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Chapter Text

Bilbo crouched down beside the small brook and submerged her hands in the water. Her hands were visible beneath the swiftly moving water and she watched as orc blood, mud and heavens knew what else slowly washed away down the stream. She lifted her head and closed her eyes, letting the feel of the cold water revive her spirits as she slowly came down from the rush of the battle with the orcs, the flight with the eagles, and the shock of Thorin Oakenshield smiling at her with more warmth than she thought him capable of possessing.

Very unkind, Bilbo, she thought to herself. The warmth has always been there. Just not directed towards you.

She sighed and gently daubed water on her face frowning when she realised that she was far muddier than she realised.

“You shouldn’t stray too far,” a deep voice came from behind her.

Bilbo startled and fell forward, her hands landing flat in the stream, water splashing her face and front.

“And you,” she said directly a glare over her shoulder, “shouldn’t be straying anywhere. Does Oin know you’ve wandered off?”

Thorin gingerly sat down to lean against the trunk of a tall pine tree and waved his hand in what Bilbo supposed was a royal wave of dismissal at her question.

She huffed and finished washing her hands and face, then got to her feet. Absently, she dipped her feet into the stream and hissed when the water washed over the cuts she sustained from her fall in the caves. The image of the unfortunate…whatever he was, Gollum, flashed in her mind and she shivered. She looked around the small dip in the treeline where the stream rushed merrily along, between moss-covered stones under the shelter of the pine trees. She breathed deeply, letting the scent of pine tickle her nose. If she closed her eyes she could almost imagine herself in that little alcove in the woods in Buckland.

She stepped out of the stream with a grimace and a sigh.

“Something troubles you?” Thorin asked quietly.

“A great many things trouble me,” Bilbo said with a laugh. “But at the moment, I was simply feeling…nostalgic, I suppose.”

“Oh?” he asked. “Remembering other times you slaughtered orcs with a sewing needle?”

“I have it on good authority that it’s a letter opener, thanks very much,” she said drily. “And no. I was listening to the sounds of the stream and the rustle of the thrushes in the undergrowth. My father proposed to my mother in such a setting. I was just remembering how he liked to tell me the story.”

She turned her back on the stream and faced him; Thorin looked steadily back at her. Under Oin’s and Gandalf’s instructions, they’d descended from the Carrock to immediately take rest for the day before travelling onwards. The sun, though low in the sky, still shone and if Bilbo stretched, she could still see the Lonely Mountain in the distance.

Thorin’s armour had saved him from a serious mauling, but he had some deep gashes and looked two breaths away from a deep sleep. However, colour had returned to his cheeks after viewing the mountain.

Bilbo walked over to where Thorin sat and settled down beside him. “Actually, if I tell the story truthfully, it was my mother who did the proposing.”

“That doesn’t surprise me in the least,” Thorin said. “I’ve found hobbits to be especially determined creatures.”

“Well, to hear Mum tell it, they’d been seeing a great deal of each other, liked what they saw, so why waste time?” Bilbo said.

“Why indeed?” he said.

She gave him a look. “I get the impression that the King Under the Mountain is mocking the hobbit-lass.”

Thorin raised his hands up, palms out. “I wouldn’t dare to be so bold. I’ve seen the damage that can be wrought with that sewing needle of yours.”

“Letter opener,” Bilbo corrected primly.

“My apologies. Letter-opener.” A corner of his mouth quirked upwards and Bilbo rolled her eyes as she resettled against the tree.

She looked up at the fading light filtering down through the pine trees. She dearly wished for her pipe but contented herself with breathing in the musky, spicy scent of the earth around her. She nearly choked on air when she realised that it wasn’t so much the air around her that smelled soothingly of spice and earth, but the dwarf beside her.

Oh, botheration, she thought helplessly. I don’t suppose there’s anything for it though? We Tooks fall so very heavily, after all. She frowned. So do the Bagginses, come to think of it. Blast.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Thorin’s low voice asking, “What do you suppose you’d be doing on an evening such as this had we not descended upon you?”

“Ah!” she said with great satisfaction. “So you admit it was a descent?”

“Of course,” he said. “Tactics had been discussed ahead of time.”

“I knew it,” she said, her eyes narrowing. “Did you really get lost twice?”

“I’ve seen rabbit warrens that were less confusing.”

“You have a terrible sense of direction.”

“You haven’t answered my question,” he countered.

Bilbo sighed. “Restocking my pantry for winter, I suppose. Actually, the crabapples will have just begun to drop from the trees, so I’d most likely have a few pots of jelly on the boil. In all honesty, I imagine it would be somewhat revolved around food.”

Thorin chuckled. “I’ve noticed a certain preoccupation with the subject.”

“If you’re referring to the size of my waistline,” she said warningly.

“You have a perfectly proportioned waistline,” he said simply and Bilbo felt her cheeks flush.

“Oh, well, yes. I’ve always thought so,” she said flustered. “Why did you ask?”

“I suppose,” he started slowly, looking down at his hands. “I wanted to know more of what we’ve taken you from. Whatever you usually do cannot be anything close to what you have done on this quest.” He looked at her and she had to remind herself to breathe when she received Thorin’s full stare. “Whatever it was, you could not have predicted this.”

“No,” she said. “I truly couldn’t have.” She frowned. “Could you?”

“Could I have predicted that a hobbit woman with a fondness for handkerchiefs and seven meals a day could have been so daring as to dissuade three trolls from eating a company of dwarves?” he said, eyebrows rising rather majestically. “Could I have predicted that the same hobbit woman would have thrown herself into an orc fight and come out the victor?”

“I would have thought you’d approve of that last one,” Bilbo pointed out. “Charging in recklessly without any thought whatsoever to the consequences or strategy or, oh sweet heavens, I’m becoming a dwarf!”

She clapped her hands on her mouth and looked at Thorin, feeling utterly appalled.

Naturally, the dwarf had the temerity to laugh, rather loudly, at her and asked, “Would that be so very bad, Mistress Baggins?”

“Well, I’m not sure,” she said, her hands falling from her mouth. She wriggled her toes on the moss. “You all wear such heavy boots all the time and you’re all so stubborn.”

Thorin opened his mouth to speak, but Bilbo interrupted him with, “Not a word.”

He closed his mouth.

“However,” she continued, “you’re not without your charms, I suppose. On the very odd occasion.”

“Praise, indeed,” he said as he shifted, grimacing in pain.

“Oh, let me help you,” Bilbo said getting to her knees and helping him re-settle against the pine tree.

He raised his hand to adjust his cloak and Bilbo froze when the tips of his fingers accidently brushed her ear. She closed her eyes and stifled a gasp. Naturally, Thorin noticed and paused.

“Did I hurt you?” he asked frowning. “You have bruises on your face and arms; have you had them looked at?”

“No, and yes,” she said.

He arched an eyebrow at her and she sighed.

“No, you didn’t hurt me,” she clarified, “and yes, I’ve had the bruises looked at. But they're fine. Turns out us hobbits have thicker skin than I realised.”

“Then why…” He gestured towards her ear.

“Oh, um, our ears are quite, ah, sensitive,” she said her face burning with a deep blush. She turned away and sat beside him once more, her eyes focussed firmly on the stream ahead.

She did her best to ignore his amused staring, but eventually sighed and asked, “What?”

“Nothing,” he said, the corners of his mouth turned up. “I hadn’t realised that. About the sensitivity, that is. They’re funny things.”

Bilbo glanced at him with narrowed eyes and he quickly added, “I mean to say…they’re lovely.”

“Oh,” she said taken aback. “Thank you?”

“Does the sensitivity lend itself to your hearing as well as when they're touched?” he asked, his voice deepening.

“Sometimes,” she said uncertain. All this talk of touching and ears and, oh, this was all a bit much. She suppressed the urge to press her hands to her face.

“They must aid you in your burglaring, I imagine,” he continued, amusement firmly settled in his voice.

“That’s the hope,” Bilbo said staring straight ahead.

“I’ve embarrassed you,” he said leaning forward.

“No, no,” she said quickly turning to look at him. She paused. “Well, actually, yes, you have a bit. We don’t tend to speak of such things.” She paused once more. “Actually, it’s more that I don’t tend to talk of such things. At least, I haven’t before.”

She watched him raise his hand to trace the edge of a bruise on her face. Her breath caught in her throat.

His fingers crept closer to her hairline and he murmured, “May I?”

“Yes,” she said breathlessly not truly understanding quite how she got to the point in her life where allowing this dwarf to touch her ear had somehow invited a kaleidoscope of butterflies to set up party inside her stomach while stabbing an orc had felt like business as usual.

She stared at him and then felt the gentlest of touches along the curve of her ear. Her vision swam slightly and she pressed her lips together.

His finger dipped to her lobe and then drew back up along the shell to curve over the tip. Her entire body shivered and he stopped. Bilbo blinked and Thorin's face came back into focus. He stretched out his hand and curled it around the back of her head, pulling her forward to press his forehead to hers. She sucked in a breath and stared at him with wide eyes.

“You saved my life,” he said hoarsely. “I am in your debt, Bilbo Baggins.”

“You saved mine on that mountain top,” she reminded him, her own voice having become rather unsteady. “I think we’re on even ground now.”

He shook his head, his hair brushing against her cheeks, forming a curtain around their faces. “I think we’ve been on uneven ground since our first meeting.”

“I said those boots of yours are ridiculous,” she said.

He huffed out a laugh, his breath ghosting over her lips. “I’m trying to be grave and serious, Mistress Baggins.”

“And you’re doing wonderfully,” she said nodding. “Do carry on.”

He chuckled. “I fear we will remain on uneven ground a bit longer. You send my thoughts whirling. There is something very confusing about hobbits.”

“While dwarrows are incredibly straightforward,” she said, nodding. “I blame all the time spent around stone.”

“Whereas you’re around growing things that go every which way and cannot be tamed,” he said, a furrow appearing in his brow. “You’re becoming quite lovely to me, Bilbo Baggins.”

“I think you may be delirious,” Bilbo said with a little laugh, pulling away slightly.

“No doubt,” he said, flexing his hand and sliding it from the back of her head to cup the side of her face. “I still find you to be a rather wondrous creature.”

“That’s blood loss talking, so shush,” she said wondering if she could die from all the blood rushing to her face.

“You’re shushing me?” he asked, that royal eyebrow arched once more.

“I am.”

“I’m in earnest.”

“I’m quite sure you are, but tell me again when you haven’t been thrown around like a ragdoll by an overgrown dog,” she said.

“Ragdoll?” he repeated, looking offended and raising his head from hers, but not moving far.

She rolled her eyes and patted the hand that cradled her face. “A very regal ragdoll.”

“You’re humouring me,” he said flatly.
“Yes, but not to offend, I promise,” she said. “It’s always best to wait a moment to determine if what you’re feeling are your true feelings and not the rush of the moment.”

“What an utterly practical thing to say,” he said frowning.

“You say that as though it’s a bad thing,” she said. “You’ve spent the last however many months barely able to look at me without scowling and now you’re paying me compliments simply because I rushed in and did something utterly moronic and dangerous. It doesn’t follow.”

“It does if you’re a dwarf,” he said beginning to grin.

“And I believe my point has been made for me,” she said drily.

He hmphed, but let her manoeuvre them so that they rested once more against the trunk of the pine tree.

“So,” Bilbo said after a few moments of silence as night slipped over them completely and all she could see was the orange glow of the campfire behind them, “all it honestly takes for you to be civil to me is for me to burst in and save your life in an absurdly reckless fashion?”

“It doesn’t hurt,” he admitted.

“Heaven help me,” Bilbo muttered.

They were silent a few moments more before Thorin said, “I’m sorry I wasn’t more…polite.”

“Apology accepted. And to be perfectly fair, I’m hardly suited for this quest. I’m smaller and softer and…” Bilbo said but stopped as Thorin reached over and took her hand. He turned it over and they both stared at the contrast of her small open palm cradled in his much larger one.

“It wasn’t that,” he said quietly.

“No?” she breathed still staring at their hands.

“You should be home in your warm home in the Shire,” he said, his voice low and hard, “and I resent that you are here. I resent that others of my kin who have more reason than you to join me did not. I resent that we have been forced to journey so far and so long on the wings of a prophecy and the whim of wizard.” Bilbo could feel him vibrate with emotion and his hand closed tight around hers. “And every time I looked at you I felt that resentment fill my veins and-“

“Shhh, shhhh,” she said turning to him and laying her other hand on his chest, gently pushing him back against the tree. “It’s okay, I understand.” Thorin slumped down and looked at her helplessly, while she smiled. “Goodness, you’re just like a kettle always on the edge of boiling over, aren’t you?”

“If you’re trying to imply that I’m full of hot air,” he began.

“Now, I’m the one who wouldn’t dare to be so bold,” she said, checking his bandages and then satisfied that he hadn’t reopened any wounds, she squeezed the hand that still held hers and resettled beside him.

Bilbo listened to him breathe and gazed down at their joined hands before lifting her head and speaking.

“I meant what I said before,” Bilbo said softly, staring out into the growing dark of the forest. “Everyone should have a home. Whether it’s a smial filled with books and crabapple jelly. Or it’s a mountain with great halls carved by your ancestors.” She took a deep breath. “I will help you, Thorin, I promise that I will.”

“I meant what I said as well,” Thorin replied. “I find you to be the most confounding and loveliest thing this side of the Lonely Mountain.”

“Yes, well,” she said fidgeting slightly embarrassed by the compliment. “Say that again when you’re not suffering from traumatic injuries.”

“You think that I won’t?” he asked. “That I’ll forget?”

“I think you might have second thoughts, yes,” she said chuckling. “Especially when I find something new to complain about.”

He stilled and appeared to think about that for a moment. Then he straightened and puffed out his chest as he asked, “Is this a challenge?”

“Dwarves,” Bilbo muttered fondly.

“It is a challenge,” he said with something that sounded quite a lot like satisfaction.

“You’re a challenge,” Bilbo said, not able to hide a yawn and turning her face to rest against his shoulder.

“I think you’re more than suited to the task, Mistress Burglar,” he said.

“We’ll see, won’t we?” she mumbled as her eyes closed. “Now, sleep, Thorin Oakenshield.”

“As my mistress commands me,” he said, his voice comfortingly low and rumbly and still laced with satisfaction. In fact, there was something in the way he said ‘command’ that made something inside of her shiver and take notice.

Bilbo closed her eyes and dozed for a moment, but something still niggled at the back of her mind and she opened her eyes.

“You’re thinking rather loudly,” Thorin remarked.

“I’m surprised you can recognise the activity,” she said absently, “judging by some of your earlier actions today.”

He heaved a great sigh. “If I admit that charging Azog without appropriate thought to reinforcements wasn’t the most tactical of decisions, will you let it be?”

“I’d let it be if I thought you wouldn’t do it again,” she retorted. “However, I don’t think you can give me such a guarantee.”

“Most likely not, I’m afraid,” he admitted.

“In any case, that’s not what I was thinking of,” she said.

“What were you thinking of?” he asked.

Bilbo pursed her lips and then said, “I feel as though something has just occurred between us and that it has some great meaning to you and I’m struggling to figure out what it is.” She paused. “I’ve missed something, haven’t I?”

“You have,” he said and she felt him turn his head so that his nose lightly nuzzled her hair. “But do not worry, you’ll figure it out soon enough.”

“More riddles in the dark,” she muttered.

“Pardon?” he asked.

“Nothing,” she said. “I’ll tell you of it later.”

“Hmmm,” he murmured against her hair and she could feel the energy of him begin to drain away as he slumped gently against her.

“We should go back to the rest of the company,” she said through a yawn. “Get closer to the fire.”

“Mmm, yes,” he said. “In a while.”

‘In a while’ turned out to be the remainder of the night and as she awoke to the sun easing into the sky, her thoughts turned once again on the deciphering the behaviours of dwarves and was quite certain that she was going to have her hands full figuring out the intentions of the one still pressed close against her, his breathing deep beside her ear.

The thought didn’t fill her with as much worry as it probably should have done.

Chapter Text

Bilbo sat bolt upright and reached for her sword. When she realised that she was safely tucked away in the hall of Beorn, she set her sword down gently and covered her face with her hands.

Is it soft? Is it juicy? echoed through her thoughts and she shook her head and got to her feet, remembering to grab her pipe as she left her bedroll behind.

She tiptoed past sleeping, snoring dwarves and went into the hall where the fire still burned.

A loud rustle outside had her freezing mid-step. She weighed her curiosity to know what the heck that was against ignoring it and scurrying over to the fire. Naturally, as seemed to be the case lately, her Tookish side won and she crept to the large window.

She blinked when she saw a great black shape galloping on the rise some leagues away.

Well. Skinchanger, indeed. It was their second night in his hall and Bilbo was fairly sure she wasn’t going to ever find their host anything but alternatively intimidating and incredible.

Her Tookish tendencies satisfied, Bilbo sat down beside the fire and using some of the last of her tobacco, she filled her pipe. Content, or at the very least, awake and away from nightmares, she leaned against the leg of one of Beorn’s chairs and stared into the fire.

“You cannot sleep?” a deep voice asked behind her.

Bilbo jumped and turned her head, sighing in relief when she saw Thorin close by. “How you manage to be so silent in those boots is a mystery for the ages. And no, I couldn’t.”

He nodded. “Dreams?”

“Dark ones,” she said turning back to the fire. “I sincerely hope that your caves are more hospitable than those of the goblins.”

“Apart from the dragon currently lurking there,” Thorin said sitting down beside her and taking out his own pipe, “I would most certainly say that Erebor is the more hospitable.”

“Good,” she said going back to her pipe. She watched Thorin prepare his pipe noticing how the play of the firelight illuminated his (really rather handsome, admit it, Bilbo) face and hands.

“Do you wish to speak of your dreams?” he asked after a few moments. He frowned. “I…would listen.”

Bilbo smiled around her pipe. “Thank you for the offer, but I wouldn’t put you through having to listen to me waffle on.” She inhaled and exhaled slowly. “I’ll come to terms with the dark things eventually.”

“It… I…” He fidgeted. “I wouldn’t consider listening to you speak a hardship.”

“Well, thank you,” she said. “But, it’s quite all right.”

“Hmmm,” he said, hunching slightly and puffing furiously on his pipe.

Bilbo’s brow furrowed. “Are you…upset with me?”

“No,” he said shortly.

“Oh. Good,” she said, not believing him in the slightest.

He sighed and lowered his pipe. “I just do not want you to feel that you cannot come to me with your concerns. I would do everything in my power to set your mind at ease.”

“Oh, well, that’s exceptionally kind of you,” she said leaning forward and patting his arm. “Really, it is. And I promise that I will, if I need to.”

He looked down at her hand and then back up at her and Bilbo had the sensation that she was about to venture into another conversation where they were speaking the same language, but not understanding each other at all.

She lifted her hand from his arm.

He clasped it in his own.

She froze.

“I am… I would…” He grimaced. “I’m not very adept at these things.”

“’Things’,” she repeated. “Talking?”

“Sharing,” he clarified.

“Oh.”

“Yes.”

“I…see?” she said hesitantly.

His thumb smoothed over the line of her knuckles and as those blasted butterflies kicked off in her stomach once more, she supressed a shiver, but only just.

“I wish I were more eloquent,” he said. “It’s never been an issue before.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Bilbo said lightly. “You always manage to get your point across. Especially when you back it up with that sword of yours.”

He chuckled. “I don’t know if swords should be spoken of this early in the midst of a courtship ritual.”

“What courtship ritual?” Bilbo asked, anxiously taking a deep puff on her pipe.

His thumb stopped rubbing her knuckles and he blinked at her.

Bilbo blinked back.

“Our courtship ritual,” he said slowly.

Bilbo cocked her head to the side. “I beg your pardon?”

“Our courtship ritual,” he repeated starting to smile.

The sound that came from Bilbo’s mouth was one she’d never made before and hoped to never make again. Even Thorin leaned back and raised his eyebrows, the smile freezing on his face.

“Our what?” she wheezed, smoke coming from her nose and burning her chest from where she’d inhaled too deeply.

“Our courtship rituals,” he said, a furrow forming on his brow. “Bilbo, I’m courting you. Did you not know?”

“Of course I didn’t bloody know,” she snapped. He dropped her hand and she immediately felt the lack. But she carried on. “When did this start?”

“When you saved my life,” he said, his tone flat and his eyes narrowed. “When you accepted my embrace on the carrock. When you bedded down with me the night before last.”

Bilbo’s jaw dropped. “We fell asleep against a tree! That is not bedding down with you! I’m quite certain I would have remembered that.”

“I’m quite certain you would have, as well,” he said and humour crept into his expression.

She pointed her finger at him. “Don’t you dare attempt to be charming, Thorin Oakenshield.”

"Did I not promise you that I would tell you again how wondrous I found you?" he said. “Did you not issue to me a challenge to follow through on my intentions?”

"You had just been mauled by a Warg!" Bilbo said frantically. "You'd just had your first glimpse of your mountain. You weren't thinking clearly."

"I'm thinking clearly now," he said. "I'm serious, Bilbo. I mean to court you."

She had the urge to flap her hands in the air and make more incredulous noises, but she settled for asking, "Why?"

"Because you're here," he said. "Despite my harsh words and my unfeeling ways, you're here."

"And beginning to question my common sense, to be perfectly honest," Bilbo muttered.

"Because you're lovely and brave and clever," he went on, ignoring her mutters. "Because you show compassion where others would not. Because the strands in your hair shine like seams of gold when the sun catches them and because you always smell of something fresh and clean even when covered in Orc blood."

"It's probably cedar," Bilbo said faintly. "I use it to freshen my clothes."

Thorin studied her for a moment and then nodded. “I see that I haven’t been as forthright as I should have been, please forgive me.”

“No!” she said, waving her pipe in the air. “No, I… I mean, yes, fine, I forgive you for assuming that I know every single detail of dwarvish courting rituals. It’s an easy mistake to make, apparently.”

“Why are you so agitated?” he asked frowning.

“Why am I…?” She stared at him. “You’ve initiated some kind of courtship of me when I didn’t even know it and you’re asking me why I’m agitated?”

He paused, then said, “Yes?”

Bilbo closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She set her pipe down lest she get the urge to throw it (it was her only one, after all), then she said, “Thorin. We’re not courting.”

“No?” he said, his voice going dangerously low.

“No,” she said.

“May I ask why not?” he asked, his hands curling into a fist around his pipe.

“Why not?” she said. “Thorin, you don’t like me.”

His face went blank and he just stared at her.

She stared back.

The fire continued to crackle merrily in front of them.

After a few minutes of silence, Thorin said uncertainly, “I like you.”

“You don’t,” she countered. He started to protest and she held up a hand. “You respect me, finally, and I think you appreciate what I’ve done for you and the others and you finally accept that I can be an asset instead of a liability, but you don’t like me.”

“Were you not listening just now?” he asked, his brow furrowing over his eyes. “There is something between us. Something powerful and strong. I feel for you things I’ve never felt for another in my life, Bilbo Baggins and you talk to me of ‘liking’ you?”

“Yes. Yes, I do,” she said her voice breaking slightly.

“There is more between us than simple ‘like’,” he said shaking his head. “There is passion here, can you not feel that? There is loyalty and steadfastness and attraction. You tremble when I take your hand. That’s not to be ignored.”

“I’m not saying that you aren’t wrong, Thorin, and all of that’s all well and good and is,” she took a deep breath, “most certainly something to think about, but…it isn’t everything.”

“It isn’t?” he asked.

“Well, no,” she said. She smiled at him. “Passion is wonderful and it’s exciting, but it flares and then diminishes if there isn’t something supporting it. I’m all for passion, I truly am, but…” She looked down at her hands. “I’m also for being able to sit in a room with someone and feel so comfortable and open that I feel I can say anything. That they’ll be my partner and my friend as well as my lover.”

She looked up. “That is what a marriage should be. That’s what my parents had and that’s what I used to wish for.”

“Used to?” he repeated softly.

“I’m not exactly a spring chicken anymore,” Bilbo told him picking up her pipe. “No one’s come calling in quite some time.”

“Is that what I’d do, were I a hobbit?” he asked. “’Come calling’?”

“Yes,” she said nodding. “We’d have met somewhere previously, at the market or at a party or through a friend. You’d come round the house and ask me to take a walk or sit in the garden.”

He looked thoughtful.

“After that, provided we liked each other’s company, we’d spend time together,” Bilbo continued. “Perhaps go fishing if you liked the activity.”

“I see,” he said slowly. “You, however, realise that we’ve already done most of the activities on your list, apart from sitting in a garden or going fishing.”

“Ah, have we?” Bilbo asked.

“We met through our friend, Gandalf and I came to your home,” he said rubbing his thumb across her knuckles once more and oh, heavens, just when did he take up her hand again? “And while I’ll grant you that it’s been quite the lengthy walk, we have indeed been on a walk together.”

Bilbo stared at him, her mouth parted in surprise while he just stared back at her, his lips upturned and that damn thumb of his rubbing firm circles on each of her knuckles.

“Well,” she said helplessly. “I, um, well. Well.” She laughed breathlessly. “I don’t think I have a counter argument. Wait!” She sat up and glared at him. “I did all of that under a business contract. Ha!”

He inclined his head. “I take your point. However, have you ever encountered an official dwarvish courtship contract?”

“No?” she said.

“There are some very distinct similarities between one and what you signed,” he said. “Loyalty, fealty, shares of wealth, all of those would be included.”

“Do you include eventualities for incineration in your courtship contracts?” she asked sharply.

He paused. “Not as a regularity, no.”

“Well, then,” she said. She looked down at her hand entwined with his. “Well, then,” she repeated softly.

“What frightens you?” he asked quietly. “I’ll admit to perhaps going about this in the wrong way.” She shot him a look and he added, “Yes, fine, I’ve gone about this the wrong way. But, there’s something else, isn’t there?”

“It’s simply that we don’t know one another, not really,” she said meeting his eyes and smiling a little. “I don’t know any of the important things about you.” He looked confused, so she elaborated, “I know your family history and I know that you’re loyal and brave and determined and proud. But do you like scones or toast? If you had a day in which you had nothing to do, what would you spend it doing?”

He still looked confused. “This is important to you?”

“Yes,” she said firmly.

“I see,” he said looking once more into the fire. “I’ve…never had the luxury of…getting to know someone the way you’re describing.”

“I know,” she said softly. “And I’m so sorry for that.” She shrugged and puffed on her pipe. “Perhaps you should try now?”

“Perhaps,” he said. A corner of his mouth quirked upwards. “Perhaps it is time that I did some things that I’ve always denied myself.”

“Well now,” Bilbo said. “Don’t make me part of some list that you feel you need to complete.”

“For Mahal’s sake,” he said loudly. “Why do you persist in not taking me at my word? Do you think I wanted this? Now? To find myself irrationally transfixed by a female halfling while I’m trying to lead my people on this thrice-damned quest? It is most inconvenient.”

Bilbo slowly exhaled pipe smoke and stared at him, her eyebrows arched.

He winced. “I could have phrased that better.”

“Yes, you could have,” she said, but then she smiled and said, “I care for you, Thorin, heaven knows that I do. And, yes, there is certainly an attraction here that I haven’t dared to even contemplate. However, I simply don’t think we’re well-suited and a quest is just no place for a courtship.”

He gazed at her for a moment before saying, “I believe that I respectfully disagree, Mistress Baggins. Do you permit me the opportunity to attempt to change your mind?”

“And what would that entail?” she asked cautiously.

He lifted her hand to his mouth and pressed his lips firmly to the tops of her knuckles, then to the top of her hand and then the tips of her fingers.

“Oh,” she breathed as tingles tripped up her spine and all across her body. “Oh, I don’t know if that’s entirely fair.”

“No?” he asked.

“You know very well you have an effect on people,” she said. “You have what my mother called ‘presence’ and it nearly bowls me over.”

“And yet, you remain upright the vast majority of the time,” he said, turning her hand so that his lips barely brushed across her wrist.

“Well, most of the time you’re rushing around doing something ill-advised,” she retorted, but her voice was sadly lacking any real heat whatsoever. “The presence tends to fade in the face of sheer idiocy.”

He let out a bark of laughter and pressed a long kiss to her palm.

“I think we’re incredibly well-suited, my reluctant burglar. No one else dares to speak to me so,” he said. “And I am going to persuade you to allow me to court you, with your express permission, of course.”

“I’m really not sure about this,” she said staring at his lips as they hovered over her hand. “You’re sure you aren’t pursuing this because your pride is the size of a mountain range?”

He paused. “Mostly sure.”

“Thorin.”

“I’m a prideful being, Bilbo,” he said shaking his head. “Something that will no doubt cause me trouble.”

“Will cause you trouble?” she said.

“Is our courtship to consist of you constantly remarking on my character?” he asked.

“Probably. I’m a remarkable being, you see,” she said archly.

He snorted and pressed another kiss to her hand. “That you are.”

“You won’t treat me any differently?” she asked. “I’m still under contract to be your burglar. I won’t have this…courtship detract me from my duties.”

“I promise to treat as I do the rest of my company,” he said inclining his head. “With the occasional foray into,” he thought for a moment, “ah, romance?”

“Romance?” she said. “Oh, my. Well, I can’t see it being any worse than facing a dragon.”

“How you flatter me, my love,” he said drily.

“Love? Oh, dear. Well, go on, then,” she said and (listening to a voice that sounded very much like her mother in her head that shouted happily for her to take a risk, for heaven’s sake, Bilbo!) she ran her hand down the curve of his jaw, curling her fingers to scrape gently through his beard. “Do your worst, Thorin Oakenshield.”

The grin he gave her transformed his face and she watched as the years of struggle and worry melt away and it occurred to her that if she could make him smile like that, then perhaps there was something here other than the rush of battle or the close quarters and limited choices of the quest.

Not to mention that the grin that filled her own cheeks was wider than she could remember bestowing upon anyone.

Sadly, as she’d discover, the forests of Mirkwood do not readily lend themselves to courting.

Chapter Text

Bilbo gave up on avoiding touching the trees of Mirkwood after a few hours in the forest as the path was too close. But every time she brushed up against a vine or her foot stepped in something moist, she cringed.

“What’s wrong, lass?” Dori asked her when they settled down for the night. “You’ve a sour look on your face.”

“It’s this forest,” she said, breathing shallowly due to the humidity and something else in the air that felt too close and too heavy. “There’s something very wrong with it.”

“Well, it’s not on my list of places to build a summer home in, that’s for sure,” Bofur said eyeing a tree that appeared to be oozing with something.

“I thought elves were more in tune with the world,” Bilbo said looking around. “Rivendell was a wonder. This…well, calling it a swamp would be too complimentary.”

“The Mirkwood elves have shown themselves to be without compassion,” Thorin said darkly. “It follows that they would let their own lands fall into ruin.”

Bilbo frowned at the tone of his voice. It often deepened into something approaching a snarl when he spoke of things long past.

Long past, but not ever forgotten, Bilbo thought to herself. That’s what this forest feels like. Long, forgotten memories that have degraded over time and have bled into the ground itself.

She shook her head to try and dislodge the black thoughts that swirled in her mind, but they persisted. Without knowing it, her hand slipped into her pocket and the comforting smoothness of the little ring muted the mutterings in her mind.

“We’ll start a nice wee fire,” Dori said taking some branches from Ori. “That’ll set us to rights. I hope.”

Thus began the nightly ritual of Dori, Ori and Gloin ‘discussing’ the proper fire-building techniques. Before long, Bofur had offered his, slightly dodgy, suggestions, which Nori refuted and Oin yelled at them all to speak up. Fili and Kili started to juggle the kindling while Dwalin yelled at Dori to just ‘light the bloody thing so that Bombur can cook up whatever gruel he can manage in this bloody forest!’

Bombur then took offence (quite rightly so, as he had been doing a remarkable job with what they had), Bofur and Bifur took offence right along with him and then whole company fell into their usual evening chaos.

But something else lurked in their words and their gestures and Bilbo shrank from it, taking a step back from them.

Nights fell quickly in Mirkwood and the light had just left as they lit the fire. As soon as the first flames licked at the branches, Bilbo felt a fluttering of wings by her face.

“Oh,” she said startled. “I think we should put the fire out.” The bickering continued. “Gentlemen! The fire!”

The flutterings got faster and stronger and increased in number. Something plucked at her hair. She swatted at the furry body attached to the large grey wings. She could have sworn the things screeched at her and another moth attached itself to her arm, while smaller ones darted and swooped about the campsite.

“Put out the fire!” Thorin called out and there was a rush of feet towards the fire to stomp it out.

There was a vicious tug to Bilbo’s hair and she cried out. “Stop that! Get off!”

“Bilbo!” Bofur called. “Lads, she’s covered in them!”

"Get them off," she said, her voice tight as she tried to maintain her composure and swatted at the moths. "Get them off, please."

She closed her eyes and strong hands pulled the creatures from her hair and her face and she sat down when the last had been pulled and thrown from her. The last of the fire was stomped out by Bombur and full dark settled over the campsite.

"Oh, heavens," she said panting, her face in her hands. "Oh, oh, that... I'm a ridiculous hobbit."

A chorus of voices refuted her claim while a strong, warm hand settled on her neck.

"How so?" Thorin asked, his voice beside her was steady and she grasped for it.

"Because they're just moths," she said dropping her hands from her face. "Just bloody great moths. But there's something…”

Something they wanted from me, she thought. They were searching me for something.

Her hand went into her pocket.

“What is it, lass?” Balin asked.

“Nothing, nothing,” Bilbo said shaking her head a bit too quickly. “But there’s something ill here. In this forest. Do you not feel it?"

There was silence and Bilbo could tell the company simply couldn’t bring themselves to voice what they felt.

“I can’t taste the food anymore,” Bombur said quietly at long last.

“My arms and my feet feel like lead,” Bofur added.

Bifur said something in Khuzdul and the company murmured in agreement.

“I feel like I’m forgetting things,” Ori said breaking the silence. “Things I shouldn’t forget.”

Thorin muttered something that Bilbo couldn’t quite make out and she winced when his hand tightened on her neck.

“Tell me of Erebor,” she said frantically. “Tell me of your favourite room.”

“What?” Thorin asked harshly, his hand relaxing.

“Tell me about your favourite room in the mountain,” she said. “All of you, tell me a story of Erebor.” She paused. “Unless it shouldn’t be spoken of in this place.”

“This forest cannot touch Erebor,” Thorin said uncertainly. Then, haltingly, he spoke, “There was a room, near the library, where the light shines in from above.” He paused and his voice softened. “Someone, a scribe from years past, etched verses from our most beloved stories onto the wall and the words would be illuminated as the sun rose and fell and as the moon waxed and waned.”

“The Verse Room,” Balin whispered. “Oh, aye. I remember it well, laddie.”

“It sounds beautiful,” Bilbo said softly. “You’ll show it to me? When we arrive?”

Thorin looked down at her and nodded. “I’ll show it to you. But you won’t be able to understand it. It’s written in our language.”

“Remember the armoury?” Dwalin asked, his voice harsh in the dark. “How the forge never stopped and the grinders never faltered to keep our weapons sharp and strong?”

“Mother used to tell us stories of the guilds,” Fili said. “How the masters used to hold competitions and fairs and how there was never an idle moment.”

“It never slept, our kingdom,” Balin said. “Not once. The mountain was alive, once upon a time.”

“And it will be again,” Thorin said, his voice low and fierce causing a shiver to travel up Bilbo’s spine. His hand gently rubbed the back of her neck. “I swear to you all, it will thrive again.”

A few hours later, after Bilbo gave up on actually falling asleep, she sat up and curled her arms around her knees and stared into the dark forest. She could almost make out the shape of Gloin keeping watch on the path, but perhaps it was only a large shrub. She squinted in the dark.

“Cannot sleep?” came Thorin’s voice from beside her.

“No,” she said. “Too uneasy for sleep.”

“Yes,” he said. She felt something touch her shoulder as he said softly, “Come here.”

If I was a respectable hobbit, I wouldn’t move, she thought. I’d politely decline and stay here in the cold damp and suffer in silence as opposed to curling up next to a lovely dwarf who radiates heat like a furnace.

She blinked in the dark, then she quickly scooted to sit beside Thorin and he wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

“Oh, that’s better,” she said with a sigh when his warmth seeped through her coat to her skin.

“I noticed you hesitated before coming over,” he said.

“It occurred to me that I should probably be demure and coy and not actually accept your offer of warmth,” she said. “But then I remembered that I haven’t been demure or coy a day in my life, and that I was hardly likely to start any time soon.”

“For which I am very grateful,” he said. “Not only because I don’t suppose a successful burglar is ever demure, but because it means I get an armful of a lovely-smelling hobbit.”

“I’ve been tramping through a diseased forest, Thorin,” she said. “I highly doubt I smell like a fresh meadow at present.”

“Hmm,” he turned his face so that his nose brushed against her hair and the edge of her ear (and oh, there went a full-body shiver) and said, “You smell of sunshine.”

“Really?” she asked drily.

“And of a diseased forest,” he admitted.

“That’s what I thought,” she said smiling. She curled her hands around his arm and he pulled her closer. “Your attempt at romance has been duly noted, by the way.”

“Excellent,” he said. “And thank you. You handled things extremely well, earlier.”

“What? Me swatting at moths like an idiot?” she asked.

“When you brought everyone out of their misery by asking them of happier times,” he clarified. “It was…kind of you.”

She snorted. “I did it for myself as well as for the company. I’m having a hard time remembering certain things myself.”

“Such as?” he asked.

“Oh, silly things,” she said. “The expression my mother used to make when I’d track mud through the house. Or the taste of a good blackberry pie straight from the oven.”

“I can’t remember the last time I had a blackberry pie,” Thorin said. “In fact, I don’t know that I’ve ever had one.”

“Then you are truly deprived,” she said. She yawned. “I’ll make you one as soon as I’m able.”

He made what honestly sounded like a pleased rumble. “I’ve made some progress in my suit, then? If you’re offering to cook for me.”

“I cook for everyone,” she said practically. “But yes, I would cook for you. No one should go without tasting a blackberry pie. With warm custard.”

“Do not talk to me of custard,” he warned. “It’s been an age since I had the means to indulge in custard.”

“Then I won’t tell you that my blackberry pie won in last year’s baking competition,” she said. “And the thing that tipped me into first place was my custard.”

“Vixen,” he said his voice lowering. “I do believe you’re teasing me.”

“Of course I am; who else is going to?” she pointed out.

“Fair point, very well made,” he said chuckling and nudging his nose against her ear once again.

She sighed and closed her eyes, this time just going with it and delighting in the shiver his touch produced.

“Have you told the others of your persuasion attempts?” she asked.

“Not widely, no,” he said. “Although, Balin and Dwalin suspect something. My nephews on the other hand…”

“Would rather see who can balance best on one foot whilst carrying an enormous amount of firewood?” she offered.

“My sister, Dis, their mother, is an incredible woman,” Thorin said casually. “A truly excellent mother and has a streak of practicality and fortitude that cannot be matched, except perhaps by your own.”

“I truly value the comparison,” Bilbo said slowly unsure as to where he was going with his train of thought.

“Therefore, with my knowledge of Dis’ numerous capabilities, I am disinclined to believe that my nephews had, in fact, been dropped on their heads as babes,” he continued.

Bilbo turned her face into Thorin’s arm and chuckled. “I sincerely hope you have never said that to her.”

“Did I mention that her sword-fighting skills rival Dwalin’s?” Thorin replied.

“Your nephews are young,” she said. “They’re on a quest to reclaim their homeland with their uncle that they love more than anything in this world. They’re about to burst with energy and, well, youth, I suppose.” She leant her head fully against his shoulder. “Not to mention, they come by their attitudes honestly.”

She felt him tilt his head down to look at her. “What are you implying?”

“That you and your nephews share many similar characteristics, but yours are firmly couched in that majestic mien of yours,” she said.

“I thought the term was ‘presence’?” he replied.

“Well remembered,” Bilbo said, trying to determine if closing her eyes was better than staring out into the dark. It was a toss-up.

“I suppose I don’t wish to announce anything until you give me something to announce,” he continued. “And if I fail in my persuasion, I don’t wish the company to know that their leader and future king cannot change the mind of a stubborn hobbit lass when I offer her the world.”

“Ah, yes,” she said drily. “I see your point, and I commiserate with you whilst feeling mildly offended.”

He chuckled and pulled her closer. “I told you I have no practice with this.”

“As if I do,” she said. “The blind are truly leading the blind here.” She blinked at the darkness. “Rather literally at this point.”

“It cannot persist,” he said. “Things are bound to improve.”

“Was that optimism?” she asked. “From you?”

“I’m optimistic,” he countered.

She snickered and shook her head. “No, you’re not.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You’re not an optimist,” she explained. “You don’t accept failure as an option. That’s not optimism, that’s sheer pig-headedness.”

“Yes, well,” he said. “I stand by my statement that things will improve. We shall be rid of this forest eventually.”

“It can’t happen quickly enough,” she said curling closer to him.

“I’m sorry,” he said after a few moments. “That you feel so affected. I’d…ease your mind, if I could.”

“This is helping,” she said squeezing his arm. “You being nearby is helping.”

“I’m glad,” he said and she could hear the smile in his voice. He cleared his throat. “Earlier, though. When you brought the company back together; I’d like to point out that it was something that their queen would do.”

Bilbo forgot to breathe for a moment. Then she said, “I thought you were still in the persuading stage?”

“I am.”

“So, you coming to the conclusion that I’d make a good queen is a bit of a leap, wouldn’t you say?” she said. “I mean, nothing is certain.”

“No, nothing is certain,” he said as he did that thing again with his nose against her ear and she had to bite down on her lip to stop from sighing.

“I’m also not entirely convinced that we shouldn’t wait to even do anything until this whole business is over and done with,” Bilbo said feeling a bit dazed, but more from Thorin’s attention than the darkness of the forest.

“I know,” he said. “But…I cannot wait, Bilbo. Don’t ask me to put this on hold. Please allow me to try to change your mind.”

“Pride?”

“Affection.”

“Oh.”

“I like these moments with you,” he said, his face pressed close to her head, his lips beside her ear. “These quiet moments when we speak of the company and the quest and blackberry pies. Do not ask me to relinquish them.”

“We’d still talk,” she said turning so that her forehead rested against his chin. He tipped his head so that his lips pressed to the crown of her head. “It’s what friends do, after all.”

“Could you simply be my friend, Bilbo?” he asked, his lips moved against her skin and she forgot where she was and just clutched at his arm. “Just my friend and nothing more?”

The thought of never being this close to him made her heart jolt oddly in her chest.

“No,” she whispered. “I don’t imagine that could just be your friend.”

“You sound sad,” he said.

“I suppose I am,” she said. “But, I also suppose it was inevitable. Gandalf did warn me.”

“About?” Thorin prompted.

“How if I walked out my door and joined you on this adventure,” she took a deep breath, “I wouldn’t return the same hobbit. And I’m coming to realise that he was right. I’m not the same hobbit I was.”

“This saddens you,” Thorin stated.

“Yes,” Bilbo whispered. “And no.”

“Such a contrary little thing, you are,” he said, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “But I do believe I take your meaning. I am not the same dwarf who ran into Gandalf in Bree all those months ago. I am no longer a wandering soul, wondering where my next meal will come from.”

“You may need to start wondering again,” Bilbo pointed out. “I don’t think we have all that many rations left.”

Thorin sighed. “I’m attempting to speak philosophically and you are being practical.”

“It’s a terrible habit of mine, I do apologise,” Bilbo said.

“You are incredibly good for me, you realise,” he said. “You keep me from taking myself too seriously.”

“Goodness,” she said smiling. “I hadn’t realised I’d done the impossible.”

A sharp screech sounded in the forest, followed by a loud rustle. Bilbo quickly let go of Thorin as he jumped to his feet, his sword rasping as he pulled it free. The rest of the company got to their feet with mumbles and held their weapons at the ready.

Bilbo checked her own sword, and not seeing the tell-tale shine of blue, sighed in relief.

“Not orcs,” she whispered. “Or goblins.”

“Not this time,” he murmured. He raised his voice to address the company. “I want three of you on watch at a time. On both sides of the path.”

Bilbo stayed where she was, huddled in the dark, and kept her eyes open and fixed on the dark. She only allowed herself the briefest of moments to regret that her conversation with Thorin had been cut short.

Ah, well, she thought. Perhaps tomorrow evening. Perhaps I’ll be able to ask him about whether or not Erebor has room for gardens.

Bombur fell into the river the very next day.

Chapter Text

The world of the ring felt like being inside a grey and black oil painting. Everything was thick and heavy and swirled around Bilbo as she moved through the Thranduil’s palace. At times she feared the thick swirls would leave their marks on her and she’d wind up with streaks of grey across her face and clothes. A soft, persistent voice whispered that perhaps they’d ignore her clothes and just mark her soul and her heart instead. She did her best to ignore the whispers and continued her search for the dwarves.

Up and down and around she went, following elf after elf. She’d take the ring off every so to stare up at the endless corridors that circled above and below.

Oh, give me Rivendell any day, she thought. Give me the bright sun and green grass over the stars. I prefer to have my feet on solid ground.

She finally found the dwarves on the third day after following her nose to the kitchens just in time to see a group of elves gather up trays. Bilbo breathed a sigh of relief so deep she sagged against the wall when she heard the dwarves kick off when they saw their guards returning.

After waiting for the elves to deposit the trays of food to the grumbling and remarkably foul-mouthed dwarves, Bilbo slipped off the ring and rounded the corner. Thorin spotted her first.

“Bilbo!” he said urgently, rushing to the door of his cell.

“I honestly cannot take you all anywhere,” she said breathlessly hurrying to his cell door. “Goblins, orcs, now elves? You lot would pick a fight with an Oliphant if given half the chance.”

“Our obstinacy is our most endearing quality,” Fili called down from his cell above.

“You’re all menaces,” Bilbo said laughing, “and it’s taken me forever to find you. You called the Shire a rabbit warren. This place is confounding.”

“Of course, it is,” Balin said. “No one is ever meant to leave and certainly no one is ever meant to get anyone out.”

“How did you get here?” Ori asked.

Bilbo frowned and felt very reluctant to tell anyone of her ring. It felt as though something heavy gripped her tongue and she could not speak.

“Oh, I, ah,” she said brokenly.

“She is our burglar,” Thorin said to the others. “I imagine her ways are her own.”

Bilbo smiled at him in relief and nodded. “Yes, yes, something like that.”

A sound came from the halls above and Bilbo clasped the bars in front of her and leaned in to whisper to Thorin, “Blast! Someone’s coming. I haven’t figured it out yet, but I will. I’ll free you from this place, I promise.”

“I have no doubt that you will,” he said, his hand covering hers and squeezing gently. “Be careful.”

Bilbo grinned and then slipped away down the hall she’d come from, slipping the ring on just as the guards appeared.

After finally finding the dwarves and memorising the way to the cells, Bilbo felt a surge of energy and hope.

It didn’t last long.

The winding and confusing palace saw to that fairly quickly.

Even though she’d managed to find more exits from the palace, there was no way she could use any of them to sneak a company of dwarves past the elves that stood guard over them.

It was two more days before she made it back down to the cells, as she hated to go back with bad news. It was full dark by the time she made it down and most of the dwarves had gone to sleep. Balin nodded to her as she passed his cell. Thorin just watched her approach him.

Bilbo slumped down beside his cell and wordlessly, he handed her a roll clearly left over from his supper. She ate it quickly while he just watched her.

Eventually, she said, “This is ridiculous. I’m never going to find a way out.”

“You will,” he said firmly. “You must.”

Bilbo sighed. “I know. But this place is astonishingly well-guarded, not like the last homely house at all. Remember how easy it was to leave there?”

“I do,” he said. “I never thought I’d wish to return to an elvish palace, but if I had my choice…”

“Tell me about it,” Bilbo muttered and rubbed at her eyes.

“How are you getting around unseen, Bilbo?” he asked softly.

She froze, her hands still pressed to her eyes.

“I know that you are quick and quiet on your feet,” he started. “But you look drained, my burglar. How are you doing this?”

“I...” Her hands fell from her eyes and she looked down. The words to tell him of the ring were right there; in her mind, on the tip of her tongue. She bit her lip and worried at it.

“Bilbo?” he whispered.

The concern in his voice broke through her thoughts and she said, “I found a ring in the goblin caves and it turns me invisible.”

She gasped and clapped her hands over her mouth, staring at him with wide eyes.

Thorin stared back at her, his eyes wide with surprise but then simply nodded. “I’ve heard tell of magic trinkets that do not wish to be spoken of. It’s a dark, dark magic that our kind never even thought to tinker with.”

“It whispers to me sometimes,” she managed, the words rasping at her throat like sandpaper. “I…don’t want to talk of it.” She looked down. “It’s such a little thing, after all. And it’s terribly useful. How dark can it be?”

A noise came from above and Bilbo hurried to her feet. “I’ll return tomorrow. Or sooner if I figure something out.”

“Bilbo!” he called softly as his hand grabbed hers as she moved to rush away. “Be careful with it. These things can have minds of their own.”

She nodded. “I’ll try.”

Then she pulled her hand from his and slipped down the hall.

Two nights later found Bilbo once again following the last guards of the evening as they made their rounds around the dwarves’ cells. She waited until the last one disappeared back to wherever it was they disappeared to after their shifts and slipped her ring off her finger. She leaned against the wall and stared up into the starlight that shined down into the cells.

She’d made some success in that she found where the keys to the cells were kept, but that knowledge was useless considering she had no idea where to lead the dwarves once she freed them.

Durin’s Day was fast approaching and what did she have to show for it? Thirteen imprisoned dwarves and a lost, hapless hobbit.

Frustrated tears pricked behind her eyes and she huffed furiously wrinkling her nose.

“Stop that right this second, Bilbo Baggins,” she admonished herself. “Don’t you dare become a watering-pot at this time of night.”

She swiped at her eyes and walked around the corner to see Thorin standing at his cell door. She had to smile at the sight of him waiting for her.

He, however, frowned when he saw her and said, “You look done in. Sit down, rest awhile.” He smirked a little. “We’re not going anywhere.”

Bilbo snickered half-heartedly and sank to the ground beside his cell, her legs outstretched in front of her. She leaned against the bars of his cell and looked at him. He copied her position and pressed his arm against her as much as he could through the bars.

“Oh, you’re warm,” she said turning her face into his arm. “You smell terrible, but you’re warm.”

“Your nose is like ice,” he said gesturing for her to give him her hands. “Bilbo, you’re freezing.”

“It’s fine,” she said, her voice muffled from where she kept it pressed to his arm. “I’m fine.”

“Curl closer to me,” he said quietly and she pulled her feet up and turned into him as best as she could. “Mahal damn these bars, I cannot hold you.”

“Mmm, is that another attempt at romance?”

“It’s my attempt at making sure my burglar doesn’t freeze to death,” he said. “When I attempt romance, I’ll be sure to alert you.”

“Good,” she said smiling as she nuzzled his shirt. “Oh, Thorin. I think I may be getting too old for this lurking about business.” She lifted her head and peered at him. “You may be getting too old for this, too.”

She traced a finger along the edge of his brow underneath strands of grey-streaked hair.

“No doubt,” he said smiling. “We should be resting on soft cushions while fortifying hot drinks are brought to us.”

“Oh, I would do terrible things for a cup of tea and some pipeweed,” she sighed.

“I would happily watch you do terrible things, if only to see your version of terrible, which I suspect is only mildly irritating at the most,” he said chuckling.

Bilbo stilled and remembered how she butchered the spider in the wood with no thought at all. How the weight of her sword in her hand felt righteous and good and powerful and how it had terrified and thrilled her.

“I’m not so sure,” she said softly. “I fear I may be capable of really rather terrible things.”

“I don’t believe it,” he said turning to look at her. “You’re troubled. Has something happened?”

“Not yet,” she whispered. “But I feel something will.”

They sat in silence for a spell. Bilbo leaned fully against Thorin and listened to the spray of the waterfall and the snores of the company around them. She closed her eyes and sighed.

“In Erebor,” he said, his voice low and soft. “We have a vast stillroom where the herbs are laid out to dry. And there’s a small room right above it that always seemed to capture the scents of the flowers as they dried. It had a large hearth and a fire that always roared.” He paused. “I believe I’d invite you there, on a cold night such as this, to warm your hands and bring colour back to your cheeks.”

Bilbo lifted her head and looked at him, her eyes wide with wonder and those blasted tears threatened her eyes once again. “It sounds wonderful. I believe I’d accept the invitation.”

He smiled at her and she couldn’t help but return his smile.

“That was an attempt at romance, by the way,” he said.

“I had caught that, yes,” she said with a chuckle. “It was a masterful attempt, as well, thank you.” She cupped the side of his face. “You’re determined to proceed with this courtship, aren’t you?”

“As though we’ve had time for a proper courtship,” he said bitterly, “But yes, I’m sure. I feel a completeness when you’re near me. As I said before, I don’t see myself letting go of that feeling anytime soon.”

“Are you sure you aren’t doing this simply because you feel you should?” she asked.

“How do you mean?” he replied.

“Well, are you planning too far into the future?” she asked, looking down at their hands and tracing a finger along the hills and valleys of his knuckles.

“You doubt our success?” he said.

She pointedly looked at the bars in front of him. “Not exactly, no, but we don’t know what’s going to happen, Thorin. Even if, pardon me, when you succeed, I don’t know that your people are going to want a hobbit as their queen.”

“My people will accept my choice,” he said firmly.

“I just… This place,” she looked around, “it’s dazzling.” She shook her head. “I know it’s not the same, I know that Erebor is different, but I’m not royalty, Thorin. Not even close. I don’t need fine things and I wouldn’t know the first thing about ruling something. I can’t even find a way out, for goodness’ sake!” She lowered her head and whispered, “I think you’ve picked the wrong person to court.”

“I’ve picked someone honest and true and clever and lovely,” he said. “No one will doubt my choice, Bilbo.”

“Perhaps I doubt your choice, then,” she said her voice cracking.

Bilbo felt him still beside her, his hands going as hard as stone around hers.

“Explain,” he said quietly.

“What are we doing, Thorin?” she asked. “Courting? One of us is in a cage and the other is wandering aimlessly through a never-ending palace with nary an exit in sight. I’m only a hobbit and you’re the king under the bloody mountain, however said mountain is currently occupied by a dragon, which I’m under contract to steal from, but I can’t uphold my contract because we’re stuck in this confounding elvish maze!” She glared at him. “And don’t get me started on the fact that I haven’t had a bath in I don’t care to know how long.”

He stared at her evenly, then asked, “Are you quite finished?”

“It depends. Did you just use your ‘majestic’ tone with me?” she asked, her eyes narrowed.

“It tends to come out when someone is spouting crazed nonsense at me,” he said.

“Nonsense?” she repeated, her voice rising. “Being behind bars is nonsense? A dragon is nonsense? Thorin, the only nonsense I see at the moment is us. The pair of us courting whilst pretending that this situation isn’t dire and that we’re not both destined to either a slow decomposition in these cells or a fiery incineration at the mouth of a dragon.”

“And that is life, Mistress Baggins,” he said fiercely. “It isn’t tucked away in a safe, little sanctuary in the Shire. It is facing obstacles and overcoming them to face the next ones. It is having faith in your company and your quest and having the honour to not let them down.”

“It’s not a matter of honour,” Bilbo said rolling her eyes. “It’s a matter of –“

“Practicality, yes, your favourite state of mind,” he said in disgust.

“Better to be practical than dead,” she retorted.

“Better to dare than languish,” he fired back.

“Better to languish than rot in a cell,” she said.

His hands tightened on her fingers and he leaned forward, his eyes bright in the starlight.

“Better to be beside the ones you love as you fight to the bitter end,” he said harshly. “Better to let yourself love with your whole being. Even if the object of your love is an overly cautious, practical hobbit female who would rather curl up and perish. A woman who would rather give up than defend her honour, her pride and her quest. Confound it all, Bilbo Baggins, have you no heart?”

“Of course, I haven’t got a heart!” she said just as harshly. “I gave it to you the moment you sang in my parlour!”

He stared at her while she glared back. Then his hand tangled in her hair, she was pulled forward and his mouth covered hers.

It wasn’t a very nice kiss.

Now, when Bilbo was a tween she had been given a truly nice kiss from Stanforth Brandybuck (a cousin a few times removed). He was terribly kind and the kiss was gentle, like a butterfly had landed on her lips and then flew off and she remembered that it sent little tingles to the tips of her fingers.

This kiss, on the other hand, sent rather large tingles everywhere.

Thorin’s lips moved on hers with a determined and desperate purpose and she reciprocated by parting her lips to move with him. She curled her fingers into his shirt and shuddered as his tongue stroked roughly against hers. She retaliated by sucking on his lower lip surprising them both with the action. But Thorin just groaned and covered her mouth with his once more.

Several really rather charged moments later, they pulled apart. She blinked slowly at him and he looked at her under lowered eyelids.

“Oh,” she said in a tiny voice. “Do… Do you think we could try that again? Only perhaps with slightly less devouring and anger?”

His eyes widened as he smiled but then he leaned forward and oh.

Well.

Well, this kiss wasn’t precisely nice, either.

This kiss teased and dared and probed. This kiss was lazy and lush and the rather large tingles turned into sensuous vibrations that hummed throughout Bilbo’s body.

When they pulled apart once more, Bilbo was sure that the bars had left permanent indentions on her cheeks, but she really couldn’t be fussed.

“Mahal,” he said breathlessly, “damn-“

“These bars, yes. The Green Lady may damn them to, if she so chooses. And not fair,” she said in a daze. “I said no devouring.”

“I do not think I can stop myself,” he said as his lips hovered just above her own. “For you see, I fervently wish to devour you, my burglar. I wish to lay you out in front of me and taste every last part of you.”

“Oh, heavens, you really don’t play fair,” she said fisting his shirt so hard her nails threatened to tear the fabric. She pressed her mouth to his.

The sounds of the next round of guards talking broke them apart this last time.

“Damn and blast,” Bilbo said fiercely. “I must go.”

He cradled her face in his hands and kissed her one last time, then pressed his forehead to hers as he said, “You will find a way out for us. Not because you are destined to be my queen or because it is imperative, but because you are clever and strong and I have faith in you. The company has faith in you. Never doubt that. Do not doubt yourself, Bilbo Baggins.”

She beamed. “Oh, you are going to make a wonderful king. You are truly gifted at making inspiring speeches.”

“Cheeky little burglar,” he murmured.

“Stubborn king under the mountain,” she murmured back. She dared to press a quick kiss to his nose and then she slipped down the hall, sliding the ring on as she went.

She made it most of the way down the corridor, before her nerves threatened to overtake her and she tucked herself into a little alcove well below the line of sight of the elves. She took the ring off and pressed her hand to her chest and closed her eyes and desperately tried to calm her bubbling emotions. She was downright giddy from his kisses and that wouldn’t do. She’d burst into delighted giggles before long and be discovered and where would that lead her?

So she breathed in and out and leaned the side of her face against the wall, letting the stone cool her flushed cheeks.

You are a silly, silly hobbit, she thought to herself, but she grinned while she did so.

“By the Lady, they glare so,” a voice came from down the hall and Bilbo froze, giddiness forgotten.

“I’ll be glad to forgo this shift in favour of the celebration tomorrow,” another voice answered and Bilbo readied the ring to slip onto her finger as two pairs of legs came into view.

“The king is allowing access to his favourite wine, I hear,” the first guard said.

“Highly potent, that one,” the other guard answered. “I slept for hours after drinking my share last time.”

Bilbo watched the legs disappear from view and slipped on the ring. She followed the guards as far as she dared, then darted off to the kitchens. Ignoring her rumbling stomach, she went into the wine cellar where she hadn’t dared to enter before. An elf stood at the far side of the room counting bottles. She spotted an open bottle on the table. She worried her lower lip for a moment, made a face, and then snuck over to softly sniff at the top of the bottle.

Her eyes watered at the scent of strong alcohol and she pressed a hand to her mouth as she blinked and shook her head. Potent, indeed. That stuff could peel the paint from the walls.

She studied the room intently, noting various characteristics and a plan began to form in her mind.

As she thought it through, Bilbo became certain that there was a very small chance of success and an even greater chance that the dwarves were absolutely going to hate it.

She nodded to herself and went to find something to eat. She wasn’t about to embark on a mad scheme as this on a completely empty stomach.

Later, as she watched the last barrel filled with dwarf tumble down into the frothing wild river below, leaving her quite alone in the cellar, she wished that she hadn’t bothered to eat anything as it all threatened to come back up.

But when she felt the floor slowly tip beneath her feet, Bilbo followed her own advice to the dwarves…and took a deep breath.

Chapter Text

Bilbo stood beside the fire in the crowded receiving room in the Master’s halls. She’d already eaten her fill of smoked fish and some kind of tasty, hot soup and now she nibbled on a roll and just watched the crowd of people as they interacted with the dwarves.

After Thorin’s stirring speech in the square, people seemed enthusiastic about the company’s quest, but Bilbo could see fear and desperation in their eyes as she gazed about the room.

They’ll cheer us on and then forget about us if we don’t succeed, she thought. I don’t think they have enough energy to truly care one way or the other. And I do wonder how right Bard was. Are we going to bring nothing but ruin on these people? On ourselves?

She took a big bite of her roll in order to stop her dark thoughts from taking over and wondered if there was any pipeweed about.

But before she could go in search of it, three Laketown women approached her and she blinked up at them.

“Well, now,” said a blonde, tan woman with a blue kerchief tied around her neck. “Before we get to asking you the questions that the menfolk forgot to ask earlier, I’m Sonja. This is Xio,” she gestured to a petite woman with black hair and dark eyes, “and Meera,” she pointed to the other woman who had her own black hair pulled back in a long braid interwoven with yellow cloth, “and we’d like to know who you are.”

“Oh, well,” Bilbo set her roll down. “I’m Bilbo Baggins, of, of the Shire. Ah, at your service.”

She sketched a wobbly curtsy.

“The Shire?” Xio repeated. “You’re quite a ways from home, little halfling.”

“Ah, hobbit, if you don’t mind,” Bilbo said. “And yes, I suppose I am.”

“How did you end up with a pack of dwarves?” Meera asked.

“A wizard came to my door and asked me if I wanted to go on an adventure?” Bilbo said a bit helplessly.

“And that sounded like a good idea, did it?” Sonja asked.

“Actually, it sounded like a terrible idea,” Bilbo said. “But then,” she looked across the room at Thorin nodding at something one of the men was saying and she sighed, “they sang about the Lonely Mountain and I suffered from a momentary lapse of judgement.”

“Momentary?” Sonja repeated.

“I’m still suffering from it,” Bilbo said. “I expect to come out of it any day now.”

“That dragon might snap you out of it,” Xio said.

Bilbo nodded and looked down. “Yes, he may do that indeed.”

“So, you’re on an adventure,” Sonja said smirking slightly. “With a company of dwarves and you’re about to go get that mountain back from underneath a dragon?”

“Believe me, the folly of this quest has been mentioned many times,” Bilbo said. “And by no one more than myself…”

“But?” Meera asked.

“But…it’s their home,” Bilbo said softly. She shrugged. “They just want their home back at the end of the day.”

“Some might say that they brought their own destruction down upon their heads,” Xio said quietly. “No one is meant to have that much gold in one place.”

Bilbo pursed her lips and then said, “I don’t think these dwarves are as interested in gold as they are in having their homeland back.”

“Hmmm,” Sonja said, narrowing her eyes. “Can you guarantee that we’ll see our share of the wealth if you all don’t end up as streaks of ash on the side of the mountain?”

“Oh!” Bilbo stared at her as the image she’d supplied flashed in her mind. “Oh, ah, yes. Yes, I can. Thorin is a dwarf of his word. I’ll vouch for him.”

“Must love him a great deal to enter a mountain with that dragon,” Xio said.

“Yes,” Bilbo said looking towards Thorin. “I do love him a great deal.” She froze as her words replayed in her mind. “Oh. Oh, dear. Oh, my sweet heavens.”

She covered her face with her hands and groaned.

“I know that sound. That’s the sound of a woman who’s just admitted something to herself,” Sonja said chuckling and relaxing. “That the first time you’ve actually said it out loud, then?”

Bilbo nodded, her hands still covering her face.

“It’s often painful the first time,” Sonja said, “but it gets easier. Much like other things, am I right, ladies?”

Bilbo snorted while the other women laughed. Without a word, she let them lead her to a small table near the fire and they all sat down. Meera grabbed some tankards from somewhere along the way. Bilbo sat on the chair the pushed her toward and her feet dangled, so she tucked them up underneath her.

She looked up and spotted Thorin frowning in her direction. He pointedly looked at the women surrounding her and then back at Bilbo and arched an eyebrow. She just waved at him and broke eye contact.

“I’m terribly sorry,” she said frowning and looking at the other women. “I’m sure you have no interest in my personal epiphanies. You’d rather know about the company’s intentions.”

“On the contrary,” Sonja said, plunking a tankard in front of Bilbo. “We’re a small town, so we’ve already heard each other’s business. It’s nice to have some fresh news.”

“It’s all so utterly ridiculous,” Bilbo said using both hands to lift the tankard to take a drink. “It’s – oh, that’s lovely ale, that is – so impractical to fall in love on a quest.” She took another drink. “Did you know the mountain has a dragon in it? I’m on a quest that involves a dragon!”

“Don’t fret, dear,” Xio said. “We’ve all done absurd things for the ones we love.” She paused. “Although the dragon is a bit of a concern.”

“Have you-“ Bilbo took a very big drink, “seen it at all? The dragon?”

Sonja and Meera shook their heads, but Xio just cocked hers to the side.

“When I was a child,” she said slowly. “I was out on the water with my mother.” She turned her head towards the window and although it was clearly dark outside, Bilbo had no doubt she was looking towards the mountain. “We were just pulling in the last of the nets when we heard this great boom. We turned to look at the mountain, absolutely sure we were to see him come flying towards us.”

Bilbo leaned forward, curling her hands around her tankard.

But Xio shook her head. “Nothing. We saw nothing. Just some large waves that came from the direction of the mountain. They jostled the boat so much we almost lost the net.”

Bilbo let out the breath she’d been holding and took another drink.

“Hush, Xio,” Meera said, nudging the other woman. “You’ll frighten the poor thing.”

“No!” Bilbo said shaking her head. “Frighten me all you want. I need to hear it.”

“No,” Sonja said firmly. “If you’re determined to go through with this quest, you need courage supporting you, not fear.” She paused. “Well, maybe a little bit of fear wouldn’t go amiss.”

“But she’s in love,” Meera said smiling. “Love tends to throw a new light on things. You do things you wouldn’t normally do.”

“Like attempt to patch up your own roof and manage to drop an entire bucket of pitch in the water because you didn’t want to admit you didn’t know how?” Sonja asked, arching an eyebrow.

Meera sniffed. “I have no idea what you’re speaking of.”

“As I recall, it wasn’t the water the pitch fell into,” Xio said starting to grin, “It was someone’s boat. Burst a hole right in the bottom of it, too.”

Bilbo looked at Meera with wide eyes. Meera just flipped her braid over her shoulder and said, “He should have moored it on the other side.”

Sonja snickered. “He did after that.”

“You’re one to talk,” Meera said pinning Sonja with a glare. “Who was it that dared to walk the length of the roof of the Master’s hall?”

“I was sixteen!” Sonja said loudly.

“I believe the point has been made,” Xio said raising her voice over the other two. She leaned towards Bilbo. “We do mad things when we’re in love. We believe mad things when we’re in love.”

“I.” Bilbo swallowed hard. “I believe them. I believe in them. I’ve travelled with them for the better part of a year and while they may be the most stubborn, accident-prone creatures who have never met a fight they could walk away from,” she took a deep breath, “they still deserve to have their home back.”

The other women looked thoughtful.

“Well,” Sonja said after downing the rest of her drink. “You seem a rational creature with a heart, Bilbo Baggins of the Shire. I think we’ll have to take your word on these matters.”

“I appreciate it,” Bilbo said. She stared down at her drink and frowned. “Oh. I seem to have drunk it all. There was quite a lot to begin with, too. How large is this tankard?”

“That, my dear hobbit, is a pint,” Meera said with a smile.

“A pint!” Bilbo said. She looked down at the tankard and then up at the ladies. “Is there anymore?”

“Oh, Bilbo, we’re fishing folk,” Sonja said chuckling. “We always have more to drink.”

“You can tell us all about this dwarf-king of yours,” Xio said.

“And you can tell me about this town of yours,” Bilbo said grinning.

“Deal,” Sonja said slapping the table. She raised her head and called out to a passing young man. “Gregor! More ale!”

After having another lovely pint (who knew they came in pints!) with the ladies of Laketown, Bilbo stumbled to the room she’d been allocated by that squirrely lackey of the Master’s. She’d left the dwarves well on their way to full-scale drunk, but she knew her limits and she really wanted to get some sleep. Xio had promised to stop by early in the morning with some clothes for Bilbo and she wanted to be awake to thank her.

She blinked and reached for the doorknob, only to have a big hand cover hers. She stared at it and then looked at the owner of said hand. She smiled widely.

“Well, if it isn’t the hero of the hour,” she said to Thorin. “Very rousing speech, King under the Mountain. Well done.”

“How much have you had to drink?” he asked lips quirked up in amusement.

“A whole two pints!” she said cheerfully. “They’ll never believe me back home when I tell them of it.”

He chuckled. “Your cheeks are pink with your pints, my burglar.”

She pressed the back of her hand to her cheek and felt the warmth under her skin. “Oh, dear. Well, nothing for it but sleep.”

“You looked well entertained by the womenfolk,” he said.

“I was,” she said grinning. “I’d forgotten how nice it is to speak to women. You fellows can be a bit much on a poor female hobbit’s sensibilities.”

“I have no doubt,” he said, and oh, when had he started that thing where he rubbed her knuckles with his thumb? Because was rubbing her knuckles with his thumb and looking at her with those eyes of his and oh, my. Her cheeks flushed with more than just her pint.

“They’re strong,” she said looking down, away from those eyes. “The women of this town. They’ve had to be. But they don’t dare hope, Thorin. They couldn’t bear it to hope and to see all come to ruin.”

“I know,” he said.

“Also, you shouldn’t trust the Master. Not one inch,” she said. “The man will stab you in the back the minute you look away.”

“I got that impression, yes,” he said. “We’ll have to tread carefully.”

“And, I hate to say it, but you may have alienated a good ally in Bard, as well. He’s single-handedly kept this town from descending into chaos,” Bilbo said. “I think we may have made a mistake in not trusting him.”

“Hmm,” Thorin stopped rubbing her hand. “You’ve learned quite a lot from your new friends. Anything else of note?”

“Well, they support this quest of ours,” she said. “As long as you honour your word.”

“I will honour my word,” he said.

“I told them so,” she said looking back up at him. “I told them that you were a dwarf of honour and you did not make promises lightly. They believe me. Although I think they took my word with a grain of salt.”

He frowned. “Why would they doubt your word?”

“Because I love you,” she said smiling. “You can’t always take a woman’s word about the man she’s in love with’s word.”

“What?” he said, his face cleared of all expression.

She waved her hand in the air. “Love clouds things, you know. Shades them in all sorts of colours and can’t always be trusted. The women believe me up to a point, but they know better to really, truly believe a woman who is arse over teakettle in love. We do terribly mad things when we’re in love, you know.”

Thorin stared at her. Then, he swiftly shoved the door to her room open, pulled her inside and slammed the door shut, pressing Bilbo up against it with his body. Bilbo stared up at him with wide eyes and a dizzy head.

“Say it again,” he said, his voice low and his hands firmly fixed on her waist.

“Which part?” she whispered.

“You know which part,” he said, through gritted teeth.

“Oh, my dear King under the Mountain,” she said cupping his face with her hands. “I love you. Haven’t I said that already?”

“No,” he said hoarsely. “No, you have not.” He leaned forward and pressed his forehead to hers. “Say it again?”

“I love you, Thorin,” she said softly. “Through trolls and goblins and orcs and heaven help me, most likely through dragon-fire, I love you.”

He closed his eyes and then she was whirled through the air, his arms tight around her waist as he laughed and spun them both around the room.

“Thorin!” she shrieked. “You ridiculous--! Stop that!”

He set her down and she opened her mouth to voice a protest, but it got lost when his lips covered hers and she found herself pressed once more against the door.

Bilbo clutched at Thorin’s shoulders and stood up on tiptoe to keep her lips firmly attached to his. He made a sound low in his throat and she felt the warmth of his broad palm slide down her side, over the curve of her hip and under her thigh. He easily hitched her up and she gasped into his mouth, but didn’t stop kissing him. She curled her leg over his hip, whilst her other leg dangled, her toe just touching the floor. Absently she wondered if this entire activity might be better suited to a more horizontal surface.

Her head fell back to thud against the door as Thorin kissed down her throat and she giggled when he found a spot just beneath her ear.

He chuckled and then took the lobe of her ear between his lips.

Bilbo shivered and shuddered and wondered who on earth was making such a racket with those gaspy sighs and pleas for more?

Oh.

She was making those sounds.

Right.

Well, carry on, then.

She tugged his mouth back to hers.

Eventually, he pulled back so that their eyes could meet.

“I should leave you,” he said breathlessly. “This isn’t proper behaviour for either of us.”

“I know,” she said even as she tightened her leg on his hip. “We’re trying to make a good impression on these people.”

“I just got carried away,” he said kissing her mouth oh, so gently that tears teased the corners of her eyes. “My burglar loves me, you see.”

“She does,” Bilbo said smiling. “But, do you know that I’m not sure you’ve been entirely explicit in your declarations, either?”

He opened his mouth then closed it with a frown. He let go of her leg and she slid down to stand flat on her feet. Thorin fell to his knees in front of her.

“Oh, dear,” she breathed staring at him. “Thorin-“

“I love you,” he said simply. “I love you. Please allow me to court you properly, Bilbo Baggins.”

“Oh, you stupidly noble dwarf,” she said cupping his face. “Yes. Please court me properly, Thorin Oakenshield.”

The smile he gave her was the one that showed every crinkle next to his eyes and she pressed her mouth to his, as though she could somehow taste the happiness within him.

She pulled back to say, “I do ask for one favour though.”

“Name it,” he said his voice low and sincere.

“Would you begin the courting process after we’ve completed what we came out here to do?” she asked. “Would you wait until, well, until this is all over? I don’t think either of us can risk being distracted at the moment, do you?”

He sighed. “We really must do something about this practical streak of yours.”

“I know,” she said nodding. “But, you know, after we get your mountain back.”

“After we get my mountain back,” he said rising to his feet and once again pressing his body to the length of hers, “I will waste no time in showering you with every jewel I find. You will be paid every possible appropriate attention as well as some highly inappropriate ones.”

“Sounds utterly overwhelming,” Bilbo said leaning up on her toes to kiss him. “I think I approve.”

His hands spanned her waist and smoothed up and down her sides underneath her coat. Bilbo felt her body ache in ways she’d never experienced before. While she was quite firmly in her middle years, she was still technically a maiden and had never really felt the need or inclination to adjust her current situation. However, the way the calluses on his hands caught and tugged on the thin linen that separated her skin from his hands sent such delicious trembles through her that she had remind herself that asking him to take her to bed and help her dispense with said maidenly technicality was actually not a good idea.

He groaned low in his throat and pushed away from her to stride across the room to stand in front of the window. Bilbo stumbled and stared after him.

“You have no idea how you tempt me, burglar,” he said bracing himself with both hands propped on the windowsill.

“The feeling is quite mutual,” she said pressing the backs of her hands to her cheeks.

He looked back at her over his shoulder and she just shrugged a little. His posture eased and he smiled, and then beckoned her over with the tilt of his head.

She went to his side and tucked herself under his arm.

They stared out into the night and Bilbo could almost make out the outline of the mountain in the bright moonlight.

“We’re so close, I can feel it, Bilbo,” he said urgently, his eyes bright and fierce. “Nothing can stand in our way.”

“A part from the dragon,” Bilbo pointed out.

Thorin’s face hardened as he stared out the window. “He could be dead.”

“Do you think he’s dead?” Bilbo asked softly.

He paused then said, his voice low and hate-filled, “No. That wyrm is still alive.”

Bilbo watched him for a moment, and then added, “Kili isn’t well. His leg troubles him. Not that he’ll say anything.”

“I know,” he said nodding. “He has the Durin pride and you know how implacable it is.”

“Don’t I just,” Bilbo said. Thorin chuckled and tightened his arm around her shoulders.

“He’ll have to stay behind,” he said eventually. “He will only slow us down. And we cannot be delayed.”

“Because he’s in pain and he needs to heal that wound,” she added, frowning up at him, “before it festers any further.”

“Yes,” Thorin said after a slight hesitation, but Bilbo noticed it. “Yes, of course. I’ll tell him in the morning.”

“He won’t thank you for it,” she continued as her stomach began churning with something she couldn’t name and settled on blaming the pints from earlier.

“He’ll listen to his king,” he said, lifting his chin.

Bilbo stared at his profile and felt attraction mixed with trepidation and felt utterly helpless to stop either emotion. She must have made some kind of noise for Thorin looked down at her and smiled.

She smiled back, but something must have shown on her face, for his brow furrowed and he gently cupped her face.

“All will be well,” he said softly. “We’ll make sure of it.”

“Will we?” she asked, her voice small.

“We have so far,” he said.

“I think we have very different definitions of the word ‘well’,” she said drily.

“And I think that I wish to stop your mouth before you descend into practicality,” he said leaning down. He paused just before his lips touched hers and asked, “Unless you truly feel the need to expound on word choices.”

“Oh, shut it and kiss me,” she muttered, sliding her hand into his hair and pulling him down the rest of the way.

She had to give him credit; his kisses went a very long way to dispelling any lingering worries and the churning in her stomach subsided to a dull ache.

After several moments of kisses that left them both breathless and Bilbo’s hair thoroughly mussed, Thorin lifted his head and said hoarsely, “Rest. You must get some rest.”

“Not bloody likely after that,” she said before yawning widely.

He grinned and swooped down to kiss her again. “And yet, you will. To bed, my burglar.”

“Join me?” she asked. He froze and his eyes widened. She rolled her own eyes. “Not for that. Only to rest. You need it as well, you know. Can’t go facing your mountain without any sleep.”

He lifted her hand to his mouth and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “I don’t know that I trust myself in a bed with you.”

“I trust that we’re both so exhausted that we’ll fall asleep the moment our heads hit the pillows,” she said. She took his hand in both of hers and tugged gently. “Come, Thorin. Just rest awhile. Then go and join the others.”

“I have a feeling you could lead me into the fieriest of pits,” he said following her, “and I wouldn’t give even the most token of protests.”

“Says the dwarf who’s leading me to a dragon-infested mountain,” she retorted.

He grinned and grabbed her waist, lifting her into the small bed pressed against the wall. She swatted at his shoulder, but lay down on top of the covers. He joined her and they lay facing each other for the longest of moments, until Thorin shifted to lie on his back. After a moment, he wordlessly reached over to take her hand. He lifted it to his mouth and pressed a kiss to her palm and just held it there. Then he rested it on his heart, his hand covering it completely. Bilbo watched his profile and felt the thrum of his steady heart, until her eyelids grew heavy and she had to close her eyes. When she opened them right before she drifted off to sleep, it was to see Thorin, lying still on his back, his face turned towards the window, his eyes fixed on the mountain in the distance.

Bilbo woke the following morning to the sounds of seagulls squawking and clattering on the roof. She immediately looked for Thorin, but he had slipped out at some point.

“Not the only burglar in the company now, am I?” she muttered.

She crawled out of bed and padded over to the small washbasin in the corner. She’d just splashed some water on her face when there was a knock at the door.

“It’s open!” she called out.

Xio ducked her head around the door and Bilbo smiled at her. “Morning.”

“Morning to you, too,” she said coming inside. “I did wonder if that second pint would treat you unkindly or not.”

“No lasting ill-effects,” Bilbo said somewhat cheerfully. “I’ve woken with a sore head for the last several months now, a bit of ale isn’t likely to make it any worse.”

“Well, if you make it back, we’ll have to see if you can handle more than two,” Xio said grinning.

“If?” Bilbo said mildly.

Xio’s grin slipped, but instead she just held up some garments. “I think these will fit. The trousers were my son’s once upon a time as was the coat. The shirt belonged to Sonja’s girl when she was a child.”

“Thank you,” Bilbo said taking the clothes, the strong scent of lavender wafted up from them, presumably to keep the smell of saltwater and fish at bay. She held the girl’s blouse up to her front. “Oh, this will fit nicely. Thank you so much, Xio. I’ll repay you for these. I promise.”

“Well, we’ll see, won’t we?” Xio said, not looking Bilbo in the eye.

“You think we’ll fail, don’t you?” Bilbo asked, gently setting the clothes down on the bed.

“It isn’t as though we don’t wish you luck…” Xio said firmly.

“It’s just that luck is in rather short supply these days,” Bilbo said nodding. “I understand.”

Xio nodded back. Then she came over and handed Bilbo a small comb for her hair. “You have a very long day in front of you, my dear. Don’t let an old woman’s worries dampen your nerves. Just…be careful.”

“I’ll try,” Bilbo whispered, clasping the comb and Xio’s hand at the same time.

Xio covered their joined hands with her other hand and squeezed gently. “That’s all I will ask of you.”

Bilbo nodded and swallowed back the lump of tears that had formed in her throat.

“Now, let’s try these on,” Xio said briskly. “I’ve brought some thread if we need to do a quick hem.”

“Lovely,” Bilbo said. “Right. Let’s try the shirt first.”

The clothes fit almost perfectly and as the company rowed away from Laketown, Bilbo kept turning her nose into the collar of the coat to breathe in the scent of lavender. Because if she looked back, she knew she’d see Fili and Kili looking lost amongst the men as their uncle and their king left them behind.

Therefore it was lavender she smelled, not smoke, when she watched Smaug spiral up into the sky and shake the molten gold from his body like dust. It was lavender she smelled as she watched the dragon soar to Laketown.

And it was lavender she smelled when she huddled, petrified and sorry (oh so uselessly sorry), while she watched Laketown burn.

Chapter Text

Bilbo walked back into the mountain with wide eyes, but she saw nothing except the fall of the dragon and Laketown on fire. The incoming winter winds froze the tears she continued to shed for Laketown on her face. She stumbled through the great hole in the wall that Smaug had created when he burst through.

At least he’s dead, she thought. But at such a cost. Oh, what have we done?

She glanced around for Thorin, almost expecting to see him still dangling on the scaffolding. But she heard and saw nothing, so she continued to the throne room.

Her speed quickened when she heard the tinkling of gold coins and she hurried to the great halls. She froze when she saw the dwarves slowly sifting through the piles of gold and she just stared at them, frozen in disbelief. She didn’t see Thorin anywhere, but she was too numb with regret and sorrow to care.

Balin eventually noticed her and she could hear that sigh of his from across the room; that deep sigh that plainly said, ‘Yes. We’re doing something on Thorin’s orders and no, I’m not best pleased about it, but he’s my king, lassie.’

She stared at him until he spoke. “What did you see, Bilbo?”

“Smaug is dead,” she said, her voice dry and hoarse. The remainder of the company stopped foraging and looked up at her. She continued, “But Laketown is on fire.”

She saw Balin open his mouth to say something, but he stopped and she knew that Thorin was right behind her. She turned to look at him and he stared dispassionately back at her.

“They knew the risks,” he said, his voice cold and flat.

“Did they?” she asked him. “We promised them gold and instead gave them a dragon and destroyed their homes.”

He frowned slightly and then shook his head. “They knew better than anyone the risk of living close to the mountain. It was only a matter of time.”

“But we were the flint that sent the sparks flying,” she countered. “We served Laketown to him on a platter. We have to help the survivors.”

“Do we?” he asked lightly.

Bilbo sucked in a breath so sharply her throat burned. The hall fell utterly, utterly silent.

“Fili and Kili were down there,” she said her voice breaking. “Bofur? Oin? Members of your company and kin were down there and you question whether we help them now?”

“They knew the risks,” he repeated.

“Thorin,” she breathed shaking her head. “This isn’t… I don’t…”

He moved, quick as anything, and grabbed her upper arm, pulling her out of sight of the rest of the company.

“What would you have me do?” he asked harshly, his eyes burning into hers. “Wail? Rend my clothes? In front of my men?” He shook his head. “No. Grief is not a luxury that is afforded to kings. Because you are correct; they will come to us. They will want assistance. They will want proof that the true King Under the Mountain has returned and that will not happen unless I have the Arkenstone.”

Bilbo shook her head. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Don’t you see?” he said. “The Arkenstone is the source of the king’s power and sovereignty. If I do not possess it, how can I rule? How can I show my strength and my right to this mountain?” He shook his head slowly. “We find the Arkenstone. Finding it takes precedence above all else.”

“Even above confirming the survival of your nephews?” she asked, her voice wavering but her eyes were dry.

Thorin jerked once sharply, as though someone had punched him, but he lifted his chin and just said, “Above all else, Bilbo.”

But then he smiled as he said, “You have a warm heart, Bilbo. I know it pains you to stay your hand when you want to provide comfort. Kings do not always have the luxury to be kind. Neither do queens, for that matter. You’ll need to learn, Bilbo.”

“What?” she asked; the conversation had moved in a direction that she hadn’t expected and her mind struggled to catch up.

“It’s of no matter,” he said, the grip on her arm loosened and he caressed the side of her face. “Soon enough, we can learn together, my brave burglar.”

“You promised to wait to court me,” she said faintly. “You haven’t actually proposed and I haven’t said yes.”

“No, I know you haven’t,” he said leaning forward to press his forehead to hers and she blinked up at him. “But we’re here, Bilbo! In Erebor. I’ll find something that will persuade you. I swear it.”

“Thorin,” she said, feeling helpless and overwhelmed and extremely unsure of what was happening.

“But before we turn our minds to pleasurable tasks,” he said lifting his head. “We must find it. I must have the Arkenstone.”

She opened her mouth to say something (although she was utterly at a loss as to what to say) but the words were lost when he pressed a quick, hard kiss to her lips, then strode off, calling orders to the company to search everywhere and leave nothing unturned.

Bilbo stared blindly into space, her lips tingling from the force of his kiss.

Absently, her hand slipped into her pocket. Not the one that held her little ring, but her other pocket. Her fingers felt the cold, smooth surface of the Arkenstone and wondered what to do.

After watching the dwarves sift through piles of gold (in a thoroughly haphazardly way, but Bilbo wasn’t about to tell them how to better to search for something she already had) and after forcing some food down, she curled up in the kitchen with the others to sleep. After lying awake for several hours, she got up and left the snoring dwarves behind.

Bilbo walked through the silent halls and wrapped her arms around her middle. The place was incredible, she’d give it that. The architecture was magnificent and she’d never seen lines and arches so perfectly formed. If Rivendell and Mirkwood used and enhanced the nature around them with their structures, Erebor ordered it into shape.

She walked without purpose through the halls and stared at soot marks on the walls and floors, gingerly stepping over a particularly dark spot. She saw a bit of light shining out of a small door and walked over to it.

Her breath caught in her throat as she entered and looked up. The moon shone through what had to be an ingenious set of openings in the stone and Bilbo just stared at the words and symbols carved into the walls.

“The Verses Room,” she murmured. She stepped close and ran a hand over the deeply carved lines and stared up at the unfamiliar script.

“It refers to the awakening of the Seven Fathers of the Dwarves,” a deep voice said from the doorway and Bilbo whirled around to see Thorin clad in a long black robe. He stared up at the walls. “They emerged from their stone chambers to wander the world.” He stepped forward and placed a hand just above hers on the wall. “Durin founded the first and the only strongholds to survive.”

“Well, you truly do come from legend, don’t you?” she managed to say.

He smiled briefly at her comment but his smile was swiftly replaced by a blank face.

She looked back up at the lines and said, “You dwarves have such a fixation on permanence. Hobbits would never think to carve into stone proof that they were here and always had been.” She took her hand down from the wall and made a face. “I suppose you find that silly.”

“On the contrary,” he said and Bilbo thought she could hear a bit of warmth in his voice. “The fact that you don’t feel the need to shout your existence from the mountaintop is most likely what has led the Shire to remain a peaceful place.”

She glanced at him. “So, you do admit that dwarves have a tendency to declare themselves from the mountaintops.”

“It’s in our nature,” he said, his eyes still fixed on the verses above. “We cannot change it, Bilbo. We follow our destinies, wherever they may lead us.”

Bilbo turned to him and he looked away.

“You do not approve of my actions,” he said flatly.

“No, I do not,” she said. “Because I don’t understand them. Thorin, help me understand.”

He shook his head, his hair falling to shield his face from her. “You are not a dwarf. Your nature is to be open and honest and forthright,” Bilbo bit her lip and did not put her hand in her pocket, “you do not know how to be politic.”

“Politic?” Bilbo said incredulously. “Politics are stopping you from looking for your nephews?”

“It is forcing me to be the king our people need,” he said harshly, turning his head so that she only saw the sharp line of his profile. “They need leadership and a stoic presence.”

“They need to know that their kin are still alive,” she retorted.

“Dwarves are hardy creatures,” he said. “They may live yet. And if they do not, they died a hero’s death.” He turned to her, his eyes reflecting bright blue in the moonlight. “Do not admonish me, Bilbo. Not now. I must have all my strength in the days to come and I will not be able to be what I need to be while I feel you doubting me.”

“Thorin,” she said, tilting her head to the side and sighing.

“I know I ask a great deal, but please, put aside that vicious practical streak of yours and be my strength,” he asked stepping in close and taking up her hands in his. He pressed a kiss to them. “When this is ended and are trials are done, you may berate me the rest of my days. But for now, do not question me, Bilbo.”

Everything inside of Bilbo said that this was a bad idea. Everything. But she also knew that if she turned him away now, she’d never get another chance to change his mind later.

She sighed again and nodded. “Do I get to question your taste in apparel? That robe you’re wearing is very musty and far too furry.”

He smiled. “It is also a robe for a king.”

“Oh,” she said eyeing the black fur on the collar.

“I have also misplaced my traveling cloak,” he added.

“I think it’s down by the furnaces,” she said.

“I will retrieve it when I need to leave the mountain,” he said. He lifted his face to look at the verses. “Hopefully, that will not be for a while to come.”

“Hopefully,” Bilbo echoed and gazed up at the verses on the wall, as well, the weight of the stone in her pocket as heavy as the mountain she stood in.

The following day, Bilbo stood on a crumbling parapet and gazed out over the lake. The flames had died down, but Laketown was a mass of black smoke, and she could see people milling on the shore.

They’ll come here, she thought. They should come here, despite what Thorin says. We should be ready for them, in any case.

If she was completely honest with herself, she also needed to do something and she wasn’t about to go and sift gold.

She nodded once to herself and headed back into the mountain. The dwarves were already well into their search for the Arkenstone, but she quickly nabbed Bombur and dragged him back to the kitchens.

“I want to clean,” she said. “Show me how to get water in here.”

Bombur stared at her for a moment, then nodded. Bilbo’s heart ached for him. He hadn’t said a word since she’d told the group Laketown was on fire and that their kin may be lost. Besides, Bilbo herself had to swallow back tears of her own when she thought of Bofur and his lopsided grin and hat to match, so she couldn’t even being to imagine how Bombur and Bifur were feeling.

Gloin had also become quiet, and his usually furrowed brow had become a glare that refused to soften.

Bombur showed her how to draw water up from the well by pumping the handle near the sink. He had to fetch a stool to stand on, but after he gave it a good start, the pump moved smoothly.

“Well, thank the skies for dwarven engineering is all I can say,” Bilbo said when the water flowed freely from the large tap, discoloured with debris from the unused pipes, but it quickly cleared.

Bombur gave her a ghost of smile and then left to go back to the main hall.

Bilbo sighed and looked down at the dust-covered floor. She stared at the footprints the company had made on the floor and a chill slipped down her spine at the thought that they were the first signs of life the mountain had seen in an age.

Apart from Smaug, that is, but Bilbo supposed he’d never ventured into the kitchens for a cup of tea. The image of the great dragon holding a tiny teacup and sipping daintily from it made her giggle loudly.

She clapped her hands over her mouth and squeezed her eyes shut. She breathed in deep and then let the breath out slowly.

“Get a hold of yourself, Bilbo Baggins,” she whispered. “One slightly mad person in the mountain is more than enough. Don’t you head round the bend, too.”

She sniffed and straightened her borrowed blue coat and went in search of a bucket and a mop.

A few hours later, as she cleaned the great stove in the corner she heard Thorin approach.

She kept her back to the kitchen door and when he stopped to look at her she said, “Do you know that that new robe of yours makes a swishing sound as you walk? Not very stealthy material.”

“You’ll have to hem it for me, then,” he said. “What are you doing?”

“I’m cleaning,” she said as gave the hob one last vicious scrub. “If the furnaces are lit, presumably we can have some hot food, too, one we get this great beast going.”

“You’re not with the others,” he said and she ignored the censure in his voice.

“I’ve spent enough time wading through gold coins,” she said, wiping her brow with the back of her hand. “And I’d rather not go back in there, if it’s all the same.”

“Of course,” he said. “I’m sorry. Facing the dragon could not have been easy for you.”

I smell you. I hear your breath. I feel your air. Where are you? Where are you? Come now. Don't be shy. Step into the light.

Bilbo shook her head to get the dragon’s voice out of it, even though she knew his voice would remain with her throughout the years to come.

“It was certainly an experience I’m not likely to forget,” was all she said.

She finally looked at him and noticed that dark circles had formed under his eyes.

“Did you sleep at all last night?” she asked.

He shook his head. “I walked the halls after you returned to your pallet.”

“You need to sleep,” she said, putting her hands on her hips.

“Later,” he said shortly. “Why are you cleaning?”

“Because a dirty kitchen is useless kitchen,” she said looking around at the clean counters and table. The sink gleamed and she’d cleared out the cupboards as best as she could. She’d spent the last hour on the stove alone. “Besides, your men have worked hard and continue to do so. If you’re bound and determined that hard days are ahead of us, we’ll at least have the means to have some hot food. What is it they say for campaigns? Warm boots and warm bellies?”

“I don’t think anyone says that,” he said, but the faintest of grins appeared.

“Well, they should,” she said letting herself grin a little.

He returned it more fully, but it quickly fell from his face as he gazed at her. Bilbo tugged at her shirtsleeves, having discarded her coat after having battled the grimy sink.

“What is it?” she asked. “You’re staring rather intently and I can’t tell if it’s to criticise or if you’re just lost in thought.”

“I can hardly criticise the one who is thinking of my men and their bellies,” he said stepping forward. “I was lost in thought.”

“Farthing for them?” she asked.

“I would have you by my side always, Bilbo,” he said, his voice faint as he seemed to stare at something she couldn’t see. “I’d place you at my right hand, never to leave me. I need your presence with me. It helps to keep me…”

Sane? Reasonable? Not obsessed with that stupid stone? she thought frantically.

“At peace,” he said eventually.

Good enough, I suppose, she thought.

“You’ll be there, won’t you?” he asked, his hand reaching out to cup her face. His thumb brushed over the apple of her cheek. “At my side, while I rule?”

“Do you mean literally by your side?” she asked. “Because I can’t think of anything more boring than listening to affairs of state in a throne room. I can’t bear to be idle, Thorin. I’d much rather be off accomplishing my own sets of tasks, if you don’t mind.”

“Such as?” he asked, his lips curved into a smile as he stepped even closer.

“Well, ensuring there is enough to eat for one,” she said. “There appears to be a serious lack of gardens in this mountain of yours and that, I’m afraid, cannot be borne. What you lot have against growing things I just cannot understand.”

He continued to smile that little smile of his and nodded. “Very well, my burglar shall have her gardens.”

“Not just ornamental ones,” she said placing her hands on his chest. “Useful ones. With vegetables and herbs and fruits.”

“That’s right,” he said cocking his head to the side. “You promised me a pie, as I recall.”

She nodded. “I did. How can I fulfil my promise if there are no blackberries?”

“You’d find a way,” he said. “My Bilbo always finds a way to keep her word.”

Bilbo felt sick to her stomach. Not only was she very much not keeping her word, but throughout the conversation that distant look still hadn’t left Thorin’s eyes. He may have been standing right in front of her, his hand warm on her face, his thoughts remained in the great halls; she saw it in his eyes.

Watch it destroy him. Watch it corrupt his heart and drive him mad.

Smaug’s voice intruded into her thoughts once more and she opened her mouth to say something, anything, to draw Thorin back to her.

“Thorin! We’ve found a pile of gems!” Dwalin’s voice called from the corridor. “I think it’s your mother’s bridal pieces.”

The shadow returned to Thorin’s face instantly and his hand dropped from Bilbo’s face.

“I will seek you out later,” he said shortly.

And then he was gone.

Bilbo slumped against the clean stove and covered her face in her hands.

After another sleepless night spent listening to the sound of Thorin sifting through piles of gold, Bilbo went to what was becoming her usual perch on the parapet.

She saw four small figures approaching the mountain and her first thought was: They’re alive! Thank all the gods of Middle-Earth!

Her second thought was: This will change nothing. The boys must be warned about their uncle. Maybe he’ll listen to them.

But when Thorin emerged, still in that black robe, and welcomed them Erebor, Bilbo’s heart sank even further.

He’d gotten worse during the last two days, his eyes seemed to be darker and the circles under his eyes had increased and Bilbo was at a loss at what to do.

Fili and Kili were so young still and while she could tell that Thorin’s behaviour sat ill with them, what could they do? So her heart ached when Fili bit back whatever harsh words he clearly longed to say to Thorin while Kili looked away, his jaw set.

Later that afternoon, Bilbo watched the Laketown survivors stream unsteadily into Dale. She thought she spotted Sonja’s bright blue scarf, but perhaps that was only wishful thinking.

She sighed and put her head in her hands.

“Here you are,” Thorin said from behind her.

She jumped to her feet and stared at him. He merely smirked and walked over to look out over the wall.

“They’ll come to us,” he said casually. “They will ask us for gold.”

“Well, we did promise it to them,” Bilbo said.

Thorin just hmm’d and turned his back on the view. He smiled at her and held out his hand. She blinked at him and then slipped her hand into his.

He pulled her out of the weak sunlight and into the mountain. They walked to a small alcove and Thorin stopped.

“I have something for you,” he said, the corners of his mouth still upturned.

“Oh?” she said.

“It took me awhile to figure out what I should give you,” he said. “As I know that you are not dazzled by riches. Whatever my courting gift to you was, it had to be practical above all else.”

“I fear I’m becoming predictable,” she murmured.

He grinned and pulled something from his robe. He held it up and Bilbo just stared.

“It’s… What is it?” she asked, her hand stretched out to touch the hem. “It’s so light and it shines so!”

“This, my dear burglar, is mithril,” he said. “It is the strongest of materials and the chains in this shirt cannot be broken. It will protect you.”

She shook her head even as she listened to the soft tinkling of the perfectly made rings. “I cannot accept this, Thorin.”

“You can and you will,” he said lifting his chin. “It is only the first of gifts I plan to give you, but it will be the most useful.” He ducked his head somewhat and asked, “Put it on?”

Bilbo nodded and carefully took off her coat and then her waistcoat. She took the chainmail in her hands and again marvelled at the craftsmanship even as she slipped it over her head.

She pulled it into place and then dared to look up at Thorin. He stared back, his eyes were dark and he looked…dangerous.

“I…I must look ridiculous,” she said hesitantly.

“You look like mine,” he said his voice deepened into a growl.

Bilbo froze and felt very much like a small animal who had blundered into the path of a much larger animal.

It didn’t feel very pleasant.

“Thorin?” she said quietly.

He reached out his hand and with the tip of his finger, he traced the edge of the mithril where it lay over her blouse and she shivered. He plucked at the edge of her blouse.

“I would see you in nothing but this,” he said, his eyelids lowered and he looked at where the mithril formed to her body. “I would have you spread out in front of me and I would have you never leave my bed. I would weave strands of spun gold into your hair and all would know that you were mine. All mine.”

A voice in Bilbo’s head said, very matter-of-factly, that this was not at all good and shouldn’t she perhaps, well, do something?

She listened to the voice.

And took a step back.

Thorin’s hand remained outstretched in the air. Where it had lain on her skin, it now touched nothing.

He blinked rapidly, then lifted his eyes to hers. He looked hurt.

“Why – “ he started to speak.

“Ah, Thorin,” Balin’s voice came from behind Bilbo and she nearly slumped over in relief. “Lad, they’ve found the rest of the armour and would like you to inspect the blades.”

Thorin’s face twisted up and he snarled, “First, they cannot find the Arkenstone. Now they cannot judge a good blade from a dull one?”

“They only wish to have their king’s assurance that they have the finest weapons to hand,” Balin said calmly. “You know that armoury better than any of us.”

“Very well,” he growled. He brushed past Bilbo without a word.

“Thank you,” she said faintly.

Thorin stopped and stared.

“For the mithril,” she clarified. “It’s…” She cleared her throat. “It’s the loveliest thing I’ve ever seen, Thorin and I’m sure will be extremely useful.”

He stared at her a moment longer, then reached out to pull her close and quickly kiss her mouth.

Then he strode down the hall.

Bilbo’s hands shook as she pulled on her waistcoat and coat

“He’s…” She swallowed. “He’s really not well, Balin. It’s the gold, isn’t it?”

“It’s dragon sickness. I've seen it before. That look, the terrible need.” Balin sighed and shook his head. “It is a fierce and jealous love, Bilbo. It sent his grandfather mad.”

“He won’t rest until he has the Arkenstone, will he?” she asked tucking her hands firmly in her pockets.

“My dear, I fear he won’t ever be able to rest in this mountain,” Balin said. “Having the Arkenstone would only make it much, much worse.”

After he spoke, he looked at Bilbo, then at her pocket and then back up at her. The two stared at each other for what felt like an eternity.

“Balin,” she said her voice breaking. “What are you asking me to do?”

“Nothing, lassie,” he said smiling so sadly Bilbo’s eyes stung with tears. “You have already gone above and beyond and completed everything according to contract. I’ll not ask you for anything further on this journey.” He sighed once more and as he turned away, he said, “No matter how much I may wish to.”

Bilbo watched him walk away. She turned and stared once more over the parapet at the smoking ruins of Laketown.

Her gaze was torn from the lake when a lone rider approached the mountain.

She hurried down to join rest of the company.

After Thorin turned Bard away from the gates, Bilbo went in search of some strong rope.

It was a very long way down the side of the mountain after all.

Chapter Text

For the second time in as many days, Bilbo climbed down from the parapet on the rope she’d fastened to the stone. She didn’t feel the cold of the stone beneath her feet, or the scrape of the rope against her hands. She only saw the flashing of cold eyes, sharper and bluer than any sapphire could ever hope to be. Instead of feeling the rocks beneath her feet when she reached the ground, she felt the squeeze of a broad hand on her throat. When Gandalf and Bard hailed her with worried expressions on their faces as they herded her back to the encampment, all Bilbo heard was the hiss of madness behind Thorin’s voice.

She came back to herself when Gandalf thrust a cup of water into her hands and roughly told her to drink.

She drank.

Her throat hurt as she swallowed and she spluttered a little. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and then looked up to three very concerned faces. Well, she supposed Thranduil looked concerned, it was hard to tell. He certainly didn’t look as self-possessed as he had previously.

Not for the first time, Bilbo dearly wished for some female companionship. Heavens, she’d even take Lobelia Sackville-Baggins over a lot of stubborn men, dwarves, elves and wizards.

Congratulations, Thorin Oakenshield, she thought angrily. You’ve made me wish to pass time with the stuffiest of hobbits. I hope you’re happy.

“You have your answer, then,” she said to them, her voice thick and her throat sore.

“At perhaps too great a cost to you,” Bard said gently.

Bilbo could only muster the energy for a shrug.

“My dear Bilbo,” Gandalf said with a weary sigh.

“No,” she said as she lifted her chin. She pointed her finger at him. “No. No, you do not get to feel guilt over what has come to pass. I fulfilled my part of the contract. I burgled a dragon. I retrieved my portion of the treasure and if that stubborn, prideful, mad dwarf up there will not honor his words then there is nothing more to be done.” She sniffed and was mortified to discover that tears were falling down her face, but she carried on, “I did what needed to be done and I’m not sorry for it.”

“No?” Gandalf asked far too softly.

Bilbo slumped in her seat. “Gandalf. I did what was asked of me. I did what I had to do. I don’t want more people to die for this bloody mountain or that stupid piece of rock. I went on this adventure and I signed that ridiculous contract, but I didn’t expect…I didn’t want… I didn’t plan…”

“No one ever plans for love, my lady,” Thranduil said and Bilbo started at the sound of his voice and the tempered compassion she heard. She looked at him with wide-eyes and he nodded once. “No one. Remember that.”

Bilbo could only stare at the elf king until they both looked away.

“We must plan a course of action,” Gandalf said. “Thorin will not budge and there is still the matter of an orc army approaching.”

“Orcs!” Bilbo said. “When did they enter the fray?” She held up a hand. “No. I don’t wish to know at this point, tell me later. I’ll leave you to your strategies. I’ve spent the last several days in a mountain, I want some fresh air.”

She got to her feet and headed towards the tent flap.

Bilbo paused by Gandalf and glanced up at him. “I don’t suppose you have any spare pipeweed on you?”

The smile Gandalf gave her was tinged with pity, but he gave her a packet of what was most certainly Old Toby, so she forgave him for the pity.

She walked outside and sat down on what had been part of wall, and curled herself up and out of sight. She fixed her pipe and on her first inhale she closed her eyes.

Thorin’s full, boyish smile in firelight flickered in her mind.

She opened her eyes and sat up straight. Then she slumped over and willed the tears to just go away, for pity’s sake.

“Mistress Hobbit!” a young voice called.

Bilbo raised her head and smiled in relief. “Miss Tilda. I’m very glad to see you.”

Tilda ran over to her and grinned as she sat down beside her. “Da killed the dragon!”

“So I’ve heard,” Bilbo said. “That was quite the daring feat.”

“He used Bain as a bow,” Tilda said giggling.

“Did he indeed?” Bilbo asked raising her eyebrows.

Tilda nodded. She adjusted herself on the rock so that she was pressed against Bilbo and Bilbo wondered at the kind spirit of this little girl and wondered if she’d ever been that open and friendly.

“I thought it would be bigger,” Tilda said, her voice interrupting Bilbo’s thoughts.

“What would be bigger, dear?” Bilbo asked.

“Dale,” she said, looking around. “From all the stories, I thought it would be massive.” She wrinkled her nose. “It’s kind of small.”

Bilbo looked around the ruin and nodded. “I imagine it was bigger in its day. Perhaps it can be again, someday.”

“The dragon was big enough, though,” Tilda said solemnly.

“He was indeed,” Bilbo said. “I believe I prefer my dragons to be much smaller.”

She held up her thumb and index finger and held them a tiny bit apart.

Tilda giggled. “They’d be far more manageable that way.”

“Tilda! Where have you – oh!”

Bilbo looked up at Sigrid, who had clearly come in search of her sister, and gave her a crooked smile. “Miss Sigrid.”

“Mistress Baggins,” Sigrid said, twisting her hands in her dress and not looking her in the eyes. There was a stiff set to her shoulders and Bilbo knew she wasn’t going to get the same carefree smiles from this sister.

“I’m very sorry,” Bilbo said softly. “You can’t know… I’m sorry, Sigrid. For everything.”

Sigrid grimaced and looked away in the direction of the lake. “It’s not your fault. Well, not completely. A dragon will do what a dragon does best after all.”

“All the same,” Bilbo said. “It was the company’s arrogance that got us all here.”

Sigrid nodded sharply. “Yes, it was. But what’s done is done and in some very strange way, I’m almost grateful.”

“Oh?” Bilbo asked, tilting her head to the side.

“We’re not living in the shadows anymore,” Sigrid said, finally meeting Bilbo’s eyes. “We’re on our feet, on dry land and we’re making a stand for what we’re owed. That’s something we’ve not had before now.”

Bilbo nodded. “I’m going to do everything I can to make sure you receive what you’re owed.”

“I know you’ll try,” Sigrid said and well, Bilbo could only nod. Sigrid suddenly blushed. “I don’t… Well, that is… Did the other dwarves, the ones that were left behind, did they arrive in one piece?”

“Oh, yes,” Bilbo said. “They arrived day before yesterday, hale and hearty. I understand from Fili that they have you and your family to thank for that.”

“Yes, well,” Sigrid’s blush deepened. “We couldn’t very well turn them away. Not when Fili’s brother, I mean, Kili was so ill.”

Bilbo blinked at her and then sighed. “Do you know that I believe I shall write a book when this is all over and fill it with my attempt to understand just what it is that makes dwarves so attractive. I expect it will take me a very long time, because even though I’m currently in the throes of it, I truly do not understand the mentality behind it.”

Sigrid made a face. “I think I’d like to know what you discover and if there’s any cure for it.”

“You can ask Tauriel to help!” Tilda said bouncing a little. “She’s in love with Kili, after all.”

“Tauriel? The elf captain?” Bilbo asked, looking at Tilda. “She’s here?”

“She was,” Sigrid said. “She arrived just as orcs attacked our house and saved us. Then she healed Kili with her elf medicine.”

“Goodness,” Bilbo said blinking. “I had no idea. Well, that was kind of her.”

“She chanted Elvish over him and his leg healed,” Tilda said. “It was magic! I’ve decided that I’m going to be an elf when I grow up.”

“Have you?” Bilbo asked.

Tilda nodded.

“Just last week you wanted to be a water sprite,” Sigrid said with a sigh.

“I like having options,” Tilda said primly.

“If we get the gold we’re owed, we may all have some options,” a voice said nearby.

Bilbo looked over and saw Xio and Sonja standing a few paces away. She jumped to her feet and clenched her hands into fists.

“I’m sorry,” she said quickly. “You all warned me and I’m sorry. You can’t know how sorry I am and I know that’s no comfort or use to anyone…” She paused. “Meera?”

Xio and Sonja exchanged a look and Bilbo held her breath.

“She was burned rather badly, on her arms and shoulders,” Xio said after a moment. “We’ve given her something to help her rest and then we’ll see.”

“Oh,” Bilbo said in a small voice and while the tears burned like fire behind her eyes, she held them back. Her tears were worth nothing here.

“I hear you’ve given us your share,” Sonja said, her arms crossed over her chest.

Bilbo nodded. “I don’t know what good it’s going to do. Thorin…” She swallowed hard. “The dwarves are rather determined to stand their ground. I’m not sure what’s going to happen now.”

She lifted her head to meet their eyes and even Tilda stilled on the stone next to her as Bilbo prepared herself to hear the well-deserved harsh words that had every right to come from the Laketown women.

After several long moments, Xio sighed and shook her head. She pulled a sooty cloth from her pocket and dipped in a nearby pail of water.

“For your throat,” she said as she handed it to Bilbo.

Bilbo frowned at her.

“Dearie, you have bruises on your throat,” Sonja added gently.

Bilbo let out a gaspy breath and took the wet cloth. She put it on her neck and closed her eyes at the cool comfort on her bruised skin.

“My Rog, rest his soul, once had his leg broken when he got caught in some rigging,” Sonja said. “When we were having to hold him down to set it, he struck out with his fist and managed to clout his best friend right in the eye and then got me, right across the lip.” She shrugged. “He was in pain and was lashing out. We all expected it.”

“I think this may be a bit different,” Bilbo said, “but I take your meaning.” She shook her head. “I don’t know what it will take to bring him out of this, but I don’t think it’s going to be me.”

“What are you going to do, then?” Xio asked.

Bilbo opened her mouth to say that she truly had no idea, when the sound of marching suddenly echoed through the ruins.

“What is that?” Tilda asked, jumping to her feet and going to her sister.

Bilbo shook her head and said, “Gandalf. We must get to Gandalf. He’ll know.”

Gandalf did know and the entire elvish army and the Laketown humans were summarily introduced to Dain Ironfoot, cousin to Thorin and who was, not to put too fine a point on it, a really rather rude dwarf.

Bilbo listened with wide-eyes to Dain’s blistering address aimed at Thranduil and winced when she saw the answering smirk on the Elven King’s face.

“Oh dear,” Bilbo said. “Gandalf, what-?”

She was once more interrupted by the most extraordinary sight of large monstrous worms that burst through the mountainside. It was swiftly followed by a wave of orcs that filled the plain and headed towards Dale.

And then…

Well, then it was death and pain and mud and the cold clash of swords as dwarves, humans and elves battled against an army of evil.

It was some time before there was something of a lull in the fighting and Bilbo panted as she hurried over to Gandalf just in time to see Thranduil break Tauriel’s bow in half and only managed to catch the end of the exchange.

“Gundabad orcs,” she said to Gandalf, her voice rising. “Are they any worse than our current set of orcs?”

“Only in their numbers,” Gandalf said peering at the mountain across the way. Bilbo could just make out four figures racing up the hill, but she’d know that profile anywhere.

“Thorin,” she breathed. “We have to warn them.”

Gandalf shook his head. “Not you. Go back into Dale and take cover.”

“Oh, bother that,” Bilbo said roughly. She took off running, and ignored the shout of Gandalf behind her.

Halfway to the mountain, she slipped her ring on to dodge the mayhem on the field and just kept moving.

Lungs burning, she made it to the top of the mountain, slipped the ring off and stumbled over a crumbling wall to see Thorin and Dwalin peering over the side of the mountain.

“There’s another army approaching,” she said quickly.

Thorin’s head whipped around. His eyes widened and his sword lowered. “Bilbo! Bilbo, I-”

“No!” She held up a hand and shook her head. “I don’t want to hear it. I can’t hear it, we don’t have time. Another army of orcs is approaching from Gundabad, wherever that is.”

Dwalin looked over at Thorin. “We’ve walked into a trap. They’re going to overrun the mountain.”

“Where are Fili and Kili?” Bilbo asked.

Thorin swore and looked at the caves across the large gap between the peaks. “We must warn them. Quickly now!”

“Fili! Kili!” Bilbo shouted as she darted towards the tunnel.

“What are you doing, woman?” Dwalin asked.

“I’m calling to warn the boys,” Bilbo said looking between him and Thorin.

“Don’t shout!” Thorin said scowling. “You’ll give away the fact we’re here. Are you mad?”

“You said it’s a trap, they already know we’re here!” Bilbo said. She pointed a finger at Thorin and said, “And don’t think I’m not still angry at you, so don’t you dare call me mad.”

“They know we’re here, but they don’t know we’ve split up,” Thorin said through gritted teeth.

“They do now,” Dwalin said under his breath.

“Of course they know we’ve split up,” Bilbo said rolling her eyes. “You always split up; it’s a sound tactic.”

“What do you know about tactics?” Thorin asked stepping towards her.

“I’ve travelled with you lot for the last year and I read!” Bilbo shouted.

Stone crunched behind her and movement on the cliff across from them drew her eyes away from Thorin and everything after that happened very quickly.

Later, all she’d be able to remember was seeing Azog holding Fili in the air and taunting Thorin with him. She remembered the gleam of Azog’s blade as he moved to stab Fili, but an arrow came from below and entered the orc’s arm. Azog howled and his grip on Fili loosened.

She remembered watching Fili drop from sight and feeling her heart break.

But then there was a painful blow to the side of her head and it all went dark.

Bilbo was never sure how long she lay there unconscious.

All she knew was that when she came to, it was in time to see Azog the Defiler slide his sword into Thorin’s chest.

Chapter Text

“I’ve never really been one to raise my voice, you know,” Bilbo said as she puffed slowly on her pipe. “My mother was very emphatic on this point when I was little. She’d say, ‘Bilbo, if you can’t say something calmly and quietly, then you probably shouldn’t say it at all.’” Bilbo paused. “And she was probably right. People tend to yell nonsense far too much. So, I’ve never really felt the need to shout and scream.”

She inhaled a decent lungful of smoke, then let it out in a lopsided smoke ring, before she said, “Now, my cousin, Lobelia Sackville-Baggins? Oh, that woman can screech for Gondor. High-pitched sounds that make the dogs cringe. I’ve often wondered if there was something wrong with her throat that allows her to be such a loudmouth.”

She lifted her pipe to her mouth once more, but paused and let her hand drop.

“So you see, I’ve never really been a fan of yelling.” She pointed with her pipe. “But that was before I actually managed to do some good with yelling. Do you know that it was my yelling for Fili and Kili that drew Kili out of the tunnels?”

He heard me yelling and dashed out in time to see that miserable orc holding Fili. He’s the one that shot that arrow into Azog’s arm.” Bilbo leaned back in her rickety chair with satisfaction. “That meant that when Fili fell, he didn’t fall very far and Kili was able to pull him to safety. Mind you, they’re still plenty beat up. Fili’s broken his leg rather badly and Kili’s got a nasty gash across his face. But it could have been so much worse. At least they were able to fight side by side.”

She coughed and looked away, hiding a smile. “An elf saved Kili’s life, by the way. She’s lovely, actually, very kind and, dare I say it, practical. She might be a good influence on him. He’s so taken with her. I mean, utterly taken. He is, and I don’t use this phrase lightly, a thoroughly smitten kitten. It’s the sappiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

She swallowed hard and lowered her pipe.

“The second time my yelling paid off was when that devil was going to stab you,” she said quietly. She shook her head and closed her eyes. “I can still see it, you know. Him standing over you. I couldn’t see the tip of his blade and it was because it was already in your chest. Your chest, Thorin. So I screamed.” She chuckled sadly. “I’ve never screamed so loud in my life, but he was going to kill you and I might still be absolutely furious with you, but I don’t want you dead, so I screamed.”

She sat up straight.

“And it saved your life,” she said. “That monster looked up to see who was that shrill screaming thing and you regained your advantage and so your lung was only pierced a bit, as opposed to, you know, run through.”

Bilbo frowned and coughed and tucked her pipe away.

“So, I have changed my mind on the benefits of yelling,” she said. “I think that it’s a very useful talent to have and one which I’d very much like to employ on you right now because I have several things that need to be said and I think they need to be said at a very high volume but there’s no point at the moment because you won’t bloody wake up!”

Bilbo looked away from Thorin’s still form because she couldn’t bear to keep looking at his chest that only managed to rise very slightly as he breathed.

At least he still breathed.

He hadn’t, at one point.

When she’d scrambled down onto the ice after he’d fallen after killing Azog, he’d only managed to look at her, say something that she was still puzzling over, and then…he stopped breathing.

Oh, if it hadn’t been for those eagles and Radagast swooping in to lend a hand and a claw, well…Bilbo didn’t really want to think about it.

The battle was over and done with, the eagles and Beorn having done some serious damage on the orc armies. The company of dwarves were remarkably still in one piece. Well, Dwalin was missing the tip of his left ear, but he wore it proudly. Bard the Bowman had taken up the mantle as the Leader of Dale and every time Bilbo saw him, he seemed to have more creases in his forehead, but his eyes were bright and he spoke with something that Bilbo might have called hope in his voice.

The elves remained in Dale and it was their tents that housed the line of Durin while they recovered from their injuries.

Gandalf spent most of his days in a tent with Bard, Thranduil, Dain Ironfoot and Balin and Bilbo left them to it. The company trusted Balin to speak on their behalf and Bilbo certainly had no wish to join in what were most likely discussions of trade and rebuilding. Well, maybe the slightest wish and she may have mentioned the need for certain items to take priority over others, but for the most part, she stayed well clear of it.

There were so many other places she needed to be, after all. Namely, the healing tents. There was a nice mix of them to pick from, too. Elves, dwarves and human hands did their best to help their kinsmen as well anyone else who needed it. Bilbo lent her small hands where she could and after her shift, she’d come here, to Thorin’s tent to sit beside him and talk.

It was by his bedside that Sonja found her.

“No change, then?” she asked as she came inside.

“No change,” Bilbo said with a sigh. She scrubbed at her face and looked at her friend. “To be honest, I’m not really surprised. I don’t think he’s had a whole night’s sleep in the last fifty years, so I can’t really begrudge him the opportunity to catch up.”

Sonja smiled. “And you? Have you slept?”

“Last night? A little?” she said, wrinkling her nose. “I think?”

“Right. Come on, up you get,” Sonja said prodding Bilbo none too gently to her feet. “We’ve got stew and some ale and you need both and then you need your bed.”

Bilbo nodded and with one last look at the still sleeping Thorin, she left the tent. She winced when the sharp winter light hit her eyes.

“This way,” Sonja said poking Bilbo in the back again.

Bilbo waved her hand and headed towards the tent that smelled the most like stew. She grabbed a bowl and took a seat just outside. As she ate, she watched the hustle of the camp and if she squinted, she thought she could see what Dale might look like once repairs were through.

“Mistress Baggins,” a calm voice said from beside her. Bilbo looked up and shaded her eyes, then she smiled.

“Hello, Tauriel,” she said. “Won’t you join me?”

“Thank you,” Tauriel said as she perched beside Bilbo on the stone. She pulled out a packet and Bilbo wrinkled her nose.

“How you all manage to live on biscuits I don’t understand,” she said as Tauriel took a bite of the bread that looked remarkably like shortbread.

“Lembas bread has been a constant in many a hungry campaign,” Tauriel said smiling. “It is more than enough for me.”

Bilbo shook her head. “How go the negotiations?”

“They go ever onwards,” Tauriel said. “The dwarves drive a very hard bargain.”

“That doesn’t surprise me in the least,” Bilbo said. “Do you think everyone is going to get what they need from each other?”

“I think we have all seen far too much hardship and death together to let anyone go without,” Tauriel said after thinking a moment. “I half wonder if they’re simply bargaining now for sport.”

Bilbo snorted. “Trust me. They most likely are.”

Tauriel chuckled, but then turned solemn. “I understand there is no change?”

Bilbo looked off in the direction of Thorin’s tent and shook her head. “No. He breathes. But shallowly.” She lowered her bowl of unfinished stew and stared down at it. “I…don’t know what to do.”

“You will,” Tauriel said softly, placing her hand on Bilbo’s shoulder. “You will, my friend. Now, finish that, or Mistress Sonja will have my head.”

Bilbo chuckled, but finished her stew.

"I think there might be something between Fili and Sigrid, Bard's daughter," Bilbo said to a still sleeping Thorin the next night. "They aren't looking at one another. But it's how they aren't looking at one another that's the interesting bit. It’s a very particular way of not looking at someone."

She laughed. “I think it’s something to do with various prides and I think she’s concerned that he’s technically a prince, but he’s really the least-like-a-prince prince that I know. I think they’ll get past it and start talking again. And, oh, Thorin. You should see them. She's so very young," Bilbo said softly. "But then so is Fili, for that matter. You really should wake up and do something about it. Not something rash!" she added quickly. “Just remind him of who he is and what he’s capable of and how therefore he really should just say something to the girl.”

She sipped some broth from her mug and held it under her chin, letting the steam warm her face.

“It’s very cold, you know,” she told him. “I’ve never seen such storm clouds and they’re quite thick with early snow. I suppose winter comes early in this part of the world. And…oh, I do wish you’d wake up.”

She bowed her head over her mug, but then lifted it and started to tell him about the upcoming move into Erebor. She continued to talk to him until Xio came to invite her to dinner.

“Do you know this leaf of yours isn’t half bad?” Bilbo said as she puffed on her pipe while she once again sat in Thorin’s tent. “Oin found some in the stores and while it’s quite strong, it’s not unpleasant.” She inhaled and exhaled slowly. “I do miss my Longbottom Leaf, though. It’s lighter and smoother on the throat than this one.”

She studied Thorin’s still face through the smoke and then sighed. She lowered her pipe and leaned forward.

“You told me to leave,” she said softly. “Do you remember? After you killed that dreadful orc and I rushed over to you like some wailing thing; you lay there in my arms and you smiled at me and told me to leave.”

She closed her eyes and swallowed back tears. “You told me to go home and plant my acorn and watch it grow. To leave all the death behind me and be merry and to live, because that was all you wanted me to do. That was what you needed me to do. Do you remember, Thorin? Because it’s all I can think about. Did you mean it? Do you want me to go? Because-”

She broke off and leaned back in her chair, her pipe once again firmly in her mouth. She puffed for a full minute before she said, “Because I think I might. Go home, that is. I doubt I can be merry after this. But I can go home. I think I want to, actually.”

“My mother always used to say, that you can survive most anything, you just need to know when to move on.” She chuckled. “I’d always ask how? How do you move on? She’d say, ‘You move on when your heart finally understands there is no turning back’.” She smiled. “I love you, Thorin, Son of Thrain, Son of Thror and I know there’s no turning back from that. But, I also love, well, myself, I suppose and I need to know how much of this love that I feel for you is the kind that can last in spite of miles and hardship and well…”

She bit her lip.

“I need to see my home, Thorin,” she said. “I helped you get yours back. Now I need to see to mine.”

She held out her hand and lightly touched his wrist.

“Unless you wake up and tell me to stay,” she said blinking back tears. “And, oh, that’s probably why I should go. I need to remember how I am without you.” She swiped at her eyes. “I was such a respectable hobbit before I met you lot. And I couldn’t give a fig about respectability now, but… I need to see if I’m still able to carry on, Thorin. I need to know how much this has changed me. I need…I think I need to leave to know if I need to stay.”

She looked at his face. “You understand, don’t you?”

Bilbo fell silent and simply sat and watched his face until Oin came in and shooed her out.

They moved the injured dwarves into Erebor two days later.

Three days after that, Thorin woke up.

Bilbo was washing bandages when Balin came to find her.

“He’s awake,” Balin said breathlessly. “Bilbo, he’s awake.”

Bilbo jumped to her feet as wet bandages fell to the floor. “He is? Is he all right? How does he seem?”

“He seems as he ever did,” Balin said beaming. “Stubborn and glaring and it’s a wonderful sight. He’s fallen back to sleep, but he awoke.”

“I’m so glad,” she said smiling and wringing her cold, wet hands in her skirts. “I’m so… Did he, um, did he ask for, for me?”

Balin’s smile slipped a little. “Not exactly. He asked if you were well and if you’d done as he asked.”

Bilbo’s heart stuttered and she wrinkled her nose. “Oh. Yes. What did you say?”

“Well, I wasn’t sure what it was that you’d spoke about, lass,” he said frowning. “So I said that yes, you were well, and had done as he’d asked. To ease his mind.”

“Oh, right, well,” Bilbo blinked a few times nodding her head. “Yes, I had, I had planned to in any case, so. Right, then.”

“Bilbo,” Balin said concerned. “What did he ask you to do?”

Bilbo swallowed back tears and smiled. “Nothing. It’s nothing. He just told me to go and plant my acorn. And that’s what I’ll do.”

She turned and went to find Gandalf, her heart ached as she walked away but her steps were sure.

She eventually came across him smoking his pipe on a crumbling set of stone steps. He arched an eyebrow in her direction and she sat down beside him. They sat in silence and watched the bustle of Dale and Erebor.

“Gandalf,” she said quietly. “I believe I should like to go home.”

He glanced at her and nodded. “I believe that is a wise choice, my dear Bilbo.”

She nodded back and could only think, Well. That’s that, then.

Two days later, Bilbo found herself saying good-bye to a great number of people. Both Sonja and Xio extracted promises from her to write, even though the chances that letters would even reach them were slim, to please write in any case.

She received a warm, tight hug from Tilda and a hearty handshake from Bard.

And then she faced her dwarves.

And found herself with absolutely nothing to say. They seemed afflicted with the same condition and so they all simply stared at one another for a good long moment.

But then Bofur caught her eye and she was reminded of the night she tried to leave on top of the mountains and every evening spent in conversation around a campfire and in the rain and even in barrels racing down the rivers. And, oh, how she was going to miss these ridiculous and wonderful dwarves.

“If any of you ever pass through Bag End, tea is at four,” she said, her voice wavering as she smiled. “There's plenty of it. You are welcome any time. And please, don’t bother knocking.”

She met each of their eyes and received solemn nods and not so solemn winks from Dwalin, Bofur and Kili.

Then Bilbo turned, got onto her pony and headed home to the Shire.

Chapter Text

Bag End - three years later

“I believe I’m going to let Drogo Baggins court me.”

Bilbo looked up from the papers she was reading at her desk in Bag End to stare at her young cousin, Primula Brandybuck.

“Oh?” Bilbo asked as Primula stood fidgeting by Bilbo’s dining table, her hands continuously rearranging the bouquet of flowers she’d brought by.

“Yes,” Primula said nodding decisively. “He’s kind, but not too soft-hearted and intelligent, but not too clever. He has a lovely garden and is rather canny with wood-working.”

“All very good reasons to begin courting,” Bilbo said sitting back in her chair. “Drogo’s a good lad.”

“He is,” Primula said. “I… He’s very lovely to me and I, well, yes.” She hesitated. “My only concern is…”

“Out with it, Prim,” Bilbo said starting to smile as she had an idea as to where Prim was heading.

“Is he a Baggins-Baggins or is he a Baggins like you?” Primula said all in a rush. She glanced up at Bilbo who merely arched an eyebrow at her. She had the grace to blush, but Primula continued, “I only mean, is he likely to go off on an adventure without me?”

“Drogo Baggins would take you to the moon and back if you asked him,” Bilbo said. “So, no, he’s not likely to leave you to go off on an adventure. Nor is he a stuck-up stick in the mud like some of the other Bagginses. He’s a decent blend of the two extremes, I should say. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

“Yes, it is,” Primula said finally leaving the poor flowers alone and coming to sit near Bilbo. “It’s what I thought, but it’s good to hear, all the same.”

“I’m glad to help ease your mind, dear,” Bilbo said going back to her documents. “Has he already been round for a walk?”

“We’ve gone on seven walks as of last week,” Primula said looking rather like a cat with a lovely bowl of cream.

“Goodness,” Bilbo said chuckling. “I would most definitely let him court you then. You don’t want too much talk stirred up.”

Primula made a face. “People talk too much. And I’m surprised that you’d be worried about talk, after all…” She broke off and looked away.

“After all I’m Mad Mistress Baggins who has been flaunting proper hobbit society since her mysterious disappearance and even stranger reappearance?” Bilbo supplied not looking up from her desk.

“Something like that,” Primula murmured.

Bilbo sighed and turned again in her chair. “You’re quite right, people talk. But the people I care about don’t and that’s all that really matters. I know what happened and well, that’s another thing that really matters. The rest of the bunch can go take a swim in the Brandywine River for all I care.”

Bilbo turned back to her desk and felt Primula staring at her back. “Something to add, Prim?”

“You’re so cheerful today,” Primula said slowly. “You’re happy! Why are you happy?”

“I beg your pardon?” Bilbo asked turning once more.

“When you came back you were this tired, thin thing and you kept to yourself for weeks and weeks,” Primula said. “The only time you spoke was when you went round the village reclaiming your furniture and when you gave Aunt Lobelia what for that afternoon-“

“Which she had coming,” Bilbo muttered.

“-and since then, you’ve been quiet,” Primula continued. “You only visit certain relatives and you keep yourself very much to yourself and you sometimes get this look on your face that’s quite sad to look at, I have to say.”

“Do I?” Bilbo asked, her voice softening as she looked at Primula.

“Very sad,” Primula said. She shook her head. “It nigh on makes my throat close up when I see you looking like that. And you know I’m not a blubberpot.”

“No, you most certainly aren’t a blubberpot,” Bilbo agreed.

“But lately,” Primula said, her eyes wide. “You hummed!”

“I beg your pardon?” Bilbo said.

“You hummed! In the market last week while you were inspecting the cheese,” Primula said. “You hummed!”

“Oh my, well, yes, humming,” Bilbo said nodding. “Most certainly an omen of some sort.”

“Oh, be serious,” Primula said stamping her heel lightly. “You’re not the hobbit you were when you came back.”

“Ah, but the question is,” Bilbo said holding up her finger. “Am I the hobbit I was before I left?”

Primula opened her mouth, then closed it and looked thoughtful. “Not…exactly? You’re…sort of something new?”

Bilbo smiled. “That’s what I thought.”

Primula looked confused. “Bilbo, what’s going on?”

“Nothing, dear,” Bilbo said shaking her head. “I just feel better than I used to. And it was exceptionally good cheese that I found that day in the market, so you’ll have to forgive me for humming about it.”

“You’re acting very odd,” Primula said getting to her feet. “But I don’t have time to try to figure out why because Drogo Baggins is coming to ask me for a walk soon and I don’t want to be late.”

“No, you don’t,” Bilbo said standing and walking with Primula to the door. “Have a lovely walk, and thank you for the bouquet. Have a wonderful time.”

“I plan to,” Primula said smiling prettily. She pecked Bilbo on the cheek and said, “I’m glad you’re not like you were when you came back. Mad Mistress Baggins is miles better than Sad Mistress Baggins.”

“I quite agree,” Bilbo said. “Run along now. Don’t keep dear Drogo waiting.”

“It’s good for him,” Primula said as she headed down the lane.

Bilbo shook her head and went back inside. She took a moment to lean against her closed door and stared down her hall. Then, as she’d done a number of times since she’d returned, she walked through the rooms of Bag End. She trailed her fingers over the spines of her books in the study and through the linens in her linen cupboard. She even went so far as to stick her head in her wardrobe and breathe in the scent of cedar.

Then she returned to her desk and continued to read over her notes.

Her dinner later that evening consisted of a tasty salad of wild greens and some smoked fish.

After dinner, she read for a while, and then as she did every night, she curled up in bed and fell asleep thinking of blue eyes and towering mountains.

The next day, Bilbo headed off to the village to drop something off with her solicitors as well as pick up a few things at the market.

Whilst looking at some punnets of berries, she had the wild urge to start singing to them, if only to see what kind of a reaction she’d get. She, however, restrained herself and simply hummed a little.

As she headed home, she took in all the familiar sights of the Shire, the rolling green hills, the light laughter coming from the children playing around the party tree, the smell of the fresh breezes blowing through the fields. She had a smile on her face when she reached Bag End.

The rest of her day was spent in peace and quiet whilst writing and reading.

When her little clock chimed at half past three, she got up to fix her tea. She’d already decided on some of the cheese that she’d hummed at the previous week and some lovely oat biscuits and perhaps she’d try those new tea leaves that she’d picked up.

She was just setting everything down on her kitchen table when the door to Bag End flew open. Bilbo jumped up and reached for a sword that wasn’t on her waist (it was in her trunk in the hall), then grabbed the teapot, ready to throw at the intruder.

“Four o’clock on the nose,” a cheerful voice called from her hallway. “What’s for tea?”

Bilbo burst out laughing as no one other than Bofur popped his head around the wall and grinned at her.

“You did say not to knock,” he said with a wink.

“Of all the cheek!” Bilbo said laughing. “I can’t…. What are you doing here?”

“Having tea,” he said taking a seat and helping himself to a scone.

“Oh, yes. You’ve come all the way from Erebor to have tea, have you?” she said still grinning. “You didn’t think to write?”

“You know us dwarves,” Bofur said with his mouth full. “We like to rush in. Element of surprise and all that.”

“Well, you’ve certainly surprised me,” she said. She glanced at the hall. “Is it just you?”

“Not exactly,” he said. He yelled something in Khuzdul and the door flew open again, and Bifur came into the room. He smiled broadly and said something to Bilbo.

“The same to you, I’m sure,” Bilbo said laughing. “Oh, it is lovely to see the pair of you. Are you on your way to Ered Luin?”

“Something like that,” Bofur said as he tossed Bifur a wedge of cheese.

“Oh, well, I have more food in the pantry,” Bilbo said, her cheeks starting to hurt from all the grinning she was doing. “Let me just-“

The door slammed open again and Bilbo jumped. “Bombur?” she suggested to Bofur.

He shook his head. “His family’s turned up in Erebor, you’ll not get him away from his kids anytime soon.”

“Nor out of the palace kitchens,” Kili said as he walked in. Bilbo’s jaw dropped open with surprise and delight. He grinned and swept her up into a hug. “Hello, Mistress Boggins!”

“Kili, you silly, dear thing,” Bilbo said hugging him back. He sat her down and she framed his face with her hands. “Oh, look at you. You have a beard!”

“Rather respectable, isn’t it?” he said rubbing his hand over his chin. “Ladies seem to like it.”

“Ladies?” Bilbo repeated.

“Well, the one lady, I suppose,” he said winking.

“Really? You’re-? Oh, is Tauriel here?” she said excitedly looking towards the hall.

“Sadly, no,” Kili said, making a face. “But that’s another story and I’m starving.”

“Sit, sit!” Bilbo said shoving him towards the table. “I’ll just nip to the pantry-“

“Already done,” a gruff voice said from the end of the table.

Bilbo whirled around to see Dwalin sitting down at her table with two armfuls of food. He set them all down on the table with a grunt. “Good to see you, lass.”

“Good to see you, too, Mr Dwalin,” Bilbo said laughing. “I’m afraid I don’t have any fish this time.”

“This’ll do,” he said before taking a large bite of some smoked ham.

“Well, it better,” Bilbo said putting her hands on her hips. “And I swear, if any of my knives are blunted, there will be consequences.”

The four dwarves seated at her table just beamed and grinned.

“Oh, dear, I’ve missed you all,” she said, her voice catching. “I’ve missed you so very much.”

“Missed you, too, lass,” Bofur said smiling.

Bilbo swiped at her eyes and said, “None of that. You’re here. I don’t know why, but you are and I’m delighted to have you. I have so much to tell you and I’m sure you’ve got a million stories to tell me. Oh! Ale! I have ale. Stay here.”

Bilbo rushed to her pantry and tried to pull her thoughts together. She had meant it when she’d said that she had much to tell them. In fact, their arrival was something of a blessing. She could hear the gentle rumble of their voices and she hugged the bottles of ale to her chest and closed her eyes.

Oh, she’d missed those ridiculous dwarves so much.

She headed back into the dining room, announcing, “Ale, gentlemen!”

A happy roar sounded from the table and she laughed as she started to pour into decorative mugs they’d just pulled off the mantelpiece. She had a moment of worry that they were using collector’s items, but decided to just go along with it.

She’d just finished pouring some into Kili’s mug when there was a sharp knock on the door. Bilbo paused and looked at the suddenly silent table. Four dwarves stared back at her.

“That’d be –“ Dwalin began.

“The door, yes. Who- What’s going on?” she asked, her heart started to flutter and her chest began to ache.

“You didn’t exactly tell everyone not to bother knocking, lass,” Bofur said smirking.

“Oh,” Bilbo said straightening, her hands trembled where they held the ale and she looked at the hall. “Do you know I don’t think I can move? How funny.”

Bifur got up and quickly went over to the door. She heard him rumble something and someone entered Bag End. She heard the door close and then, oh and then.

Thorin Oakenshield stood in her parlour.

She stared at him.

He stared back at her.

The silence was broken by Bofur whispering, “Best grab that bottle, lad.”

Bilbo was distantly aware when Kili took the bottle from her hands, but she couldn’t bring herself to say anything, she just stared and drank in the sight of Thorin, alive and well and in her parlour.

There was considerably more grey in his hair than before and his beard was fuller. His eyes remained a startlingly bright blue and he wore simple travelling garb, not armour.

She wanted to say something, but she just couldn’t seem to make her voice work.

“You’ll be pleased to know that I only got lost the once this time,” he said, his voice gentle and soft.

Bilbo swallowed hard, oh, his voice. The sound of it did things to her that she thought she must have dreamed. If only she could find her own voice and say something.

“The journey is much easier when you don’t have a pack of orcs dogging your every move,” he continued. “It was…almost enjoyable.”

Bilbo just kept staring.

“I never got the chance to thank you,” he said staring into her eyes. “For saving my life on the mountain. You gave me back my advantage and I do not know how I can repay you for it.”

He broke off and looked away. Bilbo felt tears gather behind her eyes as he walked over to the hearth. He rested a hand on the mantelpiece and it was as if time had spun backwards and she was back on that night when her life changed.

“You once told me that you gave me your heart when I sang here in your parlour,” he said staring down at the empty hearth. He looked at her. “I never told you when I gave you mine.” He dropped his hand from the mantel and faced her. “I gave you my heart when you left with us from Rivendell.”

Bilbo’s eyes widened. Rivendell?

He smiled. “You came with us. You believed in our quest enough to leave a place that you held in high esteem, and that filled you with wonder, in order to aid us in our journey. And I lost my heart to you when you turned your back once more on comfort and ease to travel with a company of dwarves on a quest that had no hope of succeeding.”

Holding back tears was an exercise in futility, and they spilled down her cheeks. Thorin’s face hardened and his voice was harsh and jagged when he spoke.

“But while you took care of my heart and treated it with kindness and love,” he said, “I treated yours with cruelty and violence. I was mad and mistrustful and everything everyone said I would be. I was callous and I threw you away and I am sorry. More sorry than I can say. And I cannot ever forgive myself and though it is the one thing, the only thing I wish for in this world, I cannot bring myself to ask for your forgiveness, for I do not deserve it.”

“Oh, stop, just stop,” Bilbo said, her voice cracking.

Thorin stopped abruptly and stared at her helplessly. Bilbo knew that there were other people in the room, but she didn’t care.

She walked straight to him and cupped his face, his dear, ridiculous face, in her hands.

“Firstly, you are never, ever, ever to speak to me like you did,” she said firmly. “You are never to speak to your company the way you did. And you are never to manhandle me like you did.”

“Never,” he said hoarsely, staring down at her. “I swear it.”

“And there is to be no talking of you not deserving my forgiveness,” she said. “For I’m giving it to you willingly. I forgive you, Thorin. I forgive you, because I know that you will never let that madness overtake you again.”

He shook his head. “The Arkenstone has been buried back in the mines where it came from and I’ve abdicated.”

“And furthermore-you what?” Bilbo froze.

“I’ve abdicated,” he said as simply as one might ask for another pint of ale.

“I don’t- What?” she said. “How?”

“Bilbo, how could I rule over a people that I disgraced so totally?” he asked, shaking his head. “I set out to do what I aimed to do. And that was to provide a home for my people and my family. I’ve done that. I’ve no need to do anything further.”

“Not to mention that devil bashed your lung and your foot and you’ll not be likely to win too many battles in the future,” Dwalin grumbled.

“I’ll win enough,” Thorin said, raising his voice but keeping his gaze fixed on Bilbo. “But I’m not the dwarf I was and I don’t want to return to him in any case.”

Bilbo stared at him and bounced on her feet slightly. “Oh, Thorin.”

“No,” he said gently, grasping her wrists and pulling her hands from his face. He kissed her knuckles. “Don’t pity me, mistress. I’m well enough and Fili is and will be a fine ruler.”

“Better him than me, eh?” Kili called out.

Thorin rolled his eyes. “Your words, nephew, not mine.”

“Thorin-“ Bilbo said, but she stopped. For what was there to say?

“I’m not here to ask anything of you, Bilbo Baggins,” he said bowing his head over her hands. “I only…wished to see you again. You left without saying good-bye.”

“Because I knew if I saw you, I’d stay,” she said sniffling. “And I needed to leave. You said that you aren’t the dwarf you were when you started? Well, I’m not the same hobbit. But I needed to come home to know that. And I have no wish to return to her, as you’ve no wish to return to him.”

He stared at her, but she noticed that his breathing had increased as he said, “Bilbo. What are you- What would you ask of me?”

She squeezed his hands. “The only thing I wish for…is to know you again. To be near you again. To hear you laugh and to hear you sing and to simply…learn you again. May we do that?”

“Yes,” he said and now his voice was the one to crack. “I’m yours, Bilbo Baggins, to do with as you please.”

“Then it would please me very much if you were to come and sit down and have tea with us,” she said. “And it would please me if you were to stay awhile, if you can.”

“I have no fixed plans,” he said the corners of his mouth curved up. “And I would be honoured to join you for tea.”

“I have a lovely batch of scones, freshly baked this morning,” she said.

“To be perfectly honest,” he said. “I prefer toast.”

She snickered. “Of course you do. Well, then it’s a good thing I have two loaves of some lovely granary.”

“A very good thing, indeed,” he said.

“There’s only one last thing to do,” she said seriously.

“Which is?” he asked, arching an eyebrow.

She rose up on her toes and kissed him firmly on the mouth. She meant it to be a quick kiss. A kiss to seal an understanding, if you will. But Thorin had other ideas and well, so did her own mouth, apparently.

It was some time before Bilbo found herself back on her feet and staring up at Thorin, her lips tingling and the hair around his ears thoroughly mussed. Oh, had that been her hands tangled in his braids? And had she heard clapping?

She looked over at the table of grinning dwarves and cleared her throat.

“More ale, gentlemen?”

She took the cheerful roar as an affirmative, and her hand firmly in Thorin’s, she led him to the table.

The next several hours were spent eating and listening as they shared their tales of Erebor and Dale. Bilbo listened with wide eyes and a smile on her face as they told of all the settlement’s accomplishments.

“Trade?” she said at one point. “With the elves? Truly?”

“It was impressed upon me that it would be a lucrative venture,” Thorin said. “And so far, it has been.”

Kili snorted but didn’t say anything, even when Thorin glared at him.

“Am I missing something?” Bilbo asked looking between the two.

“More like someone,” Kili said under his breath.

“For Mahal’s sake, the lady urged you to go herself,” Thorin said rolling his eyes, but his voice was light and amused.

“I could have talked her round,” Kili said, thunking his mug on the table. “Bloody elves and their challenges of the heart.”

“If it was easy, it wouldn’t be a challenge,” Thorin said grinning. “And it wouldn’t be pursuing. She wouldn’t be pursuing.”

“You’re only saying that because the love of your life is sitting next to you with her hand firmly affixed to your knee,” Kili retorted.

Bilbo jerked her hand off of Thorin’s hand (and when had she placed it there in the first place?) so quickly, her hand hit the bottom of the table and the entire group erupted with laughter. Bilbo included.

Thorin took her now-aching hand in his and pressed a kiss to the back of it. “I’m still in the midst of my pursuing my love, Kili, just as you are. I have no doubts there will be many challenges I’ll need to face. I’ve already faced distance and longing. You’ve only just begun.”

“Then would you like me to top up your ale?” Kili asked. “So we can progress swiftly into the dwarvish tradition of singing odes to our ladies’ accomplishments from atop the nearest table?”

“Don’t you dare stand on this table, Kili, son of Vili!” Bilbo announced. “It was only polished day before yesterday and I’ll not have those absurd dwarvish boots marking it up!”

The table roared with laughter again and Bilbo squeezed Thorin’s hand and smiled up at him. He smiled back more broadly than she could ever recall him doing so.

The laughter and the stories continued well into the night and if Bilbo’s nearest neighbours hadn’t been scandalised from her disappearance and reappearance three years ago, they most likely were now at the raucous shouts and thumps that came from her dining room.

When even Dwalin began to show signs of fatigue, Bilbo directed them to her spare rooms and loaded them all down with quilts and pillows.

Bofur flopped face first onto one bed, his feet dangled over the edge, only moving over when Bifur shoved him to the side.

Dwalin, Kili and Thorin took the largest of the spare rooms and Dwalin and Kili good-naturedly bantered as they fought over the bed next to the window.

Thorin lingered in the hallway and Bilbo smiled.

“You should probably know that while I’m delighted beyond all measure that you’re here and I’m devoted to knowing you without the threat of imminent danger and orcs and skinchangers and goblins and rushing rivers,” Bilbo said. “I’m not going to make this easy on you. You were terribly cruel, you know.”

“I know,” he said nodding solemnly. “I’ll face anything you ask of me and should you decide that you no longer wish for my company, I’ll go.”

“I doubt it will come to that,” she said smiling. “But thank you, all the same. Toast and a walk in the morning, then?”

“If you have any spare fishing tackle, I had considered going fishing and asking you to join me,” he said starting to smile. “Unless that’s too forward of me to ask?”

“Just the right amount of forward, I should think,” she said. She took a step back. “I think I’ll forgo kissing you just now. It appears my mind doesn’t have much control over my lips at present.”

The look Thorin gave her warmed her head to toe and she could only grin and then dart down the hall to her own room.

“Miss Baggins,” he called when she reached her door.

She looked at him.

“Good night,” he said, inclining his head formally.

“Good night, Thorin,” she said.

Then she slipped into her room and threw herself on her bed, hands pressed to her mouth to hold in her laughter.

Oh, she wasn’t going to sleep a wink.

“Really?” Bilbo asked the following morning as she watched Thorin carefully construct a new hook for his fishing line.

“The old ones were rusted,” he said delicately curving a piece of thin metal into a perfect hook. “I doubt the fish would have been attracted by such sub-standard metal.”

“Well, I told you it had been a while since I’d done this,” Bilbo said smiling. “At least the poles are still in working order.”

“Very good craftsmanship,” Thorin said. “Your father’s hand?”

Bilbo nodded. “He was very talented. There are some pieces in the house that he and his father made that I cherish.”

“You have a lovely home,” he said attaching the new hook to his line and gesturing for her pole. “I don’t think I told you that before, but you do. It’s everything that is comfortable and warm.”

“Thank you,” she said, her face flushed and she ducked her head to hide how pleased his words made her. Naturally, he saw and reached out a hand to touch her chin. She lifted her eyes.

“I mean it,” he said. “You have a beautiful home, Bilbo Baggins.”

“It’s no Erebor,” she said.

“Few things are,” he said chuckling. “But that doesn’t make them any less worthy or special.”

She tilted her head to the side. “You have changed, haven’t you?”

“Only some,” he said shrugging. “I still find elvish design to be overly dramatic and far too fixated on leaves.”

Bilbo snickered. “Well, you’re not wrong about the leaves.”

He grinned slyly and she bumped her shoulder against his. They then spent the next hour fishing and talking of everything and nothing in particular; which set the tone for the rest of the week.

Mornings were spent on either longs walks through the fields or quiet hours fishing. As the dwarves couldn’t stand to be idle, afternoons consisted of Bilbo directing them as they repaired certain parts of Bag End that Bilbo had been meaning to get done for ages. Her bathroom was completely redone and she now had a cunning little stone terrace in her back garden.

During the evening, Bilbo could almost imagine they were back on the journey as they sat around her hearth trading stories and drinking ale and eating as much as they could stand.

One week turned into two weeks and then into three.

Thorin had been everything that was thoughtful and quiet and yet, Bilbo could see that while he had found some contentment in the Shire, he would sometimes stare off into the distance in the direction of where the Misty Mountains ranged.

One morning, Bilbo took his hand and asked, “Walk?”

“Of course,” he replied.

His hand was large and warm and comforting around her smaller hand and she swung their joined hands a little as they walked. Thorin chuckled and let her pull him into the woods behind her house.

“Have I said that I’m glad you’re here?” she asked.

“Not as such, no,” he said. “Are you glad?”

“Very,” she said firmly.

“Good,” he said just as firmly.

They continued to walk deeper into the woods, their path slowly started to slope down.

“Do I hear water?” he asked. “We didn’t bring any tackle.”

“It’s not very deep and runs too fast to fish in,” she said. “It’s just a nice spot. Did you bring your pipe?”

“Naturally,” he said squeezing her hand. “Although, I’m not trying that leaf of yours again.”

She laughed. “Old Toby isn’t for everyone, it’s true.”

“Never felt so light-headed in my life,” he said. “Apart from the first time we kissed.”

“Stop that,” she said, glancing up at him. “I’m quite immune to your charms, Thorin Oakenshield.”

“I dearly hope that’s not true,” he said. “You haven’t seen the best of them yet.”

“I think I have. And in any case, I liked you in spite of your charms,” she said quietly. “I liked you for your honour and your passion. I liked you for you.”

Thorin was silent for a few moments, before he said, “Thank you.”

Bilbo squeezed his hand.

“You’re going to have to duck I’m afraid,” she said as she led him towards a dense copse of small oak trees.

She pulled him into the trees and he leaned forward to avoid the lower branches.

They emerged in a small alcove where a clear stream ran over mossy rocks and weeping willows dangled their thin branches into the water.

“This looks oddly familiar,” Thorin said sounding amused.

“I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re referring to,” Bilbo said lightly before sitting down against a sturdy cedar and pulling out her pipe.

Thorin merely chuckled and sat down beside her. They set about the usual business of preparing their respective pipes and then settled against the tree in quiet.

Bilbo sighed and leaned fully against Thorin. He lifted his arm and wrapped it around her shoulders and turned his head so that his lips pressed against her hair.

“You still smell of sunshine and green fields,” he murmured.

She turned her own face into his arm and breathed in. “So do you.”

He pulled her closer and said fiercely, “Bilbo, why are we here? This is where your father proposed, is it not?”

“Yes, it is and it was my mum, if you’ll recall,” she said. She raised her head. “We’re here because I wanted to tell you that I no longer wish to be courted by you.”

He froze and went rather pale. “I…see. I…” He swallowed. “I quite understand. I’ll depart in the morning.”

“Oh, no,” Bilbo said smiling. “Delay the departure for another week, if you’re able. I should have the appropriate wagon by then. I had no idea how difficult it would be to procure a suitable caravan.”

Thorin stared at her, and then just said, “What?”

“I’ve spent the last few months thinking about my parents,” Bilbo said. “Wondering what they’d think of me, of everything that I’d been through and what they’d want for me.” She traced the edge of his tunic with her finger. “And even what they’d think of you.”

“And what conclusion have you come to?” he asked, his voice faint but steady.

“Well, my mother would have loved you,” Bilbo said. “She would have thought you were the grandest adventure that a hobbit could embark upon.”

“And your father?” he asked.

Bilbo frowned. “He would have been a bit more circumspect, I think. He would’ve said something like, ‘Well, poppet, is he your choice or merely an interesting one? Will he be good and true to you? Will you be able to see yourselves through hardship together and enjoy the quiet, too?’”

She tapped out the remnants her pipe ash and said, “I would have replied, “Well, we’ve already been through terrible hardship and it appears that we can still have a peaceful morning together. He’s promised to be good and true to me and is following up on his promise. And yes, he most definitely is my choice.”

Thorin threw his pipe down and swiftly curled his arm more fully around Bilbo’s shoulder to stare into her eyes.

“Bilbo Baggins, what are you saying to me?” he asked.

“I’m asking you to marry me, you clot,” she said poking him in the chest. “Was I not clear on the matter?”

He stared at her in stunned silence before crushing his mouth to hers. Bilbo laughed into his mouth as they kissed and she quickly found herself pulling him down to her as she fell back onto the grass.

“You’ve been teasing me this whole time?” he asked in between kisses.

“Not the whole time,” she said arching her throat to allow him better access to her skin. “I already knew that I wanted to go to you even before you arrived. I couldn’t have planned that better, to be honest. Now I’ll have help packing.”

“I never received a single letter,” he said sliding his hands down her side and up under her skirts. “You haven’t said a thing.”

Bilbo moaned at the rasp of his hands on her sensitive skin. “I wanted to get everything in place and then just go. If I had to wait for a reply, you might have tried to talk me out of it.”

“Never,” he said through gritted teeth while she tugged at his tunic. “I need you with me. I want you with me.”

“You told me to go once,” she reminded him once she got his tunic off of him and started to work on getting his shirt off. “I couldn’t take the chance that you’d try to be noble in a letter. After all, the surprise arrival has proved to be fruitful in the past.” He whipped his shirt off and Bilbo just stared at the breadth of his chest and tentatively reached out to place her hands on his pectorals. “Oh, my. All mine. How lovely.”

He grinned and then started the process of taking her shirt off. “All yours. All of me, all of what is mine, is yours. All of it.”

“And I plan to make expedient use of it directly,” she said struggling to get her arms out of her sleeves and shimmy out of her underpinnings.

The next few minutes were spent frantically disrobing and pressing kisses to every single inch of skin that emerged and then… Oh. Well.

Well, then things got particularly breathless and energetic and all together rather lovely.

It was firmly well past elevenses and, quite possibly, lunch by the time activities settled down and approached respectable once more beside the stream. Bilbo was clad only in her shift and skirt and Thorin couldn’t be bothered to put his tunic on or tuck in his shirt, and they dozed together against the tree.

“Just to be clear,” Thorin said, gently running his hand up and down Bilbo’s arm. “You are coming home to Erebor with me, you wish for me to be your husband and you’ve been planning this for some time?”

“Correct,” she said leaning up to press a kiss to the underside of his chin. “If you’ll still have me, that is.”

“I think I may as well,” he said. “You still have possession of my heart, you know.”

“Likewise,” she said quietly. “You always have.”

He took her hand in his and pressed a slow kiss to her palm. “My burglar.”

“My former King Under the Mountain,” she whispered.

Thorin looked at her with those blue eyes that she’d spent the last however many years dreaming of and said, “You do realise that your scheme of just arriving on my doorstep was positively dwarvish in nature and veered upon impractical?”

“Heaven help me,” she said grinning up at him. “And I shouldn’t worry. I’ll be sure to once again inject practically into your life.”

“Good,” he said rubbing his nose alongside hers. “We dwarves could use a little bit of practicality.”

“Truer words have never been spoken,” she said.

“Hush, Mistress Burglar,” he said. “I’m being charming and romantic.”

“Very well,” she said arching into his arms. “Carry on.”

He did.

Quite enthusiastically.

It was a week later that saw the final departure of Bilbo Baggins from the Shire. Not wanting a fuss, Thorin and Bilbo were married in a quiet ceremony at her uncle, the Thain’s house with only a select audience. Bag End was left to her nephew Drogo Baggins and in a finer pair of hands it could not have rested.

The small company of dwarves and one female hobbit made their way to catch up with a group of dwarves departing Ered Luin for Erebor. Bilbo was introduced to Thorin’s sister, Dis, something that he and Kili both came to regret slightly as the two women got on famously and were nigh on unstoppable when they put their heads together.

In fact, it was mostly assuredly the result of Bilbo and Dis’ planning that saw the caravans reach Erebor a full two weeks ahead of schedule.

Bilbo received a hearty welcome from the other members of the company at Erebor and spent a long, happy day in Dale with the ladies of Laketown. She would come to spend at least one day a week in Laketown learning all she could from them and teaching them all she could about gardening.

Life in Erebor was busy and full and life with Thorin was filled with a wonderful combination of quiet moments and the occasional loud argument. While it was true that he’d officially abdicated, he was still called upon for the majority of state matters and was still completely devoted to his people. Bilbo assisted where she could and where she couldn’t she supported him fully and provided a most welcome pair of listening ears.

Throughout the years, Bilbo laughed and cried and laughed some more. She learned and she taught and she loved.

And not once, did she ever regret flying out of her door without a single handkerchief to her name in pursuit of an adventure.

~The End~