Chapter Text
In deference to the cold and snow, Bilbo made the trek back to Bag End in his fur. He wasn’t the only hobbit to return home in such a state, he knew, following the Thain’s recommendation that they make use of their second forms in order to preserve what resources they could. Winter had settled into the land sooner than usual, leaving much of the Shire unprepared for the season. They gathered and pooled what fuel and food they could, but the growing snowdrifts suggested the relief of spring would be a long time in coming.
Despite the foul weather and worrisome tidings, Bilbo found himself in a fairly pleasant mood. At least he could do something in face of this growing emergency. In the months following his mother’s death he’d had little reason to make it out of bed; now he supported the Thain in supervising resource requests and doing whatever he could to ensure every family had enough to get by. Things could be worse, he thought, and there was no better feeling than that of being useful.
With these thoughts on his mind, he did not notice the figure crouched beneath his kitchen window until he had nearly reached the door. Immediately it was clear that this was not a hobbit: he could see sturdy leather boots and their tracks in the snow. It was also immediately clear that this stranger had not been expecting anyone to come by. He gave a muffled shout in surprise when Bilbo shifted and approached him.
Hobbits were notoriously silent on their feet, whether they tread on two or four.
“Can I help you?”
A less well read hobbit might have pegged this stranger as a child of men. Bilbo was quick to notice the golden scruff on the sunken cheeks before him and knew otherwise. A dwarf! Why he had never seen a dwarf before, let alone one as young as this dwarf seemed to be! His height was nearly up to Bilbo’s chest and he was much thinner than one might have expected, even with the many layers of fabric and bedraggled cloak he wore. He had a very nervous look in his eye and Bilbo was quite sure he wanted to bolt.
Well that wouldn’t do at all. If there were dwarves in the Shire then the Thain needed to know about it, and if this dwarf was on his own, he couldn’t possibly leave him out to fend for himself in this weather! No respectable hobbit would abandon a child, even if it was a child of a different race.
As the dwarf had not yet replied, still shocked by Bilbo’s sudden appearance and obviously attempting to come up with some excuse for lurking beneath the window, Bilbo stepped forward and offered him his hand.
“Bilbo Baggins. Won’t you come in for a spot of tea?”
It became immediately evident that his young guest was unfamiliar with hobbits. He was quite surprised by Bilbo’s invitation and refused to take his hand, but followed him inside all the same. When Bilbo tried to take his lumpy cloak and hang it to dry the boy refused, clutching it closer. He did at least remove his boots, after some insistence, and once inside stared at everything he encountered, from the cluttered and homey contents of Bag End to Bilbo himself. In fact, he was still in the entryway staring when the kettle boiled and Bilbo had to go and fetch him.
“Take the seat closest to the fire,” he urged the lad, bustling around as he prepared their tea and served the sandwiches he had hastily pulled together. “There we are. You look a fright, you know, lips nearly blue from the chill! I’m sure your mother is worried sick.”
He expected an explanation at that point, but one wasn’t forthcoming. The dwarf child ensconced in his arm chair devoured the nearest sandwich with an astonishing ferocity and watched Bilbo with a wary expression. He hadn’t said a word thus far, not even his name, and if Bilbo was honest with himself he was getting a bit worried. Perhaps this had been a terrible idea after all.
The sharpness of the boy’s cheekbones reassured him otherwise.
“Why don’t you tell me your name,” he suggested in a gentle tone. “I’d like to help you, you see, and that would be easier if I know who you are.”
For a brief moment he wondered if the dwarf even understood him. What was that language the dwarves spoke? Khu-something? His heart sank, imagining the boy’s distress at being lost and alone, unable to communicate. But the dwarf didn’t seem overly distressed, really. His primary emotion seemed to be distrust. When he finally opened his mouth, it wasn’t to answer Bilbo’s question.
“How come you have a wolf but you’re not a dwarf?”
The question startled a laugh out of Bilbo, as it was so far from what he had expected. It isn’t useful in the least, either, only confirming his suspicion that the boy has no knowledge of hobbits.
“Dwarves are not the only race with a wolf form,” he told his young guest. Out of nerves he picked up his own cup of tea and took a sip. “It is said that the Green Lady Yavanna gave that form to all the small folk, dwarf and hobbit included.”
The dwarf did not reply to that, reaching quickly for another sandwich and devouring it as he had the first. It was a good thing Bilbo had baked that morning. His young guest had quite the appetite.
“Why’re you feeding me? You’re not a dwarf."
Bilbo did his best not to wince at the spray of crumbs. “No, I am not a dwarf, lad. But I am a reasonable person and you looked to be needing help. Well… you looked to be about to steal my silver, but I assume that was just because you need help and didn’t want to ask for it.”
“Uncle says not to trust strangers,” the dwarf said softly. He curled up more in the chair, tucking his feet beneath him as he reached for another sandwich. “Especially ones who aren’t dwarves.”
He looked smaller now, all curled up. His hair was limp with melted snow, his cheeks still a fierce red. Bilbo felt a wave of protectiveness rising in his chest. His guest was just a child, after all.
“Your uncle sounds very smart.” He moved forward, kneeling on the rug in front of the arm chair to put him nearer to the dwarf’s height. “But I’m sure he would not want you to be alone either. I’m not going to hurt you, lad. I only want to help.”
“How?” The word was spoken in a whisper, blue eyes pleading as the child clearly warred with his instincts.
“By getting you warmed up and dried off so that we can find your family,” Bilbo replied softly. Though he was an only child he had a fair amount of experience dealing with children from babysitting his various cousins. He kept his voice low and tried to look as reassuring as possible. “How does that sound?”
The boy shifted, clearly uncomfortable, but eventually gave a tiny nod. He sat up and moved to unclasp his lumpy cloak, letting it fall down around his shoulders. Only now Bilbo could tell that it wasn’t the cloak that had been lumpy; tucked into the thick vest the lad wore and supported by his left arm was a small, still bundle of fur.
“I tried to keep him warm,” the young dwarf mumbled, gently stroking a finger along the wolf pup’s snout. He was little more than a lump of dark grey fur, with two bright blue eyes blinking lazily in the sudden light. “But he won’t change back. Can you help us?”