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Bilbo paced the room nervously and resisted the urge to pour himself another cup of tea. He had lost the first one to the wave of sickness that struck him that morning. Should they have been more careful when they spent time together? Why would they have been? This happening was always so far-fetched that it was unthinkable! Which is exactly why he hadn’t planned for it, or worried about it, or talked about it.
How was he going to tell Thorin that he was pregnant?
There was no way to tell if he would take it well. Erebor was still a fledgling kingdom. It hadn’t even been a full year since it was reclaimed, and there was so much to do!
He had remembered telling him at some point on the trip, after they first slept together that it was possible, but he had also made it clear that at fifty-one, he was past the age most had children, let alone male hobbits who had a much smaller fertility window than women. Erebor rightfully had Thorin’s undivided attention at the moment. They had put off everything, even marriage, until the mountain was at least ready to house those traveling from Ered Luin.
The more he thought, the more he was sure Thorin would be displeased. With a twinge of fear and lament, he put a hand over his stomach. It wasn’t as if he could hide it. As soon as he started showing, it would be obvious. Not that he particularly wanted to hide anything, but Thorin's reaction could change everything. At best, he would just be upset that he was wrong and that they weren’t more cautious. At worst, he might be angry that this happened when the kingdom was barely a step above ruin.
Having a child meant adding responsibility to the shoulders of someone already burdened. Thorin just got everything he wanted back. What if he didn’t want anything to do with a half hobbit half, dwarrow child or was repulsed by the way his body would change in order for him to carry? He wasn’t even at an optimal weight to carry now, let alone the food he might go through eating to sustain life. What if Thorin decided that he was too much of a liability and called off their engagement altogether, or…what if he asked him to end the pregnancy?
He looked at the small green vial sitting on his nightstand. Oin said he was obligated to give it to him as an option and that there would be no judgment, but to him, it was unthinkable. It was so unheard of that hobbits didn’t even have a name for it.
That thought made him stop pacing. He sat on the bed and put his head in his hands. He would have to be ready for any outcome. Quietly and with shaking hands, he packed a bag of essentials and placed it under the bed before pouring himself the cup of tea he had been putting off.
He had several unfortunate hours to stew in his worry. His eyes blinked open as the door to their rooms was pressed closed. He had fallen asleep sitting up and slumped against one of the bedposts.
“Ghiva?” Thoin called. The clinking of armor followed the affectionate name as Thorin stripped the heavy finery of the king to get more comfortable. A moment later, he rounded the corner with a worn but soft smile. “Did you see Oin about why you’ve been so tired?
Bilbo nodded and shifted uncomfortably on the bed. He rested his hands in his lap and looked down at his toes. There was no delaying the inevitable.
“Amral, are you alright?” Thorin said, stepping closer and stopping only when he held out his hand.
“Wait. I need to tell you something first.” Bilbo said, biting back the tears in his eyes and trying not to collapse under the weight of his stress.
“If you’re concerned that I might catch something, I don’t care.” Thorin laughed, pressing forward anyway and smoothing his hair back. His smile slowly died as he saw the tears in his eyes and worry on his face.
Bilbo stood up and backed Thorin up several paces before sitting back on the bed.
“Oin…looked me over and…I…I-I’m pregnant,” Bilbo said, the words coming out of him in an unsteady whisper.
He had said it. It was done, but the weight was ever present as he waited for the reaction. Thorin stood stone still. His eyes were wide, and his mouth had fallen open. He was barely blinking, and Bilbo wasn't sure if he was even still breathing.
“I-I know this is sudden, and I said it was rare. This is as much a shock to me. I truly didn’t expect this to happen.” Bilbo pressed, trying to fill the silence.
“You're…pregn..and it’s..” Thorin’s words came out half-formed as he pointed to himself and then at Bilbo’s stomach. When Bilbo nodded, he started breathing again, his eyes mapping some invisible timeline in his head. “You’re sure? You’re absolutely sure?”
Bilbo nodded. “He listened with one of his fancy ear horns and said he heard my heartbeat and another smaller one. He checked multiple times. He says I’m likely eight weeks along.”
“Eight weeks-” Thorin repeated back at him, and Bilbo was now becoming concerned he had never seen him act this incoherent before.
“If this is too much, I-I won’t force you to accept it. With everything going on in the mountain, this is the last thing we need, but I should tell you that I intend to keep it.” He looked at the vial again. “Oin gave me an alternative, but I refuse. I’ll raise this child on my own before-”
The next words out of his mouth were a shout as Thorin tracked his eyes, picked up the bottle, and threw it across the room and into the fire, where it shattered and momentarily turned the flames bright white.
Before he knew it, Thorin had slid his hands into his hair and pressed their foreheads together. He could feel the warrior king shaking.
“Say it again,” Thorin begged.
“Say what? That I’m pregnant?” Bilbo breathed, resting his arms on Thorin’s to soothe him.
“Again, please.” Thorin croaked
“I’m pregnant,” Bilbo said stronger, the words coming out half hysterically.
“You're pregnant,” Thorin whispered before wrapping him up in his arms and kissing him with shattering passion. “YOU'RE PREGNANT!”
He had never seen the dwarf look so happy or smile so widely. For the first time since hearing the news, he finally let it sink in and settle in his bones. They were going to have a child.
“I was so worried you would be upset,” Bilbo said between his dwarf's insatiable kisses.
“Upset? Being an uncle was the closest thing I could stomach wishing for because I thought fatherhood was well beyond my grasp, but with this… I can ask Mahal for nothing else in this lifetime. He's given me everything I've ever wanted. Even being allowed to call you mine after everything that happened, after everything… that I did was enough to keep me happy until my Maker claimed me, but this. This is beyond my dreams.” Thorin pressed his forehead to his belly, and he could feel how ragged his breath was.“This pebble, our pebble, will be the first child born under a reclaimed Erebor.”
Bilbo smiled as he stroked his hair, and happy tears filled his eyes. “That's part of my worry. This pregnancy will be a burden on our resources. We are just stepping into spring. Seeds are a week sown at most. By Yavannas graces Thorin, we're not even married!”
“Then we’ll get married, and my first promise to you is that you’ll have everything you need. Bilbo, I promise you I will make this mountain a suitable place to raise our little one.” Thorin’s striking eyes were filled with the same fire and passion he had when they journeyed to reclaim the mountain. He had no preference for what their child looked like, but if he could make any request, they would inherit their father's eyes.
“We don't have the rations,” Bilbo said, his voice breaking as he tried to be the voice of reason.
“You can have mine,” Thorin shot back as quickly as he had finished his sentence.
“That’s not sustainable,” Bilbo said, shaking his head but failing not to smile. “Hobbits need a lot of food when carrying.”
“Then I’ll trade with the Iron Hills; I’ll give Thranduil half the gold in this mountain. I will fish in the lake myself if I have to. I will see it done,” Thorin said with conviction.
“Your pride would never let you trade with Thranduil.” Bilbo laughed, but Thorin didn’t waver or jest back. He put both hands on his face so that his thumbs pressed into his cheeks.
“Damn my pride. If my legacy means anything, then our child will want for nothing in this life. Not a meal, not a home, not a precious thing. I will ensure it.” Thorin vowed. He could see the wheels in his brain turning to his new purpose.
When whatever he was thinking about clicked, he was lifted off the bed and into his arms with a surprised squeak. Thorin settled him comfortably in his arms and made for the front door.
“Thorin, what are you doing!” Bilbo shouted.
“We’re going to see Oin,” he said with laser focus.
“I just saw him this morning!” Bilbo protested.
“I want to hear what he sounds like. I want to meet him,” Thorin said, kissing his hair. “My mind still doesn't want to believe it. I’m going to be an adad.”
“Why do you keep saying he? We can't know that yet.” Bilbo laughed at his single-minded enthusiasm.
“Most dwarves are male,” Thorin replied, and it was evident that he hadn't considered any other option.
“But whoever our faunt will be is not only a dwarf. There is every chance it'll be a she.” Bilbo reminded him, smoothing his hand over his stomach with a smile.
“Bilbo… if you get my hopes up anymore, this visit to Oin will be because I passed out from joy.”
Thorin lifted him slightly so he could kiss the wind out of him again, and with a blazing smile, he kicked open the door. It bounced off the back wall with the force of a warhammer striking an anvil. Before Bilbo’s senses recovered from the sound, Thorin’s voice rang out as loudly as his lungs would allow and was clear even among the idle sounds of the mountain.
“I’M GOING TO BE A FATHER! THE CONSORT OF EREBOR IS PREGNANT!”