"That'd be me."
Bilbo glanced around him, eyes skimming over the other ten or so dwarves in the room aside from the royals. He immediately recognized Balin and Ori, who were both at their king's side with several pieces of paper in their hands. Óin, Glóin, and Dwalin were closest to Bilbo, along with five other dwarves he did not recognize. All of them except for Balin and Ori were covered in blood and gore, the coppery stench strong even from a distance. The hobbit really could've done without smelling such an unpleasant thing ever again.
"So, it looks like the battle, or, ah... skirmish, went well."
Receiving the blank stare of so many dwarves made Bilbo more than a little uncomfortable. He may not have been a warrior like the rest of them, but even a gentle hobbit like himself could see that most of that blood didn't belong to them. By Yavanna, encouragement was supposed to be a good thing, although the dwarves seem to disagree.
"Ah, yes, well, nice to know that someone's giving the orcs a good push back."
"That we are laddie." Bless Balin for saving him from any future babbling. "Lots of stories from the west say that they've overrun whole towns. But I imagine you'd know the truth behind those rumors better than us, now, wouldn't you?"
"Our travel groups ran into some ambushes in the mountains," admitted Bilbo. "Right nasty business, it is." Without thinking, Bilbo's hand instinctively itched at the still-healing graze along his left thigh. He felt Frodo, who he'd placed down before entering the room, lean into him from behind. The poor boy was still shaken up about the incident and didn't hesitate in clinging to the only parental-figure left in his life.
"They seem to be sticking to the countryside in most cases, though. Attacking farms and whatnot."
Thorin nodded, eyes intense as he scrutinized the hobbit. In Bilbo's opinion, the dwarf looked like he'd swallowed a lemon, face scrunched up and grumpy. Of course, that also tended to be Thorin's default expression a good deal of the time, so Bilbo didn't think too much on it.
Goodness, he certainly needed a full night's sleep, if only to stop these rambling thoughts.
"There's little more we can do against the orcs while our numbers are still so few. Haum, place three dozen or more extra sentries along the walls and entrances tonight. Don't leave any area unguarded or unwatched. And send a raven to Bard and his captains about tomorrow's patrols. We'll break for night now."
"Of course, Your Majesty."
The other dwarves shuffled out of the chamber, obviously exhausted from a long day in the mines and an even longer one defending Erebor and Dale from the orcs. A few of them gave the hobbits a curious glance, but they mostly just hobbled on by towards a warm bath and some good food. Bilbo nodded to each of them, not quite sure what else to do with dwarf warriors outside the Company. He was familiar with Dáin and his soldiers, but Bilbo wasn't sure if these particular dwarves were from the Iron Hills or not.
"So, the hobbit has finally returned," drawled Thorin, walking around the tables to where Bofur and Bilbo were standing near the doorway. "For a while, many of us thought such a return would never happen."
"I always said he'd be coming back," argued Kíli indignantly. He cowed down slightly at his uncle's glare. "Well, I did."
"What took you so long?" asked Thorin. He now stood directly beside the hobbit, posture just as strong and imposing as ever. Bilbo could literally feel the blazing warmth of the man, his thick armor and furs drenched in blood from their earlier battle with the orcs. He looked every inch a warrior king. "There should've been -"
"Ewww," whispered a tiny voice. "He stinks."
Thorin made a face that was an odd cross between puzzled and annoyed. It kind of made him look constipated. "What is that...thing?"
"It's a hobbit babe!" said Kíli. "Isn't he tiny?"
"For the umpteenth time, you two, he's not a babe," sighed Bilbo. "And that thing is my nephew. His name's Frodo, and I'll be taking care of him from now on."
He tried to coax the shy child out from behind him.
"C'mon, Frodo, everyone here is a good friend of mine. Do you remember the stories I told you about the King? Thorin Oakenshield? Well, this is him, darling."
Frodo peeked around his uncle's thighs. "Are you sure? He doesn't have a crown. I thought all kings were supposed to have crowns?"
The older hobbit didn't even attempt to hold in his laughter. "Thorin has a crown, dear, but he just doesn't like to wear it. Dreadfully heavy, crowns are. Besides, you don't like to wear your underpants, now do you?"
Frodo scrunched up his nose. "They itch."
"Well, maybe Thorin feels the same way about his crown," Bilbo reasoned. "Just because Thorin doesn't wear it, doesn't make him an un-King. Just like not wearing your underpants doesn't make you an un-hobbit."
Bilbo could hear the other dwarves laughing themselves silly, especially Fíli, Kíli, and Bofur. He didn't even want to imagine what Thorin's face looked like right now. The hobbit wouldn't be surprised if the stoic dwarf tried to throw him out of Erebor for being so blasé about the royal crown. If there still was a royal crown; Bilbo still wasn't quite sure about that particular matter.
"Frodo?"
"I guess so," his nephew conceded. He stepped out a little bit more and waved up at the King Under the Mountain. "Hello."
And then he disappeared right back behind his uncle again. Oh goodness...
"He's got blood on him."
Bilbo sighed. "I'm working on the shyness issue, but stuff like this takes a good bit of time to overcome."
He actually tried to pull Frodo out this time, but the faunt was having none of it. With a cranky whine, Frodo buried his head in the back of Bilbo's thigh and refused to come out, fingers digging into his uncle's trousers when the older hobbit tried to dislodge them.
"Now, Frodo, it's alright. No one in this hall will hurt you, I promise. Thorin's not nearly as frightening as he appears." Bilbo leaned down to whisper to his nephew. "He's really a big softie inside, just like Hamson's gaffer back in the Shire. And look, Fíli and Kíli are right over there."
Both dwarves gave the faunt reassuring waves. This seemed to perk Frodo up a little bit, his arms gesturing for Bilbo to pick him up. Arms aching from long hours of previous use, the older hobbit still managed to balance the tiny hobbit on his right hip, hugging the youngster close for reassurance. Frodo had been dreadfully shy in their first few weeks together, but he'd been opening up a lot more since Rivendell, something that Bilbo hoped would continue in Erebor.
"Now, give Thorin a proper greeting, Frodo."
The young boy seemed to ponder this for a moment before finally holding out his hand with a determined expression. "Nice to meet you, Mister King."
Thorin looked completely baffled.
"Umm, Uncle," stage whispered Kíli. "Not to be impolite or anything, but I think you're supposed to shake the babe's hand."
The other dwarves didn't even attempt to hide their mirth, Fíli all but snorting when Dwalin said something in Khuzdul. Bilbo didn't doubt that whatever it was, was terribly rude and likely directed at Thorin's bemused reaction. The King pointedly ignored all of them.
Kíli looked confused for a moment and then said, "Unless hobbits do it differently, of course."
"No, we don't," said Bilbo with a smirk. "C'mon, Thorin, are you really going to deny this small child a simple handshake."
The Dwarf-King rolled his eyes. "Hobbits..."
Reaching out with utmost gentleness, Thorin's large, calloused, and bloody right hand easily engulfed the tiny one beneath it. Frodo's milky white skin contrasted starkly with Thorin's weathered tones, all baby softness and little fingers where the Dwarf-King was scarred and hairy. More cautious than he'd been with any person since his nephews' births, Thorin cradled the small hobbit hand within his own and gave it a few delicate shakes. He glanced up after a moment, watching as Bilbo gave the two of them a satisfied smile.
"That wasn't so bad, now, was it?" Bilbo asked his nephew. "You were all worried over nothing.
Frodo nodded in return, tucking back into his uncle's side now with a natural shyness instead of the fear-induced one of earlier. Considering the little boy's demeanor, Bilbo wasn't about to complain. He was just relieved that Frodo hadn't started crying again.
"Well, that went much better than the meeting with the elves, that's for sure."
Thorin smirked arrogantly at this. Insulting elven tree-shaggers was very familiar territory for him. "The child appears to possess quite a good judge of character. Not very shocking for a hobbit, of course."
Bilbo just gave him a knowing smile. "Be nice to the elves, Thorin. I'd prefer that Frodo not grow up speaking those awful words you like to use for them."
"Weed eater's a good name," defended Glóin. "And tree-shagger."
"I should've known you'd all work against me on this," said Bilbo. He bounced an exhausted Frodo higher onto his hip, arms burning from carrying the child since early that morning. "Ugh, could I sit down, maybe? It's kinda been a long day and this lil' boy's not getting any lighter."
Thorin seemed to catch himself for a moment, and then gestured to a pair of oaken chairs in front of the chamber fireplace. For a moment, Bilbo almost thought he looked nervous, but that was likely a trick of the light.
"You arrived earlier this day?"
"In the late afternoon," said Bilbo, giving a great sigh of relief when he finally got to rest his feet and arms. "We probably would've arrived late last week if it wasn't for the constant downpours. I feared Frodo catching cold too much to travel through many of the storms."
Bilbo ran his fingers through his nephew's unruly curls, ever thankful that the child had not been harmed on the journey. If anything had happened to the lad, Bilbo never would've been able to forgive himself.
"The orcs were a problem at several points, but only the ones near Mirkwood proved too difficult."
Thorin was suddenly beside them. "What do you mean?"
Instead of saying anything, Bilbo simply pulled the upper right portion of his coat to the side, revealing an angry looking bruise beneath it. He touched his left thigh where another arrow had grazed through his skin. It still ached from time to time, especially when it was damp and rainy like today.
"We ran into an ambush on the plains east of Mirkwood. The arrows came too many and too fast to totally evade. I had to protect Frodo." The last part was said with absolute finality. "An elven patrol arrived five or so minutes later, but there were only twelve of us left by then. We'd have arrived at Erebor one month earlier if that attack had never happened."
He didn't mention the mithril shirt that was hidden beneath his nephew's shirts, overcoat, and pants.
A small hand touched the hidden wound, Frodo's blue eyes looking right up at his uncle; and not a second later, a larger hand covered his nephew's tiny one, Thorin looking down at the two hobbits. Fíli and Kíli stood not too far behind their uncle, both muttering about how they should have slain the orcs from earlier more slowly, as if that would somehow help mend the hobbit's arrow wounds. Even Óin and Glóin were angered at the sight of their burglar's still-healing injuries, a reaction that Bilbo had not been expecting at all.
"But you arrived," said Thorin, his dark blue eyes fixed on Bilbo's tired face. The dwarf's expression was thunderous, but also carefully restrained for the sake of the small child in Bilbo's lap. "And that's all that matters."
"Aye, aye," echoed the other dwarves.
"It is certainly nice to sit down on something other than the ground or a pony, that I can tell you," Bilbo said, situating Frodo into a more comfortable position once Thorin had taken a few steps back. "And your nephews have been exceptional hosts so far. You should be very proud of them."
Fíli and Kíli puffed up with pride at this compliment. Bilbo had always had a soft spot for the King's nephews, their boisterous personalities a welcome reminder of all the good things left in the world. Both of them looked up to and admired their kingly uncle, who, in Bilbo's opinion, did not give either of the two youngsters enough praise or credit for their heroic actions. So, in the spirit of solidarity and plain old fondness for both the boys, Bilbo wasn't above fishing for compliments for them.
"We gave them the Blue Room," said Kíli with a devious smirk. "Thought it'd be best to keep our favorite hobbits close by, just in case."
"So, you did," mumbled Thorin, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. Or, at least, that's what it looked like to Bilbo, but who ever really knew with Thorin. The Dwarf-King was very difficult to read even on his most expressive of days. "Then, I suppose it'd be best to return the hobbits to their rooms for some much-needed rest. It sounds like they have had quite the arduous journey."
"Umm, about those rooms..."
Thorin turned away to speak with Balin before Bilbo could even get his grievance out. The hobbit was going to try again, but then the royal nephews were standing right in front of him.
"I can carry Frodo for you," said Kíli with a hopeful smile. "Well, if the lil' one's okay with it, that is. Your poor arms must feel like stone at this point."
"Ugh, maybe next time, Kíli," stated Bilbo, his stomach twisting at the crestfallen look on the brunet's face. "When you're not covered in blood. I did just give him a bath, after all."
"Oh!" gasped Kíli when he looked down at himself. "I suppose I am quite a mess at the moment. Orc guts and all."
"You can carry him all you want when you're clean," promised Bilbo. "He seems to be fond of you already."
Kíli all but beamed with pride.
"Well, umm, would someone be so kind as to lead me back to our rooms?" Bilbo asked. "I'd try on my own, but I'm afraid I'd just get terribly lost." He patted his yawning nephew on the head. "Erebor's enormous and this little boy's on the verge of falling asleep any moment now."
Thorin was the first to respond. "I'll be heading in the same direction, so you can follow me if you wish."
Bilbo gave him a smile. "Lead away."
"Uncle," murmured Frodo, his droopy eyes watching Thorin with great curiosity. "I thought kings weren't supposed to stink."
The older hobbit cringed when he saw Thorin's back stiffen. They were both going to get thrown out of Erebor at this rate. And then eaten by orcs.
"Just hush and go to sleep."
"But..."
"No. No buts. Sleep."