Chapter Text
Dyslexia: I have it, and spell check regrettably doesn’t like Tolkien’s naming habits.
KEYnote: In The Hobbit Fíli is the youngest and in The Appendices Kíli is the youngest. So, in the interest of offering something different, we are going from the quote from Thorin in the book that Fíli is the youngest. This is very AU and I do not respect the timeline, though my love for canon is unending, this story is for play not to add to such perfection.
Prologue
It is said the Took line once tumbled with a faerie.
This simply isn't true, what might be more truthful was once a hobbit lass loved an elf, long before the history of hobbits was documented, in fact, longer ago than the term hobbit was used.
The thing about those descended of elves was sometimes there was a quirk of magic, some spark of Valinor that shone through.
And sometimes it wasn't merely a spark but a sparkle. Sometimes, the descendants of elves were blessed by the Valinor, and lived longer than predicted they should. Often, they found a destiny larger than themselves.
For you see, the nature of hobbits was a gift to the growing world, a dream of a goddess for a race who were kinder, gentler, and remained child-like throughout their living days. They were forever a people with rare exceptions who ever valued food over gold, laughter over power.
They were a hidden people who if sheltered by the wider world would give without reward for themselves to any in need.
The problem, as those from the Shire might say, with the Took line was that they craved more than others' adventure.
However, the Tooks were blessed, often the light of Valinor burned within their hearts, and hardly a century could pass without one from their kin to be called from the soft rolling hills of the homeland to give more to Middle Earth.
Now, no one could prove, and certainly, he would never tell you nor anyone else, but Glorfindel, the Lord of Golden Flowers, had a particular fondness for – or a peculiar devotion to– the Took line.
Indeed, in context, it might not surprise you at all to learn that when Belladonna Took wandered far from the Shire, Glorfindel welcomed her, and her son who she brought in the years that followed. He sheltered them and treated them as his own.
Thus as we begin this tale of blood and stone, of heartbreak and hope, you remember the hobbit lad who grew up on the path to Imladris, elven songs on his lips, and adventure at his feet.
A lad who adopted a dwarven son just as the Lord of Golden Flowers adopted one young Bilbo Baggins.
Chapter 1 - Blood, Snow, and Ruin
Moria was lost, and while the wandering exiles of Erebor had been too many for the Ered Luin in the Blue Mountains, they were far less after their failure in Moria.
Thror was dead, Thráin was lost, and yet Thráin’s sons, daughter, and grandsons lived. As long as such royalty resided in the Blue Mountains, Ered Luin fell to the crowned prince, now king, Thorin Oakenshield.
But the additional population strained Ered Luin, and the previous Lord Sozan and his Azula were bitter about the shift of power.
Thorin and his brother Frerin, poured their beings into providing for the family, and despite their status were among the poorest among in the settlement for giving their wealth away.
They were loved by their people for this, still Sozan’s jealousy grew, and grew.
And grew.
oOo
Thorin both loved and hated winter. He hated it for the misery it brought and the tempers it raised. But he did enjoy being back home with his family.
“Stop scowling,” Frerin jested.
Thorin rolled his eyes at his younger brother.
Frerin looked just like Dís’s youngest son Fíli, but his personality matched Kíli’s who was always cheerful and full of far too much mischief.
“We are mining coal,” Thorin reminded him.
Mining for coal was much like working on sewage plumbing.
“But it’s easy, and we’re in the mountains instead of on the road or a dingy inn.”
Balin snorted, then coughed on the dust, “Your hair colour may currently be indistinguishable beneath the soot but we’ll never mistake you two.”
“I choose to take that as a compliment,” Frerin said.
“As do I,” Thorin teased.
It truly was good to be home.
Dwalin didn’t smile, but he was just as relieved to be off the road.
Every indication of nature and the elders leant to the predictions this winter would be a terrible one. The frost had come early at the start of October and the ground had remained cold.
The price of food stores had gone up and games had grown harder and harder to come by along the road.
However, Thorin had never had so many commissions for weapons as people sought to arm themselves for the long nights ahead.
“What’s that?” Balin asked, startling Thorin from his thoughts.
Dori placed a hand on the wall.
There weren’t many people in the mines at this time. It was early morning when most drarrow would rather be tucked in bed than up working. But Thorin and Frerin always chose their worst time slots for themselves.
Their cousins, Balin, Dwalin, and Glóin always joined them, as did their friends, Bifur, Bofur, and Dori who sometimes managed to bring his younger brother Nori, though Nori was least happy among them both for the type of work and the hour.
Balin placed a hand beside Dori’s, his eyes going wide, “Cave in.”
“This mine is stable,” Thorin growled, grabbing his brother’s arm.
“Hush!” Nori silenced them, “Listen.”
They hardly dared to breathe. They were deep in the mines, very deep. Ered Luin was if not the oldest, among the oldest dwarven settlements in Middle Earth. There were good reasons that coal was among the only things left to take from the stable passages.
It was very faint what they were hearing, but there was a distinct sound of an axe hitting beams.
“ No,” Nori growled.
The quick-fingered musician made to run forward but Dori caught him around the waist, hauling him back toward one of their reinforced beams.
Echoes were miss leading, whoever was sabotaging their mine was too far away, and the rock around them was already singing with its impending collapse.
Thorin pulled Frerin in close as Balin and Dwalin wrapped themselves around them. Bifur and Bofur shielded Glóin whose dame was only newly pregnant. Dori’s bulk flattened Nori to the cavern floor.
“When the caves begin to fall, yell, scream, call for help, but midway through fall silent,” Frerin ordered in a whisper, holding back onto Thorin.
They would be okay, but cave-ins were never meant to be caused on purpose.
It broke the song, the agreement between mine and miner to never take more than the mountain was willing to give.
“Why?” Bofur asked, for he too was young and in not being part of a noble house, he didn’t understand what was happening.
“So they think we’re dead,” Thorin said gravely.
When the way out began to collapse, Thorin did yell, though it was a sound of fury more than fear.
“ So dies the line of Durin!” their would-be-murderer shouted down the tunnel.
Instantly, the threat to their family was understood.
Thorin did scream at them, a sound that came from his soul.
Balin and Dwalin held him and Frerin down.
“Dís! Let us go! Dís!” Thorin roared as the stones continued to fall.
Kíli! Fíli!
But he couldn’t say their names because Dwalin had him in a choke hold as his friend forced him down.
Frerin was openly weeping as was Thorin crushed down on him, but it wasn’t from any physical pain.
No, his little brother held both hands over his mouth to keep in the sounds.
Dís and her husband Mori, Nori’s blind twin brother, were asleep, Kíli and Fíli asleep in their own room.
Thorin’s heart seized as they were forced to wait for the stones to settle. Every moment was an agony knowing that his family was in danger.
They were experienced enough, save for perhaps Bofur and Nori to know how to handle a cave-in.
Thorin kept telling himself that Dís could handle anyone fool enough to attack her sons, but fear had a death grip on his prayers to Mahal.
Finally , Dwalin and Balin gave the all-clear and they began the laborious task of remaking the tunnel. It was long and they all settled on making a crawl space.
It took time.
Too much time.
oOo
Bilbo watched with no small amount of horror as his cousin was brought into the world, bloody and screaming.
“Frodo Baggins,” Primela breathed, her smile exhausted but beatific with love for her newborn.
Bilbo handed his own mother clean rags and discarded the bloody ones.
Drogo curled himself around both his wife and child, holding onto them as if they were his greatest dreams come true.
“A perfectly healthy lad,” Belladonna said smiling brightly. She looked out the window, the snow had begun to fall, “And I believe Bilbo and I shall make it to our next house call in time for tea. We'll be home safe at week's end.”
None of them knew how fateful those words would be.
oOo
Thorin and Frerin, followed by Nori, were the first ones out of the mine.
That Nori was so worried for his twin was an ill omen that proved as dire as they feared.
Balin called for the guards to lock down every gate while Glóin ran to and for his brother’s aid.
By the time they reached the royal apartments, Mori was dead, stabbed clean through, Dís and Kíli were unconscious from blood loss.
Thorin would never forget the feel of blood trickling through his fingers as he put pressure on Kíli’s wounds as Frerin did the same for Dís.
He was only twenty-five.
Nori sat holding his twin’s hand, both Mori and Nori looked like marinette dolls whose strings had been cut, though Nori still breathed.
Óin arrived already covered in blood, though none was his own. The healer began barking orders as he treated Kíli first.
Whoever had tried to assassinate Glóin’s wife and little Ori who had been staying with, hadn’t survived her or Óin.
“Go,” Frerin ordered. “Thorin, go get Fíli, whoever took him did so for collateral in case we survived. Which means he’s alive.”
Thorin felt torn to pieces, but given directions, the pursuit of saving his nephew and ending the traitor who had taken him allowed him to move forward.
He took a war goat and rode hard into the falling snow.
Whoever had taken Fíli had had hours to get a head start, but Thorin would not rest until he found them.
oOo
The sun had long set as Belladonna, the Shire’s finest healer, and her son trudged back through the snow to Bag End.
The road seemed longer and more bitter than normal as the blizzard raged, it was not made better by the wailing that rose over the darkness.
Children cry, but most children don’t bite the hand of their parents and scream like their hearts have been broken.
Belladonna and Bilbo crept forward, ready to offer assistance to the pair. There was blood in the snow after all and the boy’s exposed face was the type of red that indicated fever more than emotion.
But then the older dwarf dropped the child roughly before backhanding the youngling with so much strength the child collapsed into the snow and didn't immediately stir.
Belladonna didn't hesitate, pushing her own barely of age son back as she ran at the dwarf bag swinging.
The dwarf turned, pulling a weapon, his sword slicing her throat, spilling crimson into the snow.
Fury filled Bilbo, eclipsing his horror as his mother went motionless.
The dwarfling tried to run and the older dwarf turned to give chase.
Bilbo ran to his mother and her bag, he pulled one of her surgical knives before following the dwarves. He wasn't noticed until the last moment, at which point it was far too late.
His mother killer’s eyes flashed with surprise as Bilbo jumped him, plunging the blade into his neck.
They fell together, the dwarf gargling on his last breath as the snow danced about them.
It was a killing blow and his leather armour provided no protection for his throat. Bilbo pushed himself away, wiping the bloodied knife on the man's clothes as he went to the child who was awake and staring at Bilbo with large blue eyes.
The snow had fallen with a vengeance, from Drogo’s home to Bagshot Row it had fallen to waist height. Bilbo had to swim through it to reach the quaking child.
The dwarfling was struggling to distance himself from cooling bodies when Bilbo held out a hand. The blonde fauntling reached back Bilbo’s hand after only brief hesitation.
Bilbo scooped him up in his arms, turning back to the road.
“I've got you, you're safe now.”
The child, who looked no different than a fauntling who had yet to reach his teens save for the long hair and socked feet, gave a cry and flung himself into Bilbo's arms sobbing.
Bilbo gathered the child closer to himself, “I’m here, you're going to be alright.”
The dwarfling buried his face in Bilbo's chest.
Bilbo grabbed his mother’s bag but was forced to leave her body behind.
He hated to leave his mother behind but if others were coming, he couldn't remain on the road.
Bilbo kept shushing the crying child. Rubbing his back, Bilbo shuddered at the feel of dried blood on that golden hair.
By the time they got back to Bag End, the cold felt soul-deep with no chance of thawing. The only thing that kept him going was the whimpering sobs of the dwarfling in his arms.
Kicking the door shut behind them, Bilbo shouted, “Father! Father!”
Bungo Baggins came running in, brown eyes going wide at the sight before him.
“Bilbo!? Who's that? Where's your mother?”
“She’s–” Bilbo didn’t know how to finish that sentence.
Dead in the snow.
But he couldn’t find it in himself to say it.
“No,” his father breathed, before pushing past him to go out into the snow.
“Wait!” Bilbo called but with a gust of cold air, the door was opened and then slammed shut.
The dwarfling’s sobs renewed in earnest.
“It’s okay,” Bilbo said, swallowing his own panic. “It’s okay.”
The fauntling needed medical care, but first, he needed to warm up.
The fire was going and the fauntling was so small, getting him into an oversized bucket for a bath would be easy enough.
“We’re going to get you warmed up, alright?” Bilbo asked, mostly talking to himself and hushing the child as he wrapped him in towels and left him bundled before the fire.
The winter had been bad enough that they had been sleeping in the kitchen, only heating the stove.
Father must have had the tea waiting for them because it was already poured.
It was ginger, good for an empty stomach and cooled just enough to drink.
First he pulled the pot of water back on the stove for more hot water. Then Bilbo half emptied the tea himself, before returning to the floor and helping the dwarfling drink some too. The poor fellow clung to the cup as he shook.
The hot tea would help their bodies regulate back to a normal temperature.
Bilbo moved quickly after that, finding a tub they used for dishes in outdoor picnics or parties and filling it up with lukewarm water.
Bilbo knew from his mother that he would have to warm the child up slowly.
Getting the dwarfling out of his clothes was difficult, but eventually the lad was in the water and Bilbo could finally see his injuries.
His skin was worryingly white from the gold and bruises moulted his skin where he had been grabbed around his arms and torso, but his most worrying injury was the large bloody bump on his head.
He cleared his throat, “I’m Bilbo, by the way. Bilbo Baggins. Can you tell me your name?”
The child didn't hear him so Bilbo chatted on, “You're at Bag End in the Shire. This is a hobbit hole, and it isn't nasty like I know the big folk say. It's home and home means comfort. We call our homes smials because of that.”
Fíli was finally looking at him now, his blue eyes tired but the fear had lessened.
Don't let the shock set in, it'll kill you, Bilbo, it'll kill anyone, quicker than cold or fire. Quicker than blood loss, shock will kill you, his mother’s voice reprimanded him .
“Can you tell me your name please?”
“Fíli,” the child said in a hushed tone.
Bilbo smiled, it's nice to meet you Fíli. When the storm's end, is there a family waiting for you? In Bree perhaps?”
Fíli turned away, curling in on himself, “Amad, Adad, and Kíli are dead. My other family is gone, said so. He said so. They didn't follow.” He looked up at Bilbo pleading in his eyes. “If they were alive they'd rescue me.”
Bilbo immediately tried to comfort him as the boy's face scrunched up with tears again.
“It'll be okay. You're not alone. You know I was once adopted by an elf. I’m his honorary son. It won't be so strange for a hobbit to adopt a dwarfling as kind and brave as yourself. I won't let anything bad happen to you again, I promise. The Shire's the safest place in Middle Earth.”
The last was a lie but the child need not know that.
Bilbo poured warm water into the tub and washed out Fíli's hair which caused the bleeding to start again.
Bilbo wrapped his head with the bandages from his mother's bag.
Through it all, Bilbo never stopped talking about the Shire and stories about his Tookish cousins.
By the time Bungo returned, Fíli and Bilbo were clean and bundled up in blankets by the kitchen stove. The bloodied towels rested in a hamper for later.
Fíli was asleep for now and Bilbo regretted having to wake him nearly every hour to ensure he didn't drop into a coma.
The head injury was bad and he had lost a lot of blood not to mention all the hours he spent in the cold.
Bilbo wouldn't be surprised if he had memory loss, especially being so young.
Bungo didn't leave the entryway and Bilbo didn't rise to greet him or call out to him.
He knew his father would not leave Belladonna in the snow and Bilbo had no desire to see her lifeless body again. Her death would haunt his nightmares for years to come.
Bilbo would forever be grateful to Fíli who he focused all his energy on taking care of in the days that followed.
The Fell Winter was long and dark, and Bungo Baggins seemed to fade a little more each day.
Of the three of them, Bilbo talked the most. Fíli grew quieter, getting increasingly upset with himself when his past memories began to slip away.
As for Bungo well…
Bilbo no longer felt like a child. No, his childhood ended that winter cut away by an assassin's blade and the need of others that were greater than his own.
oOo
The wind obscured the world in grey shadows.
When Thorin Oakenshield caught up to the dwarf who had assisted in destroying the family, he found only bloodied bones beneath the snow.
Wargs.
Still, Thorin searched, but the snow and the continued storm made it impossible to track. This monster had been felled by wargs, no bandit would leave the weapons behind, and Fíli was so small but to be a few mouthfuls for a warg, it was no surprise to be unable to find his bones. Even if Thorin could track the beasts to their hole, Fíli would be long dead from bites or the cold.
Thorin stopped searching when he found a bloodied braid of golden hair in Sozan’s pocket, the bead one of Thorin's he'd gifted him for his last birthday.
Thorin fell to his knees and bellowed his sorrow and rage to the sky which rained down snow upon him as if the gods sought to smother him.
He wished they would, he would give anything to not be forced to return to Ered Luin where the best he could hope for was that his sister and her eldest son lived so Thorin could break their hearts with the knowledge that their youngest prince was dead.
Eaten by wargs.
Indeed, telling Dís was the hardest thing he had ever done.
But telling Kíli who had already lost his father? There were no words to describe the grief when their dearest Kíli understood that his baby brother would never return home.
oOo
When spring came, Bilbo found his father asleep amongst the sprouts in the garden, never to wake again.
Hobbits, like elves, could fade when their true loves passed on or great tragedy befell them.
Bilbo Baggins became Master of Bag End, and a father himself to a young orphaned dwarf.
Sometimes, Bilbo thought of trying to contact Fíli's extended family but he couldn't risk alerting those who had conspired to kidnap Fíli and murder his family that he had survived.
So Bilbo raised Fíli Baggins as his own with all the love and warmth his heart had to give.
Fate of course had bigger plans for them, but never a day went by when Fíli Baggins doubted how much he was loved.
oOo
AN: I wrote this story for myself but I find that I keep adding to it. I wasn't even planning on posting it but this first chapter is functionally a one-shot prompt. If you are interested in this story at all, if you have requests, ideas, or suggestions, please, please share or contact me on discord at @appoapples#6199
Until then, it shall remain a one-shot. Thank you so much for reading!