Bagginshield Fanfics

Between a Rock and a Hard Place Emsiecat

Summary:

A big thank you to evil-bones-mccoy and anonymoussong for inspiring me with their dorky Bagginshield puns.

Chapter Text

Thorin would be the first to admit that while he was a fine warrior, a halfway decent uncle, a competent leader of his kin, and, he hoped, as loving a husband as Bilbo could wish for; he did have his shortcomings.

A rather woeful lack of sense of direction was one. Another was that despite his very best intentions, Thorin had never been particularly adept at intentional jesting.

Most folk remarked that Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror and former King Under the Mountain, had a sharp wit and a very dry sense of humour that only close friends and relations could truly appreciate. However, when it came to trying to tell a joke, Thorin found that his attempts were often met with stony silence or a bemused countenance.

Truly, he blamed his naturally stoic expression; for Dwalin had the same problem as he and they often bore the same kind of unapproachable appearance.

It was not a pressing issue in the slightest; after all, in the grand scheme of things, being able to tell a joke was not usually the most important trait one could offer others.

There were some days though that simply called for a joke. Days where the world weighed too heavily upon the shoulders of those he cared for most. It was on these days that Thorin keenly felt that he was failing in some way, no matter how infinitesimal it may seem.

Today was such a day.

Thorin had returned to Bag End absently twirling a small stone between his fingers as he considered how he might try to shape it into something for Bilbo. A pretty thing it was; a pleasing twining of purples and blues, not Bilbo's usual preferred colours to wear, but he felt the hobbit might like it all the same.

It was as he entered the kitchen that Thorin paused. Bilbo was stood at the sink, furiously scrubbing pots, pans, and dishes. Washing the dishes was a task Thorin usually did himself and he had done so after breakfast this morning, so why Bilbo was washing them again completely baffled the dwarf.

"Bilbo?" Thorin spoke tentatively, brow furrowed slightly in confusion.

It was only as he moved closer to his husband that he realised his dear hobbit was muttering through gritted teeth, face pulled into an impressive scowl as he worked.

"Bilbo," he tried again. "Whatever is the matter?"

"O-oh! Thorin!" Bilbo's slight jolt and quick turn towards the sound of Thorin's voice let the dwarf know that Bilbo had been completely ignorant of his presence up until that point. "I'm sorry; I didn't hear you come in."

"So I see... Ghivashel, why are you washing dishes again?"

"Oh... I just needed something to distract myself, that's all," Bilbo cast his gaze downwards again and fiddled with a soapy mug in his hands. "No use gardening or writing when I feel like this, I'll only end up making a mess of things."

"When you feel like what, Bilbo?"

"Frustrated... angry. I had a bit of a run in with some distant relations earlier. They seemed to be under the impression that I owed them a favour, when I know full well I do not," Bilbo harrumphed and set aside the mug with a little more force than necessary, thankfully it did not chip.

"The Sackville-Bagginses?"

Bilbo's lips quirked, "Surprisingly enough, no."

Thorin decided that for now, whatever had occurred between Bilbo and his family was best left well alone. If Thorin tried to coax details from his husband whilst he was still riled up, it would only make Bilbo feel worse, and seeing Bilbo upset was one thing Thorin found he could not bear.