Chapter Text
March 21st, T.A. 2942
Bilbo felt numb as he finally set the last book in place, finally restoring Bag End back to how it was before his departure. It took him the better part of the last month to put it all back together since his return to The Shire. He waddled back to the foyer, looking at the frame he set on the table next to the window. It was Thorin’s old map, now slightly torn and yellowed with use and age. Tears welled up in his eyes and rolled down his cheeks as he took the frame and went to sit down in his chair by the fire. “Oh Thorin,” he sighed heavily as he wiped his face, “you’ve no idea how much I miss you. I can’t stop thinking about you. You’d be repulsed if you could see me now. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. We stopped in Rivendell for a rest, and Lord Elrond thinks I’m carrying your child. I told him it was absurd. I told him it was just the stress from everything that happened catching up with me.” He suddenly felt bile rise in his in his throat. He quickly stood up and set the map in his seat as he bolted to the bathroom, luckily making it to the toilet just in time to empty the contents of his stomach for the third time that day. “What is wrong with me?” he muttered to himself when he had a moment to breath, slumping against his bath.
Bilbo was suddenly pulled from his daze by a hard knock on the door. “Just a moment!” he called, quickly wiping his face and shakily made his way to the front door. There was another pound at the door, this time it was louder and quicker. “Lobelia if that’s you, I told you you are not getting my spoons! Those were my mother’s, not yours!” he shouted as he stomped to the door and pulled on the handle and came face to face with the surviving company, “oh, it you. What are you all doing here?” “You said tea was at four,” Bofur smiled as he stepped through the door, “we haven’t heard from you in weeks, we were worried about you.” “Well pardon me, but I haven’t put anything on,” the hobbit stuttered and gestured for the dwarves to come in, “just give me one moment, please make yourselves comfortable.”
“Are you alright laddie?” Balin asked, quietly entering the kitchen, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” “It’s alright, I’m alright,” Bilbo sighed heavily as he settled and went back to the kettle on the stove, “it’s just been a rough few months. As soon as I came back I found my personal belongings being auctioned off because they all thought I was dead. I had to spend almost all of that chest from the troll hoard just getting it back. I finished up before you lot got here. And I’ve been sick. I figure it’s just the stress of everything finally catching up with me. It’s just been a rough few months, and I’m still, g-grieving.” “I understand lad,” the old dwarf gently put his hand on the hobbit’s shoulder, “maybe Óin can look you over if you’re willing, just to make sure it’s nothing serious.” “I’d appreciate that,” Bilbo smiled tiredly as he pulled the now whistling kettle off the fire, “I’ll show him to town in a bit, the Smallburrow’s run a small clinic. They’re family friends, it’ll be quick.” “May I come along too?” Bofur asked, looking smaller than he was as he shuffled into the kitchen, “just to make sure you get there alright?” “Why not?” the hobbit smiled as he started pouring, “I missed hearing your jokes, it’s been a while since I’ve had a good laugh.” “Let me help,” Bofur chimed as he picked up the tray with the still steaming mugs a bit too quickly, and spilled the water all over himself, “ouch!” “Careful,” Bilbo hissed as he grabbed a rag from by the sink and quickly mopped up the mess, “those are still my mother’s dishes.” Bofur backed away from the counter, wiping his hands on his coat, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.” “No, I’m sorry,” Bilbo sighed as he grabbed the kettle and went to refill it, “I shouldn’t have snapped like that. It’s, it’s just been so hard. Sometimes I feel like I should’ve stayed with Thorin, followed him. Then maybe, maybe he’d still be here. It hurts so much and I can’t stand it!” The hobbit started sobbing heavily, sliding down and settling on the floor, curled up in a ball. Bofur immediately sat down next to him and pulled him close, Balin stayed standing but stood on his other side. “It’s alright,” Bofur cooed, gently petting Bilbo’s hair as the hobbit continued to cry into his shoulder, “I understand.” “I’m sorry,” the hobbit sniffled as he pulled away and wiped his eyes, “it seems that the littlest things set me off now, it’s embarrassing.” “No no, it’s alright, there’s absolutely nothing to be sorry for,” the dwarf offered him a small smile as he pulled him back in, “we’ve all been right emotional wrecks since you left, no matter how much Dwalin tries to say otherwise.” Bilbo snickered a bit as he took a deep breath and made to stand up, “are you alright? That water was hot.” “I’m ok,” the dwarf nodded and helped him up, “thick skin, you know.” Bilbo smiled again as he used the wet rag to wipe his face again and turned to the sink to refill the kettle. “I’ll go get Óin,” Balin sighed and gave Bilbo a softer smile as he turned to leave. “Thank you,” Bilbo sniffed as he put the kettle on the stove again.
The hobbit soon found himself in Hobbiton with two dwarves at his side. Many other hobbits shot him weird and even concerned looks as he continued to the clinic, just wanting to get this over with. A small bell from above the door brought him out of his thoughts and back to the present. “Hello Bilbo,” Cori Smallburrow looked up from the desk up front and greeted the strange trio with a smile, “how can I help you today?” “Well, you know I just got back from that long trip only about a month ago,” Bilbo looked down at his feet, twiddling his fingers, “and since I’ve been back, I’ve been sick. I think it’s just the stress finally catching up with me, but Gandalf and a close friend in Rivendell say otherwise. I don’t want to say too much here, just in case it really is just the stress. I don’t want to turn this into the same frenzy as when I left.” “Ok,” she nodded and came around, “let me have a look at you then, come on. You two stay here.” “No!” Bilbo squeaked, looking up at Cori with wide eyes, “I want them with me. Óin here may be able to help, he’s a caregiver back in Erebor. Bofur is my shoulder. I trust them both with my life.” “Alright then,” she shrugged but smiled as she gestured for them to follow.
“Well, as strange as this may sound Mr. Baggins, all the symptoms you’ve described and your physical support what Mr. Gandalf and the elves have said. You’re with child,” Cori set the small clipboard down on a stool next to her. Bilbo sat silent, his eyes wide and aimed at the floor, “I-I-I don’t understand. I haven’t been with anyone since-” He stopped himself short and gasped lightly, bringing a hand up to his mouth as he started to cry. “What’s wrong laddie?” Óin asked softly, carefully putting his hands on the hobbit’s shoulders. “It’s Thorin’s,” Bilbo leaned on Bofur’s shoulder and sobbed harder, “it’s Thorin’s.”