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Mending the Broken Pieces	By : LadyLaran Category: Lord of the Rings Movies > Het - Male/Female Views: 13613 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own "the Hobbit" nor do I make money from this story. Tolkien and Jackson are the ones who own the characters and world.

Chapter List
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Author’s Note – You guys are amazing! I can’t say that enough. Ok, so here’s the chapter and I do hope you enjoy it. This week is going to be rough for me because I have my disability hearing on Friday. Please keep me in your thoughts!

Disclaimer – I do not own “the Hobbit” nor do I make any money from this story! The song used in this story is “Evening Falls” and is owned by Enya. I don’t own or make money from the song; I’m simply borrowing it!

Chapter Nine – The Second in a Series of Problematic Events

Once the company was moving again, Thorin turned his attention back to his cousins. Both of them looked serious but not in the grumpy way he was used to seeing from the pair. He was curious about what was on their minds and hoped it would not be something that could cause trouble.

“What is it you wished to speak to me about,” the dwarf lord asked, keeping his attention divided between the pair and their surroundings.

“Miss Hawthorn actually,” Oin began, voice low for once. “My brother and I owe her a great debt for her selfless actions, and we would like to do something for her so that we can to honor her for her deed.”

“Do you two have an idea what you wish to do,” Thorin asked, signing in iglishmêk at the same time so his older cousin would not have to miss out on the conversation.

“We do,” the healer replied. “My brother and I have been discussing it since last night, and we have come to a decision but will need your thoughts on it, cousin.”

“I am willing to listen,” he answered formally, realizing that this was a formal petition in a way and would ensure he answered in kind.

“I wish to adopt the lass and take her as my daughter,” Oin told him, sincerity in his voice. “I have no children of my own, and she proved her loyalty and courage by putting herself in harm’s way to keep me from serious injury or death. I wish to protect her as she has done for me by bringing her into the family and giving her the love and kindness she needs and deserves. She has been alone for far too long, and I mean to see to it that her isolation is ended.”

“Gloin, what are your thoughts on this,” Thorin asked, still signing at the same time.

“I agree with my brother,” the younger son of Groin answered, signing as well so he wouldn’t have to shout his answer. “Her parents are gone and most of her family and people wish to have nothing to do with her, which is foolish in my mind. The lass has proven herself to be as priceless as mithril and if those damned hobbits refuse to see her as such, then I say their loss is our gain. I would be honored to call her my brother-daughter.”

“There may be consequences to your actions,” he reminded them. “And while she has indicated a desire to stay in Erebor for a while and help us rebuild, Miss Baggins has shown no signs of wanting to make a home within our mountain. She might not wish to remain with us once she feels we have all the assistance we require.”

“I won’t force her to stay,” the healer told him. “However, I will make sure she knows that she’ll always have a home with her new family if she so chooses to allow this adoption.”

“As for the consequences, by the time this quest is over, no one will have a right to protest over anything she has been given due to her actions and being a member of the company,” Gloin shared. “She came when none of our kin or fellow dwarrow would, and she opened her home to us when it was painfully obvious she didn’t have much to share. The lass is one of us, and I’ll not hear anyone say different once Erebor is ours again and our people are home.”

“You have my permission to ask her,” Thorin told them both. “If she accepts, then may Mahal’s blessings and protections be upon your family.”

“Thank you, cousin,” Oin answered. “We’ll ask her tonight once we make camp.”

Thorin nodded, pleased that the discussion had gone well. He hoped she would accept the adoption offer; Oin had never found his One, and the dwarf lord had a feeling the hobbit lass would help fill the ache of not having children. Something told him that the healer would be good for her as well; Oin was right, the hobbit had been alone for far too long.

The rest of the day passed swiftly enough, without any complications, and everyone was happy to set up camp. Hawthorn’s bedroll had been up near the fire so the lass could stay warm; cold would not be kind to her injury, and Bofur had ensured she’d be placed so that the leg would not be painful due to the night’s chill.

Since she’d been denied the opportunity to help set up their camp for the night, the hobbit dug something out of her bag and focused on a small book she carried, writing with care not to smudge the ink. Once she was finished, she put her writing equipment away and let the page remain exposed so it would dry quickly.

“Miss Hawthorne, may we have a moment of your time?”

Hawthorne looked up, spotting the two dwarrow standing by her bedroll. She blinked, a little surprised, but nodded.

Oin and Gloin both took a seat beside her, and the elder brother spoke first.

“Gloin and I have been talking, and there is something very important we want to discuss with you. You have impressed us greatly with your generosity, kindness, strength, and bravery. Saving my life helped us focus further on you, seeing you as you truly are, and both of us have reached an agreement.”

The hobbit sat up straighter, hiding a wince as her legged throbbed in protest of the movement.

“An agreement?”

Oin nodded, speaking once again. He was a bit nervous but determined because his heart was telling him this was the right thing to do.

“I, Oin, son of Groin, wish to take you, Hawthorn Baggins, into my heart and home as my daughter and heiress. Mahal has brought the two of us together, and I feel that it is His will to bring you into my family.”

“You wish to adopt me,” she asked, noticing Gloin’s hands moving and realizing he was helping his brother with the discussion since she knew the older dwarf was somewhat hard of hearing.

“I do, lass. I honor the gifts your parents granted you and wish to add to them, becoming your father so that I can continue to love and protect you as they would have if they had not moved on to Yavanna’s Gardens. I am not doing this to replace them but to continue giving you what you deserve, a family.”

“I will also add to the love and protection,” Gloin interjected, still signing in case Oin couldn’t catch his words even with his trumpet. “I will be your uncle, and you would also gain an aunt and cousin through this adoption. I know Gimli and Freyis will adore you.”

Tears filled her blue eyes, making them gleam in the firelight as she gave voice to one concern she held deep in her heart.

“You speak of making me your heiress, but I cannot continue your line and name. When I fell and injured my leg and hip, I also had internal damage from the fall as well as being stabbed in the lower abdomen. I can’t have children,” she whispered, confiding in the pair of them.

Both dwarrow froze at her words, putting a few facts together, and Gloin growled deeply. He kept his voice low and signs hidden from the Company so as not to break the confidence she had just shared with them.

“Is that why you are shunned by your fellow hobbits, lass?”

“Family is important in the Shire,” she answered the younger brother in a small voice. “Fertility in hobbits and in nature is considered a vital thing, a blessing from Yavanna. Anyone who isn’t fertile, which is incredibly rare, is treated as I have been. It was worse because the others said that my infertility was because I inherited my mother’s love for adventures, and that I am being punished for being unnatural.”

“They blamed you for your injuries when a goblin was the cause,” Oin asked, throat tight with rage and compassion.

“From the moment I returned from Imladris, the others began calling me halfling when my parents’ backs were turned. I’m viewed as half a hobbit and an offense against nature because I’m unable to have fauntlings. Even the Baggins family felt that way, evicting me from Bag End after my parents died. If it weren’t for my mother’s family, I would have been homeless,” she answered, fingers worrying the hem of her sleeves.

“They threw you out because you couldn’t forge bairns? That was your home,” the older brother protested, keeping quiet somehow.

“Bag End and Papa’s legacy needed to be given to someone who can carry on the Baggins name. In their eyes, I had no right to claim the smial or things that belonged to the Baggins family. I was allowed to keep the name because Grandfather Took stated it would dishonor my father by casting me out officially,” Hawthorn replied. “The Baggins family were glad to see me gone, said I was worthless and a disgrace to my father. My mother’s father didn’t see it that way and ensured I had a place to live; my uncles try to help where they can, but I spend a lot of time alone in my smial.”

“So not all of the Tooks were willing to stand beside you,” Gloin asked.

“No, not all of them. They’ll say they will help where they can, but I know some of them won’t ensure I’m given full market value for things I make.”

“I’m glad you’re leaving the Shire, lass,” Oin told her. “You deserve better; it’s not a woman’s fault when her body can’t forge bairns. You would think other races understood this too, but you’re among those who understand that fertility isn’t always a given. As far as continuing my line, Hawthorn, I have a feeling you might find a child who needs a home. Passing down our blood in that manner is good enough for me.”

“Adoption can never be broken,” the younger dwarf informed her. “No matter what happens, an adopted child can’t be disinherited. When that bond is forged, Mahal ensures it is made stronger than mithril.”

“Are you sure,” she asked, eyes wide as she looked into Oin’s.

“I am,” he answered, smiling when she gave her answer.

“Then I accept,” Hawthorn told him, feeling nervous and happy at the same time.

Gloin gave an excited whoop, drawing the attention of the Company. All eyes turned towards them, and Oin began the rite for the adoption.

“Your Majesty, I come to you with a petition,” the healer began.

Thorin straightened up where he was sitting, leaning against a tree. His eyes focused on Oin, voice firm as he answered.

“I will hear your petition, Oin, son of Groin.”

“I wish to adopt Hawthorn Baggins into my line,” he said, causing the other dwarrow to smile.

Gandalf watched the proceedings with a keen eye, glad to see that the child he loved as a granddaughter was finally being given a family she so richly deserved. He knew how dwarrow treated everyone in their family, loving them and protecting them with a ferocity that matched a dragon sitting on its hoard. This was an adoption he was happy to observe.

“Will you love and protect her? Teach her the ways of the family and guide her as she continues on this life Mahal and Yavanna have granted her,” the dark haired dwarf asked.

“I will love and protect her as a father should,” Oin answered. “I will teach her the ways of our family and be the guide she will need.”

Thorin climbed to his feet, walking towards them. Once beside them, he sank to a knee and pulled a dagger from his belt. Gently, he took Hawthorn’s right hand and quickly drew blood before doing the same to Oin’s own right hand.

Oin placed their palms together, and the king-in-exile held the two hands in between his own and began to speak in Khuzdul. His voice took on a melodic sound, chanting in a way that was like music to the hobbit.

Hawthorn wasn’t sure what was going on, but she felt her hand grow hot against Oin’s while the dark haired dwarf spoke. She met the dwarf’s eyes, taking strength from the encouragement she found there.

Thorin ended the chant, letting go of their hands and watching as Gloin unbound the lass’s hair. Oin separated a thick lock and began to weave a braid, securing it with a clasp that marked Hawthorn as a daughter of Durin’s line and the child of Oin, son of Groin.

“It is done,” the king-in-exile stated. “Welcome to the family, Hawthorn, daughter of Oin and Bungo.”

Oin gently pressed his forehead to his new daughter’s forehead as the Company cheered. A new child was always something to celebrate, and the dwarrow that followed Thorin were ready to do just that.

Food was passed around and devoured while stories were shared, all of them happy tales of mischief and sharing good memories. Thorin finished his meal, passing his bowl to Fili since his sister-son had clean up duty that evening.

When the eating and clean up had finished, Bofur had started singing and soon, everyone was sharing songs they enjoyed. Even Thorin had been convinced to sing a cheerful song his mother had written when he was a child, and the memory was one he was content to remember.

“Miss Hawthorn, do you sing?”

“She does, Master Kili,” Gandalf answered before the hobbit could. “She has been blessed with the gift for music, both in singing and creating songs.”

“Could you share one of your songs with us,” Ori asked, making the hobbit feel a bit uncomfortable.

“Please do, Hawthorn. It has been years since I’ve heard you sing, and I have missed it a great deal,” the wizard pressed.

Hawthorn sighed, chewing her lower lip for a moment. She’d stopped singing after returning to the Shire to find herself shunned and blamed for something that had been out of her control. Though she still wrote songs, the lass had not felt the urge to sing for a long time.

“I haven’t sung in years,” she admitted, unable to withstand the pleading from most of the members of the company. “I’ll try, but please excuse any mistakes in pitch. I’m horribly out of practice.”

She pulled her small book out, flipping it to the last entry she’d written. The song had been written with these dwarrow in mind, and it felt like the right time to share it since Mithrandir was determined to hear her sing again.

“I just wrote this one today,” she admitted, noticing she had everyone’s attention and blushing a bit.

Hawthorn drew in a breath, centering herself before starting to sing the song she’d crafted.

“When the evening falls and the daylight is fading, from within me calls, could it be I am sleeping? For a moment I stray, then it holds me completely. Close to home – I cannot say. Close to home, feeling so far away. As I walk the room, there before me a shadow from another world, where no other can follow. Carry me to my own, to where I can cross over. Close to home – I cannot say. Close to home, feeling so far away. Forever searching; never right. I am lost in oceans of night. Forever hoping I can find memories, thosememories I left behind. Even though I leave will I go on believing that this time is real – am I lost in this feeling? Like a child passing through, never knowing the reason. I am home- I Know the way. I am home – feeling oh, so far away.”

At the first notes she sung, the rich soprano voice filled the clearing and Thorin dropped his pipe when it felt as if someone had taken a hammer to his chest. His very being vibrated, and he stared in stunned amazement at the lass sitting across the fire from him.

The words were beautiful, echoing a lot of what he had felt in the years since Smaug had sacked Erebor and left his people homeless. However, it was her voice that pulled him and made his spirit vibrate even harder. His breath caught in his throat, and all he could do was focus on her face as she sang.

When the song ended, all of the dwarrow complimented her on her beautiful voice as well as the song she’d written. Thorin stayed frozen until a touch to his shoulder drew his attention away from her to the face of his adviser. Balin had a look of anxiety on his face.

“Are you all right, laddie?”

“I..,” his voice trailed off, throat too tight to try to speak. He swallowed and shook his head, accepting his pipe from the older dwarrow.

“It’s the lass, isn’t it? You have the look, Thorin,” he said, eyes holding a look of hope.

Again, Thorin could only nod since his body and mind were not allowing him any other form of communication. He could only feel relief and happiness at the joy that crossed his oldest friend’s face, and he understood all of the reasons for Balin’s happiness.

The king-in-exile had spent years alone, not allowing himself to hope that he would ever find his One, and it had been something Balin and Dwalin alone knew. He’d confessed it to them the night of Dis’s wedding, spending time alone as his sister enjoyed her wedding night. The pair had found him at the forge and eventually, the words of loneliness had come out.

Thorin had accepted he would spend his life alone, enjoying the happiness of those he loved and called his family. His two friends had not given up hope for him, and now their hope and prayers had finally been answered.

He had found his One in the generous hobbit lass who had impressed him a great deal with her bravery and gentle nature. What she had endured in the Shire had only strengthened his admiration since he knew how much pain she carried inside.

“I’m happy for you, laddie,” Balin whispered, squeezing his shoulder before going to share the news with his brother.

The dwarf lord knew the pair would keep this information to themselves until he was ready to approach Oin for permission to court his daughter. That he couldn’t do until he had a gift for her, but Thorin had a fairly good idea on what to craft. Hopefully, he could find a forge where he would be allowed to work while in Rivendell.

Part of him wanted to wait until they reclaimed Erebor, but he had seen the pain in her eyes and the hope that had flickered into life when he’d shared his thoughts about her possibly finding someone who would accept that she would not be able to bare them children. He couldn’t and wouldn’t make her wait any longer because he had no wish to cause that fledgling hope building in her heart to fade, and he just hoped that the gift Yavanna had granted Her children so they would be able to find their Ones would soon manifest so that Hawthorn would reach the same realization he had tonight.

No, he wouldn’t make her wait and would do the best he could to give her the courtship she deserved while they traveled. If things went as he hoped, secretly in his heart, then he could make up for the courtship by ensuring she had a wedding worthy of the queen he wanted her to be.

Thorin said very little the rest of the night, going to sleep with the sound of her voice ringing in his mind. He slept restlessly, not saying much the next day until they reached a place to camp. The dwarf lord had not been pleased with Gandalf’s reluctance to stay there, but he knew how much pain the hobbit was in and would not push her to go any further that evening.

Tharkûn’s departure troubled him somewhat, but he knew he’d done the right thing when he’d seen the look of relief on Miss Baggins’s face as the herbs finally kicked in. Oin had not been pleased with the swelling, and both king-in-exile and his cousin hoped that they would reach Rivendell soon.

The leader of the company was pulled away from his thoughts later that evening when his sister-sons came bursting into the camp, startling everyone away from their meals.

“Trolls!”

Author’s End Note - Thorin’s life just keeps on remaining eventful, doesn’t it? Please let me know what you thought of the chapter. See everyone next time! ~Laran
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Mending the Broken Pieces