Chapter Text
Bilbo Baggins liked to consider himself a respectable hobbit. He liked good food, good stories, good leaf, and warm beds and wanted for nothing more. Except that perhaps, he did. As the new Master of Bag End, he was considered to be one of the richest hobbits in the Shire. It didn’t matter that the cost came at his parents lives, it was unfortunate, really the others said. Yet they all quite merrily tried to push him from grief back into a more hobbit like mentality.
Being as he was, a respectable hobbit, when he heard peals of childlike laughter in the full midst of some mischief his very hobbit like instincts turned his feet towards the sound. It was the ways of hobbits, you see, to look after each other, and even if Bilbo Baggins of Bag End had been dealing with a most un hobbit like melancholy he still had a hobbit core. That meant stopping the trouble before it really started and taking the young hobbits to their mothers for proper talking to-s.
Bilbo didn’t recognize the rather large children half covered in mud and....honey? Still the hobbit pulled all the maturity he had, hands on his hips stared down at the unusual children, for something was off about them, and stared at them.
“What are you two doing? No, don’t just stare at me lads, up you go! Where’s your mother?”
Bilbo was a bit startled to realize the children were only just a hair or two smaller than him in height. Yet they were very much children with mischevious muddy faces and sticky hands and clothes.
“You see-”
“-we were-”
“-making sure that-”
“-the pots on the cart were secure-”
“-but they weren’t, so we fell-”
“-into the mud puddle here-”
“-and the pot spilled all over us.”
“Mother isn’t here-”
“-she left us in Uncle’s care-”
“-because she had important business-”
“-and Uncle’s working right now-”
“-so please don’t bother him!”
Bilbo felt his neck ache ever so slightly as the children talked as if with one mouth but two bodies. Still he followed the explination well enough, because he was half Took and Tooks always understood when mischief was afoot.
“Very well since your Uncle cannot watch you, come with me. I’m Bilbo Baggins and I’ll make sure you stay out of trouble.”
“You needn’t go through the trouble, Mr. Boggins!” The slightly taller child exclaimed, quite content to try and wriggle out of being watched and to get into more mischief.
“We can take care of ourselves, Mr. Boggins!” The other, slightly smaller one puffed up trying to look responsible. It did not help, not at all, when he was still covered in mud and honey.
“No, I must insist. At least until your Uncle isn’t busy.” And the two children tried to protest, to wriggle and slink away but Bilbo stood his ground. It didn’t matter if the children weren’t hobbits, as shown by their booted feet, children needed watching. And if by the slight wear in their clothes indicated that they were a bit underprivledged, then Bilbo felt that it was even more his duty to watch the children while the Uncle worked. It was the way of hobbits, to work together. And with that in mind he herded the two very dirty children up the hill and to Bag End.
Bilbo, despite being young himself for a master of Bag End, was a sought after care taker. It took some cajoling, and promises of food, to get the two mischievious not hobbits to undress and get into the bath. And when Bilbo had taken the dirty pile of clothes and put them in the wash tub to soak in sudsy water he came back to find the two children not a lick cleaner in his tub. So with all the mastery of a frequent child carer of his unruly Took and Brandybuck cousins, he rolled up his sleeves got a cloth and soap in hand and set to the children with all the vengeance of a mother hobbit.
And when they’d gone through two bathtubs of dirty water Bilbo finally got to guess what the children were.
“Are you dwarves?”
“Of course we’re dwarves! What did you think we were?” The blond one cried out indignatly, curled up in several fluffy towels being forcibly dried by a rather determined hobbit.
“Dirty children, big dirty children.”
“We’re not dirty!” The dark haired one pouted from his own pile of towels, now having the audacity to look offended.
“You were when I met you.”
Bilbo went to his room and came back with clothes. Their clothes wouldn’t be clean til tomorrow, and he was loathe to put the now clean dwarf children back into what would certainly make them un-clean again. They finally were dressed, clean, and presentable. It was then that Bilbo realized that he hadn’t a name for either child.
“I’m terribly sorry! When I introduced myself I entirely forgot to ask your names. You are?”
“Fili!” The blond one said, his head high with pride.
“And Kili!” The darker haired one interjected.
The two children bowed in unison. “At your service Mr. Boggins!”
Bilbo knew the ways of children far too well to know that he couldn’t convince either one to call him by his real name.
“Pleasure to meet you both. Now come with me, it’s time for lunch.”
At the mention of food and that they were to be getting some, the children lit up like stars. It was good to see that dwarven children were just like hobbit children in key areas. Easily manipulated when the promise of food was dangled in front of them.
Bag End had life in it like it hadn’t had in months. There was movement and laughter, the smell of food being cooked, and the sound of more than just a single voice in the large halls of Bag End. Dwarf children were, without a doubt, exactly like mischievous Took and Brandybuck children. Ever inquisitive, ever clever, and always looking to be where they weren’t supposed to. And when the sun began to set Bilbo bundled up the brothers like any respectable hobbit would bundle up a child, and they set off to where Fili and Kili said their Uncle would be.
They led him to the smithy’s place. Bilbo remembered that old Tegrin had taken ill and that the Shire was without a smith while Tegrin recovered. The forge glowed hot and the sound of a hammer was steady and rhythmic.
“Uncle!” The twin voices of Fili and Kili rang out as they ran inside the forge. The hammer stopped and as Bilbo trailed behind the eager children, he could hear a warm chuckle in response to the children’s chatter.
When Bilbo got to entryway, he could hear a low masculine voice very adult voice address the children. “Why are you dressed like that? Where are your clothes?”
“Well we-”
“-you see uncle-”
“I can answer that.” Bilbo piped up.
Three sets of eyes settled on him, two sets sending him identical pleas for mercy while one stared at him with wariness. Bilbo couldn’t help but feel small compared to the dwarf smith, and he flushed slightly under the steady gauging gaze.
“Your nephews,” Bilbo began, without a hint of accusation in his tone. No, it was a bit more like amusement, which he really shouldn’t have at finding two unsupervised miscreant children running amok in the Shire because he was a respectable Baggins of Bag End. Except he was also a very irresponsible adventursome Took in equal measure. “Got into some mischief earlier. Nothing big, but they ended up being covered in mud. I didn’t even really realize they were dwarves at first, and when they told me their mother was away on business and that you were extremely busy and honestly they hadn’t done any harm, I decided to look after them for the day. Their clothes are drying right now, and I’ll return them tomorrow. Ah- I forgot once again to introduce myself. Bilbo Baggins of Bag End, pleasure to meet you ser.”
“Thorin.” The dwarf answered curtly. “Thank you for looking after my nephews. What would you like in repayment?”
Bilbo felt his mind muddle for a moment. Repayment? That sounded so formal and much less like a tiny favor given back or forth like what was accepted in the Shire. He felt a sense of nervousness take hold, his Took-ish backbone fleeing as his respectable Baggins side flailed helplessly. Why did it have to sound so formal? He grasped at something, anything, because he didn’t want money nor really anything else....
“May I....watch them again tomorrow?”
Thorin looked surprised at the request.
“Or really, whenever you don’t have time to watch them yourself while you tend the forge. They’re a delight, really, and I don’t suspect you’d like them running around unsupervised in the Shire.”
“Uncle” The brothers began in unison. “We want to be watched by Mr. Boggins. Plllleeeeeeaaaaasssseeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee.”
A brief, fleeting look of amusement crossed Thorin’s stern and wary countenance. Bilbo could see the moment he relented in the face of his nephews combined plea.
“Very well, Mr. Baggins. I’ll send them to you tomorrow.”
“Thank you, Mr. Thorin. I look forward to it.” And with that, and a little wave to his new charges, Bilbo turned and left the forge. He didn’t think at all about how hard Thorin’s muscles looked with his shirt sleeves rolled up and soot on his skin. He didn’t at all think about the thick wild hair or the intese eyes set on him. No ser, he did not. Bilbo was a respectable responsible hobbit, even if he was considered little more than a child himself, despite being Master of Bag End. And if he was lying to himself about his own thoughts no one knew the wiser, especially since it was too dark to see his blush.