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Bilbo looked around the field he was in and bellowed his sadness. He was a highland bull, and he was so fed up with his existence. He was related to half of the females here and the other half the men wanted him to mate. Bilbo didn’t want to mate; he didn’t even like the cows. The only cow he liked was Primula. She was fun and his friend. She was also seen as an awkward cow as she refused to mate with any but the bull Drogo, who was the same, refusing to tup any of the other cows. Drogo was Bilbo’s age mate and his only other friend apart from Primula. The relief Bilbo had felt at realising his friends were as strange as him (according to the rest of their herd) was immense.
From what little of the men’s language Bilbo could understand, he had learnt that they would sell and separate them. Primula would have to stay as she had a calf. A lovely little male calf who Bilbo adored. Little Frodo was the apple of Primula, Drogo, and Bilbo’s eye. Bilbo was fed up with the little males being taken away because they were bulls. It was barbaric, as far as he was concerned.
Unlike the rest of their herd, Bilbo had always wanted to wander. His instincts told him to move, to follow the sun, but he was stuck here with the other highland cattle. Cattle who should know better than to stand there and allow the men free range. How they couldn’t see that men were predators who stole calves, he did not know, but he would not allow it to happen to young Frodo. Now all Bilbo needed was a plan.
Bilbo had taken many days to figure out what he needed to do. It was also very hard to eavesdrop when the men rarely talked about the outside world in the fields. Bilbo was grateful that his father, Bungo, had been brought in from a wild herd. It meant he wasn’t as docile as the rest of his cousins and extended family in the herd. It meant the drive to move and roam was stronger in him, and his intelligence was that much more then his brethren. Which was going to keep him in good standing for when he finally escaped.
He made a mental note of the route he had decided to take. Near the river was the best option, but also the riskiest. Bilbo would have to be smart about it so they weren’t caught and dragged back. He also had to consider little Frodo’s tiny legs and how far he could go in one day.
As he was pondering these things, looking into the distance, he suddenly felt a nudge to his side. He instantly turned, only to see Lobelia. He huffed out a dismissal and faced the horizon again. She was there nudging him and making mating signs before he could get lost in his thoughts again. Bilbo was annoyed. He had thought he had made it clear he had no intention to tup any of the cows, especially because the men would steal his calves. Something he refused to take part in. Besides, he couldn’t stand Lobelia, the nasty little cow that she was. Why would he want to beget offspring on her?
He stood passively, ignoring her for a while, until she became more aggressive in her advancements. Bilbo swotted her with his head and butted her away, being careful of his horns. Hoping that had made it clear he wasn’t interested. Sadly for him, it had not. Bilbo huffed in annoyance. They had all seen Otho tupping her, not 2 days gone, so why was she bothering Bilbo? Otho was his cousin and a much bigger bull than Bilbo. Surely she should be happy with him and his offspring? But no, Lobelia was a greedy cow through and through and obviously wanted Bilbo to want her, too. Unfortunately for her, he didn’t and never would.
He tried to sidestep away, but she was persistent. In the end, Bilbo’s temper frayed, and he bellowed at her, lowering his head and shaking his horns threateningly. He watched with satisfaction as Lobelia cried out in alarm and ran back to hide behind Otho. Good, Bilbo thought. She can stay there and far away from him. With that, he turned back to the horizon, plotting.
It had been easy to convince Primula to run with him. Frodo was her first calf, and she was barely past her majority. She hadn’t realised that the male calves were calfnapped. As soon as she knew she was full of rage, threatening if anyone tried, they would feel the end of her horns. Bilbo had explained that would just lead to her death. The men had boom sticks, and they used them when a cow fought back. She wouldn’t win, and they would take Frodo either way. He had felt her heartbreak at thinking she had no choice but to watch them steal her calf. It was then Bilbo explained they don’t belong here like this. That he had heard the men. There was a wild herd somewhere up past the river. One that was protected. If they got there, they would be too.
Bilbo had sent Primula to let Drogo know. It was up to him if he was going, but Bilbo, Primula and Frodo were. Whilst she did, he got to play with the little calf. Bilbo made it a game, but he watched how steady the little male was and how fast he could bolt, all the while calculating his survival. When she returned before they even dreamt of setting off, Bilbo had explained that he would try with everything in him, but he had no guarantee they would all survive, especially Frodo.
Primula had smiled and said she would rather risk it than stand by passively as they stole her baby. And with that, their small group of runaways was formed. Drogo had asked if they would take others, but Bilbo knew these cattle. None would dream of leaving the fence and the field, and most would try to stop them. No, it was better if it was just the four of them.
The plan to escape was easy. Primula and happy little Frodo stood near the gate. Nobody ever suspected a cow with a calf as the men came in and dropped off the feed. After they left, Bilbo rushed forward. Primula had managed to hold the gate open, just barely. Bilbo rushed forward and helped her nudge it open roughly for the four of them to slip by. The men wouldn’t be back until the same time the next day, giving them a considerable head start.
Bilbo told them not to run, not yet. They didn’t want to alert anyone they were past the fence. Thankfully, nobody even looked their way. Primula had to keep shushing little Frodo, but it was a pretty simple escape short of that. Bilbo had expected more men and boom sticks and fences. He hated fences. Despised them and was glad to be rid of them.
Bilbo led them to the river and allowed Frodo to frolic and play whilst they quenched their thirst. He then let out a low bellow, one to call his small herd and start them moving forward. He felt the wilderness vibrate in his bones, his very blood. He was out and able to roam the way he was supposed to. They were free as long as they stayed ahead of the men. Bilbo hoped with everything that they wouldn’t notice the four of them missing for a while. Frodo had a while before he was big enough to steal, so they may not even notice until then. Plenty of bulls in their herd looked similar to Bilbo and Drogo, so hopefully, that would hide their escape. Bilbo had nothing but dreams, hopes, a vague sense forward and a natural instinct calling him forward. He was going to utilise all of them to find him, as well as Primula, Drogo, and Frodo, a new herd. He would find them a free family to belong to.
Having rarely interacted with the calves of his herd, Bilbo had forgotten how much sleep they needed. He had realised they were pushing little Frodo to his limits. They had scouted out a small group of trees to finally rest in, real proper rest, not snatched dozing on their feet. Frodo and Primula especially needed a good rest before they were worn out.
Bilbo opted to sleep standing up. They had heard the hungry cries of the predators over the last few days, and Bilbo didn’t want to take any chances. He was aware he had no experience protecting anyone, let alone himself, but he couldn’t, wouldn’t, risk his little herd if he didn’t have to. It was with that thought he allowed his head to droop as his ears flickered around. As soon as Drogo had rested, he would take his turn for a full sleep, and they could restart when they were all rested. He was sure the calf would sleep through it all, snuggled into Primula’s side.
It was with a good night’s rest that I found the four creatures wandering the next morning. The sun was rising, and it was a beautiful day. Sadly, something else thought so, too. Bilbo lifted his head up, his ears swivelling around. Something was out there. Something dangerous. He made a low moo to Primula, who ushered Frodo closer and under her. He also called out to Drogo, who had been in front of them following the river and fording their path forward. Drogo came running back, but there was a beige blur following him. Bilbo bellowed with rage as he ran forward, horns down. He had no idea what he was doing or how to win, but he couldn’t let the large cat thing get to baby Frodo. It had claws and teeth, and Frodo was crying out in distress beneath his mother’s body. Bilbo had brought them out here. He refused to allow harm to come to him.
He bellowed loudly in challenge to the predator. Horns down and head swinging from side to side. The cat thing was quick and agile. Something Bilbo wasn’t. He was a short and dumpy bull, prone to standing still and ruminating most hours of the day, not fighting for his life against things with claws that wanted to eat him.
He lost sight of the creature momentarily when Frodo let out a terrified squeal, causing Bilbo to look at him. There was another one, inching closer to his three huddled herd mates. Bilbo bellowed in rage again. How dare they? He thought as he turned to charge at the newest threat. As he did, he turned his back to the one he had been facing. It was a stupid mistake, one he realised as those claws sliced through his rump. He screamed at the intense pain he felt, turning again and trying to shack the claws off.
The creature became loose and leapt again. Thankfully Bilbo was able to move out of the way. He was panting hard, terrified for himself and his family when he heard a confused and distressed moo come from the baby. He immediately turned and ran towards them, not caring what came at him as long as he could shield Frodo when he suddenly came to a stop.
There, between Frodo, Primula, Drogo, and the second creature was a huge bull. He was dark brown with a shaggy mane and horns that put Bilbo’s to shame. Bilbo was so busy staring that he had forgotten about the other creature when he heard the bull in front of him stomp and charge forward.
Bilbo walked backwards a few steps away from those horns when he heard the noise of the creature behind him. In a moment of panic, Bilbo gave out a distressed bellow and ran to hide behind the larger bull. Surely the creatures wouldn’t be able to hurt him, he thought.
For his part, the larger bull watched as Bilbo scampered behind him, passively allowing it. He then saw the creature stalking forward and bellowed, a sound that put Bilbo to shame and rattled his bones. Bilbo backed off and went to stand between Primula, Frodo and the second creature. As he saw it ready to lunge again, Bilbo lowered his head, prepared to die for the little one.
Just as Bilbo had lowered his head, his horns front and centre, he heard a thwack. He raised his head, and an even bigger bull than the first one had just sent the creature flying through the air. He must have managed to toss it from his imposing horns. Unlike the other one, this bull was quite intimidating for its massive size. This one had larger muscles and larger horns, and his mane was almost nonexistent, like some of the men Bilbo had seen with no hair, bald; he believed they called one another.
Not that it really mattered. Bilbo was so grateful for these
two huge bulls that seemingly came from nowhere and chased the danger away. Bilbo felt the adrenaline leaving him; he felt the burn in his rump and the rising worry for the rest of his small herd. He ignored the burn and immediately rushed to Prim and Frodo. He gently licked between Prim’s ears, reassuring himself that she was well. He then turned to Frodo and nudged him, licking over his little face, pressing his nose against him, checking he wasn’t hurt.
Bilbo was so busy checking on Frodo that he hadn’t noticed Drogo coming over. He leant into Bilbo’s side, not realising he was hurt. This caused Bilbo to moo lowly in distress, causing Drogo to step back before he realised Bilbo was hurt. He immediately went behind him and started licking at the wound, ignoring Bilbo’s protests about something that needed to be done.
Bilbo stood and endured it, knowing the bleeding needed to stop. Only when he was finished did Drogo go over and stand head to head with Primula, the pair of them basking in one another’s love as little Frodo was snuggled between them.
It was only then, when he realised his family was safe, that Bilbo remembered the large bulls. He turned to look at them. The smaller of the two (though he was much larger than Bilbo and even Drogo, who was the larger of the two) was staring at Frodo intently. Bilbo was unsure what he wanted, but injured or not, he wouldn’t hurt the baby.
Bilbo mooed lowly in enquiry, wondering why the large Bull was staring at Frodo like that. The Bull lifted his head, a sign all was well, and made a soft grunting noise. Bilbo thought it was an enquiring noise of his own, but he wasn’t sure what he was enquiring about.
It took a bit of pawing the ground, soft moos from Bilbo and answering grunts from the Bull for Bilbo to realise he was worried about Frodo. It was then it all clicked for Bilbo. They had come rushing over after Frodo first screamed. They must have mistaken him for one of their own calves, and even now, knowing he wasn’t one of theirs, they were still worried. The larger one stood at attention, eyes flickering around for more danger, but even his entire body softened as Frodo slowly walked towards them, mooing quietly, looking for reassurance. The smaller Bull cocked his head as Frodo cried for reassurance from them. When it didn’t come, Bilbo stepped in, mooing lowly and comfortingly for Frodo, who darted between his legs and peered up at the much larger males.
Bilbo just moo’d gently to Frodo. Still huddled between his legs, he watched Primula’s tail twitch in agitation at the two large males near her calf, and he moo'd softly to her, too, a comforting sound saying all was well. She and Drogo walked over to Bilbo, standing side by side, their flanks all touching for reassurance.
The larger of the Bulls snorted, made a grunting noise and turned to walk away. The other Bull, the one Bilbo couldn’t help but stare at, grunted and bellowed softly to the smaller cattle before him. He then turned and twitched his tail. For Bilbo and his kind, it was a sign to follow. He looked at Prim, and when she moo’d in ascent, he stepped over Frodo, relinquishing back to his mother and walked forward with Prim, Drogo and Frodo behind him. He moo’d to check he was welcome, but the two large bulls ignored him. Bilbo figured if they didn’t want them to follow, they would make it clear soon enough. After all, they were large enough to get away with whatever they wanted. Bilbo, for his part, wanted to be around these larger males to protect Primula and Frodo, especially with him now injured. However, he took pains not to show his weakness. Weak cows were shunned in their old herd. He refused to be the reason Frodo wasn’t protected, and so he followed. He wasn’t sure how far they went, but he was exhausted when they crested a hill and saw more of the large cattle spread out before them.
Primula let out a sound of amazement at all the creatures before them and the fact there were no fences and no humans. There were calves, who were admittedly twice as big as Frodo, frolicking around everywhere.
There was a huge gathering of males and females in the centre of the large moving mass, and Bilbo cringed at the thought of getting in the middle of that mass of cattle. Thankfully, he didn’t have to as the mesmerising Bull led them to the side, where there were still plenty of other large cattle. Bilbo followed slowly, head moving this way and taking it all in.
He suddenly stopped, Prim banging into him as she walked beside him to see what had alarmed him. She gave a moo of questioning, and Bilbo shook his head at the larger male. He had trotted away and towards a leaner male. He was there, head to head like Prim and Drogo often did. Bilbo gave Prim a large eyed stare as she looked back in bewilderment. The other one was definitely another bull, so how were they mated? Bilbo had known he, Prim and Drogo were outliers in their herd, him refusing to mate with any cow, and they refusing to mate with anyone but one another, but this small herd within the larger herd was also just as strange. Bilbo thought they may actually be welcome here. They may have found somewhere they could be peculiar together and not shunned and gossiped about, like back at their old herd.
Bilbo hoped he could finally belong somewhere, even if they had no idea what was being said around them.
It was several days of wandering the edges of the smaller herd when something exciting finally happened. Bilbo had spent a fair bit of time resting. It wasn’t something he had done a lot of in the arduous trek from the old herd to this one, and with his rump still smarting, he was making the most of the safety in numbers aspect of being in this much larger group. Primula and Drogo had been doing similar but taking turns to watch Frodo. Not that the calf had been very active. He was even more exhausted than the adults. He had gone a long time with too little rest, and now, often curled up with Bilbo, they were making the most of all the rest they could.
It was when Bilbo was in a half doze, mooing quietly to settle Frodo as Primula and Drogo took a short walk together, that he felt the eyes on him. His head instantly shot up, though he carried on soothing the calf. Standing a little way away was the dominant Bull, the smaller of the two who had saved them. Bilbo still did not know what was being said, but it was obvious that Bull was in charge. From his dominant posture to the way he often checked on everyone.
The Bull walked forward a few paces and made a soft grunting noise. He did it a few times and clearly got annoyed when Bilbo didn’t understand. Before he knew what had happened, Frodo was up, squeaking at the larger male.
The Bull huffed softly and nudged Frodo, giving the same grunt. Frodo didn’t seem to have the same issue Bilbo did.
He attempted to repeat the grunt, changing it to moo’s. He suddenly got excited, licked the Bull’s face and ran back, mooing a name to Bilbo. It took Bilbo a few tries to interpret what Frodo was saying, but he moo’d the name, and then tried to copy the grunt the Bull had made. Bilbo felt ridiculously stupid by the way it sounded coming from him, but if he was right, he had just said the Bull’s name, and he was very excited by it if his tail flicking that way meant the same as it did for Bilbo.
Thorin, Bilbo repeated in his head, Thorin. A strong name for a strong and magnificent male. Bilbo had spent the evening before gossiping with Primula about the other cattle around them.
They had been watching the dynamics. A female with two calves of her own was also very important; Bilbo thought she might be Thorin’s mate, especially as one of the calves looked like him. Primula said she wasn’t so sure and that they were close, but there was no mating behaviour. Bilbo had just hummed. Unwilling to allow anything like hope to cross his mind. He had never thought about mating before. He had never wanted to mate with any cow in their herd. Even now, he could objectively say that Primula was a beautiful cow, but the idea of mating with her, or any cow in general, left Bilbo cold inside. That bull, though, Bilbo, wouldn’t have minded curling up with him. A thought that caused him to dislike himself immensely. That wasn’t how it was done. That wasn’t how cattle behaved, he whispered to Prim.
It was Drogo who had looked around the larger herd. He had wandered behind the much larger male. Apparently, his name was Dwalin. Bilbo had no idea how Drogo had figured that out. From what Drogo had said, the larger herd was, well, normal. The males fought over the females. The winners mated, but they mated with more than one female.
This little offshoot, though, was treated well by the rest of the larger herd, almost reverently. However, they were off to the side. They had noticed there were 3 mated male-female couples. The female that Bilbo had thought was Thorin’s. It turned out her mate was a lighter male who the second calf favoured.
There was a large bull with a shaggy mane and red streaked through it. He had a mate and their calf, who was almost red as opposed to the brown of the others.
The last male/female mated pair was a very large bull and his much sleeker female. They had four calves, ranging in age from one a bit older to Frodo to a bull calf almost at his majority.
The fact that this offshoot had many calves proved well for little Frodo if they were ever accepted fully, as well as any other calves Prim and Drogo had.
The rest of the smaller herd baffled them as they watched them. Bilbo would ever say anything. After all, Thorin and Dwalin had saved them all, but the relationship between Dwalin and the smaller bull still baffled all three of them. In the end, it was Primula’s pragmatic mind that said, who cares? They were happy. No one was being shunned, and there wasn’t much aggression over here as opposed to the middle of the herd, so they were doing something right.
Bilbo tried to ignore all the niggling at the back of his mind. It was spiralling again as he saw an older bull, one with a magnificent mane, settle down, curled up with another older male, one with grey in his own mane. They were curled up like a mated pair and had a calf, around 2 settled between them. The logistics of that baffled him, especially as the slimmer, possibly Dwalin’s mate, would often come by and nuzzle with the non-grey older male and the bull calf.
This herd seemed to be full of oddities, including another greying male who was often looking after all the claves. From what Bilbo knew of other males who were not him and Drogo, males didn’t care for calves. None of the males outside of this odd little herd did either.
All in all, Bilbo looked up at Thorin, completely confused about the herd dynamics other than that he was the dominant bull and didn’t want to upset him. Bilbo was still laid down, so he refused to make eye contact and lowered his entire body as much as he could.
Frodo, bless him, hadn’t learnt any social cues yet, so Bilbo called him over and settled him down, nudging him down, too. Calves could usually ignore all social cues apart from minding their mothers. Still, Frodo, like the rest of them, was an interloper, and Bilbo was terrified of him being around someone who reacted badly.
Thorin was watching Bilbo’s submissive posture, which seemed to infuriate him. He snorted loudly and stomped off, leaving Bilbo confused and worried there had been a misunderstanding.
Bilbo just sighed and settled Frodo back down for a nap, deciding to talk to Prim later about what had just happened.
Bilbo had often isolated himself from the other members of their old herd, so he also wasn’t the best at social cues with his own herd, let alone one he couldn’t understand. He mumbled to himself as he settled with Frodo to catch up on more much needed sleep. Large bulls with big blue eyes be damned.
Another few days passed, with the four of them occasionally sought out by other herd members. Lots of sniffing and bumping, but it all seemed friendly, so Bilbo and his little herd accepted it. It was a minor nuisance and hopefully led to their acceptance into the actual herd.
The three adult cows had been slowly picking up the language. They could now understand all the larger cattle names and their own had been understood and used. The rest of the communication was mostly body language. There were a few misunderstandings, but they were able to weather them. It turned out the louder cattle were able to laugh loudly. It rumbled through them and the ground beneath them.
It was a lovely day, and Frodo was frolicking around them as they ate when there was a huge bellow. Bilbo looked over and saw Thorin square up to a large male from the main herd. The other male had come in and zeroed in on the female that Thorin was familiar with, Dis, Bilbo believed her name was.
Bilbo looked around for Dis’ mate, but he appeared not to be around, and neither were Dis’ calves. Instead of her mate defending her, Thorin stood in front of her, between her and the interloping male.
Bilbo watched breathlessly as Thorin bellowed his challenge to the large male, who bellowed back. Bilbo stood there, eyes wide as he watched the muscles in Thorin’s neck strain as he suddenly locked horns with the other male. He watched Thorin quickly overpower the other male, sending him on his way with a challenging snort as he walked in front of Dis, asserting his claim in Vili’s stead. There was a chorus of other males snorting and grunting, and just as suddenly, the violence and challenge was over. Thorin walked over to Dis and licked between her ears, rumbling softly, before he wandered off, bellowing for Vili to hurry up and watch out for his mate.
Bilbo was mesmerised. His eyes locked with Thorin’s firm back. He was magnificent and Bilbo realised he wanted to be able to do what Dwalin and Nori and Balin and Dori were doing. He wanted to be under Thorin’s protection. He wanted to be under Thorin’s large, muscular body.
Bilbo walked away, refusing to look at everyone as he lay down and thought. He thought about what he wanted and how to go about getting it. He wondered if Thorin would even want to mate with him. Bilbo moo’d to himself sadly. Not stopping the tears that fell down his face. Why would the dominant male of his own herd, respected by the larger herd, able to take on any challenger that tried to dispute his herd’s stability? Why would he want a small, bumbling bull who had nearly gotten his own herd eaten? Bilbo couldn’t even protect one little calf; Thorin would laugh at him if he approached him, he thought as he lowed sadly, calling Primula and Drogo, who cuddled up with him, not asking what was wrong, just giving comfort to their sad herd mate.
Bilbo was so enmeshed in his own misery that he didn’t see those bright blue eyes watching him, softening at the obviously sad cries coming from the adorable smaller male.
After the interaction with Dis and the other male, when neither Bilbo nor Drogo had attempted anything with the female, it seemed to be appreciated that they had stayed clear of her, and Dis came over with her own calves. She made a few grunts and sorts, and Bilbo, who was watching Frodo again at the time, understood enough to call Frodo from the stick he was playing with and call him to follow.
Bilbo followed Dis into the centre of their small herd. When they were in the group's centre, she made a small grunt, and her boys bounded from her side, rolling over one another and butting each other. Suddenly, his mother let little Gimli loose, and he bounded straight for Frodo.
There was a startled bellow as Lorel, Gimli’s mother, warned him to be a bit more careful That Frodo was little. Gimli skidded to a stop, his little legs splaying as he tumbled over himself, causing Bilbo, Dis and Lorel to snigger at him. Gimli just got up, shook himself off and carried on to Frodo. They stared at one another for a few moments before Frodo suddenly squealed and rubbed against Gimli; with that, they were off gambling together.
Bilbo stepped back, suddenly reassured that if nobody else, at least Frodo had a place here. After all, Thorin and Dwalin had run to Frodo’s defence just because he was a calf in danger, and then they had allowed Bilbo and his little herd to follow them home. Now they were being accepted, slowly but surely.
Primula returned from where she had been grazing and watched her baby playing happily with all the other calves. They watched as Ori enticed his brother Nori into playing and chasing them, too.
Bilbo stepped back and was in awe at how this herd functioned, how they didn’t care about what was expected of them. How Dwalin, the beta dominant, was pulled into the game and laid down so the claves could clamber over him, being careful of his horns.
Bilbo watched in satisfaction as Thorin came over and was run into by Kili and Fili. He watched as Thorin lowered himself and was suddenly surrounded by all the calves for an impromptu nap.
Thorin grunted to Dwalin, who stood and took his place as a sentinel so Thorin could relax. Bilbo watched, his heart in his throat as Thorin looked at him. Bilbo thought he must have misinterpreted wrong. He could have sworn that look and grunt was a summons for Bilbo to go and curl up with them. Bilbo shook his head and backed up. He had to stop deluding himself. It wasn’t fair to Prim, Drogo and Frodo if he muddied the waters and made it uncomfortable by trying to court the dominant male. He would be a fool to think that Thorin would want to mate him, and one thing Bilbo wasn’t was a fool, he thought as he secluded himself on the edge of the herd away from the temptation that was Thorin and of making a fool for himself.
It had been a few weeks since Bilbo had almost accidentally outed his growing feelings for Thorin. He had watched from the sidelines as Primula, Drogo and little Frodo were fully accepted into the herd. As they found their place. Primula becoming entrenched with the other females. She and Amela, Bombur’s mate, becoming the best of friends. Drogo had found his place in the sentinels and was part of protecting the herd. Something he was enjoying and feeling immense pride in. He went from an odd bull (though still not as strange as Bilbo) to a respected member of a new herd who appreciated him and his mating with Primula. Here, in this little herd on the edge of the larger herd, they had found a home, peace. Bilbo wished he had found the same.
All he had found were feelings he had no idea he could or would ever feel. A longing for something he hadn’t known he was missing, a deep keening in his heart that made every day close to Thorin too difficult to endure.
It was with that thought that later that night, when his little herd was finally resting, all calves in a bundle in the centre, Bilbo slowly stood from where he had been led with Primula. He extracted himself from his sleeping herd and nuzzled Primula one last time as a silent goodbye.
Bilbo slowly walked away, head low, tears watering the ground where he stepped. His heart was low, and his soul was crying. He was so entrenched in his misery he wasn’t watching his surroundings. A death sentence for a small prey creature like himself.
He was so lost to the world around him that he bumped into something, something large and grunty. Something he looked up at and felt his tears flow even faster.
How did Bilbo have the luck to bump into the one bull he wanted to avoid? How could he leave when his heart was right there before him, grunting in annoyance?
Bilbo sighed and lowered his head in submission. Hoping Thorin would let him go and that he wouldn’t say anything cruel. They had barely interacted, but Bilbo was now much more able to understand the larger cattle’s speech. He hoped whatever Thorin said wasn’t too cruel for him to bear.
Bilbo stayed there, head down, tail flicking in submission as he waited for Thorin to do something. When he did, Bilbo couldn’t have been more surprised. He heard Thorin grumble quietly as he suddenly started licking at Bilbo’s mouth. Bilbo looked up in shock. Dominate cattle didn’t do that. Why was Thorin doing that to him?
As soon as his head was high enough, Thorin surprised him even more by quickly pushing his own head against Bilbo’s, making soft, plaintive, courting grunts. Grunts he had heard the other mated couples use towards one another.
Bilbo stepped back in shock. Thorin looked at the way Bilbo moved away, looked at how his big brown eyes got even wider, and cursed that fact that Bilbo had rejected him. Thorin let out a soft, mournful grunt and swung around, his head down in dejection.
It took Bilbo a moment to realise what had happened: that sad sound was because he had moved away, and Thorin actually wanted to mate with him. He took a moment to think it through before realising he was being daft. If Thorin wished to be his mate, then he would be an idiot to say no, and Bilbo was far from an idiot.
He rushed after Thorin, mooing loud enough for him to hear. He saw as Thorin stopped, all his muscles tense. Bilbo rushed over and rubbed against his side, lowing quietly, comfortingly. He walked up and around to the front of Thorin.
Glancing at him, Bilbo started licking his mouth and nose, giving little love kisses. He nudged his head with his own until Thorin lowered his head. As soon as he could reach, Bilbo pushed his head against Thorin’s, mooing his apologies and letting Thorin know he was just stunned and not unhappy. Thorin finally rested his head over Bilbo’s, a clear sign he was actually courting him. They stood there, as wrapped around one another as they could be, watching the sunrise and a new day dawn. As they watched their future as a mated pair start together.
