drogo or Primula were usually not far behind Frodo. But neither seemed to be about.
“Is your name Frodo? Did I hear that correctly?” Thorin asked, his voice dropping down into a gentle tone. Frodo clung tight to Bilbo’s shoulder and gave his uncle a wide-eyed look.
“It’s alright lad,” Bilbo said, “this is your uncle Thorin.” Frodo eased, but still gave Thorin a bewildered look. Bilbo chuckled. “We were wed a few months ago.”
“You got married and I didn’t get to go?” Frodo sat back, huffing. Thorin chuckled and leaned into Bilbo’s shoulder.
“It wasn’t a local wedding,” Bilbo said.
“Where was it?” Frodo asked suspiciously.
“We were wed in the ancestral home of the Dwarves in the mountain of Erebor,” Bilbo said, tucking his handkerchief back into his pocket. Frodo looked impressed.
“Will you tell me about it?” he asked, “and all your adventures?”
“Yes certainly.”
“Now?”
“Er,” Bilbo frowned. He could hear some distant sound of a voice calling on the wind. He couldn’t quite make out the name being called, but it sounded like… Bilbo squinted down at his nephew. “Where are your-”
“Frodo!”
The voice was louder now and clear. Frodo went rigid and leapt up, ducking behind Thorin, sending Bilbo a look.
“Don’t tell her I was here!” he hissed.
“Er. Well. But-”
“Promise?” Frodo pleaded. Bilbo winced and glanced back toward the green.
“Now lad, I can’t-” Bilbo began but when he’d turned back, Frodo was gone. “Ah.” Bilbo blinked. Thorin was turned, looking toward a stand of trees, but Bilbo couldn’t see any sign of the boy. They traded looks.
“So. Now you’ve met Frodo Baggins,” Bilbo said.
“A Baggins!” Thorin smiled, “he’s adorable. And he’s my nephew!”
“Congratulations,” Bilbo smiled, at the unexpected happiness in Thorin’s eyes.
“How many nieces and nephews among hobbits do I have now?” Thorin asked excitedly.
“Oh lord. I. I would need to break out the book,” Bilbo said.
“Book?”
“Yes. We-”
“Bilbo!” Bilbo jumped in alarm and turned to see Esmeralda Brandybuck looking down at him.
“Ah! Esme. Hello,” Bilbo sat up straighter.
“Have you seen Frodo?” she asked.
“Hmm… Why?” Bilbo asked.
“He got away from me. And there’s so many Tooks and so much wildness, if I don’t find him now I won’t until someone hauls him out of their mushroom patch.”
“Mushroom patch,” Bilbo said slowly, “he’s taken up fungiculture?”
“No Bilbo,” Esme sighed, “He steals them.”
“He’s just like you!” Thorin cried out happily, taking Bilbo’s hand. Esmeralda and Bilbo both turned sharp looks on him, but Thorin remained unperturbed. Bilbo snorted, too enamored to be stern long and patted his husband’s hand.
“Yes, yes, darling.”
“Bilbo, you didn’t answer my question,” Esme broke in, “have you seen Frodo?”
“What do you want him for Esme?” Bilbo said petulantly as he gazed into Thorin’s eyes. “If Primula and Drogo aren’t concerned about him playing with his Took cousins, then let the boy be. He’s not going to get into too much trouble.” His statement was met with silence that he didn’t notice at once, still too taken up with the warmth in Thorin’s eyes. But when it had gone on long enough to break through he did turn and look up at her. Esme wasn’t looking at him though. She was looking at the grass and her mouth was drawn tight. Bilbo sat up.
“What?” he asked, crankily.
“I thought you had heard,” Esme said slowly.
“I have two years’ gossip to catch up on my dear,” Bilbo sighed, “there are a few things I have not heard. What is it?”
“Drogo and Primula died back in the summer.”
Bilbo froze, staring at the woman.
“Both of them?” he asked in a hushed voice.
“Yes. There was an accident on the River. I’m sorry, Bilbo-dear. I really thought you had heard.”
Bilbo was quiet for a long moment. He hadn’t been close with either of the two, but they had been friendly and bright cheerful presences at parties. And so clearly adored their son. It had warmed Bilbo’s heart on the few occasions he’d taken note of it.
“And young Frodo? Who is looking after him now?” Bilbo asked.
“My husband and I,” Esmeralda said.
“Oh,” Bilbo murmured. He blinked and felt Thorin’s broad warm hand on his back. “Oh.”
“Very sorry you didn’t hear before now,” Esmeralda cleared her throat, “I had best get on. The way Frodo moves he could be in the next Farthing by nightfall.”
“Oh, yes. Of course,” Bilbo said, still troubled. “Good day.”
“Good day,” the woman said and took her leave. Thorin watched her go and then turned back to his husband.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“Hm?”
“For your loss,” Thorin clarified.
“Oh,” Bilbo waved, “I- Well. These things happen. I suppose.” He fell silent. Thorin moved closer and slipped an arm around his back. Bilbo drew in a breath and leaned into the embrace. They stayed on the green until the light began to fade and most of the hobbits left, seeking a meal.
“Bilbo?”
Bilbo blinked and turned. Thorin was gazing at him, his large dark eyes worried.
“Er. Yes?”
“Are you alright?” Thorin asked quietly.
“I’m fine,” Bilbo said. Thorin looked lost and Bilbo leaned in, taking his hand. “I’m sorry. Have I been worrying you?”
“A bit. You seemed to be hiding how upset you are.”
“Oh,” Bilbo chuckled, “I thought I was being obnoxious about how upset I am. I’ve done little but complain since we got into the Shire.”
“What is it? Were you close to the couple who passed?”
“No, not really,” Bilbo said quietly. “Oh dear. You see, it’s just all of it. I come back and this isn’t the Shire I left behind. It wasn’t just me that changed in the interim.” Thorin hummed and rubbed his back. “Bag End has passed out of my hands, and the hobbits who I considered friends have decided that I am at best disgraced, and at worst some kind of impostor. And tragedy struck that sweet child.” He sighed. “But I can’t expect the world to hold still I suppose. And there is the small matter of all that I have gained.” He smiled up at Thorin. Thorin took his hand and reverently kissed it.
“We will find home again,” Thorin murmured. Bilbo touched his cheek and leaned up to kiss him.
“Yes we will.”