Chapter Text
The Hobbit: An Unexpected Courtship
Part 1: The Journey
Chapter 1: An Unexpected Proposal
“Miss Jacinda, I was hopin’ you’d do me the honor of consentin’ to be my wife!” Hamfast Gamgee closed his eyes and held out a humble bouquet of purple wildflowers. Her favorite. The hands that held the delicate stems in place trembled ever so slightly. Dirt crusted under his fingernails from his ever present work in the garden. A small bead of sweat trickled down Ham’s temple, from the early summer heat or nervousness Jacinda could not tell.
She tentatively took the bouquet from him and watched as the wind tossed his adorable brown curly hair about his face. Jacinda waited, desperately willing some flutter for stirring in her heart. Hamfast Gamgee was a good and proper Hobbit. He was handsome and kind. He’d be a good father to any soul lucky to be his child…But she felt nothing for him beyond friendship.
“Oh Ham,” she sighed, handing back his bouquet, “You will make a lucky hobbetess very happy someday, but I-I don’t love you.”
To his credit, ham didn’t ball up in anger, or spitefully leave. His shoulders simply drooped, and Ham solemnly put his duster back on his sweaty head. He rubbed the back of his neck, looking at what now seemed to him a rather silly bouquet, and managed to smile at her.
“Figured as much,” Ham said, his voice cracking slightly-his eyes full of kindness, “But, my heart wouldn’t let you go without a proper try.” His lips trembled, and his eyes grew glossy with unshed tears.
“Ham, I’m sorry-“
“Don’t be appologizin’ to the likes of me Jacinda. You did nothin’ wrong. My heart will heal itself…sooner or later.” He shuffled his feet and handed her the bouquet. “I hope, someday, you find that special someone you’ve been lookin’ for.”
Ham made a hasty retreat before she could protest handing the flowers back. Only when the last brown curl disappeared into the distance did she let herself cry.
…
Bilbo blinked, sniffed, then leaned to the side to spot Jacinda slouched in his favorite arm chair, “These flowers are quite lovely.”
Jacinda’s eyes welled up with fresh tears. She let out a wail before blowing her nose in her handkerchief. She was so snotty whenever she cried-it was rather embarrassing. Bilbo rolled his eyes. His cousin, the waterpot, would cry incessantly unless he figured some way to lighten the mood.
“You know, this early in the season those blooms were probably hard to find.” His comment was met with an even louder cry-only now Jacinda covered her head with her lap quilt, wanting to hide from all the world.
Bilbo sighed, and patted the top of the quivering quilted pile, “Maybe now is not the best time for jokes.” That gentle pat on the top of her head was soothing and familiar. From her earliest memories Bilbo was charged with her care. He would pat her head, tell her a story to get her mind off her troubles, and soon convince her to play a game of tag or hide and go seek. He’d been her protector, and then her friend. Jacinda pulled down the quilt and glanced up to her cousin, guilty at the nervous half smile he gave her.
“I’m sorry Bilbo.” Handkerchief forgotten, she used her sleeve to wipe her nose. “I know Hamfast is your best friend.” She took a breath to steal herself in her lame explanation, “I tried…I really tried to like him-”
“Oh, hush Jacinda,” He wrapped an arm over his cousin’s shoulder, letting her head rest against it-her snot dribbling on his sleeve, “What are cousins for if not to set each other up with their best friends and gardeners?” Jacinda giggled at that. “But I do think I might lose that friends and family discount.” Bilbo’s dry sarcasm warmed her heart. She laughed again, and with that laugh a weight lifted from her chest, adding a bit of brevity to the whole situation.
The kettle whistled, so Bilbo gave her arm a final pat before hurrying to the stove. Playing a good host was a role Bilbo knew well. It came to him much easier than reassuring others. Quite ironic-as Jacinda felt no greater comfort than when Bilbo would make her a pot of Honey Rose Tea stating, “Nothing like a hot cuppa and a biscuit to cheer up a Hobbit!” He made a point to pour the tea in her favorite cup of his-the one with the purple rim and the bumblebee on the handle. Rain started to pour outside, a light rumbling of thunder, making this afternoon tea all the more cozy and warm. He rubbed his chin, trying to find the right way to talk about Jacinda’s heartache. “You were just so sad after Aunt Mirabella died…I thought…well I thought a young beau could raise your spirits.”
A flash of lightning, then a few seconds later a low rumble of thunder. Jacinda sipped her tea, and dunked a chocolate biscuit, “Loosing Mama was difficult. Hamfast was kind to me, but, Bilbo, it was also you. Your tea times, biscuits, jokes, and stories made me smile during that dark time.”
He snorted, “Aye, stories of my tomatoes and animated carrots could make even the most stoic Hobbit roll with laughter.”
“You know what I mean!” Jacinda’s eyes shone a little brighter as they always did when she talked about it, “Your adventure to The Lonely Mountain, the riddle game with Smaug, and the Battle of the Five Armies! It’s incredible that a Hobbit from such a place as this could experience such an epic journey.”
At the excitement in her eyes, Bilbo shrugged. It’s true. Some things never change.
…
“Although the dragon sickness was strong, Thorin was stronger,” Bilbo recounted the battle-lost in the story almost as much as Jacinda was. “More than the love of gold or power Thorin wanted a home to call his own. He charged into battle with his nephews. Fili and Kili were fearsome cutting through the massive army like a scythe through wheat.
"To their left was the men of Laketown, to the right was Thranduil and his elves. They made a sharp arrow, piercing the Orc’s defensive line-hot on Azog’s trail. Thranduil was still wary of helping the dwarves, but in his left hand he clutched the necklace made of silver and starlight. Perhaps it was the remembrance of his wife, who was rumored to be friends with many of the dwarves of Dain that he decided to press onward. Thranduil was worried. His son Legolas, and the captain of the guard Tauriel were in those mountains, outnumbered and soon to be overwhelmed.
“Fili and Kili were the first to find the elves, cornered between a rockface and a frozen waterfall. Fili slashed an orc’s calf, saving Legolas from a fatal blow. Tauriel was not so lucky. Kili had been surrounded by a pack of Orcs. He certainly would have perished if the she-elf wouldn’t have put herself between him and the crude cleaver-stabbing her through the heart.”
Bilbo continued to recount his tale, at first lounging with his tea in his favorite chair, but often he would put the saucer down so he could move his hands dramatically or even stand to show how a creature moved-or how he himself hid. Bilbo spoke of how cunning Azog had to be to manage to steal the Arkenstone from Bilbo’s well-meaning hands.
As Bilbo described that Azog admired the Arkenstone, he mimicked the motion of Thorin using Orcist, swinging a fire poker in an upward arc. Ocist hit true, shattering the stone before cleaving into the foe's skull. With the loss of the symbol of his kingship, Thorin ironically won his kingdom. The shards of the stone were divvied among Thorin’s most worthy of friends.
Bilbo insisted he declined to take a piece of the Arkenstone...though Jacinda found it suspicious that he also insisted the sparkling gem fixed atop his wind chimes outside his front window was nothing more than a paper weight. Just a shiny shard of glass.