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When Bilbo first heard that his nephew had been orphaned, the hobbit had been adamant that Frodo would come to live with him, Thorin, and the rest of the Company in Erebor, and hadn't allowed anyone to say a word against the decision.
Not that the dwarves were going to deny Bilbo; dwarven children were rare enough, and no dwarf was dumb enough to get in Bilbo's way when his mothering instincts had arose.
And arose they had. Bilbo spent the four months waiting for his nephew to arrive either hurriedly preparing a room for Frodo himself or pacing around the mountain in wolf form, growling and snapping at any dwarf that tried to engage him in conversation.
Fíli and Kíli found it all very amusing, especially the days when Bilbo brushed away Thorin's attempts to spend the day together, because, really, Thorin, Bilbo was busy, he had things to do, and didn't Thorin have to run a kingdom or something important like that?
The King Under the Mountain's pouty/sulky face was entirely hilarious, even if Thorin denied he had one in the first place.
(The heirs to Erebor had proof of Thorin's sulk face; they had once blackmailed Ori into capturing it on paper)
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The day came that Frodo was to arrive; and Thorin, his nephews, and those of the Company that did not have pressing duties to deal with, found themselves at the front gate, with Bilbo.
Thorin frowned when the elven escort came into view, but he did not say a word for Bilbo had brightened, transformed into his wolf form, and took off down the road, bounding up to the smallest form in the party and pressing against him.
Frodo laughed, delighted, and the hobbit-child buried his hands in his uncle's fur. "Uncle Bilbo!"
"My dear Frodo," Bilbo said, ignoring the Elves (who were only half-staring; but when it came elves, half-staring was pretty much equal to a jaw dropped to the ground). "I have missed you."
Bombur, standing behind Thorin, got a little misty-eyed. Bifur elbowed him in the side, grumbled something unintelligible, and they all straightened as Bilbo, having transformed back into hobbit form, nudged his nephew up to them.
"Everyone, this is is my nephew, Frodo. Frodo, meet King Thorin-"
The Dwarven king attempted to smile welcomingly. Since the tiny hobbit didn't look too scared, he assumed he must have succeeded.
"-his nephews, Fíli and Kíli-"
The two trouble making dwarves grinned broadly, waving enthusiastically at the little hobbit, who smiled shyly back.
"-Bombur, Bifur, Ori, Nori, and Balin," Bilbo concluded. "You'll meet everyone else later."
Frodo managed a small, but curious hello, and it seemed that, although Bilbo's young charge was shy, he wasn't' t afraid of any of the dwarves.
That was, until Dwalin walked up to report a slight issue in the mines.
Frodo caught one look at him, squeaked, and quickly transformed into a tiny creature with fluffy dark brown fur, pointy ears, strong legs, and little claws. The creature scurried behind his uncle's legs, staring wide-eyed at Dwalin, who was staring right back.
Of course, all the other dwarves were staring at Frodo as well, for they had never seen a creature of this manner before.
"What is it?" Kíli whispered, eyes big in awe.
Bilbo glared sternly at Thorin's younger nephew. "Frodo," He said smartly. "Is a wombat. And would you all stop gaping, honestly, you're scaring him!"
The dwarves looked sheepish. Thorin cleared his throat, straightened, and adopted his mighty-King face, as if he hadn't just been staring at tiny little wombat Frodo.
"Now Frodo," Bilbo turned to look his tiny nephew in the eyes. The wombat stared back, making a quiet clicking noise in the back of his throat. "This is Dwalin, he may look scary, but he's only ever scary to anyone who attacks us, or when Bombur tries to steal his rolls."
The redheaded dwarf looked sheepish, while the rest of the Company just chuckled.
Frodo looked hesitant, but padded forward, claws clicking against the ground softly. He eventually stopped in front of Dwalin, who was watching the wombat carefully.
There was a pause, and the dwarves held their breath. Frodo made the clicking noise again, before gnawing on the end of one of the dwarf's boots.
"That means he likes you," Bilbo smiled, while the rest of the dwarves burst into laughter.
"Aye," Dwalin said, not sounding too put out. "But perhaps we should get him a chew toy instead?"
This sent Fíli and Kíli, who'd managed to catch their breath, into a fresh new fit of giggles.
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Many hours later, after putting Frodo down for bed (in full hobbit form), Bilbo returned to his and Thorin's quarters, snuggling down into the dwarf's arms.
"I think he's going to fit in just fine," Bilbo said, relieved.
"Aye," Thorin agreed, resting his head on top of the hobbit's. "They're going to spoil him rotten, you know."
"Yes," The Halfling responded, closing his eyes. "But there are worse things."
The Dwarven King grunted in agreement, and sleep washed over Erebor.
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The next room over, a young hobbit dreamt of chasing after two odd creatures, one blond, the other brunette, with patterns in their hair and fur on their chins.