Chapter Text
Bilbo woke up happy and comfortable in bed, pressed against his alpha. The cool mountain air ran over the few exposed parts of him, making him shiver and press his face further into Thorin's chest. When he was done shifting, the blanket was pulled more securely around him, and thick, rough hands caressed his cheek.
“It would seem that morning found us again, amral,” Thorin groaned, his already rich voice deepened by the early hour.
“Do you think we could convince it to come back later?” Bilbo replied sleepily.
“Would that I could.” Thorin laughed, pulling back just enough to lean down and kiss him. The good morning kiss lasted far longer than usual as his alpha held him close.
“You smell a little different today,” Thorin said, tilting his head to the side and kissing along his scent gland.
Bilbo laughed and took his first big breath of the day, ready to tease his alpha for being a sap, but the moment he took stock of his own smell, he froze.
Oh no. Oh no, no, no, no, now was not a good time. He recognised the scent, though he had never smelled it on himself and never expected to. It was unique to hobbits, as far as he was aware. His body's way of signalling to his alpha that he was fertile—very fertile. Thorin’s mild interest began to heat up as one hand made its way into his hair and the other pressed to his lower back, drawing them closer.
“Perhaps we can put off the morning for a little while longer after all,” Thorin whispered against his lips, lifting his leg so his knee put pressure between his legs. It took all of his willpower to suppress his needy pheromones, which craved every bit of his alpha's attention. Every part of him and every drop of his instincts wanted exactly this, but in his mind, he knew that he couldn't give in to that primal urge to be bred, not until he had blockers of some sort.
Thorin was a king—a new king with two heirs whose succession had already been heavily contested by the dwarven council when they first retook the mountain. If Bilbo fell pregnant, it could cause numerous issues for Thorin or call succession into question all over again.
“If I remember correctly, we have a meeting with delegates from Dale and then open court directly after that, and I…have an errand to run before I meet you again for the meeting,” Bilbo said, pressing his hands lightly to Thorin’s chest. His alpha deflated, still running his fingers through his curls, but less intent on feeling him up.
“Yes, you’re right, though I wish you weren’t. I dislike meeting with the human delegates. Bard and his kin are fine, but the others are…” Thorin paused to consider his words. “Unsavory.”
Bilbo laughed and sat up to stretch. “There's no one else here. You can just say they're self-important gits.”
“They're self-important gits,” Thorin said, following his example of getting out of bed, but not before leaning back into him with his nose at his neck. “Are you sure you didn't put on perfume or use a different soap? You smell irresistible.”
At about the same moment, Thorin grabbed his hips to drag him back, and Bilbo hurriedly got out of bed. Thankfully, his sleepy and unassuming alpha didn’t question his unusual hesitancy and just chuckled.
“Resist…for now at least.” Bilbo smiled, and Thorin looked at him with so much warmth that it nearly killed him. Oh, Valar, how he wished he could give in to the way his body screamed. He had met no one more deserving of having a child to call his own than Thorin Oakenshield, but it was not the right time.
Kissing his alpha, they parted ways. The errand he needed to run was a trip to the hall of medicine. If he were lucky, Oin would be out, and he could take what he needed and leave.
Bilbo didn't need a guard as he walked in this part of the kingdom. Other races besides himself were not permitted in any of the halls below the gate, and he had never felt so safe in his life, even in the Shire. Due to their rarity, omegas were respected and highly protected by the dwarven people, regardless of status, name, or even race.
He came to the healing rooms, passed the wards, and went directly to the old doctor's medical pantry. To his relief, the doctor was not there. Quickly, he scanned the names of the tonics, hoping to find something as common as a blocker already premade. Frowning, he found nothing and changed course to looking for the herbs he would need to make some himself.
To his frustrating surprise, he found none of the common herbs used to make either blockers or suppressants and before he could ponder why, given that they were not hard to find even in this region, he heard the door behind him open.
“Bilbo? What are ye doing staring at all my herbs like a confused babe.” Oin said in his usual gruff and blunt tone.
Bilbo hesitated. He could just ask. Oin might keep larger qualities in his office or somewhere else, but inquiring ran additional risk. A mated omega would only need blockers for one purpose, and he wasn't trying to broadcast his fertility to all of Erebor. More than his body was trying to anyway.
“I was…taking stock of what you had. I have a trade meeting with Dale, and I can ask for provisions if you're low or missing something.” Bilbo said, hoping that maybe Oin would give him the out he needed.
“If I'm missing something, you'll know about it, lad. As you can see, I'm plenty well stocked, which is a damn miracle after the state the dragon left this place in.” Oin paused for a moment to look him up and down. “You sure you're feeling alright? You smell a little funny.”
“Yes! I'm just fine. Honestly, I should be getting back to Thorin.” Bilbo said, closing the pantry and backing up.
“Right, well. Make sure to see me after your next heat. We can't have Erebor’s most important omega falling ill.”
Hurrying down the hall, he cursed himself. That had not at all gone how he’d hoped. Why wouldn't you store common herbs with the rest of the medicines? Grumbling, he turned the corner and raced up the stairs. The meeting would be held one floor above the gate, and at this point, he was sure to be late. He knew he had reached the gate floor when security tightened significantly.
He flew by the guards at the stairs to the next level, slowing to catch his breath.
“Your Highness!” one of the guards called. “The king had already proceeded to the meeting room. Would you like us to escort you?”
“No need. I'll be faster on my own, and it's only a small way.” Bilbo said, continuing on. He had been married to Thorin for a year, yet the sound of such an official title still sounded strange. He had tried to get the guards to just call him Bilbo, but you would have thought he asked them to eat raw lemons the way they reacted.
Turning the corner, he stopped and dusted off his waistcoat before trying to tame his curls into something presentable. He took the rest of the walk down the hall at a steady but brisk pace until he saw the guards bracketing the meeting room door.
One of the guards was an Ereborian named Haggrass, and the other was an alpha from Dale. A guard from each race was a standard courtesy when two non-warring people met.
“Good day.” Bilbo nodded politely, putting his hand on the door to push it open. That was until a polearm was thrust in front of it, barring his entrance.
Haggrass tensed immediately, moving closer to him but not speaking. Bilbo heavily outranked him. He knew not to act unless commanded.
Bilbo looked up at the guard coolly. “Are you going to provide a good reason as to why you're stopping me from entering this meeting?”
“This meeting is to discuss trade. There's no good reason for an omega to be here. This is a meeting for alphas.” The guard said patronisingly, “Well, call you if they need tea.”
Oh, what a stark reminder of how humans treat their omegas. They made the Shire look tame. In the Shire, an omega had no right to their family name after mating and had to take the name of the alpha or beta they married. They could not run for any offices, have property or titles in their name, and couldn’t hold many jobs or help during harvest times. They were treated as delicate, which is why, from the moment he presented, his parents had him on blockers so that he could masquerade as a beta.
That worked quite well right up until he met Thorin. No one had ever made him feel the way he did. He barely made it half the quest before his instincts gave him up.
Elves, of course, had no dynamics, so they were easy to get along with.
Humans, however…humans seemed to all but despise their omegas. They were treated poorly by the alpha ruling class and employed mostly as servants or other worse things. Mated omegas were legally the property of their alphas in every way. It was so cruel it made him sick to think about it.
“I am consort of this mountain, and my alpha is in that room expecting me. You will not bar me from my council room.” Bilbo said as calmly as he could.
“You don't even look like a dwarf. Are you hoping to go in there and warm your alpha’s lap? Give him a blowy under the table? Or maybe that's how you intend to move along negotiations. Your alpha rents out that smart mouth of-”
In a flash, the polearm was cleaved in two, and the sharp end was pointed at the Dalemans' throat.
“I'm sorry, Your Highness. I couldn't let him finish his sentence.” Haggrass said, unmoving.
“Quite alright, Haggrass.” Bilbo said reassuringly before turning to the other guard, “I think it’s best you remember that you are not in a human city and that your words have consequences.” Bilbo smiled and pushed the door open.
Thorin turned immediately, his face alight with a relieved smile. The two counselors from Dale looked less pleased to see him.
“I was going to send someone to look for you,” Thorin said, concerned.
“I was waylaid outside the door. Haggrass took care of it. Have you already started?” Bilbo asked. Thorin looked like he wasn’t done having this conversation, but answered his question.
“We were just starting,” Thorin said, pulling out the chair for him.
“Your Majesty, you did not advise us that your omega would be joining us," one of the men said, and he could hide his disdain on his face.
“It’s implied.” Thorin all but growled.
This would be their third set of delegates to visit Erebor. The first set was nearly left with missing limbs after they thought to advise Thorin that omega who speak without permission should be muzzled. The second group flat-out refused to continue the meeting if he was present. Thorin would have none of that and told them they could leave. He had hoped that King Bard would come himself this time. One of his daughters was an omega, and it made him far more palatable company; however, he was currently away.
While they seemed uncomfortable, these delegates at least sat down, tilting their chairs toward Thorin and carefully avoiding his eyeline. It was a dull meeting full of purposefully being ignored, but they needed to seal trade with one of their only neighbours, so he suffered through it. While he sat, he wondered if there were any omega-only human settlements, little safe havens for them scattered in hidden places. He hoped so.
The meeting ended, and finally, a suitable trade agreement for the following year had been secured. Bard would have to sign it, of course, but that was the least difficult part of the task.
Thorin did not rise from his seat to bid them goodbye, and a heavy hand fell onto his thigh in a silent bid for him to do the same. Only once the delegates left did Thorin get to his feet and hold his hand out to him.
“If you had said the word, I would have ended the meeting at once. I don't like how they treat you.” Thorin scowled.
“Which is precisely why I didn't say anything.” Bilbo sighed. “We needed to get that over with.”
Thorin brought his hand to his face, running his knuckles along his cheek with a furrowed brow.
“Bilbo, are you alright? You seem more reserved since we woke up. Did you sleep well? If you need more rest, you don't have to come to court.” Thorin said, concerned.
Bilbo waved him off. “I'm not tired, I just have a lot on my mind. It would be nice to have a moment to ourselves for a change.”
“We have a little time now.” Thorin purred, unceremoniously picking him up and sitting him on the table. “Does this have anything to do with why you smell so good?”
Thorin's hand slid into his hair as the other braced the table. He kissed him deeply, sending little shockwaves down his body. The scent and feel of his alpha were a balm to his stress. He pushed himself forward, eager for more. All the worry he had carried that day seemed suspended in the air, far away. There was no hiding just how much he wanted this, especially not from his alpha.
Thorin had already stepped between his legs, his touches adoring and patient. He grabbed his slender wrist, bringing it to his nose and then his lips with a smile. He wondered how alluring his new scent must be for him. He had heard it described by Shire alphas as a call to action, something that settled in your mind like a promise. If that was true, Thorin had no idea why he was feeling the way he was and was likely trying to compensate by scenting him and staking his claim.
Bilbo was content with the touches, in a state of bliss, until he felt Thorin's hand dip into his waistband and expertly undo the button on his trousers.
“We’ll be horribly late,” Bilbo said, disregarding the question about his smell and wishing his resolve was strong enough to actually pull away. He was fighting his instincts, his desires, and the fact that if he gave in an inch, he could ruin everything for both of them.
“If we did everything I wished, perhaps, but we have time for some things,” Thorin said, pulling his pants down just below his bum and massaging his hips, waiting for a single word of consent.
“We won't have time for me to-,” Thorin silenced him with a kiss.
“I don't care about that. Just let me take your mind off that aggravating meeting.” Thorin’s lips grazed the shell of his ear as he whispered. “Unless you’re telling me I’m wrong in thinking you need it.”
He could use the release. By Yavanna’s grace, he needed it. Bilbo nodded, and Thorin bent to the task he was so eager to start.
His large calloused hand encompassed the whole of his much smaller cock, pumping him gently while his other hand stroked his curls. The normally imposing alpha held him steady, watching his face as he slowly came apart. He felt loved and protected, exactly how every young omega dreams of feeling with their alpha. His body bloomed like a flower under his care, and it wasn't natural for him to try to reclose the bud, yet he had to.
He finished in Throin’s hand as waves of pleasure washed over him, heightened by loving caresses and the warming scent of Thorin. He came out of the pleasure fog to see his beloved wiping his hands on a handkerchief with a satisfied smile. The release had taken the edge off the hunger that had been building since he woke, and contentedly, he fell forward onto Thorin's chest.
“I won't have time to do the same for you,” Bilbo said apologetically.
“There is no need. I got what I wanted,” Thorin said warmly, kissing him before putting him back on the ground so he could pull his pants up. “Do you feel better? You seem less tense now.”
Bilbo only smiled and nodded. Thorin was a good king, and he wouldn't ruin that for him. He needed to find blockers.
“Thorin, are you still listening?” Balin asked, more amused than annoyed. He had to tear his eyes away from his omega.
“Yes, I am.” Thorin coughed and sat up straighter on the throne. He hadn't been listening at all. He was far too consumed by their burglar to pay attention to an update on… he didn't actually know the topic. Bilbo stood to his left at a lectern, scribbling away as fast as he could, his brow furrowed in concentration.
Like every dwarven alpha, Thorin was trained and practised in restraint and discipline. His ruts and urges had no sway over him, and yet… Bilbo Baggins' very existence proved he was not nearly as strong as he claimed.
Bilbo was acting differently, and he didn’t understand why, but he knew it had to do with the alluring smell he had woken up to. It wasn't the smell of his heat. That was one he knew all too well. This was something different, sweeter, and far more subtle. It elicited a knee-jerk reaction from him as if there was some task he was neglecting to do. The smell lingered around him, and every time he was near, he wanted to hold the omega against him and press his nose into his scent glands. The concerning part was that he had no idea what could have caused it. The mountain was in a better place than the year before. They were safe and happy. He had gone to great lengths to ensure Bilbo was well-fed and was happy to note that his body had returned to the pleasantly plump shape it had been in when they met in Bag End.
“Thank you for speaking with us, Lord Zaligir. It would seem the king needs to think on all that was discussed here,” Balin said, sapping him for a second time out of his thoughts.
“Before you go,” Bilbo said. “Is this list comprehensive? You said your stores of herbs and medicines were greatly depleted after the battle and harsh winter, did you not?”
“Yes, I did, and the Iron Hills chief healer made that list with further instruction from Lord Oin.” The lord replied politely, if not a little confused.
“You list only very small quantities of wormwood and calendula. Were your stores of blockers and suppressants unaffected?” Bilbo asked.
The air in the room went stale. With a jolt, Thorin sat forward, realising only now that never had the conversation of such things come up on the journey. If Bilbo had brought blockers with him on the quest, they would have been quickly lost, and he didn’t openly ask for more. Bilbo only went into heat once on the quest, and it was after their trip down the river. He had tended to that heat personally, more than happy to do so. Since then, the topic has seemed a moot point. A claimed omega had no real need for blockers.
The lord looked horrified and took a step back from the throne. He looked up at Thorin with wide eyes, then bent himself nearly in half to bow low.
“My king, I have no need of such herbs, nor do I wish for them! The little I ask for is to treat other ailments, and it’s kept under strict lock and key, I guarantee you. I would never ask for such a thing by my honour and my beard, " the lord said in a near-total panic.
Thorin held up his hand. “My Consort means no offence, and I take none. You have served the Iron Hills faithfully and lawfully since my grandfather's reign. You are guiltless, Lord Zaligir.”
The lord let all the air in his lungs and looked like he might collapse from the relief of his words. With a sweeping bow, he took his leave, and immediately Bilbo turned to him.
“Will it be you or Balin who explains to me what just happened?” Bilbo demanded, completely taken aback. Balin looked at Thorin, then back to Bilbo, and decided to take the task upon himself.
“As you know, Bilbo, dwarves have always struggled with our population. We do not have many omegas among us. This, among many other reasons, is why we hold omegas in much higher honour than our human neighbours, however…” Balin hesitated before continuing. “The use of blockers or suppressants of any kind is prohibited and illegal.”
He watched as all the colour drained from Bilbo’s face, and he stepped back. “Illegal? As in those that have or take them are committing a punishable crime?”
Balin nodded. “Yes, lad, the punishment varies based on severity, but it is a crime.”
“Thorin, tell me this is a remnant of another rule and not one you intend to uphold!” Bilbo said, turning to him. He looked like he might fall over at any moment. He swayed slightly, prompting Thorin to leave the throne.
“Balin…give us a moment,” Thorin said. The old advisor left quickly and without question. “Bilbo, are you alright?” He asked, reaching out in comfort.
“No, I'm not alright,” Bilbo's voice was shaking. “How could you say that you honour and revere omega and take away one of the only ways we can keep ourselves safe?”
The scent of his omegas, anger mingled with the unexpected smell of fear, immediately igniting his protective instincts. He pulled Bilbo to his chest, tucking his head under his chin where in his eyes felt safest.
“Dwarven alphas are not as weak-willed as those of other races. We are trained from the moment we present to manage our ruts so that we can ensure the safety of every omega. You walk freely through Erebors deeps. Do you think I would risk your safety if I thought you were in any danger?” Thorin rebutted
“It’s not just about safety; it’s about choice!” Bilbo argued, pulling back from him, his eyes still panicked. “If you take away blockers, omegas are forced to go through heats, and you know that their instincts will eventually force them to find an alpha. What if they don't want that? What if-”
“Don’t want to find their mates?” Thorin asked, not understanding the question. It was true that some betas chose to bind themselves to their crafts, but an alpha not wanting to find their omega or vice versa was an entirely foreign concept. “Why wouldn't an omega want to find an alpha? Why would you want to live your life incomplete?”
This was evidently the wrong thing to say, as Bilbo let out a single unbelieving laugh and took a large step back from him, his face a picture of shock and disappointment.
“So an omega is broken if they don't wish to be claimed?” Bilbo accused. The conversation was rapidly falling apart. He had no idea why it was happening. Bilbo has always been level-headed, even when speaking about the harshness his dynamic had to put up with from other races. He felt like he was on the defensive with no way to gain the upper hand before this fell entirely out of his control.
“Did you feel complete before we met?” Thorin asked a question he already knew the answer to. Neither of them had felt complete. Not until that first real night together during Bilbo’s heat. Throughout his life, he had tried to fill that void in his heart with others, his craft, and his kingship, but nothing ever made him feel as good as being with Bilbo did.
“You know I didn’t,” Bilbo said, hugging himself with one arm and looking toward the floor.
“Why would I not want every omega in my kingdom to experience what it is to feel complete?”
“And what if they don't want to feel that? What if it's…more complicated than that? What if they decided to dedicate themselves to a craft or don't want children? Is that choice forfeit to them just because they happen to be born an omega? Or what if they wish to travel? Without blockers, it would be undeniably dangerous. You say you put omega on a pedestal, but with this law, you still cage them in glass.” Bilbo said angrily, throwing his last objection at his feet like a curse.
“How many omega does the Shire have?” Thorin asked bluntly, an indignant anger rising in him at Bilbo’s callous words.
“They make up a third of our population,” Bilbo replied.
“Exactly. They make up less than a quarter of ours. Blockers and supplements are outlawed because, without a steady population, we would dwindle and die out. Even if I did decriminalise the use of them, they are such a taboo that the decision would be not only unpopular but nearly useless.” Thorin said, trying to get Bilbo to understand.
“I just can't reconcile everything you're saying with forcing an omega to go through a heat. Do you have any idea just how painful it can be? Haven’t omega suffered enough in this world? The law is barbaric! This is something I would expect from humans, not dwarves.”
It was Thorin's turn to step back, appalled. He knew the law could be harsh, but to compare it to humans' treatment of omega was a blow. His deep-seated pride and sense of honour for his people rose to the surface of his thoughts. After the life he had lived, he could handle slander, but that was a grave insult indeed, and for it to come from Bilbo, of all people, was unexpected salt to the wound.
“How can you say that after how your people treated you? After how the men of Laketown and Dale treat you? They look at you like you were the mud under their boots. The Master of the Lake even dared to demand to know who you belonged to before he would even permit you inside his dwelling.” Thorin fumed, drawing himself up to his full height and stalking forward. “No omega under my mountain is denied access or rights based on how they present. I am not a cruel king, and dwarves are not a barbaric people.”
Only after he had finished speaking did he realise he had lost control of his anger, filling the space with charged alpha pheromones. The strong scent was intended to make lesser alphas fall in line. However, it was only his small omega in the room with him now, and Bilbo was doing everything he could not to cower and submit.
He pulled back his emotions immediately, cursing under his breath.
“I’m sorry, Amrâlimê,” Thorin said in a panic. “I didn’t mean to demand compliance from you like that.”
Bilbo was still looking at the floor. His shaggy curls, which had not been cut since the day he left Bag End, were long enough to hide his eyes, and the only smell in the room now was the scent of fear. Not knowing whether it was due to the topic at hand or his actions threatened to burn him from the inside out.
“What would you have me do? This is a law I will not reverse. I see the wisdom and concern in your grievances, but the dwarven population is delicate, and I can’t do what it is you wish of me.”
If his kin heard his tone, they would think he was someone else. A king does not plead, does not beg, and yet, to Bilbo, he was not a king, and his omega's good opinion meant more to him than his pride.
Bilbo eventually looked up, and for once, his age showed on his face. It was easy to forget that he was nearly the middle of his lifespan, just as Thorin was. His features never struck him as young but always youthful. Now, he looked troubled.
“Just be lucky that you don't ever have to know what it’s like to be an Omega in a world where even your allies put limitations on your existence,” Bilbo said, taking a ragged breath and collecting himself.
His words were a slap to the face. What was worse was that no response would be adequate enough to meet those charges other than the one Bilbo wanted to hear and the one that he couldn’t provide. Thorin’s face lost all expression as he tried to hide how hurt he was. Stepping forward, he pressed a long kiss to his forehead and started to walk away.
“You’re leaving the conversation there?” Bilbo said with an edge of panic.
“I think we could use a moment to ourselves before either of us says anything more that we regret,” Thorin said, flexing his hand at his side to fight the violent urge to comfort his clearly distressed omega. Bilbo was giving off frustratingly mixed signals, and his sent alone was still driving him mad. As many alphas knew, anger was not a suppressant for passion, and If he stayed in this room for much longer, their conversation would end with Bilbo bent over the nearest low surface. “I will be in my forge should you need me.”
Bilbo stood there for a few minutes, listening to Thorin’s steps as they faded down the hall. He stalked back and forth as anger and dread combined with the cacophony of swirling instinct inside of him that made him want to empty the contents of his stomach onto the floor.
He sat on the only seat available to him. The throne was cold and hard. It wasn't a comfortable place to think, but that suited the situation. Doubt was creeping into his thoughts. Perhaps he was being a fool for wanting to hide this from Thorin, but he was more sure that Erebor wasn't ready for a half-hobbit, half-dwarven child that had a claim to the throne. Everything about his pregnancy, the line of kings, and the stability of the throne would be called into question and scrutinised. While Dain might not want the throne, his advisors were carnivorous beasts that would happily use the confusion to make a bid for power.
The word "illegal" ran hollow in his mind. If he had a hundred guesses, that outcome would not have been one of them. It was starting to make so much more sense as to why no one had ever seen a dwarven omega before. Even living close to the Blue Mountains his entire life, he was told that dwarves were a race of alphas and betas. Thorin had made it clear that suppressants were illegal as well, but they both knew that a restriction like that would disproportionately affect omegas, who were left almost entirely vulnerable when a heat struck with full force.
He didn't take back any of his opinions about this law, and he also didn’t envy Thorin's position. He couldn't overcome a thousand years of social conditioning, but he did still need blockers, and if he wasn’t going to find them in the mountain, he was going to have to search for them elsewhere.
Bilbo’s garden was his place of peace. Thorin had built it over the course of several months, literally carving it out of the mountain. It was partially covered but mostly open to the air and carved with such precision that he could dig several feet down in his garden bed before touching the stone. To complete it so quickly, he knew he must have had help. Bofur and Bifur no doubt had a large part to play, but he could tell the parts that Thorin did himself. There was fencing all around the space so that he wouldn't feel encased in stone. Patinated copper and iron shaped into swirling patterns of leaves and trees.
Thorin undoubtedly forgot about the small descent carved into the side of the mountain after it was built and completed. The channel was used to haul the soil up the mountain and into the garden beds without going through the entire mountain. It was narrow, hard to see unless someone was looking for it, and blocked off by the fencing, but that was no issue. He has been hopping fences since he was a faunt, and the railing had good footholds.
If careful and quick, he could be in and out of Dale before anyone asked any questions. Humans had apothecaries that sold all manner of herbs, and money wouldn’t be any problem. The only thing that could give him away was his scent, but he still had to try. He could say he was on an errand for his alpha. His bonded mark should be enough proof that he was already mated.
He carefully pinned the pouch of gold to his tunic and draped himself in a warm cloak. Anything less and it would be at risk of being stolen.
Deciding not to think overly hard about his next actions, he climbed over the fence and pressed himself to the wall, silently reminding himself not to look down. It wasn’t a pleasant drop. Nothing prevented him from leaving Erebor by more regular means, but he didn't want any questions asked or guards seeing where he went.
The channel wasn’t long, and when he was finally at the bottom, it was a straight shot to Dale’s main gate. He had two gates he could enter through. The main heavy traffic gate, or the west gate, was less used and less guarded. It was a risk, but ultimately, he chose the main gate. He was small, and if he was lucky, he could slip in as part of a crowd. Oh, to still have that little golden ring. Gandalf had taken it somewhere far away after the battle.
He re-earned his title of luck wielder as he approached the choke point into town. Two large wagons wheeled past him. He rushed out of the way so he wasn’t trampled before following along behind so he could use their cover to slip past. He was seconds away from sitting on the back and posing as an idle and unassuming beta when a hand yanked the back of his hood down.
“You ain't a kid.” The guard said in a thick, commoner Dalish accent. “What’s you’s then, and don’t go lying cus no wagon boy’s got furs that nice.”
Bilbo cursed under his breath. He hadn't thought about that. This was the only coat he had after his last one was worn, ragged, and stained bloody during their journey. Thorin had killed a wolf that winter and had Dori make it into a coat to weather a proper mountain cold. From the way they were speaking to him, they didn’t know he was an omega yet.
“It was a gift from a dear friend. I’ve travelled quite some way and was catching a ride on the wagon so I wouldn't have to walk as much. To your first statement, no, I’m not a child; I’m a hobbit from the west.” Bilbo added truths where he could and lied through his teeth for the rest.
“Can't just go waltzing in without a check. Few questions and you can be on your way. How long’ll you be staying and what’s are yous. Not a hobbit mind, what type are you?” The guard asked.
“I’ll be here for a few days before travelling north, and I’m a beta.” Bilbo lied again, mustering the confidence that had come with being consort. The wind was on his side. The cold air kissed his face and pushed his scent away.
“Right, well. If you’re here longer than a week, you’ll need to register yourself at the city hall, but less than that, and you’re fine to go but no causing no trouble, or you’ll be headed up north in nothing but your pockets.”
The guards let him through the gate, and he made it ten feet before he had to stop and find an out-of-the-way place to collect himself. Every moment felt tense. The situations might have been vastly different, but it was a similar feeling to when he was in Gollum's cave. If things went wrong, there was no frame of safety. He had chosen to take on this endeavour alone.
He needed to find the apothecary or some other place omegas met. The difficult part was doing that when you’re two feet or more shorter than everyone around you. He always underestimated how tall the big folk were until he was standing next to one. He missed the proportional height of dwarves. Tall enough to be fun but not jarring.
He walked until he found a street sign and craned his neck to read it. There was nothing about an apothecary, but it did point him toward the centre of town. It was as good as any place to start. He was hoping to have this over and done with quickly. If he was gone too long, Thorin would have come looking for him. He was fortunate that he said he was going to the forge. He had a habit of getting lost in his projects for hours on end and even missing meals. Being at the forge while angry was likely to keep him there even longer.
He picked up the pace. The layout of Dale was terrible. The Dalemen had kept the original layout of the city and built on the bones of the surviving buildings. Bilbo assumed the town's founder was a puzzle maker because of how many alleys and pathways it had dotted around it. He sharply turned around yet another narrow lane and crashed into a stranger leaning against the building.
With the exception of the gate, he had relied on people perceiving him as a child. Humans didn't tend to pay their young any mind as long as they were behaving.
That anonymity evaporated as he saw the predicament he landed himself in. The alley was a narrow channel between the main street and the back streets. There were a few back doors to shops and crates filled with unmarked goods, but otherwise clear except for the three strangers now looking at him.
“Now, what manner of thing are you?” The man he ran into had been smoking and set his still-lit pipe down on a crate before taking a step forward.
Bilbo scurried to his feet quickly. “I’m a hobbit and one that’s in a hurry. I’m very sorry, gentleman, but I must be on my way.”
“Ah ah, not so fast.” The man put his arm out and stepped into his space. “You can’t run off without at least telling us what a hobbit is. If you’re friendly enough, we might even be able to help you find where you’re going.”
“I don't need assistance. I just need to be on my way,” Bilbo repeated, a pool of dread forming in his stomach. Luck is a coin flip, fickle and unforgiving. His changed for the worse as a cool breeze was pulled down the alley, and the three alphas blocking his way learned they had an omega in their capture.
The alpha was faster than him. He pulled him forward until they were toe to toe and hooked his thumb under his collar to pull it back, revealing his neck.
“Looks like someone already owns you. They must not mind you finding trouble if they let you wander around like this.”
Bilbo slapped his hand away and pulled back indignantly, but a step back was a step into one of the other alphas behind him.
“Don’t touch me. Isn't it against your laws to touch another alpha’s…property.” Bilbo bit on the word. He made it a point to know at least the basics of human omega law living this close to them.
“If we’re caught, but we're no strangers to being on the wrong side of the king's law. Besides, when are we going to get a chance to sample something so rare again?” The alpha grinned and pressed his hand to the side of his throat, using his thumb to force their eyes to meet.
It was a useless gesture. Bilbo was already meeting his eyes with fury. He would rather bleed out on the pavement than let these thugs enact their twisted fantasies. Fortunately for him, they thought they had caught a timid, scared omega, not an angry and increasingly violent dwarven consort.
He wished that Dwalin could see what he was about to do.
Using the perfect chance his height afforded him with humans, he kicked the man in the crotch as hard as he could before reaching for the still-lit pipe and flinging the ashes and cinder into the eyes of the men behind him.
The last time he had run this fast, he had been running from wargs. This felt harder. Crowds and busy feet got in the way of his momentum, slowing him down and forcing him to navigate an area he was completely unfamiliar with in a series of split-second choices.
Every time he looked over his shoulder, the men were closer. There was no way to outrun them, so he took a risk and ducked into a shop, which he quickly realised was attached to a smithy.
He was overcome with the crushing feeling of comfort, then guilt, with no time to tend to it. The shop was empty. The men came thundering after him, and Bilbo grabbed a hammer on a store shelf, ready to take at least one out before they could get the best of him.
As they advanced, a door he assumed opened to the actual forge opened with a bang. A large, well-muscled woman stepped out wearing a thick leather apron and holding a pair of forge tongs that might have been able to pick him up if she was inclined. She had a stern face and a permanent crease between her brow that suggested she spent a considerable amount of time with it furrowed.
The men looked less sure of themselves now that she was present. He had never met a human female alpha before.
She looked from him to the thugs and twitched her nose in irritation.
“Don’t mind me, ma'am. I'm just here to take back my little runaway.” The male alpha said. He stepped forward, but the woman blocked his path.
“That's not your omega.” She said dismissively.
“Yes, he is. He has a mark, check.” The man ground out.
“You've always been a fucking idiot, Garrin, but I didn't think your nose stopped working along with your brain. If that's your omega, explain why he smells like a dwarf.”
The male alpha's face twisted in rage. “That doesn't matter. He's not near any dwarves, and I have a bone to pick with him.”
“You won't be picking it today. Get out of my shop and hope this omega’s real alpha doesn't track you down. I hear dwarves get possessive over their mates.” She said dismissively.
There was a tense silence after her words, where no one moved. Garrin seemed pulled between wanting to try his hand and not wanting to cross the woman.
The longer this went on, the thicker the air became, making every part of his body burn and tighten. Bilbo lost control of his legs and slid to the floor with flushed cheeks and a whimper.
“If you send yourself into a rut in my shop, I'll drag you to the ruins of Lake Town and drop you into that cold dragon-poisoned water myself.” She growled in warning at the male alpha. That doused whatever was brewing, and some of the pheromones in the room lifted enough to let him breathe.
The three male alphas left, snarling a few choice words that the female alpha didn't care to respond to. She flipped the door sign to closed and slammed it shut.
“So you're what a dwarven omega looks like. I did always wonder.” She removed her apron and threw the tongs into a beaten metal bucket by the door.
“I'm not a dwarf; I'm a hobbit,” Bilbo said. “Thank you for helping me.”
“You could've fooled me. You smell like them,” She said dismissively.
“I…my mate is a dwarf,” Bilbo said, looking the woman over and spotting the mating bite on her neck. “Are you not worried they'll target your mate now that you've helped me?”
“My omega doesn't leave the house without me. The fact that yours lets you wander around so far from home feels negligent. If I owned you, that certainly wouldn't fly.” She scoffed.
“No one owns me!” Bilbo bit back in disgust
“Not much of a difference between being mated and being owned in human la,w but I suppose dwarves do things differently.”
As she was speaking, he could hear footsteps descending the stairs, and the door behind the shop counter opened. The man standing in the doorway looked like he had recently woken up from a nap. He was of average height with a slight frame and large glasses that made his face look small. He seemed oddly disproportionate, and it took a moment to register that it was because he was at least four months pregnant.
“Pelly, I keep hearing shouting, and it’s making it very hard to nap.” He said, but his voice trailed off at the end as he saw them standing there. The scent of strong alpha pheromones was still lingering in the air. “Did I interrupt something?” He frowned.
“Just a dwarven omega getting chased into our shop by the Fisher idiots,” Pelly said with the same hard demeanour that she had maintained the entire conversation, but with softer eyes.
“I’m not a dwarf.” Bilbo corrected uselessly.
“I don’t care,” Pelly replied. “You smell like you’re halfway to a heat. Does your alpha even know you’re here?”
Before Bilbo could reply, the pregnant omega spoke up. “Don’t mind her; she’s been in a foul mood for days. The doctor has me on rest until the end of the week. She’s had to keep her hands to herself, and I’m sure you’re aware of how bad they tend to be at that.”
Bilbo smiled. He knew exactly how bad alphas were at that. He looked over long at the man's belly, feeling a stabbing sense of bereft longing. It was ironic when he thought about it. He had run to a smithy for protection and weather continuously or unconsciously; his mind linked the smell of coal and the tang of iron and steel with safety. He wondered if it was a prerequisite for blacksmiths to all be stern and surly. That was the description he would have given Thorin that day, forever ago, when he showed up at his door. Except this blacksmith had what he was trying desperately to tell himself he didn’t want and didn’t need.
It wasn’t the right time for a child.
Thorin deserved a stable kingdom.
Not never, just not now.
Whatever he needed to tell himself to stop the sinking feeling that he was making a horrible mistake. Keeping his plans from Thorin felt like a small lie in comparison to the aching want that had plagued him months before his fertility scent had appeared.
He could stomach it when it was a fantasy that he believed to be unattainable. It made it easier to live with. Still, the desire manifested in other ways. For what other reason would he keep his hips tilted as long as he could after Thorin spilled into him, or the small, silly hope that lingered the few weeks after a heat, only to result in a sombre mood after he knew nothing had taken.
Sometimes, something could be said for the baser insects of one's dynamic when you find yourself with the person who makes those instincts make sense.
The rush of events, combined with his hormones, left him standing there pathetically as a sob escaped him. He put his hand over his mouth, but it was too late. He was crying.
“Look what you’ve done. You’ve terrified the poor thing!” The omega rushed to show him affection, giving his hair a child-like pat and smiling sympathetically. “If you ran into them, you must be shaken up. Sit down, and we’ll get you squared away. I’m Lou, and as I said, that’s Pelly.”
“Thank you.” Bilbo said, sitting and taking his handkerchief out to wipe his eyes.“No, my alpha doesn’t know where I am, and I’m trying to find an apothecary in this labyrinth of a city.”
“Do you mean an herbalist? Someone who sells remedies? Doesn't your mountain have a legendary healer already?” Pelly asked.
“I didn't think stories of the mountain reached many Daleman’s ears past those about the battle of the five armies,” Bilbo replied. He couldn't help but be on edge and sceptical near a human alpha, given his experience. Perhaps Thorin was starting to rub off on him.
“She trades with the mountain's quartermaster for ore and raw materials,” Lou responded, clearly sensing some tension. Why do you need a herbalist?”
“I…I need blockers.” Bilbo admitted. Lou and Pelly exchanged looks with each other.
“Did your alpha forbid you to take them because you’re close to a heat?” Lou asked in a sympathetic tone. He looked at his alpha and back at Bilbo. “I know you’re a dwarven omega, but if you’re being mistreated, then King Bar-”
“What! No, nothing like that at all!” Oh, the absolute irony of being suggested such a thing by a human omega of all people. “It’s complicated. I just need to get the blockers and be on my way before my mate worries about me. If you could point me in the right direction, I can be out of your hair.”
“Mated omega’s can’t buy blockers without their alpha's permission. They’ll check you for a mating bite as soon as you ask.” Pelly said, and for the first time in the conversation, she didn’t sound harsh.
A wounded sound left him as he put his head in his hands. This entire endeavour had been a dangerous waste of time, and he was going to slink back to the mountain with nothing to show for his efforts. Thorin would spend possibly years fighting a battle in his own council, and he would just have to hold their child and watch as the resentment grew.
He started crying again, an embarrassing fresh wave of tears wetting his palms. He was tired and hungry, and above all else, he missed Thorin.
“Maybe we can help.” Lou started
“Lou!” Pelly said, short and sharp, pulling the pregnant omega away from where he was trying to comfort him to trade heated whispered words on the other side of the room. Bilbo could still hear them if he wanted, but he didn’t bother to focus and listen until he heard the door behind the counter slam. Pelly was avoiding his gauze with her eyes closed and forehead pressed against a display rack. Minutes later, Lou returned holding a jar the size of his hand filled with recognisable herbs that had been dried and pressed into pellets.
“Take this,” Lou said, pressing the jar into his hands. “I don't need them anymore and won't for some time. Pelly can buy me more when I do. If you need them so desperately that you would go through all this, then you should have them.”
“Is she ok with this?” Bibo asked, looking sideways at Pelly.
“No.” Lou dropped his voice. “She doesn't understand what it’s like to be…us. I don’t think most alphas could. She was raised to believe that omegas should always be subservient to their mate's commands, and in return, alphas should be firm but gentle lovers and leaders. Without your alpha here to consent, she considers giving you this overstepping our place.”
"And you think differently?” Bilbo asked, intrigued and deeply warmed by the display of defiance that he was ashamed to say he didn't think most human omegas had in them.
"I think that it’s hard not to always be in control of your fate. I’m lucky that I belong to her and not someone else. She loves me dearly and loves whoever this will be.” He rested his hands on his stomach with a smile. “So she won’t stay too upset with me for deciding that this is something I’m going to do with or without her permission.”
Bilbo took the jar and reached into his coat to pull out the bag of coin. Lou shook his head, but Bilbo pushed it forward anyway.
“This much gold is…no hardship for me to part with. You’re doing me a favour. You’ve earned it.”
Lou pulled him into an unexpected hug. It was clumsy and awkward, but it was exactly the comfort he needed, so he let it happen without resistance.
“This pregnancy is making me so sappy. All this aside, we need to get you home. The sun is going to go down soon, and it’s a two-hour walk to your mountain.” Lou took the gold over to Pelly and stared at his feet apologetically before putting it in her hands. The alpha still looked unamused and frustrated, but accepted it and pulled her mate in for a kiss. Bilbo thought this was the best time to take his leave and not bother them any further.
“Stop,” Pelly said. The command went right through him. “Whatever this mess is, you’re still an omega, and you shouldn't be allowed to travel alone. I’ll take you to the west gate and see you off.”
Lou stayed behind to get some rest, and Bilbo was unceremoniously placed on the bench of a single-horse wagon. It wasn’t a long ride, but it was a silent one. He had no idea how to interact with a human alpha in this setting. He felt small, and he wasn’t used to feeling that way. He regretted the words that he had said in anger to Thorin. He still believed the law of Erebor to be unfair, but to compare the power dynamics of dwarven kingdoms to humans was unjustified.
How many cities did Thorin wander through when he toiled in the lands of men? Did he watch, helpless, as omegas were treated as objects precious to some and disposable to others. To the best of humans, a loved omega was still an owned omega. He knew his husband and his heart. It must have been as cruel to watch as it was labour for them.
He looked at the jar. He would need to take a big dose first and then smaller ones. He didn't know how long he would need to take them. With luck, it would only be a week or two before there was no need for the blockers, but he didn't know what to expect. No hobbit he ever met had tried to suppress a time of such high fertility.
They passed through the gates without additional inquiry. He half expected this to be the part where Pelly tossed him off the wagon like a sack of flour, but he was plucked from his seat much the same way he was set on it and placed on his feet.
“I suppose I should say thank you,” Bilbo said, his hand tightening around the jar. When Pelly said nothing, he continued. “Thank you for letting Lou help me. You need not worry about me being a bother again.”
Pelly got back onto the wagon before addressing him. “Lou will want to see you again if you're inclined. If you come again, do it with your alpha.”
She said nothing after that. They parted ways, and he was halfway up the hill before he turned to look back at Dale. He saw the smoke rise from the forge he knew to be Pelly's with a smile, not for the alpha but for the defiant omega housed within. A small act of kindness was a small act of rebellion.
It gave him just enough strength to go through with a rebellion of his own.