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“I do not know why you bother with those plants,” Thorin said, standing to one side, with arms crossed, watching with pointed interest, as Bilbo knelt in the front garden, pruning plants and weeding.
Bilbo chuckled and shook his head, not evening looking up, saying amused, “So says the Dwarf who enjoys the fruits of my labor with said plants.”
Thorin looked confused. “I thought they were vegetables, not fruit.”
Bilbo had to laugh at that. “Didn’t you Dwarrow cultivate any crops in the Blue Mountains?”
Thorin nodded. “Grains and such. But we mostly ate wild plants and herbs. Why bother to grow on purpose what grew wild?”
“Yes, well,” Bilbo said, curling his lip. “I had some of your ‘wild plants and herbs’ on our journey and let me tell you, they do not compare with freshly grown and cultivated vegetables.” Bilbo shuddered. “Bitter, nasty things they were.”
Thorin shrugged. “They were fine to round out a meal when meat was in short supply. That was it.”
Bilbo sighed. “It’s a wonder you Dwarves grow so tall on such a poor diet.”
Thorin shrugged again. He didn’t see the problem.
There was a loud screech, a ‘CAWWW’, and both turned to find a large, black Raven perched on top of the mailbox. It’s powerful beak and sharp eyes were telltale signs; this bird was no ordinary Raven, it was Dwarrow. In fact, it was most likely from Erebor. Bilbo stood slowly while Thorin did not hesitate to descend the stairs and hold out an arm for the bird to come to. In moments, Thorin held the bird close and listened as it recited a message in a distinct but clear variation of Khuz-dul that Thorin obviously understood. After a lengthy exchange, Thorin nodded solemnly and the bird flew to land on the kitchen windowsill.
“Bilbo,” Thorin said softly, as he walked back up the stairs, not looking at his husband. “Would you kindly feed him for his troubles?”
Bilbo nodded. “Are you all right?”
Thorin gave Bilbo a small smile. “Yes. I’m fine.” However, Thorin did not stop and walked quickly into Bag End, shutting the door behind him.
Bilbo was very confused and needless to say less curious than concerned; something was clearly wrong. However, he wiped his hands and went inside. He got out a small bowl, filled it with a mix of seeds and nuts he had for his bird-feeders, added some diced, dried apples and placed the bowl on the sill for the Raven, who ate it gladly.
Bilbo washed his hands, dried them and made his way to his bedroom. As he suspected, he found Thorin there, seated in front of the dressing mirror, simply staring at himself.
“Thorin ... what’s wrong?”
Thorin only stared at himself in the mirror for several long seconds before drawing a slow, steady breath in. “Nothing.”
“You cannot think I will buy that.”
“Honest, there is nothing wrong. Not truly.
“Not truly. So, something is bothering you.”
Thorin took a few breaths more than sighed. “Dain’s coronation has been held.”
Bilbo nodded. “Well ... that isn’t really a surprise.”
Thorin shook his head. “No.”
“But something about it-”
“I am no longer king.”
Bilbo was nearly tempted to say, ‘No kidding.’ However, no sooner had he thought it than it dawned on him that this was no time to joke or make light. He may not fully understand what the issue was, but he had no doubt there was an issue.
“I am not who I was.”
Thorin was so quiet and somber that Bilbo’s skin prickled and the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. Something was happening, but for the life of him, Bilbo couldn’t guess what it was.
Thorin reached up and undid the clasps of his braids. He laid them gently on the table before him, never looking away from his own reflection. He slowly unwound each of his braids, carted his fingers through his thick mane, mixing the now unbraided hairs into the rest, and then combing it all out neatly. Running his hands from his forehead back, he gathered all the hair above his ears into a ponytail at the back of his head where he secured it with a clip.
Bilbo was amazed. Although his sable hair was still streaked with silver, the new style, so reminiscent of Kili’s, made Thorin look younger. Frankly, the style was also practical as Thorin had taken up blacksmithing again and now his hair would be out of his face and way. Yet, while Bilbo liked it, he was also unsettled by it; what was going on? Why in the world had Thorin unbraided his hair?
“My braids were me,” Thorin said as if reading Bilbo’s thoughts; which could not be too hard from the expression on Bilbo’s face. “I am not the same Dwarf.”
“You are,” Bilbo said, not wanting to hear such a thing. He moved closer, laying his hands on Thorin’s shoulders and planting a kiss on the crown of Thorin’s head. “You are the same Dwarf I fell in love with.”
Thorin smiled, turning in his seat and taking Bilbo’s hands, kissing each one. “You think me maudlin or upset. Maybe even bitter. But I am not.”
“Aren’t you?” It felt to Bilbo as if Thorin was unhappy.
Thorin shook his head and stood, gently cupping Bilbo’s face and kissing him. “I am not," he insisted. "I knew this time would come. That the old me would cease to exist. You see ... the clasps ... my braids ... they identified me as a Durin, a Longbeard, a king. They told other Dwarrow and the world, though they did not know it, my place among my people. But with the official crowning of Dain, I am no longer who I was. I am finally who I am."
Bilbo was now very confused. “But ... you are who you always were!”
Thorin shook his head. “No. I now have no other obligation, no other title, no other responsibility that can take me from you. And for that, I remove the braids of who I was and become the one I truly am.” Thorin kissed Bilbo again, whispering against Bilbo’s lips, “I am yours ... and yours alone.”
Oh, heavens. Bilbo was going to faint right there, but Thorin held him strong and steady; Bilbo's rock. Bilbo pulled Thorin too him and held him close, kissing him deeply, losing himself in the embrace for just a minute.
Unbraided by Nerdeeart
Thorin finally pulled back and lay his forehead against Bilbo’s, sharing the air between them and the knowledge that they had all the rest of their lives together.
“Come,” Thorin said, taking Bilbo by the hand and pulling him out of the room. “We have work to do.”
Back to the front garden they went and, this time, Thorin knelt on the ground with Bilbo.
“Now,” Thorin huffed out a breath. “Show me what to do.”
Bilbo smiled and did indeed show Thorin how to prune and weed. Bilbo felt very content with Thorin at his side and the work seemed less like work and more enjoyable. But after about ten minutes of steady work, Thorin sighed heavily.
“What’s the matter?” Bilbo asked.
“I still do not know why you bother with these plants.” Thorin shook his head, grumbling. “It is not like I cannot afford to buy you them at the market.”
Bilbo laughed. “Just keep weeding.”
“Yes, love.”