Chapter Text
His husband had mentioned having siblings only once in their entire relationship. Married when Bilbo was thirty-four, Frerin had been a constant in his life for eight wonderful years; years Bilbo had cherished. They had met by chance, having seen each other from across the Market place, where Bilbo was buying vegetables and Frerin was selling jewelry (after running from far away, Bilbo later found out). It seemed like love at first sight, especially after the first time they spoke to each other and everything flowed so very easy. Frerin had a wonderful sense of humor and loved Bilbo’s quick and sharp wit.
When they had married, only a few of Frerin’s kin had been able to come to see the ceremony, that brother included. Bilbo hadn’t had a single chance to speak with him because of the fuss all of his Hobbit kin and friends were making over him, but he had gotten a single look, and that had been enough. His face was etched into Bilbo’s mind as gruff and broody, nothing at all like Frerin’s charming smiles and hearty laughter. He forgot about him soon after, but the face was still there, and Bilbo recognized him immediately sixteen years later.
A lot had changed in those years.
When Bilbo was forty-two, he received two different types of news; one from a Dwarven messenger, sent from Moria, and the other from his doctor. He was going to be a father. As of two days ago he was a widow. When he thought back on it, it amazed him how quickly he had gone from joyful to sad. His husband was gone and his children were without another parent.
Eight years passed and he had given birth to twins; two healthy young boys. He named the elder Frerin II for his other father (and because he was nearly a carbon copy of Frerin I) and the younger Thrain III for the father-in-law he’d met only once but who had been just as hearty and full of joy as his son (Thrain, though, looked much more like Bilbo). Bilbo wished he’d spent more time with the boys’ other family; their father’s family, if only for them to find out more about their Dwarven heritage.
Mere days after Bilbo’s fiftieth birthday (and a full two months after Frerin and Thrain’s), he was visited by the Wandering Wizard.
“Good Morning, Mister Baggins, young Baggins, and young Baggins,” Gandalf greeted the little family.
Frerin and Thrain were playing warriors and dragons, crashing their little carved figurines together and making battle noises as Bilbo smoked from his pipe.
“Good morning,” Bilbo nodded his head, shooting a small smile Gandalf’s way when his boys scrambled up to crowd about Gandalf. Thrain was an adept climber; he grabbed at Gandalf’s robes and found foot and hand holds where even small critters could not. The actions reminded Bilbo of when his husband would climb high trees to get the ripest apples for Bilbo’s pies. It made Bilbo smile.
“Mither Gandalf! Mither Gandalf! I loth my thmall teeth, thee?” Frerin grinned and Gandalf chuckled, seeing that the young boy had indeed lost his two front teeth.
“And how, Master Frerin, had you managed that?” the old Man asked while somehow managing to keep his hat out of wandering hands.
“Someone was chasing his brother through the halls with a pot on his head,” Bilbo looked chiddingly at Frerin, who gave Bilbo a sheepish little smile. The same smile the boy’s namesake always gave Bilbo when he’d managed to “accidentally” break the ugly vase his Aunt Viv would give him every year on her birthday.
“It wath fun!” Frerin protested.
“Now Frerin gets to start his memory necklace first!” Thrain pouted. Frerin stuck his tongue out at him, to which Thrain responded by making faces.
“Boys,” Bilbo scolded. The two stopped immediately and Thrain climbed down from his seat atop Gandalf’s shoulders.
“Can we go see if Halfred can play?” Thrain asked. Bilbo gave them a stern look, but he was no match for their pleading eyes, large and wonderfully blue. He nodded and they went running, leaving the gate open and the adults to talk.
“What brings the Grey Wizard back to the Shire so early? My birthday was barely four days ago and the entire Shire had seen you off,” Bilbo asked, standing and closing the gate. He left it unlocked, though, knowing that the boys would take the opportunity to trample in the mud if they found it locked and had to hop it themselves.
“I went to Ered Luin, where my presence was requested by the Dwarves.” Ah, so he was coming back this way to say one last goodbye before he disappeared for another year, then. Bilbo supposed that was alright as well.
“Come to see the boys one last time before you left again, eh?” he hummed, blowing out another smoke ring.
“In a way,” Gandalf’s expression alarmed Bilbo just a bit, but he attributed it to Gandalf just being Gandalf.
They talked about mundane things after that; the weather, Bilbo’s tomatoes, Frerin and Thrain’s studies. It was all comfortable and nice, a change from Gandalf’s usually mysteriousness. Though, when Gandalf’s words began to trail off toward the topic of Dwarves, Bilbo got the feeling that there was an ulterior motive behind the Wizard’s sudden return to the Shire.
“Your late husband, Frerin. I spoke with his kin recently,” Gandalf was saying now. Bilbo hummed. Nowadays when he thought about his beloved, it stirred a feeling of nostalgia in him, because he only ever allowed the good memories to resurface. The boys’ Dwarven features helped greatly as well, because they were so very much alive even if their other father was not, and Frerin and Thrain were reason enough to keep Bilbo moving forward.
“Did you now?” he asked, taking a long puff from his pipe.
“Indeed. A caravan from the Blue Mountains is being prepped to head in the direction of the Lonely Mountain. His kin will be with it,” Gandalf explained. “They’ll be stopping here for a time. I figured they may want to meet you and the boys.”
Bilbo’s expression had gone from curious to understanding and then elated. He had been lamenting the fact that Frerin and Thrain had never known their other family, but now they had a chance to. They had a chance to meet their Uncle and Aunt and the few cousins Bilbo remembered. He nodded immediately then, smiling now.
“When shall they arrive? I’ll see to it they are given a wonderful welcome,” he chattered excitedly, standing.
“Tomorrow. I was sent ahead to make sure they had lodgings for the fortnight they plan to stay here,” Gandalf said. Bilbo looked slightly alarmed at such a short amount of time, but he nodded along anyway.
“Yes… Yes of course, alright. I’ll talk to the boys. They’ll be very excited to hear the news!” Bilbo’s smile grew in size, and he headed toward the gate. Gandalf, with an inquisitive smile of his own, tilted his head curiously.
“Where are you going, Master Baggins?” he asked.
“To the market! I’d like to have a full cupboard when Frerin’s family comes, especially if they eat like he did!” Bilbo called over his shoulder, disappearing around a hill and out of Gandalf’s sight.
Gandalf chuckled at his friend’s haste, before turning toward the green door of the Hobbit hole and humming. He carved a mark into the door and then turned on his heel.
He needed to double back and tell the Caravan that they had lodgings.