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There were many little imperfections in Bag End that one could not see unless they looked so very closely, which is what exactly Bilbo did. The slightly wonky window on the eastern side of the house had been a source of worry for Bilbo for years. The shelves on top of the fireplace and their inability to hold heavy objects had been constantly nagged on the back of Bilbo’s mind. Yet, as Bag End came into view one more, Bilbo had been so grateful for his home, faults and all.
Bilbo stopped and turned around to let Thorin and Dwalin catch up to the fast pace that he had set once they had entered the Shire borders. Bilbo was ever so glad that he remembered to write a letter to Hamfast Gamgee before his departure for the quest to ensure that thieving hands would not snatch at his home the second he left. Thorin, upon seeing the happiness radiating out of their Hobbit husband’s face decided that yes; leaving Erebor to his sister for a few months so the trio could travel to Bilbo’s childhood home was the best choice he had made. Seeing the moonlight reflect off Bilbo’s two marriage beads creating a silver halo around him, Thorin knew he would have it no other way. Looking at Dwalin’s soft smile that was aimed at their smaller husband, he knew Dwalin felt the same. Both hooking their arm with each one of Bilbo’s, they walked as one into the moonlight and to a much-needed rest.
When the group entered Bag End, it became clear by the layers of dust and cobwebs that not one person had stepped foot inside the door for a long time. Entering Bilbo’s old room, they were glad that the bed was still in working conditions and could be slept on after a simple brush to dispel the dust. Arriving at the Shire in the night-time had been Bilbo’s idea, to allow them time to settle down and recover from their long journey. Yet, also to prolong the time they had together before nosy relatives realised he was back, and invaded his privacy demanding answers on his whereabouts these last years.
Waking up with his two husbands in his arms always seemed to take Dwalin’s breath away. The way that in his sleep, Thorin’s face seemed to lose the years of hardship and stress that he had endured. With Bilbo’s pressed his head snugly in his chest, he could not see his face but could hear the small puffs of air the escaped his mouth and feel his chest moving. Dwalin had never considered that his life would be so perfect, yet Mahal had blessed him with two husbands that he would gladly give his life for.
Getting up and making breakfast was a hard task for bilbo this morning, not only because of the sore muscles he had from ridding a pony or his sleepy husbands that situated themselves in his bed, but because all the firewood Bilbo had stocked had rotted over time and was in no condition to use. Sighing and resigning himself for a cold meal, Bilbo gathered the last of their prevision from their travels and prepared to try and make first breakfast.
By lunch, it was agreed that a hot breakfast would be greatly appreciated by all. Sending off his two husbands to go into the Old Forest to collect some fresh firewood, Bilbo headed towards his larder in an attempt to see what non-perishable had managed to remain somewhat edible. Yet, before he could enter, a loud knock echoed through the silent house. Freezing, Bilbo wondered who could have noticed that he was back already and why they had come to visit. Deciding that there was no use in simply standing there while his guest got impatient, Bilbo cautiously walked towards his rounded door. Yet upon opening, he wished that he had waited for them to leave on their own accord.
“Oh, good evening, Lobelia. How are you this fine day?”
Lobelia scrunched up her nose like every time she visited, as if smelling something foul. “Cousin,” She addressed shortly, “It seems that I was not indeed wrong in assuming you were back. Pity.” Lobelia's eyes racked around the house, greed filling her features. “I see you have neglected to do any cleaning, how can you be a respectable Hobbit, disgracing your home like this.”
Sighing, Bilbo realised what this was about, Lobelia has always wanted Bag End. She would use every opportunity she could lay her hands on to try and convince everyone that he was not respectable and therefore the house should be given to the closes relative, her husband. Placing her hand upon the door frame, Bilbo flinched violently. He could still remember how the back of her hand felt on his face during one of her many attempts to secure his home as her own. Suddenly, shrill voice interrupted his thoughts.
“Well?” she demanded, “Are you not going to do the proper Hobbit tradition of inviting a guest in?! You should be glad that I am willing to even enter Bag End in what condition it currently is in. I could do such a better job than a half-Took!” Not waiting for a response, Lobelia barged her way through the door, shoving Bilbo as she did. If he hasn’t fought in the war and had regular training with Dwalin, he surely would have fallen over. Quickly recovering, he hurried after Lobelia to make sure all his silver spoons would remain in their appropriate place.
“Any tea and scones Baggins? I see your stocks are running a bit low. Not respectable at all.”
Not the slightest bit surprised by her behaviours, Bilbo patiently responded, “Dearest Lobelia, I have just arrived back, I have barely been able to unpack, let alone bake any scones.”
“Well, maybe you should start by asking that gardener of yours to get some wood for the fire, a reasonable host would never allow his company to get a chill. Not respectable at all.”
At that moment, Bilbo realised that she and no other Hobbit had any idea about his new status as a married Hobbit and his two husbands, yet Bilbo decided to keep that information to himself for now.
“Lobelia, as you have rightfully noticed, my home and I are in no condition to entertain at the moment. Maybe it would be wise for you to return in a week or so when I can fully attend to your needs as a host?”
Turning an awful red that clashed with the hideous mix of winter and spring colours she was currently wearing, she spat, “It should be me in this house, not you and your Took ways! You can’t even host right, you imbecile! I will be talking to the council about this, maybe they will finally see that you are in no condition to be in possession of this home!”
Rolling his eyes at his cousin’s dramatics, Bilbo neglected to see that she was not yet done with her dramatic ways. Rearing her right hand up above her head, Bilbo had no time to process what was happing before he felt a slamming force strike his cheek, wiping him clean off his feet. Crying out in pain, the back of Bilbo’s head collided with the ground in a distinct bang. Lying on the ground, hand over the now distinctly red handmake on his cheek, he heard the distant sound of a door slam shut.
Painfully, Bilbo pulled himself up from the flood, hand still plastered firmly on his aching jaw. Looking down at the spot where he had laid, he saw a dark stain. Blood. Dwalin and Thorin would not be pleased about this development. Wincing at that thought, he slowly attempted to walk to the nearest bathroom to check the damage. Yet, before he managed to make it even five steps the world began to tilt. Closing his eyes, Bilbo resigned himself to another unplanned trip to the hardwood floor. What he wasn’t expecting was two sets of warm hands to steady him. Thorin and Dwalin. Bilbo must have been dizzy, if he didn’t notice them enter the house.
As if underwater, Bilbo barely heard the worried voices of his husbands. “Bilbo! What ‘appened! Who did this?”
He felt two weights dip on either side of the bed. Bilbo wondered when he had been laying down, he hadn’t noticed. A soft cloth made contact with the bleeding wound on the back of his head, making Bilbo gasp in pain.
“Hush Ghivashel (treasure of all treasures), everything is going to be alright, just stay still.” Bilbo recognised that concerned voice as Thorin. Bilbo wasn’t aware of how long it took, but eventually, his head was wrapped tightly in a bandage, and he was being held as if he would break by both his beloved in the middle of the bed.
“Ghivashel, what ‘appened, ‘ho would do such a thing?” Dwalin’s voice rumbled softly.
“Hmm… Oh yes,” Bilbo muttered, his words slurring slightly, “while you two were out I got an unfortunate visitor. My cousin, Lobelia Sackville-Baggins, always has wanted Bag End. She has tried everything to get me to pass up ownership to her, even though my will states that she will not be able to get anything of mine.” He burrowed further into Thorin’s broad chest, who had been suspiciously quiet throughout the ordeal.
“And she would go as far to ‘arm her own cousin?” Questioned Dwalin.
“Unfortunately, she is trying to provoke me so I attack her back, therefore creating a convincing case to the council as to why I am unsuited to the name of Baggins.”
Thorin shifted slightly where he was pressed against Bilbo’s chest, “Has she… Has she done such things to you before?”
Bilbo was quiet for a moment, causing the two males to tighten their hold on him. “Alas, she has done so before, and I don’t think it would be the last. Yet, I cannot get her to stop as she would go to the council and state that I am lying and therefore kick me out of my home as you would a dog.”
“Why didn’t you tell us if this if you knew it was going to happen? We could have protected you.”
The betrayed tone struck Bilbo down to his very core. Tightening his own hold on Thorin’s waist and Dwalin’s hand, he sighed. “Well…” he started, “I thought… that you might see me as weak for not being able to stand up to my own cousin. I didn’t want to disappoint you.”
“You ‘ould never disappoint us, marlûn (love).” Dwalin was quick to assure. “I fear that we ‘ave broken our promise to keep you from ‘arm.”
“No, never think like that. If anything, it was my fault. I should have done better to…” Bilbo was swiftly cut off.
“No Bilbo, none of this was your fault. It’s your horrid cousin’s fault.” Thorin soothed.
Looking up at them Bilbo laughed lightly “I’m surprised that you have not hunted her down yet.”
“’on’t worry,” Dwalin growled, “I would ‘ave made her pay, but that can wait. Right now, I think we have more important business to tend to.”
“Oh, do you?” Bilbo teased lightly.
“Indeed,” Thorin took over, “It’s of utter urgency.”
“And what,” Bilbo purred, “is this business?”
Instead of answering, Thorin leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss onto his lips while Dwalin lathered the back of this neck in feather-light kisses. Gradually, the kiss became more heated until they were forced to break for air. Leaning over his shoulder and towards Dwalin, Bilbo smashed their lips together, nipping lightly at his husband’s lips. As their kiss came to a stop, Thorin whispered in Bilbo’s ear.
“Go to sleep, Kidhuzurâl (golden one), everything will be ok.”
Bilbo didn’t miss the slight savage look in both his husbands’ eyes but trusted them enough to be there when he woke. Eyes fluttering shut, Bilbo knew for certain that he would rather be nowhere else than in their arms.