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Chapter Text

            Bilbo had been running for as long as he could remember. From the moment he was fished out of the sea and dropped off at the nearest harbor, all he knew was his first name, Bilbo, and that he needed to keep moving. His life depended on it. He didn't remember anything about his life before then.  He didn't even know how he got into the sea. He knew nothing about his family or where he came from. The only clue he had was a chain necklace, on which hung a gem fragment. The fragment was clear and no bigger than a plum, with many smooth sides and straight edges. It wasn’t anything particularly special. Logic said that if he showed the fragment around, maybe he might be able to track down who made it or where it came from. But for some reason, his instincts told him that showing it to anyone would put him in danger. So, he listened to his instincts and kept moving, the fragment always hidden out of sight.

            After over a decade of running, Bilbo had gotten rather good at it. Use a different alias in each town, use anything to mask his appearance, join any ship that will have you, do whatever work needed to be done, save every coin, switch crews at the next harbor, never visit the same place within six months, and always keep your head down. Thankfully for Bilbo, whatever had caused his memory loss hadn't affected his mind in any other way so keeping up with everything was no hardship for him. And so far, he had managed to stay out of anyone's memory.

            But, if he was being honest with himself, he was getting tired of running and hiding. Tired of having no one to call friend. Tired of not having someone he could hold and hug. He had been alone for over a decade and as he grew older, it became harder. Watching other people his age with their friends and lovers, while he was stuck in the shadows. He was almost to the point that he wanted to quit it all, and just be himself. Even if it meant whoever, or whatever, he was running from finally caught up to him.

            That's what he was pondering as the ship he was on this time was docked in the harbor. He had been to Port Royal nine months ago. At the time he had been Charles Bellwether, a young man looking to earn some money to take back to his sick mother and young siblings. He had learned that once he reached a certain age, people stopped being sympathetic and started being suspicious, so he had started coming up with convincing lies meant to gain the sympathy that he had lost with age. Years of lying had fostered his creativity and storytelling abilities, and often when at night, when he couldn't sleep, he would dream about becoming a writer.

            Bilbo was jerked out of his thoughts when the captain called for all passengers to get off the ship. Bilbo shouldered his bag and moved down the ramp with the rest of the passengers. He was glad to see Port Royal had not changed very much since his last visit. It had been a favorite place of his for years, resulting in him spending more time than he should on his visits. If he had to pick one place that felt somewhat like a home, besides the sea , it was Port Royal. Bilbo stood on the pier for a moment, taking a moment to go over his cover story again. He couldn't be Charles Bellwether again, so he would have to be careful not to talk about things only Charles could know. He was now Billy Potts, a man trying to save up money so that he could marry his longtime sweetheart. Satisfied that he was as prepared as he could be, Bilbo squared his shoulders and continued walking up the pier.

            He was halfway down the dock when he decided, for no particular reason, to look to the side at the other docks. And what he saw made his jaw drop and his heart race.

            Standing on the main yard, Thorin looked at Port Royal speculatively. He needed a ship, and there were plenty of ships in the harbor. He slid down a rope to the bottom of the boat and was dismayed to see the water had risen a couple more inches. He halfheartedly used a bucket to scoop and pour the water out of the boat, but he knew it was futile. Looking up, he saw that he was passing a row of skeletons, each one a pirate who had been hung. Thorin stood and took off his hat, giving the skeletons a small bow.

            He steered the dinghy towards the dock and once he was sure it would sail straight, even as it was sinking, he climbed back up the mast. He stepped up from the main yard on to the crow's nest and waited as the boat moved towards the dock, sinking further every second. To his great luck, the boat reached the dock just before the crow's nest went under the surface and he was able to smoothly step on to the dock. He didn't turn back to the dinghy, not needing it any longer. He had only made it halfway up the dock when a man carrying a large book and a pen rushed past him. 

            “Hold on, hold on!” Thorin turned when the man addressed him, raising an eyebrow questioningly. The man swallowed nervously, but to Thorin's credit he didn't cower. “It's a shilling to tie your boat up at the dock. And I shall need your name, sir.”

            Thorin briefly glanced towards the end of the dock, where only the tip of the mast could be seen. Then, he pulled four coins out of his pocket and deftly slipped them into the man's pocket. “Here's four shillings. And the name's Smith. Just Smith.”

            The man hesitated for a moment, then smiled. “Welcome to Port Royal, Mr. Smith. Enjoy your stay.”

            Thorin bowed in thanks and turned around to continue up the dock. He hurried through the crowds, keeping an eye out for anyone wearing a red or blue uniform. He didn't need to have any run-ins with the law today. He just needed to get to another ship and get out of Port Royal, as soon as possible.

            Bilbo found himself following the strange man as he moved through the crowd, which wasn't easy given he was shorter than most everyone else in the crowd. But the man was in a hurry and wasn't trying to hide as he walked, which made it easy to keep track of him in the busy streets. He normally avoided everyone in town except for those who he needed work from, but he had learned to trust his instincts over the years. And his gut was telling him to follow the man. So he did. He stayed several feet back in the crowd, easily slipping in between people without being jostled. He followed the man throughout the town, his curiosity growing stronger with every step. Finally, he realized where the man was headed.

            “Oh, bloody hell,” he cursed and quickened his pace.  While he tried to keep a low profile wherever he was, he wouldn't stand by and let someone break the law, not if he could stop it. He gave up on trying to be discreet and started weaving through the crowd to catch up to the man. This time, his size was on his side and he quickly reached the man, just as they reached the dock. He reached out and grabbed the man's sleeve.

            Thorin was feeling confident about his plan. He knew there was a big to-do at the fort, he had heard people talking about it as he passed them, he had seen the flags flying and heard the drums pounding. It was the perfect time to commandeer a ship. He had picked the one he wanted already, he just had to get to it. As he got closer to the dock, he could see that the ship was being guarded by just two guards and he allowed himself a smile. This would be too easy, he thought. Of course, nothing ever went as he planned.

            He had just stepped on to the dock when he felt his arm being grabbed. Reacting on instinct, he drew his knife as he turned around. He brought the knife up, intending to hold it against the throat of the person who had grabbed him, but the stranger easily grabbed his wrist and directed the knife away from him. Thorin stared down in shock at the man, who in turn was glaring up at him.

            “That's very rude, you know,” the man said, unperturbed as he shoved Thorin's hand back at him.

            Thorin slipped the knife away, glancing around nervously. “Is it not also rude to grab someone you don't know like this?” he asked, jerking his arm away.

            The man frowned. “Yes, it is. But not as rude as stealing a ship is.”

            Thorin gaped down at him in shock for a second before he recovered himself and glared instead. “I don't know what you think you're on about, stranger, but it's not a crime to admire a good ship.”

            The man snorted and stepped back. “I'm not dumb, nor blind. I saw you sail in on that sinking excuse of a boat. And, judging from the way your dressed, you're probably a pirate. So, the obvious conclusion is that you need a ship, and are planning to take one.”

            Thorin glared harder at the man, but it had no effect on him for he merely glared back. “I don't know what you're talking about, halfling. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll just be on my way.” Thorin tried to step away but the man jumped in front of him again.

            “Making fun of my height, as if I haven't heard that one before. You'll have to think of something better than that, grumpy. I'm not letting you go any further.”

            Thorin cursed and pushed past the man, ignoring his protest. He hurried up the dock, momentarily forgetting about the guards until they simultaneously stepped in front of him, standing shoulder to shoulder. Thorin cursed again and then plastered on a smile, being sure to extend his arms to appear nonthreatening. “Gentlemen, is there a problem?”

            “This dock is off limits to civilians.” One guard, who Thorin instantly named “Sleepy”, said.

            Thorin nodded and said, “Aye, well, I can see why! It's a beautiful ship. Looks very fast, too.”

            “Aye, the White Warg is the fastest ship in the Caribbean. There's not a ship that can match it for speed,” Sleepy said proudly, his chest puffing out.

            Thorin held up his hand. “I've heard of one, said to be impossible to catch. The Erebor.”

            Sleepy snorted, amused. “There's no real ship that can catch the White Warg.”

            Sleepy’s partner, whom Thorin decided was “Dopey”, looked at his partner, frowning. “The Erebor is a real ship.”

            “No. No, it's not.”

            “Yes, it is, I've seen it.”

            “You've seen it? You haven't seen it.”

            “Yes, I have.”

            While they bickered between themselves, Thorin quietly slipped around them and hurried up the dock and on to the ship. He was standing at the helm, admiring the ship, when he felt another tug on his sleeve. Sighing inwardly, he slowly turned his head. “Don't you have anything better to do than harass me, halfling?”

            The man sighed and put his hands on his hips. “Don't you have anything better to do than steal a ship?”

            Thorin raised an eyebrow. “I prefer to call it commandeering. Sounds much better.”

            “Doesn't matter what you call it, it's all the same. And it's not right.”

            “No, but it sure if fun. Now, if you'll excuse me, halfling.”

            The man huffed and stamped his foot. “I have a bloody name!”

            Thorin sighed and turned his back to the man. “I don't really care, but if it bothers you so much, what is it?”

            “My name is Bilb- Billy. Billy Potts.”

            Thorin glanced back at the man, Billy. “Billy, huh? Nice name.”

            “Thanks, I like it well enough. Now, your turn.”

            Thorin whirled around in disbelief. “You think I'm gonna give you my name?”

            “It's only fair, don't you think?”

            Thorin scoffed. “Too bad life's not fair.”

            “Oy, you two! You can't be up there!” Thorin and Billy both turned when one of the guards, Sleepy, yelled at them.

            The guards sprinted onto the ship and surrounded them on either side, bayonets pointed at them both. Sleepy reached for his belt and took out a set of iron cuffs. Dopey followed his lead and pulled out his own set of cuffs. Sleepy slowly set his weapon down and reached for Thorin’s hands. “Alright, we’re going to cuff you both and let the Commodore sort this out.”

Thorin let them cuff his wrists and take his things, already planning an escape, but the shorter man, Billy, he reminded himself, was stuttering and stating his innocence to the guard as he was cuffed. Thorin was surprised that Bilbo didn’t try to resist, letting himself be cuffed. The guards picked up their bayonets and gripped Billy and Thorin by their forearms, intending to lead them off the ship. Thorin waited until they were headed down the ramp to the dock to act. He was halfway down the ramp, with Bilbo and Dopey just a few feet behind, when he suddenly turned and slammed his shoulder into the Sleepy’s stomach, trying to get out of his grip and make a run for it. He had never thought that what happened next might happen.

            Sleepy did lose his grip on Thorin’s arm, but hit had made him lose his breath. And his footing. As Thorin started to make a run for it, Sleepy fell backwards and into Billy and Dopey. Dopey automatically let go of Billy’s arm and caught his partner. Billy couldn’t steady himself at all because his wrists were still cuffed behind his back and he started to lose his balance when Sleepy bumped into him. Then, he lost his balance completely when Dopey shoved him aside in his hurry to catch his partner. Billy suddenly found himself falling completely off the ramp, with his arms still trapped behind him. He shouted as he started to fall, terrified because he couldn’t swim even with the use of his arms, but he managed to take a breath right before he went under.

            Thorin was almost off the dock when he heard Billy’s shout and without thinking, he stopped and turned to look just in time to see Billy go under. He almost turned back around and kept running, thinking the guards would save the man. But to his shock, the guards were still sitting on the ramp, not moving. Thorin waited several seconds to see if they would get up, but when they didn’t he cursed. He jumped and smoothly brought his hands in front of him. Then he sprinted back to the ramp. He wasted no time in talking to the guards and instead dove straight into the water.

            Opening his eyes, he was relieved to see that Billy was still conscious. But he was sinking fast, though he continued to move and struggle, trying to get his hands free. Thorin’s eyes met his and Thorin could clearly the terror and desperation Billy was feeling. That spurred Thorin on and he swam even faster. Finally, after what felt like a lifetime, he reached Billy just as he hit the sea floor. His hands grabbed the man’s shirt right as Billy’s eyes slipped close, his mouth falling open. Realizing there was no time left, Thorin straightened up and, with a solid grip on Billy, kicked strongly off the sea floor. He didn’t think he had ever swam faster or kicked his legs harder than he did then. He broke the surface of the water and was relieved to see that the guards were at the ready to pull both himself and Billy up.

            Dopey pulled Billy up onto the dock completely while Sleepy merely helped Thorin get his arms on the edge so he could pull himself up. Then Sleepy turned his attention to Billy, patting his cheeks to try and wake him. When Thorin pulled himself up on the dock, Sleepy was muttering, “Not breathing!” over and over again, while Billy still laid there, still and unconscious. Growling, Thorin shoved the useless guards aside. He pressed his ear to Billy’s chest briefly before he began rhythmically pressing against it with both hands, a trick he had learned as a boy.

            A couple minutes passed and Thorin was beginning to give up hope when, to his relief, Billy finally coughed and sputtered. Thorin instantly turned him onto his side and Billy threw up all the water he had inhaled and drank. Thorin sat back on his heels, resting his hands on his thighs. He hung his head tiredly, the adrenaline slowly seeping from his body, being replaced by the wet and cold. He moved his arms and grimaced. His jacket was never comfortable when it was wet, and he had just gone swimming in it. He knew he would be chafed later. Thinking about his jacket reminded him that he no longer had his hat on and he worriedly searched for it. He breathed another sigh of relief when he saw it sitting just a few feet away on the dock, thankfully dry. Unfortunately, his relief was short lived as suddenly the dock was filled with more guards and people wearing uniforms.

            Bilbo remembered thinking he was going to die, when he first fell in. He had refused to give up though, trying with all his might and all his tricks to get out of the cuffs so he might have some chance. When the pirate had jumped in after him, he allowed himself to hope that he might be saved. Then, his vision started to dim and his lungs started burning. He realized he was going to pass out soon and he caught the pirate’s eyes, his hope swiftly draining away. Something the pirate saw in his eyes spurred the man on and he began to swim faster. But it wasn’t fast enough. Bilbo felt himself hit the sea floor and then he lost consciousness. His last thought was that he hoped being unconscious would mean he didn’t feel himself drowning.

            Finding himself on the dock alive, albeit very wet and cold, was a surprise to Bilbo. When he was finished throwing up, he slowly lifted himself up, looking around. He glared at the guards, who were standing over him now with amazed expressions. And the pirate, his savior, was on his knees next to him. Bilbo carefully shifted, pulling his legs up under him so he was copying the pirate’s pose and facing him. The pirate wasn’t looking at him, instead focusing on something else on the dock. Bilbo followed his gaze and saw a hat, sitting by itself further down the dock. Bilbo recognized it as the hat the pirate had been wearing.

            Bilbo opened his mouth, wanting to thank him, but then he heard the frenzied bootsteps of several men. He turned his head just as more guards surrounded him and the pirate, their bayonets pointed at them. Bilbo groaned. This day was just getting better for him.

            The circle of guards opened then to allow another man through. Bilbo had never seen the man before, but the pirate obviously had for he instantly cursed and tried to get to his feet. The guards standing behind him each placed a hand on his shoulders and forcibly held him down. Frowning, Bilbo studied the man. There wasn’t anything spectacular about him that Bilbo could see, beyond the blue and gold uniform that marked him as someone of importance. He was wearing the same white wig that every other important person wore and besides the scar by his right eye, he was rather ordinary. But judging by the sneer he leveled at the pirate made it clear that he knew him as well.

            “Well, if it isn’t Thorin Oakenshield,” the man said, not even bothering to contain his smugness. The pirate, Thorin, glared up at the man, refusing to be cowed by him. “It’s been a long time, hasn’t it, Oakenshield?” Thorin refused to answer, but Bilbo could see him clenching his jaw, the only sign that he was restraining himself and his anger.

            When the man suddenly turned to face Bilbo, Bilbo struggled to remain calm and not flinch from the man’s gaze. The man snapped his fingers and Bilbo was pulled to his feet. “And who is this then, that you would risk your life and lose your chance to escape to save him?”

            “He’s no one!” Thorin said. Azog sighed and snapped his fingers again. One guard immediately hit the back of Thorin’s head with the butt of his rifle. Thorin hissed at the pain and dropped his head.

            “Who. Are. You?” Azog repeated slowly.

            Bilbo gulped and said, nervously, “My name is Billy Potts, sir.”

            “Billy, eh? So, Billy boy, what did he promise you to help him steal my ship?”

            Bilbo gasped, insulted. “I beg your pardon, sir, but I was not helping him steal the ship! I was trying to stop him, before your guards cuffed us both!”

            When the man unexpectedly stepped close to Bilbo, leaning down so they were face to face, Bilbo did flinch. But seeing the man smile in response angered him again and he straightened back up. He held the man’s gaze fearlessly and unwavering for several seconds. Then, the man straightened up and backed away again and Bilbo felt like he could breathe. He slumped, feeling exhausted, and would have dropped to his knees if one of the guards had not grabbed his arm to hold him upright.

            Thorin watched the scene with mixed feelings. He could respect anyone who could face Azog and Billy was doing just that. When Azog moved closer to the man, trying to intimidate Billy by getting into his face, Thorin saw Billy flinch and started struggling against the guards’ hold. Unfortunately, the guards didn’t loosen their grips at all and he found himself sitting by, helplessly watching the battle of wills. Finally, Azog ended it and backed away from Billy. Seeing the man crumble in on himself as Azog walked away set Thorin off again, but before he could move Azog had snapped his fingers again and the guards were hauling him to his feet.

            “Put them in separate cells!” Azog ordered, not looking back as he walked away.

            Thorin caught Billy’s gaze as they were pushed forward and Thorin was once again struck with those mixed feelings. His respect for the man had already replaced the disdain he had original felt upon meeting Bilbo, but now he was worried about the man. And on top of that, he was confused and didn’t understand why he was worrying about the man to begin with. He was just a stranger, someone who had tried to get in his way. Yet, Thorin had not given a second thought to doing just as Azog had said, risking his life and throwing away his chance at escape to save his life. And now, seeing the fear in Billy’s eyes again, protective feelings were rising in him. Thorin was no expert on feelings, certainly not his own, and his anger rose up over everything else in response to the chaos.

            Bilbo’s face fell as Thorin’s brows furrowed angrily and he jerked his head away from him. He didn’t know why the pirate was angry at him all of a sudden but it hurt, which made no sense as they were still strangers to each other. Maybe it was because Thorin had saved his life and Bilbo had begun to trust him. It didn’t matter anyway, it seemed as though Azog was not going to listen to them. Whatever sentence he planned for Thorin, Bilbo was sure he would suffer it as well. And so, while being led away to the jail, Bilbo began planning his escape.

Chapter Text

            Bilbo had never been inside a jail cell before, because he had never been arrested before. So, naturally, while he was confident in his abilities to pick any lock and sneak past anyone, he wasn't sure if those abilities would be enough. He remained calm as he was led through town, his head down to avoid anyone's gaze. He could hear the whispers and he felt his face burn in shame. He had always done his best to stay on the good side of the law. Not knowing anything of his previous life, he had been surprised to find that he had certain skills that pointed towards a life of crime. He had decided then, that no matter what he had done in his previous life, he would be a good person in his new life. And for the most part, he had succeeded. Now though, it looked as if he would be breaking out of jail.

            He felt sudden tears burn in his eyes at the thought of never returning to Port Royal. But, after he got out of the mess he was in, he would not be able to return. It would be too risky, even if he disguised himself. He sniffed back his tears and heard someone huff. He turned his head towards the sound and found Thorin staring at him, obviously still angry. Bilbo frowned at him, wondering what his problem was. Thorin sneered at him and then turned away from him. Bilbo desperately wanted to ask what his problem was, but knew that was not the time for such things.

            They finally made it to the jail, at which point Azog left them to the guards. Bilbo could breathe easier once he was gone and as he studied the cells, he noticed the locks on them all were very simple and could easily be picked. He barely managed to contain his grin as his cuffs were loosened and removed. His good feelings were ripped away when the guards began searching him. He shouted at them, but they ignored him. He was thankful he had stowed his bag away before he started following Thorin, for he never carried anything of value on himself. Then, the guard grabbed his necklace and ripped it away from his neck. Bilbo threw himself towards the guard, reaching for his necklace, but another guard easily grabbed him and held him back.

            "No! Give it back! It's just a gem, I can't do any harm with it, please!" Bilbo pleaded, still struggling with the guard. The one holding his necklace laughed and pocketed the gem.

            Thorin had been deliberately ignoring the other man as they walked through town. Besides the incident when he heard Billy sniff and Thorin had looked over to see him on the verge of tears, he had succeeded. He had been arrested before and knew the drill. He waited patiently as his cuffs were removed and then he was searched and stripped. He vaguely wondered if Sleepy and Dopey had remembered to hand his things over before they were led away. His jacket was being removed from him when he heard Billy shout. He glanced up to see that Billy was being searched several feet away and Thorin could tell from the look on his face that he had never been searched before. Thorin looked away, trying to study as much of the jail as he could for when he needed to escape, only to have his attention drawn to the other man again.

            This time Billy was begging and fighting with a guard who grabbed him from behind. Thorin frowned. Billy had been mostly composed since they had first met, just a short while ago. It seemed strange to Thorin that he would act like that over being searched, especially considering he had faced down Azog. Thorin followed Billy's gaze and saw another guard holding up a necklace. At first it didn't seem to be anything special, just a simple chain necklace many people used. Then Thorin saw what was hanging from it. It was a gem fragment. A fragment that he recognized. His breath caught in his chest and he felt faint for a moment. His legs began to collapse under him before he gathered himself again.

            He watched numbly as the guard put the necklace in his pocket, laughing at Billy as he continued to beg, though he no longer resisted. He was too busy thinking about the gem fragment to care that the guards were taking the coin and other small valuables and baubles he carried with him. Then, his attention was solely on Billy. He stared at him, continuing to stare as he was shoved into a cell. He stood close to the cell wall, clutching the bars tight with both hands. He watched as Billy was led to his own cell, which unfortunately for him was not one of the cells next to him. Still, the cell between them was empty so he could see Billy clearly. Where before he had felt disdain when he saw the man was crying, now he felt sorry for the man as he was clearly upset from having the necklace taken. But above all that was his sudden, desperate need to know who this man really was. And how he had gotten that gem.

             He waited until all but one guard, fortunately the guard who had taken the necklace, had left the jail to try to sate his curiosity. During that time, he really studied Billy. Now that he was not concerned with stealing the ship, saving his life, facing Azog, and being arrested and searched, he could admit that Billy was attractive. Certainly not handsome, but attractive. Warm, brown eyes shone bright on a dirty face. Black hair that needed a good wash and brush was pulled back into a ponytail. Thorin normally preferred blondes but he had nothing against black hair.

            Thorin scowled and shook his head hard to clear it of such thoughts. It was not the time, nor place, to even be contemplating such things. Especially about someone he didn't know, who just happened to have something from Thorin's past. He looked at Billy's clothes, but there was nothing special about them. A dirty white shirt and plain brown breeches, both made of rough cotton, were nothing special. His shoes were the same kind that all poor people wore. Besides that necklace, he was just like any other person.

            When they were finally alone, besides the guard who was choosing to take a nap rather than do his job, Thorin made his move. He searched the floor of his cell and found a few small rocks. He tossed first one rock, then another, through the empty cell and into Billy's. Each rock made a noise as it landed and Thorin checked on the guard after each one. To his luck, the guard was not a light sleeper and didn't so much as twitch as each rock hit the floor. But Billy did not move, still standing and staring at the floor motionlessly. Thorin picked up a few more rocks and this time tried to get his attention by hitting him instead of the floor. Even then, it still took three rocks before Billy lifted his head.

            Bilbo was reeling in shock as the guards finished searching him and then put him into the cell. He had never been without his necklace. Never been without the gem. His neck felt lighter, too light without it. No matter how hungry or thirsty he had been at times, he had never once thought about selling or trading the gem. It was all he had of his previous life, of his family. Suddenly without it, he felt lost and alone. Nothing registered to him, not the loud clang as the cell door was shut and locked behind him. He stood in the cell, hanging his head. He was lost in his shock, until he felt something hit his leg. He blinked and noticed several rocks lying all around him. Confused, he lifted his head.

            "Psst! Master Potts!"

            He turned his head towards the voice, his mind slowly processing that it was Thorin, the pirate, calling him. He met Thorin's gaze through the bars. Thorin beckoned him closer and Bilbo moved without thinking, stepping up to the bars directly in front of Thorin. Even with the empty cell between them, Bilbo could see the intensity in Thorin's eyes. He hadn't taken the time on the ship to give it much thought, but Thorin was very handsome. Bilbo had always been a sucker for blue eyes and black hair. Bilbo would later blame his shock on what he did next.

            "You have beautiful eyes," he said, meaning it despite how the confession just slipped out.

            Thorin jerked back, blushing even as he cursed. "Now's not the time for any nonsense, halfling!" Bilbo bristled at the insult, but Thorin was speaking again before he could respond. "That necklace, that gem, where did you get it?"

            Bilbo"s hand leapt up to his chest, where the gem usually laid. He dropped his hand like it had been burned when he remembered that it was no longer there. He swallowed heavily and struggled to gather his wits. "t's just a trinket. Probably fake, too, but it's a pretty thing so I like to wear it," he said, trying to sound like he didn't really care about the gem he had just been begging to have back.

            To his surprise, Thorin growled and slammed his hand against the bars. "It is no mere trinket, halfling! Where did you get it?"

            Bilbo's eyes widened and he backed away from the bars. "You . . . you know what it is?" he asked breathlessly.

            Thorin cursed in a language Bilbo didn't recognize. "Where. Did. You. Get. It."

            Bilbo shook his head, terrified. So many years spent running and hiding the gem, and just his luck that he would run into someone who knew something about the gem. He kept backing away until his back hit the bars on the other side of the cell. "It's just a trinket, nothing more," he repeated defiantly.

            "Curse you, where did you get it?!" Thorin shouted.

            Bilbo opened his mouth but froze when the guard jerked awake with a shout. Thorin's head whipped around as the guard stood up and remembered where he was. He grabbed his bayonet and stepped up to the cells.

            "You two! Commodore said you aren't to talk to each other!" He raised his bayonet threateningly towards Thorin, who snorted and rolled his eyes. The guard, angered by his disdain, shoved his bayonet through the bars, trying to stab Thorin. Thorin jumped back, just fast enough to keep from being stabbed.

            "Leave him be!" Bilbo yelled, rushing back to the opposite side of the cell. The guard backed away from Thorin's cell and made his way to Bilbo's. Bilbo swallowed and backed away from the bars. The guard stopped in front of his cell and he sneered at Bilbo.

            Suddenly, the guard reached into his pocket and pulled out Bilbo's necklace. Bilbo gasped and involuntarily reached for it, stepping close to the bars. The guard snatched the necklace out of his reach, laughing cruelly. He pocketed it and turned away from Bilbo. He sauntered back to his chair and sat down heavily, immediately reaching for a bottle of rum hidden under the table.

            Dejected, Bilbo backed up away from the bars. When his legs hit the cot in his cell, he slowly sank down onto it. He refused to cry again, but tears flooded his eyes anyway. He sniffed them back and tried to focus on escaping again. After several minutes of his mind running in circles, he gave up. He couldn't think straight. Giving in to the exhaustion beating at his brain, and his body, he laid down on the cot. He shifted, trying to find a comfortable position. Eventually he settled for curling up in a ball, his hands clasped together over his chest where the gem should have been. He closed his eyes and to his relief, sleep came easy.

             Thorin watched the shorter man sink into himself again after the guard walked away. It was obvious that despite what he had said, the necklace, the gem, was very important to him. Whether he knew what the gem was and understood its importance or not, Thorin planned to find out later. But first they had to get out. He stayed standing and went back to examining his cell. He wasn't proficient at picking locks, but he was a capable blacksmith and he was strong. He had broken out of jails before by breaking hinges or bending bars. It wasn't terribly sneaky but he worked with what he had.

             An hour passed, according to the sun, and Thorin had learned everything he could about the cell and the jail itself from within his cell. He would have to take his chances with his limited knowledge. Knowing he would need a clear mind and strong arms to make an escape attempt, he laid down on the cot. He had not gotten decent sleep since he left his home, and for what he was planning to do he would have preferred a good night's rest beforehand. Unfortunately, it was only a few hours from nightfall, when he would have to make his move. It would have to be enough. He stretched out on his side facing away from the wall. It wouldn't do for him to have his back turned if someone were to barge into his cell while he was sleeping.

            In that position, he was staring straight at the cell door. And then he suddenly found himself lifting his head to look at Billy. His heart clenched at the sight of the man, curled up on a cot with no blanket or pillow. He could see Billy was holding his hands up against his chest, even in his sleep, and Thorin's suspicion, and concern, grew. He spent the next several minutes staring at Billy's face, memorizing every detail, before sleep finally came for him.

            Thorin awoke instantly when the first cannonball rocked the fort. His body reacted before his mind could catch up, rolling off the cot to lay flat on the floor in seconds. That was all it took for a second and third cannonball to hit somewhere. Thorin could feel the building shake with each impact. He glanced outside the cell and smirked when he saw the guard was gone, but for whatever reason he had left his coat hanging on the back of his chair. Guessing that the jail wasn't being aimed at, yet, he climbed back onto the cot. Standing up on it, he could see out the small window cut into the stone. It was dark and with all the smoke and fire drifting through the air, he couldn't see clearly what or who was firing at the fort. But as he watched, more cannonballs hit the port and the town itself. Whoever it was wasn't going after just the fort, they were attacking the whole town.

            Thorin gasped in shock when the smoke cleared and he could see the ship clearly. "Erebor," he whispered.

            "What is that?"

            Thorin somehow managed not to jump at the unexpected question, turning his head towards the speaker. He hadn't even noticed that Billy was awake and staring out of his own window. Thorin thought it was cute how he had to stretch up on his toes to reach the window, but wisely kept that to himself. Instead, he looked back out the window before he answered. "It's the Erebor. Fastest ship on the seas." He heard Billy gasp and glanced over at him. The man was staring at him, slack jawed. "What?" he growled, annoyed.

            Billy snapped his mouth shut before he said, "I've heard of the Erebor. Said to be a great ship, passed down from generation to generation in a family of pirates, the Durins. Until it was taken by Smaug, the one they call the Dragon. No one knows what happened to the Durins after that, but Smaug still roams the seas terrorizing and building his hoard of treasure."

            Thorin looked back out the window. "I didn't know that story was still told. I thought we had been forgotten," he said softly.

            Billy gasped again, earning another glare from Thorin. "What do you mean 'we'? You're one of them? One of the Durins?" Thorin nodded wordlessly and Billy frowned. "That's why you were looking for a ship, isn't it? You're going after Smaug. To get your ship back."

            "My home, Master Potts. The Erebor is much more than a ship, it is my home. I grew up on it, was born on it, same as everyone else in my family going back generations," Thorin explained solemnly. Billy had no response and the silence was cut only by more canon blasts.

            Bilbo wasn't sure what to say. He had heard the stories, everyone he had ever met had heard them, of the Durins and the Erebor and Smaug. He had never thought he would run into one of them, let alone be in jail with one of them. He looked back out the window and watched the ship quickly dock. Distracted by that, he didn't notice Thorin moving until he heard metal and wood creaking. He turned his head and stared at Thorin, who he guessed was trying to pull the cell door off its hinges or something. Bilbo shook his head and hopped down off the cot.

            He watched Thorin struggling with the bars for a few minutes before he finally had enough. Sighing, he threw his hands up in the air and shouted, "The blasted ship will be blasting down the wall by the time you pull that door down!"

            Without stopping, Thorin shouted back, "What else do you suggest, Master Potts!"

            "I can get us both out of here!" At that, Thorin actually stopped and turned to face him. Bilbo was pleased to see the look of shock and surprise on Thorin's face, but it quickly morphed into disdain as Thorin sneered at him. "I can," Bilbo repeated, crossing his arms to hide how his fists had clenched with the urge to punch the disdain right off the pirate's face.

            Thorin shook his head and turned back to the cell door. "You look like a grocer, not a burglar, and it's obvious you've never been arrested or seen the inside of a jail before. How are you going to get us out?"

            Bilbo gaped at the man, who had returned to trying to pull the door off its hinges, before his anger ignited and he set his jaw determinedly. Rather than waste time arguing with the oaf, he could still hear cannon blasts in the distance and he knew every second the Erebor was moving closer to shore, if it hadn't reached it already, he hurried to his own cell door.

            He reached up and pulled a pin out of his hair, grateful the guards hadn't thought to search his hair. Ignoring Thorin, he quickly picked the lock on his cell door. When it swung open, the sounds coming from Thorin's cell stopped and Bilbo hid a smirk as he walked out. He hurried over to the guard's jacket and searched through the pockets frantically. He cried out in relief when he found his necklace. He held the gem up and looked it over, making sure it had not been damaged, before he slipped the chain around his neck and tucked the gem under his shirt. After that, it only took a few minutes to find his things in what he assumed to be an evidence chest. He hurried to close the chest before something caught his eye.

            Seeing Thorin's things in the chest made him feel guilty and he turned around to face the cells. Thorin was standing still, his hands clenched around the cell bars as he watched Bilbo gather his things. He obviously expected to be left behind, if the anger on his face and the hopelessness in his eyes could be trusted. And for a moment, Bilbo considered just leaving him. He actually turned away from him and had taken a step when his conscience caught up with him. He sighed and closed his eyes, thinking to himself. He spent precious time he knew he didn't have debating it, with cannonballs rocking the jail every minute.

            There were merits to setting Thorin free, he supposed. Bilbo had always tried to be a good person and look out for others. But Thorin had just admitted he was part of one of the most notorious pirate families in history, only surpassed by Smaug himself. So a jail was where he belonged. But Thorin had spoken so honestly and painfully of his family and his home, which had been taken from him. He hadn't said much about it, but there was so much pain and truth in the few words he did use that Bilbo's heart ached for him. And then there was his gem.

            Bilbo's hand lifted and touched the gem through his shirt. He seemed to know about the gem. After so many years of running and hiding it away, he finally found someone who might know about it. Logically, that meant maybe he knew something about Bilbo's family and where he came from, who he was. His gut instantly shouted at him that he had to keep it hidden and safe, but he was reminded again of how long he had been running and hiding from everyone and everything. And he realized just how tired of it all he was.

            That's what decided it for him. He would set Thorin free, on the condition that the pirate take him with him wherever he was going and he would tell him what he knew about the gem.

            His mind decided, Bilbo wasted no more time. He was at the cell door in seconds, surprising Thorin who jumped back away from the bars. Bilbo raised an eyebrow at him and then said, as forcefully and confidently as he could, "I will get you out, if and only if, you agree to take me with you and tell me what you know about my gem."

            Thorin stared in shock down at the shorter man through the bars. He had not been expecting that. He had watched, surprised, Billy quickly and easily pick his cell door and he had expected the man to grab his things and then leave him there. It's what he would have done, had he been in Billy's place. But the man surprised him again by stopping after taking one step. He could tell by Billy's body language that he was warring with himself and to Thorin's shame he found himself holding his breath and hoping. And when Billy turned around and came back to his cell, back to him, he barely managed to hold in his smile. But his relief was short lived.

            "What?" he almost shouted, his anger returning. "Get me out of here, halfling!"

            Billy frowned at him and took a step back. "If you call me that again, I really will leave you here. Understood?"

            Thorin cursed and yanked on the bars in frustration. "Get. Me. Out. Of. Here."

            Billy shook his head. "Not until I have your word that you will take me with you and share whatever information you have on this gem."

            Thorin slammed his hand against the bar and shouted, "Get me out of here!"

            Billy sighed and crossed his arms. "Every second you waste yelling at me is another second we don't have to get out of here. Now, you're strong and you could probably break or bend these bars if given enough time, but time you don' have. So you're best bet is to take my deal and work with me."

            Thorin sneered. "What do you get out of this deal?"

            Billy licked his lips and swallowed before he said, "You know something about this gem," Billy indicated his chest, where the gem still lay. "I need that information," he admitted, lowering his gaze.

            Thorin frowned and his anger faded at how desperate and, maybe, afraid Billy sounded. Before he had time to think about it further, a cannon ball rocked the jail again, with much more strength than the previous ones. Billy stumbled and shouted as the ground shook underneath them. Thorin, used to the sound of cannon fire, froze. That blast sounded close, much too close. He rushed back to his cot and looked out the window, cursing at what he saw. Behind him, Billy was frantically asking questions and calling his name. Thorin got down off the cot and moved back to the cell door.

            "I will do anything you ask, but you we have to get out of here, now!"

            Billy immediately set to work picking the lock. Without lifting his head, he asked, "It's close, isn't it?"

            "Aye, it's reached shore now. Their cannons are aimed straight at us now. We have to hurry." Right as the last word left his mouth, the door swung open. Billy stepped back and shot him a grin. Thorin resisted the urge to grin back and stepped around him, hurrying to get his things. The guards, despite being jackasses, had handled his things with care and everything was there. Even his hat, which he eagerly put on. His jacket was still wet, but he put it on anyway. He would have to check the rest if his things for water damage later, especially his gun, but now he didn't have the time. Another cannonball rocked the jail as he was putting his boots back on. Finished, he stood up and looked over at Billy, who had stayed back away from him while he outfitted himself.

            Some silent communication happened when Billy met his gaze, and together they started running towards the exit.

Chapter Text

            Outside, it was chaos. Bilbo gasped as his senses were overwhelmed. He had heard the cannon blasts inside the jail, but the thick walls had muffled anything else even from his sensitive ears. Those same were now assaulted by various noises, gunshots and screams being the loudest besides the cannon blasts. He flinched, resisting the urge to cover his ears. If Thorin noticed, he didn't say anything. People were running in all directions, both townspeople and guards, several running past them going in or out of the jail. Bilbo figured the townspeople were hoping to find protection inside the jail and he had to stop himself from grabbing each person as they ran past to tell them they wouldn't be safe. They didn't have time for him to be a hero.

            Thorin suddenly grabbed his arm and started running, dragging him along. Bilbo didn't try to pull away, too focused on what was happening around them as they ran. He had seen people at the jail, but it was worse seeing them in town, where there were pirates chasing anyone they saw, brandishing swords and shooting guns everywhere. Bilbo felt no shame in hiding behind Thorin every time he saw a pirate coming their way, not only because Thorin was larger but also because Thorin had drawn his sword and had no qualms about cutting down every pirate that crossed their path. Bilbo wasn't knowledgeable or experienced in combat, but he could tell Thorin was. Each move was practiced and fluid as he moved his sword. Bilbo also found his opinion of Thorin shifting, again, as he realized that Thorin was wasting no time dealing with the pirates. Each thrust or swing was calculated and deadly, confusing Bilbo as to just how he felt about the man.

            They had been running for just a few minutes when he realized they weren't heading for the harbor. Confused, Bilbo grabbed Thorin's jacket to get his attention and said, "Where are you taking us? Shouldn't we be trying to get out of here?" To his surprise, Thorin managed to hear him over all the din surrounding them. He pulled into an empty alley, looking all around even as he spoke.

            "You want to try to sail out of here while there's a ship out there firing at anything that moves?"

            Bilbo blushed, both angry and embarrassed by Thorin's disdainful tone. "It would be dangerous, but wouldn't it be better to get the ship now while everyone is distracted?" Thorin slowed down, appearing to consider Bilbo's words. Then after a minute, he shook his head and resumed his hurried pace.

            "No, it's not worth it. I know how to steal a ship, but we wouldn't stand a chance against those cannons if we tried to leave now. Our best bet is to hide out somewhere until this is over."

            Bilbo supposed that made sense so he simply asked, "So where will we hide out?"

            "The forge."

            Bilbo frowned but hurried to catch up as Thorin set off at a run again. "Why the forge?" Thorin stopped and turned to face him, scowling.

            "Do you have to ask so many questions when we're in danger?" Another cannon blast hitting a building near them punctuated his words and Bilbo swallowed, realizing Thorin was right. They didn't have time. Bilbo nodded and Thorin sighed before he resumed running.

            Bilbo followed Thorin through town again, his heart clenching again and again every time someone ran past them screaming or crying for help. And then a second later his heart would stop when Thorin felled another pirate. And then finally, to his surprise, Thorin stopped again. Cursing, he spun in circles, looking all around. Confused, Bilbo copied him, trying to see what he saw. And then Bilbo noticed that they weren't anywhere near the forge. Frowning, Bilbo looked up at Thorin and realized he looked slightly desperate. Bilbo gaped and blurted out, "You're lost!" 

            Thorin's jaw clenched and he didn't respond. Bilbo closed his eyes and cursed. Opening his eyes, he stepped in front of Thorin and crossed his arms where he stood. Thorin looked down at him, his face impatient and angry. He opened his mouth but Bilbo cut him off. "You don't know where you're going, do you?"

            Thorin's face hardened and he inhaled deeply before he growled at him. "I have been in this town before, Master Potts."

            "Yet we are heading the wrong way," Bilbo pointed out, raising an eyebrow. He swore he saw Thorin's nostrils flare and the man opened his mouth. Bilbo lifted his hand, palm forward, and Thorin's mouth snapped closed. Bilbo sighed and rubbed his temples. "I know where the forge is, come on." He grasped Thorin's hand in his and hurried off in the right direction, ignoring the look Thorin shot him.

            As soon as Bilbo started off, he realized how stupid his idea was. He had no weapons and wasn't scary looking, so he really didn't need to be in front. But he wanted to get inside somewhere as soon as possible. As he ran, he hoped and prayed they would make it to the forge without any incident. Someone must have been listening to him, because they were at the forge in just a couple minutes and the only people they saw were more townspeople or guards.

            Bilbo grinned when he saw the forge. His relief gave him a boost of speed and he sprinted for the front door. He reached for the handle without stopping, expecting the door to open. Only to, instead, slam into the door. He bounced off it and would have fallen had Thorin not been behind him. As Thorin helped him stand up straight, Bilbo saw the chain looped around the handles he hadn't seen in his hurry. He swore under his breath as Thorin moved past him. He tested the door himself and then, without preamble, gave it one good yank. Bilbo's eyes widened as the chains broke and crashed to the ground, then Thorin was pulling the door open. Thorin smirked at Bilbo's amazed expression and gestured for him to enter first. Bilbo shut his mouth and cleared his throat, then he hastily stepped inside the forge. Thorin glanced about, checking for guards or pirates, before he followed him inside.

            Inside, Bilbo stopped a few feet from the door and looked around the forge. The interior was dark, but the moonlight streaming in through the windows and the fire still burning in the furnace provided just enough light for him to see. He had been inside forges before, not this one particular, but it didn't look very different from the others he had seen. Except for the empty bottles lying around, cluttering up any available space. He frowned upon seeing the bottles and unconsciously stepped backwards until he bumped into the door. Maybe the forge wasn't the best idea, if whoever owned it was a drunk. He looked all around, wondering if he would be better off hiding somewhere else. But then Thorin brushed past him and started moving around the forge. Bilbo's curiosity arose and he squinted his eyes, trying to follow Thorin as he moved around. 

            Thorin's eyes adjusted quickly to the darkness. He waited a moment, looking all around the forge. He grimaced when he saw the bottles littered all over. He had met the blacksmith years ago, on one of his few trips to Port Royal. It had been right after his family had lost the Erebor, when he had been traveling and looking for work. He had been both disgusted and impressed with the blacksmith, a meaty man who drank and ate too much but still managed to create decent and, occasionally, good wares. Looking at all the bottles, Thorin figured that the drunk was still working.

            Thorin grit his teeth as he remembered his altercation with the man. He shook his head and moved further into the forge. Though he disliked the blacksmith, he couldn't stop himself from tidying up, putting things back where they belonged. He still remembered where everything was meant to go. After that, he checked the double doors on the other side of the forge. He nodded approvingly when he found them locked tight with another heavy chain.

            Finished, he turned around and found Billy watching him. He sighed heavily and awkwardly rubbed his neck. He wasn't good with conversation. Several seconds passed, the awkward silence between cut only by the clamor from outside. Then, another cannon blast sounded and just seconds later they heard it hit something close by and the forge shook around them. Thorin cursed and Billy shouted, darting away from the door. Thorin involuntarily rushed forward and reached out for the smaller man. Billy crashed into him and Thorin gripped his shoulders to steady him before he jerked his hands away as if burned. Billy cleared his throat and backed up, looking anywhere but at Thorin.

           "So-sorry," Billy said.

            Thorin nodded stiffly. "You're welcome. We should be able to hole up here until morning. The blacksmith, while a coward and a drunk, isn't an idiot. He chained up the doors, after he set his donkey free outside, and then got away, probably as soon as he heard the first cannon blast." Something in Thorin's tone caught Billy's attention because his eyes snapped back to Thorin while he was speaking.

            "Why is he a coward? Do you know him?"

            "I was here, years ago, after we first lost the Erebor, looking for work. I had a . . . run-in, with him. He was a drunk back then, too." Thorin spun around, not willing to say more. He heard Billy shuffling his feet in the dirt behind him. Thorin sighed and shook his head. "I'll barricade the door we came in, but we need to be out of here as soon as dawn breaks. The pirates will be gone by then, but I don't want to be here when the blacksmith comes back." Billy didn't respond and turning back around, Thorin found him sitting cross-legged on the ground, one hand inside the neck of his shirt. Ignoring that, it only took him a few minutes to find another heavy chain and lock the door with it.

            Feeling slightly confident they would be safe until morning, Thorin began searching around for something to occupy himself for the next few hours. He had just found a chair to sit in and pulled out his sword, intending to give it some maintenance, when Billy very loudly, and deliberately, cleared his throat. Thorin ignored it, until Billy did it again. He lifted his head just enough to look at Billy, glowering at him from under his brow. Billy fidgeted but didn't look away from him.

            "Since we're going to be here awhile, would you tell me what you know about . . . this?" Billy asked, his voice quivering. He took his hand out of his shirt and gestured at his chest, where Thorin assumed the Arkenstone rested. Thorin tensed, inhaling sharply. Billy licked his lips nervously and then climbed to his feet. Dusting off his clothes, he moved towards Thorin cautiously."That was our deal, remember?"

            Thorin nodded slowly. "Aye, I remember."

            "Well, good then," Billy muttered, wringing his hands together. He stopped a few feet in front of Thorin's chair. "If we're going to be together for a while, we need to trust each other. Talk to each other."

            "Aye. But that is a conversation I would rather have when we are not surrounded by pirates and guards. It is not a short story."

            Billy's brow furrowed and his nose twitched. Thorin had a fleeting thought about how cute that was before Billy opened his mouth to speak, only to be cut off by another cannon blast. Billy's mouth snapped closed and he huffed. "Fine. But as soon as we are out of here, you are going to tell me everything." Thorin nodded in compliance and Billy exhaled heavily. He looked around restlessly before exclaiming, "Ah ha!" Then he dashed away.

            Thorin resisted the urge to follow him and turned back to his sword. He heard rustling and then Billy was beside him, carrying a bucket to sit on. After he sat down, Thorin glanced sideways at him. Billy was leaning forward, his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands. Several minutes passed as Thorin sharpened his sword and Billy stayed still and silent. If Thorin hadn't been acutely aware of the other man being there, he likely would have forgotten he was there.

            Bilbo had no problem waiting, content to enjoy what little peace the blacksmith's shop afforded from the pandemonium outside. Thorin apparently had other ideas, because after almost half an hour, he sheathed his sword and spoke.

            "It's gone quiet outside. The pirates will likely be gone soon."

            "Shouldn't we leave as soon as they're gone? Before Azog or the guards have a chance to get re-organized?" Bilbo asked, lifting his head.

            Thorin contemplated the idea for several seconds before he acknowledged it was a good idea. "We will need to see which way the Erebor is going to make sure we do not inadvertently go the same way. We don't want Smaug thinking we are following him. It will be difficult manning a ship by ourselves but we just have to make it back to my home. I have a crew waiting there."

            Bilbo perked up and twisted around on the bucket to face him. "You have a crew? Are they Durins, too?" Thorin's face tightened at his inquiry and he nodded. Bilbo frowned as something occurred to him. "Why are you here alone if you have crew?"

            Thorin swallowed heavily and said, "Port Royal wasn't my first destination when I set out. I met with . . . other captains, who were loyal to my family when we had the Erebor. I went to ask for help in reclaiming it."

            "And, did they agree?"

            Thorin didn't answer for a moment. Then, he suddenly muttered something Bilbo didn't understand, but recognized as a curse, and swiftly stood up. He paced for a few minutes, growling and grumbling with each step. After a couple minutes, Bilbo was fed up and he shot to his feet and planted himself directly in front of Thorin. Thorin hadn't been expecting that and he came to an abrupt halt before he crashed into Bilbo. Thorin's face was thunderous as he glared down at Bilbo but Bilbo refused to be frightened. "That's quite enough of that, thank you very much!"

            Thorin opened his mouth but Bilbo cut him off. "I am sorry that my questions angered you, though I can't imagine how it could have, but this fit you're throwing really is unnecessary. We have to talk to each other, and since we will be together for a long while we might as well get used to each other and get to know each other! We have to trust each other or we won't get very far alive!" Bilbo paused to take a breath and calm himself before he said, "Now, would you please explain to me what upset you?"

            Thorin sucked in a deep breath, held it for several seconds, and then blew it out slowly, visibly steadying himself. "They will not help us," he said succinctly. Bilbo gasped, shocked.

            "But you said they were loyal to you! Why will they not help?"

            "They say it is our quest, and ours alone. They will not risk themselves or their ships and crews going against Smaug," Thorin explained in a low voice.

            Bilbo huffed in annoyance and crossed his arms over his chest. "Well, they're not very loyal then, are they?" he muttered under his breath. If Thorin heard him, he didn't react. Bilbo shook his head and decided to drop that particular subject for another time, not wanting to upset Thorin any further. Changing the subject, he said, "I haven't heard anything outside in awhile. You think they're gone?"

            Thorin strode over to one of the windows and cautiously peeked outside. "I don't see any pirates outside, nor any guards. I can't see if the Erebor is still docked from here, but you're right, there hasn't been any blasts or gunfire so they're probably leaving, if they're not already gone. If we want to get closer now's probably our best chance."

            "Well, then let's go. I need to grab my bag before we leave though. I stashed it before I started following you."

            Thorin glanced at him as he walked to the door they had come in. "What could be so important in it that you would risk getting caught, or worse, for it?" he asked, bending down slightly to take the chain off the door.

            "My personal things! My brush, my clothes, my handkerchiefs-"

            "Handkerchiefs?" Thorin cut him off, disdain dripping from his voice. "Yes, handkerchiefs are very important. However would we survive without them?"

            Bilbo sniffed and scowled at Thorin's back, dutifully ignoring the way his muscles moved under his jacket. "Your attitude is not very nice, Master Oakenshield."

            Thorin didn't respond, then a second later he straightened and turned to face Bilbo, smirking as he held up the chain. "Do you really want to waste time lecturing me about my attitude?"

            Bilbo frowned up at him for a moment and then brushed past him. He grabbed the door handle and eased the door open a crack. He put his eye up to the crack and he felt Thorin come up behind him, leaning over him to look out as well. Bilbo blushed when he felt the weight of Thorin's body against his back. He carefully tried to inch away from him, but he was trapped between the door and Thorin's body. He resolutely turned his attention back to the outside, where all was still and silent.

           "We should go before someone comes along. It's still a few hours until dawn. Where is your bag, Master Potts?"

            Bilbo cleared his throat self-consciously before he responded. "I tied it to one of the posts at the dock, where no one would see it."

            "Where the water could get to it?"

            "The bag is made from leftover fabric scraps from ship sails. I made it myself years ago. It holds up amazingly well against rain and seawater. It should be fine, and everything inside should be dry. It will only take a moment for me to grab it."

            Thorin nodded above his head and then he was pulling the door open further. "You go first. Walk normally, keep your head down, stay in the shadows. We're more likely to attract attention if we're the only ones running about now that things have settled down." With that said, he slipped out past Bilbo, walking slowly as if he hadn't a care in the world.

            Bilbo frowned at his retreating figure for a moment before he followed him, forcing himself to walk at a sedate pace when he wanted to run. He got up next to Thorin and leaned over slightly, speaking just above a whisper to make sure only Thorin heard him ask, "Are you sure you know how to get to the dock?"

            Thorin didn't react, except for a slight clenching of his jaw that Bilbo was quickly becoming familiar with. He smothered a laugh, allowing himself a small smile as he walked. His smile didn't last long however, as he got a good look at the destruction the pirates had caused the town. Buildings were still burning and many had been completely destroyed, nothing left but wood and ashes. There was debris scattered throughout the streets. Animals roamed the streets loose, both farm animals such as goats and chickens and household pets, dogs and cats. But the worst were the bodies. Dead bodies laid bloody, burnt, and still all through the street. Bilbo had to swallow back vomit multiple times as they walked.

            Luckily, and surprisingly, for them, the only other people they encountered were townspeople who were searching through the destruction and looking for their friends and family among the dead. They were ignored completely and reached the dock in just a few minutes.

            Thorin's jaw was aching by the time they reached the dock. He had clamped his mouth shut first when Billy had teased him about his sense of direction, but with every step he took through the carnage, every body he passed, he had clenched his teeth harder and harder until he could hear his teeth crunching inside his head. No matter how many times he saw it, the ruin left behind by Smaug and his crew still horrified him. Then they reached the dock and he could smell the fresh air and the sea water and he felt like he could breathe again. He forced himself to relax his jaw as he scanned the dock, assessing what their next step would be. The Erebor was indeed gone and he could see no trace of it on the water. To his surprise, Smaug hadn't attacked the ships docked and the ship he had originally had his eyes on, the White Warg, was safe and intact.

            Seeing the dock was empty, he carefully pushed Billy in front of him. "Get your bag, meet me at the ship we met at," he instructed the shorter man. Billy glanced up at him and nodded before he dashed away. Thorin watched him for a few seconds before he made himself turn away and sprint to the White Warg.

            While the Erebor would always be his home, he could appreciate other ships as well. And the White Warg was an impressive ship, a sleek two-masted brig with fine lines that insured great speed and quick turns. And it was as deadly as it was fast, from what he could see, armed with several cannons on two decks and two swivel guns, much smaller cannons that swiveled on a fixed point to allow for a very wide arc of movement. Thorin boarded the ship and immediately set to work getting the ship ready to sail.

            He worked quickly and efficiently, his body moving through the motions automatically. He had grown up sailing and several years on land couldn't erase what was in his blood. He lost himself in the actions, his mind going back to his childhood and how things had once been. He was so lost that he didn't notice he was no longer alone until a small hand was covering his on the rope he was tying off. His head snapped up and he met Billy's eyes. So close to Billy's face, mere inches separating them, he realized just how warm and kind his brown eyes were. Billy held his gaze for a moment before he tentatively smiled, then pushed Thorin's hands off the rope and easily tied it off himself.

            Thorin glanced down at the knot, which was tied perfectly. He looked around and saw that while he had been distracted, Billy had been helping him get the ship ready. All sails were down and the wind was already filling them. He looked down at the man with surprise. "You know your way around a ship."

            Billy shrugged. "I've spent some time on them before," he said ambiguously. Then he turned around. "Dawn will be breaking soon, we need to go now."

            Thorin nodded and pulled his jacket off, setting it and his other things aside. "Aye. Help me raise the anchors."

            It took several minutes to raise each anchor. Thorin appreciated Billy's help, though he knew it was mostly his strength that was doing it. And if Thorin caught Billy staring at his arms a few more times, he would never admit to anyone that his chest puffed up and he deliberately flexed his muscles at random times just to see the man blush again. Finally, almost an hour had passed and the sun was rising. Thorin straightened up and wiped the sweat off his brow with his forearm. He looked over towards Billy, who was sweating and panting hard but hadn't complained once.

            "Can you handle the helm for a few minutes?" he asked, pulling a scrap of cloth from his pants pocket. Billy nodded, frowning. Thorin handed him the cloth before he bent over and tugged off his boots. "Good. I'll free us from the dock and you get us out of here."

            "How will you get back on the ship?" Billy wiped his face and neck with the cloth.

            Thorin grinned at the concern in Billy's voice. "I'll climb back up the rope." He ignored the way Billy's eyes cut to his arms and the blush that spread across his face and down his neck. "Don't worry about me, Master Potts. Just get us out to sea. I'll take it from there." Without waiting for a response, he turned and jogged off the ship, chuckling.

            He stepped onto the dock and immediately set to letting the mooring lines loose. He had just tossed the last rope away, just in time as the ship was already moving away from the dock, when he heard shouting. Turning, he grinned when he saw his two favorite guards, Sleepy and Dopey, running down the dock towards him. He gave them a sarcastic salute and then dived into the water. He came up for air several feet away from the ship, which had yet to gain speed. He swam hard to catch up and grasped at one of the mooring lines hanging free in the water. As soon as he had a good hold on it, he yelled out to Billy, who luckily heard him, and the ship instantly picked up speed.

Chapter Text

            Bilbo watched the side of the ship as he steered it out of port, anxiously waiting for Thorin. When Thorin finally hauled himself up and over the railing, Bilbo smiled and sighed in relief. Checking that the ship was clear and home free, he secured the wheel and hurried down to the deck to meet him. Without thinking, he threw himself at the pirate, who to his surprise caught him easily with a grunt of surprise. “You’re okay!” Bilbo said as he hugged Thorin’s waist, ignoring that Thorin’s soaked clothes were wetting him.

            Thorin held him for a moment before he cursed and pushed Bilbo away. “Of course I’m okay.”

            Slightly hurt but refusing to show it, Bilbo straightened his shirt with a huff. “Well excuse me for being worried about you.”
Thorin pushed his hair back from his face, scowling down at Bilbo. “Your concern was unnecessary but thank you anyway,” he said, the words stiff and insincere, and then he brushed past Bilbo. “We need to get to Tortuga.”

            “Why Tortuga?”

             Ignoring the question, Thorin searched through his jacket pockets for minute before he pulled out a compass. He nodded and in just a matter of minutes, he was at the helm, checking the compass and steering the ship the direction he wanted.

            Bilbo watched him from the deck, his curiosity burning alongside the irritation at being ignored. He waited, impatiently tapping his foot, until Thorin was finished. He opened his mouth to repeat his question, but Thorin never looked his way as he hurriedly gathered his things and disappeared into the captain’s quarters. Swearing, Bilbo leaned against the railing and rubbed his face with his hands. He resolved to get his question, and others, answered before noon that day.
Now that they were safe, relatively speaking, the adrenaline that had been keeping him going during their escape was quickly dissipating, leaving him hungry, thirsty, and exhausted in every way. He desperately needed food, drink, and a nap. Preferably in that order. He stared at the door Thorin had gone into for a long moment before he sighed and decided he needed to get to work. He got his bag and pulled out a set of clean, dry clothes and a small towel. Years spent on ships hadn’t erased his desire for cleanliness and neatness and he tried to think of a way to at least bathe himself. He spied several barrels sitting off the side and let out an excited yell when, upon checking them, discovered some of them held fresh water. He could go for days, even weeks, without having a proper bath or washing his clothes when he had to, but he always took any chance he got to get himself and his clothes clean.

            He started to dip hip his hands into one of the barrels but stopped himself before he could actually touch the water. “Think, Bilbo! Do you really need a bath right now?” he berated himself, pulling his hands back. But a second later, he swore and turned around to find a bucket. “Blast it, it’s been weeks since I’ve been clean, I am not passing this opportunity up when who knows when I’ll have the chance to do so again!”
His mind made up, he quickly found a bucket and a rag. He pulled a bar of soap out of his bag and filled the bucket, overjoyed at the prospect of being clean again. He grabbed the hem of his shirt, but before he pulled it off, he remembered he wasn’t alone. His need for privacy had also survived years of sailing and he was never naked in front of anyone, if it could be avoided. He looked over his shoulder and saw that Thorin was still in the captain’s quarters. Deciding to take his chance, he stripped out of his clothes, even taking off his underclothes.

            He hesitated over his necklace. Normally, he took it off to bathe so it didn’t get wet and ruined. But after being without it in jail, he didn’t want to take it off again, even just for a few minutes. After a few minutes standing there, he remembered that he was naked and he really needed a bath. So he took the chain off and tucked it safely away into his bag. Then, he tossed his dirty clothes out of the way and used the rag to wet himself all over, gasping softly because the water was cold. He scrubbed himself several times, until his skin was pink and raw, emptying and refilling the bucket with clean water three times, before he finally felt clean.

            There was one last thing he really wanted to do, so he dried off and slipped on a pair of clean pants fast. He poured the dirty water over the railing and refilled the bucket again. Then, setting the bucket on the deck, he dropped to his knees. With the towel and soap ready at his side, he closed his eyes and dipped his head into the bucket. He always hated this part, having to wash the dye and pomade out of his hair. He spent several minutes using the soap and his fingers to brush and wash his hair. Finally, when he could no longer see any dye on his fingers, he wrapped his hair in the towel, a trick he had perfected years ago, while he refilled the bucket for the last time. He rinsed his hair then before he felt his hair was sufficiently clean. He stood up and dried his hair, rubbing the towel all over his head vigorously until his hair no longer dripped. He dropped the towel and ran his fingers through his hair, smiling happily.

            He always missed his natural, curly, dirty-blonde hair when he spent a long time in disguise. Every day he went through the hassle of changing his hair, easily the part of disguising himself he hated the most. He used pomade, that he made himself from apples and other ingredients to give it a pleasant smell, to straighten his curls. He made his own dyes, some that lasted weeks and others that had to be reapplied daily. Sometimes he kept his hair cut short or even shaved. He absolutely hated those times the most, but he felt it was necessary for his disguises to have variety. It was a routine he had become accustomed to, but it was still something he loathed doing. He bit his lip, realizing that he had already unconsciously decided that he was going to be honest with Thorin.

            As if thinking about him had summoned him, Bilbo heard a curse in that rough, gravelly voice he wouldn’t admit he was coming to enjoy hearing, behind him. He gasped and spun around, instantly reaching down for his clean shirt.

            Thorin was surprised when Billy had ran and hugged him, and his surprise quickly turned to confusion when he said, “You’re okay!” For half a second, Thorin wanted to smile because Billy seemed so glad to see him. But he pushed that thought away, instead finding insult where there was none, which ignited his anger easily. It was no effort to catch and support the smaller man, but Thorin hadn’t been prepared for his reaction to being pressed up against Billy like that. He had automatically hugged Billy back, holding him tightly against him, and several seconds had passed before Thorin came to his senses and pushed Billy away, his anger growing and turning on himself for such a loss of control. He thought he saw hurt on Billy’s face but it disappeared so fast that he wasn’t sure if he imagined it or not.

            “Of course I’m okay,” he muttered. He wanted to turn away, but he found he couldn’t look away from those brown eyes, looking for any sign of the hurt he had glimpsed a moment before. But all he saw was irritation as Billy straightened his shirt, which was a useless endeavor considering the state the shirt was in.

            “Well excuse me for being worried about you!”

            Thorin once again felt that warmth and need to smile returning. To his horror, he almost let a smile slip before he schooled his face into a scowl. He pushed his hair back from his face and said, as terse as he could, “Your concern was unnecessary but thank you anyway.” That time he was sure he saw something flicker in Billy’s eyes before he moved past the man, heading for where he left his jacket. “We need to go to Tortuga.”

            “Why Tortuga?”

            Thorin ignored the question, though his mind helpfully reminded him that he was supposed to be honest and trust his new companion. But he just wasn’t in the mood for talking, not with his emotions roiling about inside him. He searched through his pockets, forgetting where he had put his compass in his earlier haste to escape. It only took a moment for him to find it, hidden away with other various things in one of his hidden pockets. He nodded and then stood up. He didn’t look at Billy as he went to the helm and steered the ship where he wanted, using the map in his memory to find the right direction. Once he was satisfied with where the ship was headed, he secured the wheel and turned to grab his things. He was surprised to see that Billy hadn’t followed him, but in his peripheral vision he could see him impatiently tapping his foot, obviously waiting to repeat his question. Thorin avoided looking at him and hurried to pick up his things before he escaped into the captain’s quarters.

            As soon as the door shut behind him, he leaned against it. He dropped his stuff and dropped his face into his hands, cursing at himself. His wet hair fell in waves around his head and he groaned as he lifted his head and brushed his hair back again. He didn’t want to think about what his hair looked like now, after getting wet and then drying without any proper brushing or care. He smiled briefly, remembering his sister, Dis, telling him he resembled a sheep dog after going swimming when they were kids. The memory, while sweet, also sends a pang of homesickness through him and he tiredly slides down the door until he is on the floor. He reached into his jacket pocket again, a special hidden one Dis had sewn into the inside of his jacket when he had told her he was leaving home. He always kept emergency coin, just in case he were to ever lose his coin purse, but he also kept something extremely important.

            He pulled out a waterproof bag and untied the knots holding it closed with practiced ease. Inside was small notebook out, which he carefully took out, checked for any damage, of which there was none, and opened it to the middle, smiling sadly when he saw the smiling faces of his nephews, Fili and Kili, staring back at him. It was just a simple sketch he did when they were little, done with nothing but a bit of charcoal and it’s lacking color or delicate details, but it looked like them. He flipped a few pages and found a more recent drawing of them, one done by someone with more artistic talent than him. In this one they’re standing side by side with their arms slung around the other. Thorin remembered that day, Fili was 17 and Kili was 15, and they were celebrating their mother’s birthday three years ago. On the next page Thorin found a drawing of himself and Dis from that same day, he wass standing behind her, hugging her, and they were both smiling.

            Thorin flipped through the book, losing track of time as he reminisced over each picture. When he finally closed the book, he had to take a moment to compose himself. After he wiped his eyes and cleaned his face with his shirt, he slipped the book back into its bag and tucked it back into the jacket pocket. “That’s enough moping, Oakenshield,” he told himself and stood up. He grimaced and decided that the first thing he was going to do was bathe and wash his clothes. He knew there was water on the ship somewhere, as he had picked this ship solely because it had been in the process of being prepared for voyage. He recognized when a ship was ready to sail and knew it was probably supposed to be Azog heading out on his first trip as commodore, which made stealing the ship that much sweeter to him.

            Smirking, he quickly search the room, going through the desk, the chest, and all the drawers in the room. He found plenty of things that would be useful, but what he was searching for specifically he found in the corner of the room on the washstand. He grinned triumphantly and snatched up the brand new bar of soap. Eager to bathe after several weeks not, he shoved the doors open and stepped out onto the deck. And standing shirtless by the rail to his right, was a man with curly, dark blonde hair he didn’t recognize.

            Thorin cursed loudly, regretting his decision to leave his sword behind, but before he could retreat back into the captain’s quarters, the man gasped and spun around, reaching down to grab his shirt. Thorin instantly recognized that face, though seeing it clean almost made it a completely different face. Thorin’s gaze jumped up to Billy’s hair, which was no longer black and dirty, but instead was clean and shiny.

            For an instant, Thorin’s confusion was replaced with adoration. He had always had a weak spot for blonde hair, specifically dark blonde hair that bordered on brown and in the right light shimmered and shined. Thorin shook his head hard, banishing those thoughts from his head, and he looked into Billy’s eyes, which were wide with fear. It was that fear that stayed Thorin’s tongue as his confusion turned to suspicion. “Billy, I think it’s time we had that talk,” he said as calmly as he could.

            Bilbo wasn’t sure how to respond so he bought himself time by pulling his shirt on. Thorin didn’t move or say anything else, waiting and watching him intensely. Bilbo struggled to not be intimidated and meet his gaze head on. He cleared his throat before he said, “Yes, I think so, too.”

            Thorin nodded and slowly approached Bilbo, who wasn’t sure his legs could move. Thorin stopped a couple feet in front of him and said, “You first.”
Bilbo licked his lips nervously and said in a quavering voice, “My name isn’t Billy Potts. It’s Bilbo. Bilbo Baggins.” He had wanted to say that for years, wanted to tell someone, anyone, who he really was. Finally admitting it made him feel light-headed and free, and he ducked his head, smiling. He lifted his head a second later to find Thorin frowning at him, obviously confused. “I’m sorry. It’s just, I’ve never told anyone my real name before.” Then Bilbo launched into a quick explanation of how he had been rescued at sea and how he had been living since then. Thorin stayed silent through it, and Bilbo found it easier to tell his story than he had thought it would be. He really was desperate to tell someone the truth.

            “And that’s why I was in Port Royal,” he finished a few minutes later. He took a deep breath in and exhaled slowly, feeling as if a weight had lifted off of him.

            “And the gem?” Thorin asked coolly.

            Bilbo nodded. “I was found with it. I don’t remember anything about it, other than I was to always keep it hidden and safe.”

            Thorin nodded approvingly. “Good. It cannot fall into the wrong hands.”

            “It’s your turn now. What do you know of it?”

            Thorin turned away from him before answering. “It is a piece of a much bigger jewel, called the Arkenstone.”

            “The Arkenstone,” Bilbo repeated softly.

            “Yes, the Arkenstone. Legend says it is the Heart of the Seas. Those who possess it will always have smooth sailing and will never lose ship or crew. They are considered royalty amongst pirates.” Thorin paused before he said, “Decades ago, my grandfather found it.”

            Bilbo’s eyes widened. “So, you’re pirate royalty?”

            Thorin nodded. “My family has always been revered and respected by the other pirate families. Finding the Arkenstone just made what everyone thought official.” He stopped then and his face hardened.

            “What happened to it?” Bilbo asked.

            Thorin looked away from him. “It drove my grandfather mad,” he said quietly.

            “Mad?” Bilbo repeated, not understanding. “Mad how?”

            Thorin swallowed heavily before he responded. “We call it gold sickness. Pirates love gold and treasure, as you probably know. But we don’t value it over our own lives or the lives of our family. It happens to pirates occasionally, they begin hoarding their gold and treasure, refusing to pay their crew or give their family money for food. But there is usually something that sets it off, something they are obsessed with. My grandfather became obsessed with the Arkenstone.”

             “Oh Thorin,” Bilbo whispered, reaching a hand out to touch him, comfort him somehow. Thorin jerked away before he could and then he hurried to the helm. Bilbo’s hand dropped and he followed Thorin.

            Thorin hadn’t talked about his grandfather in years. It was the unspoken rule everyone in his family knew and abided by. He never talked about Thror, and Thror was never to be spoken about in his presence. He mourned him every year on the day of his death, but other than that his grandfather might as well have not existed. He knew it was cruel and he did miss his grandfather fiercely, but his grandfather had done what might have been irreparable damage to their family’s reputation. That in itself was unforgiveable, but Thorin still held anger for what his grandfather had personally done to their family. And, somewhere in a part of his mind, he knew he was also afraid of turning out just like Thror, though he refused to acknowledge that fact.

            Behind him, Billy, no, Bilbo, spoke. “I’m sorry I brought up such a painful subject.”

            Thorin shrugged, pretending not to care. “You said we needed to be honest with each other if we are to trust each other.”

            “Yes, I did,” Bilbo agreed. He cleared his throat nervously. “So what happened to your grandfather and the Arkenstone?”

            “Smaug happened.” Thorin looked over his shoulder at Bilbo. “The day Smaug attacked, we had just set out to sea again. Our ship was weakened because of my grandfather’s greed. He had stopped paying the crew, so those who were not family had left long ago. We tried to outrun him, but we just weren’t prepared for the attack. When it became obvious we would soon be overtaken, my family abandoned ship and escaped in a lifeboat. My father and I stayed behind, to try to save my grandfather who refused to leave his treasure. But when we found him in his quarters, he was frantically searching through the piles of gold and screaming about the Arkenstone being stolen. I thought he was crazy, that he had just lost it. But days later, after we were safe at home, my father and I were able to get a coherent explanation from my grandfather. Being away from the Arkenstone, he was regaining some of his senses. That was when we found out the Arkenstone had been stolen while we were in port.”

           Bilbo gasped. “Stolen?”

           Thorin nodded, grimly. “We didn’t believe him at first. We were sure it was still on the ship and Smaug had it. But it wasn’t long before we got word that Smaug was searching for it. That was when we learned grandfather was telling the truth.”

           “So someone managed to sneak onto your ship and steal something right from under your grandfather’s nose?”

           “Yes, my cousin Dwalin was guarding the ship that day and he still hasn’t lived that down.” Thorin chuckled and then sobered a second later. “We thought it was just someone else wanting to use the Arkenstone for fame and riches, but after months spent searching for it, my father and I found out that whoever had stolen it had had it broken into pieces, which they then spread around all in an attempt to make sure it could never be made whole.”
“Why not just toss it into the sea?”

           Thorin snorted in amusement. “Things wash up on beaches every day. I’d imagine this thief thought it would have a better chance if the pieces were kept in trusted hands rather than the whims of the seas. Can’t say it’s a bad thought though.”

           Bilbo bit his lip before he asked, “Did you ever find any other pieces?”

           Thorin shook his head. “Smaug has always been ahead of us. He has the advantage, a good ship and plenty of gold to hire a crew. Not to mention his reputation is enough to scare most people into telling or giving him whatever he wants. And if that’s not enough, he’s not above torture.” Thorin turned to fully face Bilbo. “If he were to get all the pieces, the other pirates would be bound by tradition to recognize him the same way they recognized my family, as royalty. Most pirates don’t agree with his methods or what he does and we do our best to keep him in check, but if he had the Arkenstone, he would lose any opposition and he would have total control of the seas. I cannot let that happen. I don’t know how the gem came to you, but I believe it is the last lost piece of the Arkenstone.”

           Bilbo stared at him in shock. “Oh my,” he murmured. “I always thought it was just a pretty gem.”

           Thorin snorted. “If it was just a pretty gem, why would you feel the need to keep it hidden?” Bilbo had no reply so he simply shrugged. “You have no memory of how you came to have it?” Bilbo shook his head and Thorin sighed.

            “What is it?”

            Thorin took a moment before he said, “I wouldn’t think it very likely, that someone who is not a pirate would come to possess a piece of the Arkenstone. I can’t see someone who can sneak onto a ship and steal something without being detected giving it to just anyone,” Thorin trailed off meaningfully.

            Bilbo frowned, then a moment later he gasped. “I’m not a pirate!” he declared loudly.

            Thorin suppressed a smile. “No, it’s not likely you did any pirating being so young. But your parents, aye, it’s possible one or both were, at least they weren’t completely innocent.”

            Bilbo shook his head. “No, I’m not a pirate or, or, or anything else, and neither were my parents!”

            “You wouldn’t know, would you?” Thorin retorted. Bilbo’s mouth snapped shut and he dropped his head. Thorin instantly felt bad and he bit his tongue to hold back an apology. “My point is, that gem is extremely important. It must be protected.”

            “I’ll not part with it!” Bilbo immediately said, his head shooting up.

            Thorin bit his tongue so he wouldn’t snap at the shorter man. “I’m not suggesting it. I’m suggesting that we help each other. You help me keep the last piece of the Arkenstone safe from Smaug and I’ll help you find out who you are. Do we have a deal?” He held out his hand.

            Bilbo stared at his hand for a long moment. Thorin was starting to fear Bilbo had changed his mind when Bilbo finally grasped his hand in his much smaller one. Thorin breathed a sigh of relief as they shook hands.

            Shaking hands with Thorin was an experience all on it’s own. Bilbo was used to being smaller than most people and it wasn’t unusual for other men to have larger hands than he did. But something about holding Thorin’s hand, the way it clasped his, the rough callouses brushing against Bilbo’s smoother palms. He found himself imagining those hands traveling over other parts of his body, which made him turn red and he ducked his head to hide the blush. When they parted, Bilbo brushed his hands on his shirt but he felt as if the feel of Thorin’s hand on his was imprinted in his skin. He cleared his throat several times and then said, “So why are we going to Tortuga?”
Thorin looked out towards the sea. “Because that is where we will find Ered Luin.”

            Bilbo sighed. “And what is Ered Luin?”

            “It is an inn in Tortuga, a safe house my family has owned for as long as I can remember. After we lost the Erebor, we made it our home, our base. I have a crew waiting there, my family and friends who wish to join me.”

            “So we won’t be alone?”

            Thorin shook his head. “No, Master Baggins,” Bilbo refused to think about the way his name sounded rolling off of Thorin’s tongue. “We are not alone.” Bilbo followed his gaze out to the sea, feeling comforted knowing they weren’t alone.

Chapter Text

            Bilbo had sailed with skeleton crews on merchant ships before, and while that was difficult, it didn’t come close to how hard manning a ship such as the White Warg with just one other person was. The lack of sleep, only interrupted by short twenty minute naps every few hours, and having to snack on food when his stomach kept demanding a full meal, would be enough to put him in a bad mood. Of course, it probably would have helped his mood had he been sailing with someone more pleasant to be around than his current company. Thorin liked to bark orders left and right, expecting him to follow those commands immediately no matter what he was doing. It was a good thing he could move so fast, because the pirate sent him scurrying all over the ship while he steered. Logically, Bilbo knew it made sense. He could move much faster than Thorin, and the pirate had more experience as a Captain than he did. Bilbo had spent years sailing under other captains who liked to yell and shout just the same. But for some reason, something about Thorin doing it made his blood boil. Bilbo resolved to give Thorin a piece of his mind as soon as they were on dry land again.

            Despite Bilbo’s speed, they still weren’t sailing as fast as the ship would have with a full crew. So it took longer to get to Tortuga than it normally would have. But finally, Bilbo, sitting in the crow’s nest, spotted it and let out a surprised shout before he hurried down the mast to the deck, where he sprinted to where Thorin was standing at the helm. “Do you see it?” he asked, panting and grinning. Thorin eyed him sideways before he nodded. Bilbo bounced in place, biting his lip nervously. Thorin noticed and turned his head to look at him, his brow furrowed in confusion.

            “Are you afraid?” he asked, sounding both surprised and amused at the same time. Bilbo scowled and crossed his arms, turning to face forward the same as Thorin.

            “I’ve never been to Tortuga before,” Bilbo admitted, lifting his head.

            Thorin looked out over the ship and asked, “Why not?”

            Bilbo shrugged. “I’ve only ever sailed with merchants and fisherman.”

            “Trust me, even merchants and fisherman visit Tortuga.”

            Bilbo scratched the back of his leg with his foot, biting his lip again as he thought about it for a moment. Then, he haltingly said, “Maybe, I just knew I needed to stay away.” He touched his chest where the Arkenstone rested under his shirt. “I’ve kept this a secret for as long as I can remember, but I never really knew why. Maybe, whatever made me keep it safely hidden away, made me stay away from Tortuga.” He looked towards Thorin and was surprised to see him nodding his head.

            “That makes sense. You may not remember your life before being rescued, but something from that life stuck with you. Having the Arkenstone put you in danger, were you ever captured by pirates and discovered with it.”

            “That actually makes sense,” Bilbo said, then he frowns. “Wait, what do you mean, put me in danger? I thought Smaug was the one we had to worry about. You said most pirates don’t agree with him!”

            Thorin snorted and mumbled something in that strange language of his before he explained, “He is our main worry, and yes, most do not agree with him, but there are those who are loyal to him, out of greed or fear. And many who are not outright loyal to him will help him over us if it came down to a choice. Over the years, he has gained more followers and demolished the resistance against him as rumors and tales of his ruthlessness have spread.” Thorin sighed wistfully. “Once, my family was considered pirate royalty, as you put it. Now, only a few of the families are still loyal to us, and of those few less than half are openly loyal. ”

            Bilbo frown deepened and he cursed, surprising Thorin so much his head shot around to look at him with a gaping mouth. Bilbo waved his hand. “You don’t have to live with pirates to pick up some truly pirate worthy language, you know.” Thorin’s mouth shut and he turned his head forward again, then Bilbo said, “And as far as these families are concerned, if their loyalty has to be kept secret, their loyalty doesn’t seem like much to me.”

            The ferocity in Bilbo’s voice truly shocked Thorin and to his horror, he had to force back a smile. He wouldn’t admit it, but the shorter man was starting to grow on him. “Their loyalty is to their own first, which I understand. Openly challenging Smaug by supporting us could spell death for everyone in their family, including the ones who may not have ever set foot on a ship yet.”

            Bilbo gasped, spun around, and grabbed Thorin’s arm with both hands, pulling Thorin around to face him slightly. “Are you telling me Smaug would kill children?” he asked, the ferocity from earlier replaced by pure innocence. Thorin almost hated to crush that innocence, but he knew Bilbo wouldn’t survive long with it.

            So, he simply said, “Yes,” and pulled his arm out of Bilbo’s grip. Facing forward again, he watched Tortuga slowly come closer for a moment before he ordered Bilbo to get ready to luff the sails. He caught the glare Bilbo shot him before he complied. Thorin cringed slightly, feeling like an ass in spite of himself. He had been shouting orders ever since their little heart to heart, years of being a captain making it second nature. He didn’t understand how Bilbo could spend years sailing under others yet have an issue with taking orders, but the looks Bilbo sent him every time he yelled at him made it clear that the blonde didn’t appreciate being ordered about. He pushed the thought from his mind as the pier approached. He yelled up to Bilbo and seconds later he felt the ship lurch as it lost speed.

            He impatiently tightened and loosened his grip on the wheel as the ship gradually slowed and moved towards the pier. It only took several minutes for the ship to gently drift into place and before he could shout, he watched as Bilbo scurried down the mast and hurried to throw a rope over the side of the ship, where someone caught and secured the ship to the pier. As soon as the ship was secured, Thorin ran down to the deck and helped Bilbo drop the anchor. That done, Thorin tossed the ladder over the side of the ship and quickly climbed down it, forgetting about Bilbo in his haste. He handed the man who had secured the ship a handful of gold without checking the amount and gave him a clearly false name. The man’s eyes grew wide and he hastily pocketed the gold before nodding frantically and sprinting up the pier.

            Bilbo landed on the pier and sighed, stretching his arms above his head. Thorin watched him stretch for a moment, noticing the way his shirt rode up to reveal skin, before he cursed at himself and turned away. “Ered Luin is this way,” he said over his shoulder, setting off at a brisk pace just short of running. He heard Bilbo huff before he heard bare feet pattering behind him. Thorin cast a glance over his shoulder and was surprised to see Bilbo looking around, a thoughtful look on his face. Thorin resisted the urge to inquire as to what he was thinking and instead focused on making it through Tortuga.

            He looked around him as he walked through the streets, rejoicing in the familiar sights, sounds, and smells of multiple people drinking, singing, and fighting every way he looked. He kept glancing back at Bilbo, and while he did occasionally see Bilbo jump at a random loud noise, for the most part he continued to look focused as he followed behind Thorin. After almost twenty minutes, Thorin finally turned a corner and saw Ered Luin. The sight of his home and the thought of seeing his family again sent a surge of emotions through him and he had to stop as the rush made him dizzy. He felt Bilbo come up behind him and gently touch his arm, looking up at him silently. Thorin met his gaze and Bilbo smiled at him. Thorin swallowed and smiled back slightly, then took a deep breath and forced himself to straighten up and keep walking.

            Bilbo kept his hand on Thorin’s arm as they walked and Thorin was grateful for the comfort the shorter man offered. The closer they got to the inn, the more Thorin could see. He saw many people he didn’t know crowding the entrance to the inn, but his face broke into a grin when he recognized a familiar, tattered hat moving about through the crowd.

           Bilbo noticed his grin and asked, “Do you see someone pretty?”

           Thorin shot him a glare, which made Bilbo grin, before he said, “I see an old friend, yes.” He pointed to the hat and Bilbo looked back at the crowd. “Bofur. His family has ever been loyal to mine, even though they’ve never had their own ship.” Bilbo frowned as they approached but didn’t say anything as Thorin cut through the group to reach Bofur. His friend had his back to him as he sang a saucy song and swung his bottle of rum around. Thorin dodged a wild swing and tapped his shoulder with a finger. Bofur swung around with a cry, but when he saw it was Thorin, he shouted and pulled Thorin into a one-handed hug.

            Bilbo was honestly surprised when Thorin not only allowed his friend, Bofur he reminded himself, to hug him but he also returned the hug, clapping Bofur on the back several times before pulling away. Bilbo waited patiently while they spoke, barking at each other in the guttural language he had heard Thorin use. But after a couple minutes listening to it, his patience thinned and he cleared his throat pointedly. Thorin and Bofur turned to look at him and Bilbo smiled, then waved and said, “Hello. I couldn’t understand a word of that, but knowing Thorin as I do, I’m sure he didn’t think to introduce me. Billy-” Bilbo stopped himself, licked his lips, and continued. “Bilbo. Bilbo Baggins.” He held out his hand and Bofur spun around to face him, suddenly looking every inch a dangerous pirate and not the drunken sailor he had appeared just seconds earlier. He looked Bilbo up and down and Bilbo studied him in turn, taking in the dark brown braids coming loose on the sides of his head, the matching mustache and beard, and greenish-brown eyes he could just barely see under the brim of the funny shaped, tattered hat. He was wearing a plain, faded green shirt, brown pants, and black mud spattered boots.

            When Bilbo looked back up to meet his gaze, he found Bofur’s face had changed again. No longer frowning and serious, he was smiling and his eyes were warm as he shook Bilbo’s hand. “Nice to meet ya’, Master Baggins. My name’s Bofur.”

            Bilbo glanced at Thorin, who was watching them quietly though Bilbo could see he was clenching his hands impatiently, before he smiled at Bofur. “Just Bofur?”

            Bofur laughed and took a swig from his bottle before replying. “Aye, not unless you want to call me by my father’s name, but in my opinion, just Bofur is a lot easier to say than Bofur Bomfurson.” Behind him, Thorin snorted and Bofur turned back around to point at him, grinning. “You, sir, are in trouble.”

            Thorin cringed, surprising Bilbo, but then he took off his hat and ran his hand through his hair, which desperately needed a good combing through. He looked like a sheep dog, or a sheep. Bilbo chuckled at the thought and then blushed when both pirates looks at him. He awkwardly cleared his throat and flapped his hand at them. “Pretend I’m not here.”

            Thorin rolled his eyes at him then asked Bofur, “Who all is home?”

            “Your father, your mother, your sister, your nephews, all your cousins and my brother and cousin.” Bofur held up his fingers one by one as he spoke and when he finished he held out the rum bottle. “You might need this. I know for a fact one or two inside are a might pissed that you up and ran off by yourself.” Thorin cringed again, then drew himself up straight. He needlessly adjusted his jacket and then walked past Bofur and into the inn. Bofur shot Bilbo a wink and then followed Thorin through the door, Bilbo hurrying behind Bofur.

            Inside the inn was a stark contrast to the chaos outside. There was singing, yes, but it came from an exceptionally beautiful woman with silvery blonde hair standing on a stage. Her voice filled the large room, somehow smothering the harsh yelling coming from the bar set against the wall. The bar was manned by two men who looked so uncannily alike that Bilbo assumed they were brothers, though one’s thick hair was white while the other was redheaded. The white-haired one somehow managed to serve drinks one-handed while holding an ear trumpet to his ear. The redhead was the one yelling, though judging by the way the patrons didn’t react at all to his yelling or his brother’s apparent deafness, meant this was usual for the inn. Behind the bar stood a tall, dark skinned woman with her black hair kept in multiple braids. She was as thick and muscled as any man Bilbo had ever seen. She held herself at attention, the same way Bilbo had seen soldiers stand while on guard, though she had her arms crossed and her head turned from side to side as she looked around the inn. She was obviously guarding the inn, and the tall axe leaning against the wall beside her only reinforced Bilbo’s assumption.

            Looking around, Bilbo spotted three boys walking around servings drinks and food. The oldest one couldn’t really be called a boy anymore, with his neatly trimmed full set of facial hair that matched the long blonde hair he kept back in braids. He passed another boy, who was slightly taller and had similar features to the blonde, though his chin was clean shaven and his black hair hanging loose. The dark haired one bumped into the blonde, prompting the blonde to turn and slap the back of his head. The dark haired one growled at the blonde and set his tray on a nearby table, but before a fight could break out the third boy, shorter than the blonde but thicker than both of them with thick red hair and a thick beard stepped in between them, carrying his own tray full of drinks and food. He elbowed the blonde in the stomach with his free arm in the stomach and stomped on the dark haired one’s foot with his thick boots without missing a step on his way to his table. The two, who Bilbo could see were also brothers now that they were standing together, shouted in pain, then cursed aloud before they returned to serving their tables.

            Bilbo smiled, amused at the sight, and happened to look up at Thorin in time to see him smile and shake his head. Bilbo had a sudden realization and looked back and forth between Thorin and the boys rapidly for a minute, then he gasped loudly.

            Thorin heard Bilbo’s gasp and he looked down at the short man, his smile dropping. Bilbo was looking back and forth from him to his nephews and back, and Thorin snorted, realizing why Bilbo gasped. He leaned down slightly towards Bilbo and said, “They are my nephews. Fili, the blonde one, and Kili, his younger brother. The redhead is our cousin Gimli. His father, Gloin, and uncle Oin, are tending the bar tonight. Fili is the oldest, Kili is in the middle, and Gimli is the youngest,” he explained. Bilbo nodded, looking in all directions now. Thorin straightened up and walked along the wall towards the bar. He was several feet away from it still when Gloin noticed him. His shout this time seemed to shake the room and all other conversation, and the lovely singing, stopped immediately.

            Suddenly Thorin found himself the center of attention and he shot Gloin a dirty look, which Gloin returned with a shrug. The silence lasted only a few seconds before he heard two more shouts, these ones much younger and more excited. He turned around and his nephews slammed into him, both talking too fast for him. He wrapped an arm around both of them and held them tight, squeezing his eyes shut against tears. He hugged them and listened to them ramble for a minute before he heard someone clear their throat. When he lifted his head, he found himself staring into the angry eyes of his cousin and best friend. He gently pushed the boys away, ignoring their protests, and stepped towards his cousin. “Dwalin,” he said, but was cut off when Dwalin’s fist unexpectedly smashed into his cheek, sending him stumbling backwards.

            He lifted a hand to his cheek and checked for loose teeth with his tongue, while Bofur laughed and Bilbo shouted something at Dwalin. Thorin lifted his head and was struck speechless when he saw Bilbo was standing in front of Dwalin, raised up on his tiptoes though that only put him at chin height to Dwalin. He looked so much smaller standing in front of the heavily muscled and tattooed pirate, yet his scathing words made up for his smaller size. Dwalin looked both surprised and a little amused to see someone so small yelling at him, and he looked over the top of Bilbo’s head to grin at Thorin. “Where’d you find the pipsqueak?” he asked and his grin grew when Bilbo made an offended sound before he launched into a tirade of curses.

            Thorin listened to it for a moment, enjoying seeing the surprise and admiration on everyone’s faces at Bilbo’s creativity, before he reached out and gently grabbed Bilbo’s shirt. Bilbo snapped his mouth shut and let Thorin pull him back, though he continued glaring at Dwalin. Thorin patted his shoulder and said, “I would advise you don’t refer to his size again, cousin. He doesn’t like it.” Bilbo crossed his arms and huffed. “And I’m not sure I deserved that, Dwalin.” Behind him, Bofur choked on another laugh and his nephews, standing off to the side, were hiding their grins behind their hands.

            Thorin looked around the inn, relieved to see he wasn’t the center of attention anymore. He hugged his nephews again and said, “Back to work, boys. I don’t need to give your mother another reason to be angry with me.” Right as he spoke, he felt someone tap on his shoulder. He flinched and cautiously turned around, finding himself face to face with his sister, who was indeed angry. He swallowed and smiled tentatively, then held his arms out. “Dis,” he murmured. His sister sniffed, her arms crossed and her fists clenched. For a moment, Thorin thought she might just hug him, but he had less than a second to register her fist flying at his face. She struck his other cheek, though with less strength than Dwalin. He cupped his cheek and nodded, then mumbled, “I may have deserved that one.”

            Dis nodded in agreement, grabbed his jacket, and yanked him to her, wrapping her arms around his waist. He felt her press her face against his chest and heard her sniffle quietly. He put his arms around her and hugged her tight, pressing his face into her hair that looked so much like this, thick and black with a few grey streaks. He murmured random, nonsensical things to comfort her and after a long moment, she lifted her head. She wiped her eyes and then smiled up at him. “You look dreadful, nadad. That hat doesn’t make you look any less like a sheep dog.”

            Bilbo burst into laughter then and clapped his hands over his mouth, turning red. Dis turned to look at him curiously and after glancing at Thorin, she held out her hand. “Hello. I’m Dis, Thorin’s sister. And you are?”

            Bilbo cleared his throat and shook her hand. “Bilbo, Bilbo Baggins.”

            “Welcome to Ered Luin, Master Baggins.” She nodded at him and turned back to Thorin. “Thorin, I’m not the only one who wants to have words with you, but I will let others have first crack at you.”

            Thorin winced and touched his cheek. “Am I going to be hit again?” he asked nervously, prompting another laugh from Bilbo. Dis chuckled and patted his cheek.

            “No, I think you’re safe now, brother.” She put her hands on his arms and squeezed, letting out a cry of surprise. “What have you been doing with yourself, Thorin! You’re nearly nothing but bone!”

            Thorin stepped away from her and turned around so he wouldn’t see Bilbo’s face, flushed from laughter, and grumbled quietly, “You are being ridiculous, as usual, namad. Are ‘Amad and ‘Adad in the back?” Dis nodded, smiling unrepentantly, and Thorin hurried behind the bar, pausing for a short moment to punch Gloin’s shoulder, and went through the door that led to the other side of the inn, where his family and friends lived in a series of rooms and hallways that connected in various ways. He didn’t pay attention to who followed him as he struggled not to run through the inn, ignoring any calls of greeting from those he passed. Finally, he heard his parents’ voices and he sprinted towards the communal room where his mother liked to do her sewing and his father preferred to read his books by the fire.

            He burst through the open door and stopped, panting, seeing not only his parents but also his younger brother, Frerin, and his other cousin, Dwalin’s older brother Balin. All eyes were on him as soon as he entered, but no one spoke for a tense moment. Then his brother jumped out of his chair and shouted his name before he lunged towards him. His brother was shorter and thinner than he was but he still lost his breath in a huff when Frerin hit him and hugged him, squeezing with all his strength. Thorin hugged him back just as hard, feeling satisfied when Frerin wheezed. He let him go and his brother stepped back, smiling up at him, then he yelled when their mother impatiently shoved him aside before standing in front of Thorin, her arms crossed. She glared up at him for a few seconds then her hand whipped up and yanked on his hair. He cried out and pulled his head away, rubbing his scalp. His mother raised an eyebrow at him and he looked at the floor, muttering, “I deserved that.” His mother sniffed approvingly and then threw herself at him. He caught her easily and lifted her off her feet with his hug.

            Bilbo stood in the doorway behind Dis and Dwalin, watching the reunion. He could see the shorter blonde was also a relative, perhaps a brother, and the woman Thorin was currently holding off the floor had to have been his mother. There were two other men in the room, one with long grey and black hair and the other with a full head of grey hair. They both had long, thick beards and Bilbo was quickly seeing a pattern amongst Thorin’s family. One was clearly Thorin’s father, their faces were too similar to be anything else, and he recognized some of Dwalin in the other man’s face, though he was inches shorter than the bald giant Bilbo was currently struggling to see around. After a minute, Thorin gently lowered the woman to the floor, murmuring something Bilbo couldn’t hear. His mother, a beautiful woman with the same blonde hair as the blonde one and Fili that she had braided and pinned in various ways and places, responded just as quietly, then patted his cheek and stepped aside. His father, who was just as tall as Thorin, instantly took her place and pressed his forehead to Thorin’s for a moment before he dragged his son into a hug. Thorin pressed his face into his father’s shoulder and Bilbo could just hear his father speaking to him, his voice rumbling in that secret language.

            Their hug only lasted for several seconds before Thorin lifted his head and stepped away. He turned and gave the last man a loose hug before he said something Bilbo didn’t understand. The man gave him a small smile and responded in Thorin’s language, before he said in the common tongue, “You gave us quite a fright, laddie.”

            Thorin nodded, his cheeks turning pink under his short beard. “I’m sorry. I tried to send letters when I could.”

            His mother huffed, crossing her arms again. “Ten months you’ve been gone, and it’s been eight since we last had ant word from you, Inùdoy.” Thorin’s father moved to her side and put his arm around her shoulders. Thorin ducked his head and said something Bilbo didn’t understand, but both his parents gasped in shock and his brother leapt forward to grab his arms.

            “Do you mean it, nadad?” He asked, his eyes wide. Thorin nodded and turned partially around to point to Bilbo. Frerin and the other three looked to the doorway and to Bilbo’s horror, Dis and Dwalin both stepped aside, leaving him in full view. He sent Dwalin a glare, but the pirate merely chuckled. Behind him, he felt Bofur gently nudge him and he stepped forward into the room. When he was only a few feet away from the group, he bowed politely and adjusted his shirt when he straightened up.

            “Bilbo Baggins at your service,” he said, somehow keeping his voice steady. Thorin’s parents and brother had the same intense gaze, though only his mother and brother had the same blue eyes. Thorin’s father stared at him for several seconds than said something that shocked both Bilbo and Thorin.

            “Bilbo Baggins, son of Belladonna and Bungo Baggins?”

Chapter Text

Thorin stared at his father in shock. "You recognize his name?" He asked, at the same time as Bilbo said, "You know my name?" He looked at the shorter man and saw his face, just as shocked but fearful as well. Thorin suppressed the urge to reach out and reassure him and instead turned back to his father. "Adad?"

His father studied Bilbo for a moment before he grunted in response. He moved aside and gestured to the fireplace. "I think maybe this conversation will require some rum. Dwalin, if you would? Take a seats, Thorin son, Master Baggins." Still in the doorway with Dis, Dwalin nodded and disappeared into the hallway. Thorin glanced at Bilbo again and found the shorter man looking at him as well. He held his gaze for a moment before he nodded towards the chairs. Bilbo swallowed and looked away from him, pausing a few seconds before he followed Thorin's mother to the long couch directly in of the fire. His mother smiled kindly at Bilbo and patted the couch, prompting him to sit down with a smile of his own.

Thorin went to take a step, only to be distracted by the way Bilbo's hair shone in the firelight. It wasn't until Frerin kicked the back of his leg that he realized his father and Balin had also sat back down. He cleared his throat awkwardly and, ignoring the raised eyebrows from his parents and Balin, quiet snickers from his brother and sister, and questioning look from Bilbo, he sat down in an empty chair beside his father. Frerin stood behind his chair, leaning against the back of it, and Dis came into the room to sit on the other end of the couch. Thorin looked over at Bilbo, caged in between his mother and sister, before looking at his father. "Father?"

His father waved his hand before he stroked his beard thoughtfully. "Aye, lad. I recognize the name Baggins."

Bilbo squirmed on the couch for a moment before the question bouncing around in his head burst forth. "How do you know my name?" He turned red and stammered an apology, to the amusement of all gathered. Thorin's mother patted his knee reassuringly,  chuckling. Thorin's father chuckled with her and shared her smile before answering.

"I know the name Baggins, only because I know Belladonna. That was her name before she retired and married Bungo, becoming a Baggins and settling down to raise their son. Bilbo." Thorin's father explained, stroking his beard.

Shocked, Bilbo sucked in his breath too fast. Coughing, he leaned forward, his mind reeling. He felt someone, Dis or Thorin's mother, patting his back and he straightened up as his coughing subsided and he got his breath back. He lifted his head and saw Thorin had leaned forward in his chair, speaking quickly to his father in that language Bilbo didn't understand. His father replied in the same language and Bilbo's sudden irritation calmed his mind slightly. He glared at them both. "English, please, if you're talking about me." He snapped, drawing both men's attention back to him. He managed not to flinch from their gazes, but it was close. After a few seconds, Thorin's mother said something in their language at her husband and son before she smiled at Bilbo again.

"Apologies, dearie. We don't often have guests who don't speak the language. Forgive them." Her husband echoed her apology, as did Thorin, though begrudgingly. "Now then. Thorin was simply grumbling about secrets being kept from him." Thorin looked at her and muttered something that sounded like a curse. His mother cut him down easily with her own glare and sharp tongue. He huffed and leaned back in his chair, scowling as his siblings and Balin found amusement at his scolding.

"Now. Bilbo, my lad." She smiled at him. "You don't know who Belladonna was, I take it?" Bilbo shook his head and Thorin's father spoke again.

"She was, and still is if you ask me, the greatest burglar to ever live."

"A burglar?" Bilbo repeated softly, his face falling. He had been hoping what Thorin said about his parents being pirates or at least on the wrong side of the law had been false. He felt that hope dying, but weakly shook his head. "No."

Thorin's father raised his bushy eyebrows and looked at Thorin, who sighed sadly. He looked back at Bilbo and his face softened. "Aye, laddie. She was an expert thief, known around the world only because she left flowers wherever she went. Belladonnas. It was widely assumed that was just her calling card. Only a few knew that was her real name."

"But you did?" Bilbo said softly, looking down at his barefeet now.

"Aye. Has Thorin explained to you what ... position our family used to hold on the seas?" Bilbo nodded and Thorin's father sighed. "Well, part of that was being privy to information others weren't. This was one of those things."

Bilbo nodded slightly and swallowed. "Who else?" He asked and looked up. He looked around and answered his question himself, seeing the looks of surprise on Dis and Frerin's faces. Balin and Thorin's mother both looked calm, clearly already knowing what Thorin's father was saying. He finally looked at Thorin, not surprised to find him frowning again. That seemed to be his permanent expression. But Bilbo couldn't tell what this frown meant, though in the back of his mind he did think that Thorin frowned far too much. He shook the thought away, looked away from him and focused back on his father as he answered his question.

"My father and my wife. It wasn't knowledge given out lightly. Had things been different, we would have passed it down to Thorin when he took over the Erebor." The old man looked at his son and smiled sadly. "Now you know."

"Wait, let me get this straight." Bilbo jumped up from the couch and began pacing. "I'm the son of an infamous thief who was connected to pirates, close enough to them that she trusted them to know her real name and her family?" Thorin's father nodded and Bilbo stopped, his mind spinning again as he struggled to process the information. He stared at the fire for a moment, mouth opening and closing silently, before he snapped it shut. He shook his head once and muttered, "Nope." A second later, his legs collapsed under him. To everyone's surprise, Thorin moved faster than anyone else to catch him before he hit the floor.

Thorin hadn't been expecting Bilbo to fall and he was just as surprised as everyone else when he leapt from his chair to catch the smaller man. He his hands were gentle as they held him and lowered him to the floor. Bilbo was breathing shakily, his eyes unfocused, and Thorin looked at his father helplessly. Thrain shrugged and his voice rumbled soft in their language.

"I didn't mean to upset him so."

Thorin nodded, then someone was holding a bottle of rum over his shoulder. He looked up and met his mother's gaze. "Here, dear. He could use a good drink, the poor thing. I think he's had quite a shock." She said, her voice as warm and kind as ever. He thanked her and took the bottle from her. He lifted Bilbo up, propped him up against him, and lifted the bottle up for him to see.

"Come on, Bilbo. Drink up." Bilbo blinked several times before he turned his head. He looked up at Thorin, eyes still wide with shock and confusion, and Thorin felt protectiveness rise up in his chest. He pushed it down and pressed the bottle into Bilbo's hand. "Drink, dammit." He grunted, growing frustrated at himself. It snapped Bilbo out of his stupor though.

Warm brown eyes narrowed slightly before he sat up, pulling away from Thorin. Thorin cursed himself for the disappointment he felt at that, fleeting though it was. Bilbo snatched the bottle from his hand and muttered, "Don't curse at me, you big lummox." Then he lifted the bottle and too several long swallows. Thorin watched, eyebrows raising both because he was surprised and impressed. He made sure not to look around at his family, not wanting to embarrass himself more than he already had.

It was nearly a minute later when Bilbo lowered the bottle. He pushed it against Thorin's chest and Thorin automatically grabbed it. Soon as he did that, Bilbo was scrambling to his feet, apologizing and explaining in a shaky voice. Thorin's mother and sister reassured him with kind words as he sat back down beside them on the couch. Thorin stood and returned to his seat, taking a few drags from the bottle himself. Dwalin was standing beside his chair now and as Thorin looked around, he could see more rum bottles and tankards sitting on a table set against the wall. He looked up at Dwalin and asked, voice gruff, "What took you so long?"

"I had to fend off nosy cousins and your nephews." Was his cousins soft reply, a small smile touching his lips.

"How did you manage that?" Thorin asked, knowing first hand how tenacious and stubborn his nephews could be.

Dwalin grunted and crossed his arms. "Bribery of course. So what's happened?"

Thorin looked back over at Bilbo. He had his head bent, curly hair catching the firelight again and turning it a flickering gold. "He was fished out of the water several years ago. He doesn't remember anything before then, nothing except his name and that he had to stay hidden and safe. He just had quite a shock, finding out he's the son of Belladonna." As did I, Thorin thought to himself.

Beside him, Dwalin swore softly. "She had a son?" He muttered. Thrain heard him and answered before Thorin could.

"Aye. She had a son. And a family. She spent years traveling the seas, always in disguise, always changing her name, never growing attached." Thorin heard Bilbo gasp and he recalled Bilbo saying he had been doing the same thing since he was pulled out of the sea. Thrain continued, ignoring bilbo's reaction. "We only knew because she occasionally did work for us. We weren't the only ones, she was known to a few other captains. She was her own agent, but she helped us many times in exchange for the promise of protection and loyalty should she ever need our help. It never came to that thankfully."

Bilbo's voice stopped Thrain before he could say anything else. "My father?" Thorin shifted in the chair, the quiver in Bilbo's voice making him want to go to the man. He gripped the bottle hard and lifted it up to take another drink, ignoring Dwalin and Frerin's looks.

Thorin's mother grabbed Bilbo's hand. "She met him in Port Royal. He was a traveling merchant then, saving up and looking for the perfect place to set up his own shop." Fris smiled as she told the story. "He was looking at an empty shop that was for sale. She happened to be walking by right when he stepped out the door. She bumped into him and dropped her bag. She thought it was adorable how flustered he got as he apologized and picked up her things for her." Fris chuckled as Bilbo smiled, ducking his head. "They loved each other, Bilbo. And they loved you. You and Bungo were more important to her than her job. She had no regrets when she retired. She was happy. You all were."

Bilbo sniffed softly and Thorin had to take another drink to distract himself. As he drank, Frerin shifted behind his chair. "What does any of that have to do with the Arkenstone?"

Bilbo's head shot up and he looked at Frerin fearfully, his hand going up to his chest where the gem lay under his shirt. Thorin watched Bilbo swallow and struggle to find words for a moment before he spoke for him. "He was found with a piece of it, all those years ago. Around his neck when they fished him out of the sea. He's kept it safe all these years." Bilbo looked at him and some of the fear faded from his eyes before he gave him a shy smile. Thorin grunted softly and nodded, then turned his head away.

Bilbo's smile slipped when Thorin turned away from him. Sighing softly, he looked at Thorin's father. "Thorin told me what the Arkenstone is. Why it's important." He licked his lips nervously. "I don't... thank you for telling me. About my mother. It's not... not what I ever imagined. But I think part of me knew... knew that my parents, or at least one of them, were bad people..."

Thorin's father instantly held up his hand and Bilbo shut up. "Now, lad. Your mother was a thief, and a spy when needed, that's true enough. But she was a good person. One of the best I've ever met. Don't think otherwise." Bilbo nodded, flushing slightly over his kind reprimand.

"I'm sorry, I just..." Bilbo sighed and shook his head. "This is all so much."

"Yes it is. I think that's quite enough for now." Thorin's mother said and any possible objections were cut down immediately by her glare. She nodded approvingly and put her arm around Bilbo's shoulders. "You need a good meal and a comfortable bed. There's plenty of both here, don't worry. And clothes, if you need them."

Bilbo smiled and smoothed his hand down his shirt. "I dropped my bag out in the hallway, it's got my clothes in there. Food and a bed sound lovely though, thank you."

Thorin's mother nodded and stood up, pulling him up with her. "Oh!" She suddenly exclaimed, before laughing softly. "We're all dreadful, we are, we haven't introduced ourselves properly. I'm Fris, Fris Durin. My husband is Thrain. The other old man is Balin, and the ones by Thorin are his brother, Frerin, and Balin brother Dwalin."

"He knows me and Dwalin, 'Amad," Dis murmured, standing up beside them. "Come on, Bilbo. Let these men drink and bark at each other till they pass out." Bilbo giggled slightly, hiding his smile behind his hand. The men grumbled, all in good fun, and Fris and Dis laughed together as they led Bilbo out of the room. He glanced over his shoulder, catching Thorin's eyes before the door shut behind them. He turned forward and bent down to grab his bag off the floor.

That done, he slung it on his shoulder and hesitantly asked, "Will they really do that?"

Dis snorted and Fris rolled her eyes with a fond sigh. "Aye, they will. Thorin has been gone from us for several months. After they've talked about business some more, they'll be getting rip roaring drunk."

"Oh." Bilbo mumbled. Fris patted his shoulder and pulled him down the hallway, opposite the way they had come from. He looked all around as they walked. He hadn't looked at the outside of the building long, but it felt bigger than he would have expected. After a couple minutes, the women led him to a room full of cots.

"Here we are. Pick a bed, one that hasn't ready been claimed." Dis said.

"Oh, thank you." Bilbo looked around at the cots, counting in his head. There were six total, set in the room haphazardly in anyway they would fit. They were all wood, with thick mattresses, soft blankets, and fluffy pillows. Three of them were obviously being used, judging by the blankets thrown carelessly about, and Bilbo let out a wistful sigh as he stepped towards the nearest one that was still neatly made. He set his bag down on it and sat down. He resisted the urge just flop on the bed, but his fingers plucked at the blanket. Fris noticed the action and moved to sit beside him on the bed, touching his arm gently.

"Now then. The only ones staying in here are the boys, Fili, Kili, and Gimli. And they are only here because they all feel they are too old to be living at home with their parents." Fris shook her head with a good natured smile.

"This isn't home?" Bilbo asked.

Dis snorted and shook her head. "My sons are stuck in that age between adulthood and childhood. They want their independence, without being too far from their family. We live here, yes, but our bedrooms are downstairs, below the inn. They decided this was far away enough to count as living on their own.* Her voice was affectionate, smile loving, as she talked about her sons.

"And Gimli?"

Fris and Dis both laughed then, making Bilbo feel he was missing some joke. He looked back and forth between them and Fris smiled apologetically before she explained. "Gimli is younger than both Fili and Kili, for all that he looks older. He follows them everywhere, always has. He's their little cousin, trailing on their heels as they get into trouble, and he always will be."

"Do they mind?" Bilbo asked curiously, smiling with the women now.

"Oh no, they love him. They're all thick as thieves." Dis replied. Then she sighed. "And if you can't handle staying in the room with them, don't worry, just say so. They're good boys, but they are a handful."

"I'm sure I'll be fine, but tha-" Bilbo's thanks was cut off by sudden yawn. He turned his head away and covered his mouth with his hand. When it was done, he shook his head and gave them an embarrassed smile. "Oh, excuse me. I must be more tired than I thought."

"I would imagine so. I know from experience sailing with Thorin is tiring." Dis said. She patted Bilbo's shoulder and headed for the door. She paused and looked back at him from the doorway. "You haven't told us how you and Thorin met or how you got here. But I know my brother well enough to know, I probably owe you my thanks." She bowed her head to him, black braids slipping into her face, before she turned and left.

"Oh. Well." Bilbo cleared his throat, blushing slightly. Fris patted his arm and stood.

"Don't hesitate to ask if you need anything, my lad." She murmured and brushed her hand over his hair, then she followed after her daughter. As soon as the door shut, Bilbo threw himself on the bed, on top of the blanket, and grabbed the pillow. He buried his face against it and was asleep two breaths later.

As soon Bilbo and his mother and sister were gone, Thorin finished the bottle and tossed it aside. He leaned forward in his chair and looked at his father. "Why didn't you ever tell me?"

"It never seemed something you needed to know, not after we lost our home." Thrain replied with a sigh.

Frerin shoved at Thorin's back. "I see how it is, you don't care that I wasn't told either." He said sounded serious, but there was mischief in his eyes.

Thorin turned, then reached up and pulled on one of his brothers blonde braids. Frerin yelped and slapped his hand away before he jumped over to the couch to escape. "You little twit."

Frerin laughed and everyone else chuckled. Dwalin finally passed out the rum to them all and after taking a drink, Balin smiled softly and said. "We missed you, laddie. You scared us, running off like that."

Thorin cringed and ducked his head, shame flooding him. He pulled his hat off and ran his hand through his hair, wincing when he hit snags. "I'm sorry. I just. I just couldn't sit around waiting any longer. I had to do something."

"I understand, inudoy. I do. You're not one to sit idle for too long." Thrain shook his head. "But it was foolhardy, lad."

"I know, 'Adad. I'm sorry." Thorin lifted his head and gave him a half smile. "But it turned out for the good. I found the Arkenstone."

Dwalin snorted. "Aye, a piece of it."

"A piece is better than nothing at all." Thorin retorted, sending his friend a glare.

"Don't start you two." Thrain said, with the pleading tone that comes from someone who knew what was coming and didn't have the patience to deal with it. "Aye, Thorin, a piece is better than what we've had all these years. And you found something even better! Belladonna's son!"

Dwalin shook his head. "I can't believe that. Of all the rumors that swirled around when she suddenly disappeared, her settling down with a family was one I never put any credit in."

"You aren't alone there. I was quite shocked myself when I found out." Thrain rumbled from behind his tankard. "Still, I was happy for her. If anyone deserved happiness, it was her."

Thorin nodded his agreement right as a thought occurred to him. "That explains why Bilbo has known how to stay hidden all these years. She must have taught him about disguises and sneaking, never staying in one place long."

"Aye, that was what she did. No one ever saw her real face and she never used her real name. She was a smart lass." Thrain sighed. "We stopped getting letters from her after Smaug took our home. I assumed she had stopped communicating, or possibly gone into hiding with Bungo and Bilbo, to protect themselves. But now... now I fear something worse may have happened."

"Aye. And with Bilbo having a piece of the Arkenstone, that possibility seems even more likely." Balin said, tugging on his long white beard. "Thrain, do you think it's possible that Belladonna stole the Arkenstone?"

Thorin gasped, as did Frerin and Dwalin. Thorin jumped to his feet and growled, "If she betrayed us like that..."

"Sit down, Thorin!" Thrain snapped. Thorin sat down, instinctively reacting to the command in his father's voice. "If she did, she did us all a favor. And aye, Balin. If there was anyone who could steal from us, it would be her. I wouldn't be surprised. But without confirmation, I won't say for certain."

"How can we get confirmation if she's dead?" Dwalin asked, wiping rum from his beard.

"If Bilbo has a piece of the Arkenstone, than others do too. We can reach out to those who knew her, see if she trusted any of them with it. If we're wrong, than none of them will have it."

Thorin raised an eyebrow. "'Adad, you know who her friends were?"

"Yes lad, she trusted us with a few names. Just in case, you know. We can reach out, though we might have to go see a few in person. It will take Bilbo's presence to get them to work with us, I fear." Thrain shook his head and took another drink.

The room was silent for a few minutes after that, each man drinking and listening to the fire. Thorin had refilled his tankard for the third time when his mother and sister walked back in. Thorin looked at them, curious and concerned, and Dis smirked at him. "Your precious is alright, don't worry."

Thorin scowled at her over his tankard and muttered, "He's not my anything." She laughed and walked over to his chair to sit on the arm. She leaned on him and tugged on a tangled lock of hair. He pulled his head away, prompting her to tug harder. He winced and sat still, following the silent command ad she began working on his hair. And if he were being honest with himself, he would admit that he had missed having someone tend to his hair.

Fris took a seat on Thrain's knee and took his tankard from him. Thrain put a hand on her hip to steady her. She took a long drink before handing the tankard back. Then, she fixed her gaze on Thorin and said, "Alright, let's hear it, inudoy."

Thorin sighed and launched into the story of meeting Bilbo and getting out of Port Royal. Certain things he left out, of course. They didn't need to know what he thought of Bilbo's hair. When he was done, they were all stifling their laughter and hiding smirks and grins. He glared at them all but it didn't have any effect and he gave up, hiding behind his tankard again. Dis, still working on his hair, murmured above his head, "So I was right. I do owe Master Baggins my thanks." Thorin grunted and chose not to respond.

Fris leaned against Thrain. "We owe him much more than that. He is Belladonna's son. For our loyalty to her, we owe him so much more than just our thanks."

"Where is he?" Thorin asked suddenly, trying to sound nonchalant. He caught the look on Frerin's face and knew he hadn't succeeded. He held back a groan and looked away from his brother.

"We put him in the spare room with the boys." Dis replied as she gently unbraided one of his horribly knotted braids. Thorin went to turn his head to look at her, but her grip on his hair was strong and all he did was hurt himself. He faced forward again, huffing.

"How is he to get any rest sharing a room with them?" He asked.

"Give the boys a little credit, Thorin." Fris said, eyes closed as she leaned her head on Thrain's.

"I'll talk to the boys. They'll behave, or they know they'll answer to me and Vili both. Bilbo is a guest, an honored guest. If they don't treat him as such, they'll be cleaning chamber potts for weeks." Dis made the threat calmly, focused solely on Thorin's hair.

"Where is Vili, anyway?"

"Oh, he's off on a supply run with Bifur. He'll be back in a couple days."

Thorin heard the longing in her voice and reached behind him. He found her arm and pulled her hand from his hair. He gripped her hand and squeezed. She paused before she squeezed back. He felt her kiss the top of his head before he released her hand. She reached over his shoulder for his rum. "I told Bilbo you all would be getting drunk off your arses. Don't make me a liar. Business is done, now let's celebrate!"

Thorin laughed, with everyone else, and let her have his tankard. She chugged it empty and held it out to Dwalin. He happily refilled it and then took several long swallows straight from the bottle. Thorin let Dis drink from the now full tankard before he took it back. She returned to his hair while he took his own drink. The rest of the night passed like that, with them all drinking and reminiscing before they each drunkenly stumbled and staggered to their rooms. And if Thorin stopped outside the spare room and cracked open the door just to check on Bilbo, well. No one saw him.

Chapter Text

When Bilbo awoke, he had forgotten where he was. He sat up fast and tried to climb out of the bed before he was even fully awake. In his haste however, his legs got tangled in the blanket and he went down. He hit the floor hard with a loud thud, knocking the breath from his chest. Groaning, he rolled onto his back and found himself staring up at three familiar young faces. Two showed outright concern for him, whilst the third, the dark haired one, was failing to hide his amusement. Bilbo cleared his throat and tried to keep some dignity by introducing himself. “Hello, I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced. My name is Bilbo Baggins.”

The blonde, Fili his mind helpfully reminded him, nodded his head in greeting. His blonde braids swung with the movement and sent the multiple beads decorating them clicking against each other for a moment. “I’m Fili. It’s a, uh, pleasure to officially meet you, Mister Baggins.” His introduction was echoed by the other two. Fili bit his lip, considering for a brief moment, before he kindly asked, “Would you like to get up from the floor now, Mister Baggins? I know from experience, it’s not very comfortable.”

The dark haired one, Kili, clapped a hand over his mouth but it did little to muffle his snort. Simultaneously, Fili and the redhead, Gimli, smacked the back of his head. He ducked away with a yelp, cradling his head, and pouted at them. Fili sighed, shook his head, then looked back down at Bilbo. He gave him an apologetic smile and reached down to him.

There went any dignity he still had. Face burning, Bilbo took the hand offered and let himself be pulled upright. Once on his feet, he cleared his throat awkwardly and bowed his head to them. “Ah, thank you, my boy, um. Could we perhaps keep this between ourselves?”

Fili and Gimli nodded immediately, looks of understanding on their faces. On the other hand, Kili scratched his chin thoughtfully before replying, “You hit the floor pretty hard, Mister Bogggins, I doubt the others don’t already know.” He wisely ducked out of the way before he could get smacked again, this time protesting loudly. “I’m just saying!”

Despite his mortification, Bilbo found himself chuckling. When all three looked back at him, he cleared his put on a small smile. “You may be right, Kili.” A triumphant grin split his face and the boy shot some hand sign at his brother and cousin, earning scowls and more signs in return. Bilbo recognized it as some form of sign language, though not one he was familiar with. Putting that aside, he clapped his hands together to regain their attention. All eyes locked onto him as he continued. “But, even if you are, lets still keep this between us, alright?”

They all nodded their agreements, albeit Kili’s was a little reluctant. Bilbo thanked them sincerely before turning his back to them. The boys took the hint and returned to what they’d been doing when he awoke. Which seemed to be seeing who could be the loudest, as the brothers immediately launched into a boisterous argument. Bilbo didn’t understand a word of it, as it was in their language, but he knew an argument when he heard one. He listened for a moment as he made his bed, it was only polite after all, but they were still going when he finished that. As much as his curiosity was screaming at him, he had other pressing matters that he needed to take care of. The first being, his bladder.

Turning around he found Fili and Kili sprawled over each on one bed and Gimli cross legged on the other. Taking the chance while the attention wasn’t on him, he grabbed his bag and slipped through the maze of beds to the back of the room. He’d missed the door tucked away in the corner before he fell asleep the previous night, but he hoped it was an attached bathroom and not a closet. He didn’t fancy wandering around trying to find one. The chance he’d stumble upon someone or something he shouldn’t was too high, especially given his propensity for getting himself into trouble. He eased the door open and sighed in relief. It was, indeed, a bathroom. It was simple, small, but it had everything he needed. A toilet, sink, mirror, and a tub.

After his bladder was taken care of, he stripped off his clothes. He could wear them for days longer if he needed, but he felt he needed the confidence only a fresh set of clothes could bring. He didn’t know who to ask about getting hot water for a bath, so he made do with the washcloth and bucket of water he found. They were both clean, which was a marked improvement from what he was used to using while on the sea. A quick brush of his curls and he was as refreshed as he could be. He tucked his dirty clothes and brush back into the bag, and took a deep breath before venturing back out into the room.

Nothing had changed in the five minutes he’d spent inside the bathroom. The brothers were still arguing, fast and loud. Gimli hadn’t moved from his place on his bed. Bilbo shut the door behind him and leaned against it for a moment, unsure of what to do next. He didn’t know what time it was or what he was supposed to be doing. After a moment, he pushed away from the door and moved over to Gimli. He sat at the foot of the bed opposite him, casting glances at Fili and Kili every few seconds. Gimli raised his head and acknowledged him with a smile before lowering his head again.

Bilbo kept sneaking glances at the brothers for a minute before he whispered, “What are they arguing about?”

Gimli answered without raising his head. “The best pie.”

He blinked at the redhead. He was sure he had misheard him. “What did you say?”

“The best pie.”

So, he had heard right. He looked at the brothers, back to Gimli, then back to the brothers, and back to Gimli again. “All that,” he waved his hands for emphasis. “Over pies?”

“Aye, it’s a very serious conversation.” The matter-of-fact tone in his voice made Bilbo think they had this argument often. Now that he knew the point of the argument, it wasn’t very interesting. What was in Gimli’s lap was much more interesting. He was sewing, head bent over his work as he expertly moved the needle through the rich green fabric.

Bilbo watched him work, surprised to see not only was he embroidering but he was embroidering an intricate vine and leaf pattern in gold thread. Bilbo appreciated fine work so he leaned over to get a better look. Gimli glanced at him but didn’t protest the sudden attention. He got lost in the smooth, rhythmic motions of the needle as it slowly formed another detailed leaf. He reluctantly straightened up after a minute and murmured, “It’s beautiful work.”

The praise had Gimli’s face turning as red as his hair. He cleared his throat a few times before replying, “Thank you.” He lowered the fabric to his lap and flattened it out, revealing it to be a handkerchief. He stroked his fingers over the embroidery gently, his face softening.

Bilbo had seen that look on many a sailor’s face. He wanted to ask, manners be damned, but suddenly Fili dropped onto the bed between them. Ignoring Bilbo’s surprised gasp, he continued arguing with Kili even as he laid back, hands behind his head like he was relaxing in his own bed. Looking over the blonde’s body, Bilbo could see that Gimli had raised the handkerchief safely out of the way just in time. Gimli, who was obviously very used to this behavior, sighed a sigh that was heavy with resignation. He wrapped the handkerchief up, securing the needle and thread in the middle. He carefully tucked it under his pillow but not before the blonde noticed.

“How’s it coming, Gimli?” Fili asked in English.

“It’s still not ready.” Gimli shrugged as he climbed off the bed. He moved over to the large wooden dresser standing in the corner and began searching through the drawers. It was an obvious attempt to hide from the conversation but no one called him out on it. Kili, distracted from the argument by his brother’s question, threw himself into his place. Bilbo narrowly dodged the boy’s leg as he sprawled out over Fili. Suddenly fearful, he scooted closer to the edge of the bed. His movement wasn’t lost on Fili. He gave Bilbo an apologetic smile before he shoved Kili’s leg off of him. Only to have it thrown over him again.

As Fili prepared to shove him again, he shot his cousin a comforting grin. “I’m sure he’ll love it no matter what.”

“Yeah!” Kili blurted out before he was sent to the floor. He rolled with the push, landed on his front, and popped back up like a daisy. Bilbo’s back hurt just watching him. He plopped back down on the bed, keeping his limbs to himself this time. “That twit is so in love with you, you could give him literal chicken scratch and he’d treat it like the Arkenstone.” That apparently was the wrong thing to say because Gimli turned from the dresser and barked something at the older boy. Bilbo didn’t understand it but he knew it was bad by the way Kili gasped. He shot something back and suddenly all three of them were going.

Bilbo had thought it was bad before when the brothers were going at it. But as he looked back and forth between them, he could see that they had just been bickering. But this was real arguing. And within one minute of listening to it, his ears were ringing and his mind was spinning with all the unfamiliar words. He tried multiple times to get a word in but his voice was easily drowned out by the boys’. Finally, after three minutes, he’d had enough. He shot to his feet with his fists clenched, shaking with fear and fury. His quick movement alone caught Fili’s attention for a second but when he shouted, “Quiet!” he had all eyes on him again.

Coughing slightly, because he wasn’t used to shouting like that, he tucked his hands behind his back to hide their shaking. He cleared his throat and straightened his back. He hoped the extra bit of height would lend him some confidence. It didn’t make much difference when he was surrounded by boys who were years younger than him yet already inches taller. Putting those thoughts aside, he spoke calmly and slowly. He had to if he wanted to avoid nervous stuttering and stammering. “It’s rude to argue in front of a guest, you know. It’s also rude to talk in a language your guest doesn’t understand. So how rude do you think it is to argue in a language your guest doesn’t understand, right in front of them?”

Gimli and Fili flinched at the reprimand, while Kili looked confused. Bilbo held back a sigh and pointed to Gimli’s bed. “Sit, all of you. On separate beds, mind you.” Apologies were murmured as the boys sat down. Well, Kili belly flopped onto his bed, but Bilbo didn’t have the energy to worry about semantics. Once they had all settled down, he sat back down on his own bed. He clasped his hands in his lap then calmly asked, “Could one of you explain to me what all that mess was about?”

The brothers looked at Gimli, who looked like he’d bit into something sour. He refused to look at either of them in return and instead stared at the floor between his feet. Several seconds passed with no answer to Bilbo’s question before Kili’s patience ran out. He rolled over and sat up in one smooth motion before blurting out, “Gimli’s in love!” Fili and Gimli both sent him glares and the blonde muttered something that sounded like a curse under his breath. “What, it’s the truth! He’s going to find out eventually, right?” Kili defended himself with a lazy shrug.

“Yeah, but it’s not for you to tell, is it, you dummy?” Fili snapped. Kili’s nonchalance disappeared, as if he was just realizing that fact, and offered up a sheepish apology to Gimli. The redhead sighed and waved the apology away with a gesture. Bilbo waited patiently as he rubbed his face and scratched his beard, obviously considering his words, before speaking.

“Everyone else already knows, so Kili isn’t completely wrong.” Kili let out a triumphant whoop before he was shushed by his brother. Ignoring that, Gimli continued. “His name is Legolas. Legolas Greenleaf.”

Bilbo frowned. “That name sounds familiar.” He lowered his head, frantically wracking his brain for what he was forgetting. He didn’t have to think long however because Gimli came to his rescue.

“His father is Thranduil, captain of the Greenwood.”

“Mirkwood, more like.”

Ignoring Kili’s mumble, Bilbo jerked his head up and gasped in realization. “I’ve heard of him! Likes to call himself king instead of captain.” The boys all looked at him with wide eyes, surprised he recognized the name. Bilbo blushed under the attention. Clearing his throat, he forced calm as he said, “I assume, based on your little spat minutes ago, that this isn’t a happy love story?”

“Aye, you assume right, Mister Baggins.” Gimli let out a rumbling sigh and rubbed his mouth. “His father and our family aren’t friendly.”

“That’s putting it mildly.” It was Fili interrupting this time.

Moving past that like he didn’t hear it, Gimli further explained, “We met last year, their ship stopped here for a few days, and I ran into him in the street.”

“And he’s been besotted with the blonde twi…..g ever since,” Kili teased with a snicker. It didn’t escape Bilbo’s notice that he had almost called Legolas a “twit” again, but it seemed to slip by the redhead. Because Gimli had turned bright red under his beard and ducked his head. Bilbo hid his smile behind his hand. The young man really was adorable, but Kili and Fili teased him enough, he didn’t need Bilbo adding onto it.

Clearing his throat, Bilbo stood up and clapped his hands. “Well, now that that’s out of the way, how about we go find something to eat?” As if on cue, his stomach let out a loud growl. Bilbo’s face turned red yet again as the boys all burst out laughing. But after a few seconds he couldn’t help but laugh with them. For all that they were too much at times, the brothers especially, he could admit they were good boys. Still laughing, he moved to the door, with the others following, and pulled it open. And he immediately froze as he found himself staring up at Thorin, his fist raised and ready to knock.

Chapter Text

Waking up with a hangover wasn’t an unfamiliar occurrence for Thorin. He’d done it many times in his life and many times more during his traveling. Usually on the nights when drinking was all he could do to pass the time, and the weight of missing his family and the responsibilities he took upon himself grew too heavy. But waking up with a splitting headache, a special kind of pain that only the strong alcohol provided at Ered Luin could cause, and finding himself staring up at the wooden ceiling of his bedroom, brought about a strange feeling. It was like confirming he really was home and for a moment he closed his eyes and let himself lay, boneless, on the thick rug that covered his floor. For just a little while he could pretend nothing had changed and everything was okay.

But the longer he lay there, the more awake he became, and the more reality began to disturb the peace he wanted. The responsibilities he’d burdened himself with wasted no time in pushing to the forefront of his mind, despite his best efforts to not think about them. Finally, after several minutes of failing to go back to sleep, he let out a heavy sigh, rolled sideways, and got up on his hands and knees. Immediately his head and stomach protested the movement, but he pulled himself the rest of the way up anyway. The time for relaxing and celebrating had passed last night, with dozens of bottles of Ered Luin’s best, a few good-natured fights between cousins and siblings, and story after story from both himself and his family to catch everyone up. Now, it was time for work.

Standing upright, he took a moment to stretch and work out the kinks he’d gained from awkwardly sleeping on the floor for hours. As he moved, he became aware of various bruises all over his body, with groans and pained hisses, as he moved about. Unsurprisingly he only remembered getting some of them. Some of those were fresh, given to him by his family and friends, and others lingered from the events of Port Royal, mostly healed bruises that were reinjured during the night. The rest he assumed he’d gained at some point during the drunken roughhousing.

Dropping his arms, he turned around and saw why he’d ended up on the floor. Not that it was the worst place to sleep since his room was big enough for two, a silent message from his parents who he knew were hoping he wouldn’t be alone forever, and the rug was thick, soft, and warm against his body. But when given the choice, he still would’ve chosen his bed, if it had been unoccupied. It unfortunately wasn’t, because Dwalin was sprawled out on it. His large frame dwarfed Thorin’s bed, despite it’s larger than normal size. That probably explained some of the mysterious bruises on him, as he and Dwalin had a habit of fighting over the bed after drinking.

Snorting, Thorin lightly kicked his cousin’s leg and barked out, “Dwalin!” Dwalin woke up just long to clumsily kick back at him with a sleep muffled curse before he returned to snoring.

Thorin chuckled as he moved past his bed to the other side of the room where his bathroom was. It was only the size of a closet, but it had everything he needed. He quickly emptied his bladder, which had started screaming at him as soon as he stood up. With that immediate problem taken care of, he got to work cleaning himself up. He was relieved to see he had changed into his older, rundown clothes at some point last night. He’d made the mistake of getting drunk in his good clothes before and they had almost always ended up ruined, either by blood or drink. He’d had both his mother and his sister in his ears each time, lecturing him for being careless before they swore they wouldn’t be fixing them for him. He’d learned quickly after the first several times of trying, and failing, to remove the stains himself that it was simply easier not to risk it at all.

He pulled off the worn-out pants and undershirt, both of which were surprisingly only stained with sweat, and briskly washed himself off with cold water in the tub. He didn’t have the patience to wait for hot water and after drying himself off just as quickly, he hurried to his dresser. He pulled open the first drawer he touched and randomly pulled out clothes. Every shirt was the deep blue color his family favored and all of his pants were black or brown, so anything he grabbed was guaranteed to match. He dressed quickly and pulled his boots on, then returned to the bathroom.

He took a quick look in the old mirror above the sink before he ran a brush through his hair in record time, wincing each time he caught a tangle. With his hair mostly tamed, he turned from the mirror and headed for the door. He tied his hair back with a piece of leather as he walked and kicked Dwalin’s leg again as he walked by. He ignored his cousin’s sleepy grumble but made a point to slam the door on his way out. A satisfied grin split his face as he heard a muffled shout from inside, right before someone else yelled his name.

Flinching, he turned to find his mother glaring at him from the end of the hallway. She looked just as put together as she always did, with her hair done up in the same intricate braids she always wore and her corseted dress neat and clean, the gold geometrical designs shining against the dark blue fabric. She’d clearly been awake for a while and didn’t appear to be as affected by the previous night’s activities as he and Dwalin were. Which was astounding because Thorin knew for a fact she’d drank as much as, if not more than, they both had.

He ducked his head to avoid her glare and walked towards her, apologizing, “Sorry, mother. I was messing with Dwalin.” He stopped in front of her, head tilted up slightly to meet her gaze from under his dark eyebrows.  

As the seconds passed, Fris’ gaze softened until finally she cracked a small smile. “Well. I suppose it is past time he woke up. Past time you woke up, as well, son.” She reached up and began fussing with his hair, brushing down the loose strands into some semblance of control. “Did you get into a fight with the hairbrush, Thorin? Goodness.”

Thorin smiled sheepishly and stood still as she cleaned him up to her liking. Or as much as she could when he was only wearing a shirt, pants, and boots. She straightened everything, tucked his shirt in, laced the front ties up, and with a sigh let his hair loose so she could redo his ponytail completely. Her hands were insistent but gentle as she combed through the unruly curls with her fingers, likely because she knew his head was pounding with his hangover. As much as he wanted to protest, remind her that he was an adult and he liked the way he looked just fine, he found himself leaning into her touch. It had been many months since he’d last felt it, since she’d last lovingly fussed over him. That was his own fault, of course, he was the one who ran off on his own. Guilt surged up in him just thinking of what he’d done, the months he’d spent away from her, and he couldn’t stop himself from suddenly wrapping his arms around her. She let out a surprised gasp before she returned the gesture, hugging him just as hard as he was squeezing her.

Neither spoke for a long moment, until finally he whispered, “I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” she replied immediately. She gave him one extra tight squeeze then stepped back. He dropped his arms as she stared at his shirt, needlessly untying then retying the laces. He didn’t need to see her eyes to know they were filling with tears. “Enough of that now. We had enough last night.”

“Aye, you cried plenty for the both of us,” he teased. He gently grabbed her hands and pulled them away from his shirt. He gave them a careful squeeze which she returned.

“I’ll have you know, you cried more than me.” After reluctantly pulling her hands from his, she raised her head with a sniff and turned away from him. She started down the hallway towards the dining room, and he fell into step next to her, loosely wrapping his arm around her shoulders as they walked.

“And Father cried more than both of us.” He chuckled, vividly remembering how many times his father had randomly started crying into his cup.

Fris rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t hold back an affectionate smile. “He’s always been an emotional drunk. But I don’t think anyone can blame him this time.” Fighting back another surge of guilt that her statement caused, he swallowed heavily then nodded his agreement. He listened quietly as she continued talking while they walked, sharing more stories and snippets of what he’d missed while he was gone. Each one brought more guilt with it, but he pushed it aside. As far as he was concerned, it was less than what he deserved for what he’d put them through.

The one-sided conversation stopped for a moment when they reached the end of the hallway and the door they were looking for. He automatically stepped ahead of her to open the door, the action engrained in him from years of seeing his father and grandfather do the same for his mother and grandmother. She patted his cheek, pulling a soft smile from him, then she entered ahead of him. He followed in after her and wasn’t surprised to see the table was already occupied. His father was slumped over where he sat, grey, shaggy haired head in his hands, and his sister was sitting next to him, gently pushing a bowl towards him. She looked up when they entered and smiled. She, just like their mother, looked as if she hadn’t also partaken in the previous night’s festivities. Her eyes were clear and bright, her dark hair was perfectly brushed and braided and her blue dress didn’t have so much as a wrinkle.

“Good morning, mother, Thorin. I fixed a little breakfast for us, would you like some?” Ignoring Thrain’s moan in response to her cheerful voice, she stood up and moved over to the counter. She didn’t wait for them to answer before she began fixing them both plates. The “little” breakfast wasn’t actually so little, but considering how many people lived in the building, it still probably wasn’t enough for everyone. There was a large platter piled high with various meats, two bowls full of soup, and a smaller platter stacked with bread. She picked up an empty plate and quickly filled it with meat and bread. Just as Thorin sat down, she set the plate in front of him. It was quickly followed by a bowlful of soup and a cup. He knew not to get his hopes up, but he was still slightly disappointed when he lifted it up and smelled nothing but fresh water in it.

Despite the disappointing lack of alcohol, the first sip had him thirstily chugging it down. He hadn’t realized how much he missed fresh water after months at sea. All too soon his cup was empty, and his face was wet with the drops that had missed his mouth in his frenzy. He set it down and, ignoring his mother’s warning glare, wiped his face dry with his sleeve. Dis refilled his cup without having to be asked and he managed not to gulp the second cupful down, too. Setting the cup down half empty, he pulled the bowl to him. The smell hit him immediately and sent a brief bit of nausea curling in his stomach, but it was squashed by the sudden hunger exploding through him. He’d had his fair share of food while he’d been drinking just hours ago, but months traveling and eating whatever he could scrounge up needed more than just one night of good food to be completely erased. He dug into the soup ravenously, earning a good-natured huff from his mother. She reached over and brushed some loose hair behind his ear before it could land in his bowl.

“Just a few months at sea and you’ve forgotten all the manners I taught you,” Fris huffed, though the affection in her voice made it clear she was only teasing. Dis set a plate, bowl, and cup in front of her before she sat back down by Thrain. The older man had yet to raise his head and hadn’t moved since Thorin and Fris had entered. Thorin wasn’t certain he was even awake until Dis patted his back and his father let out a loud, painfilled groan. Fris glanced at her husband disapprovingly before she began to eat, with much less hurry than her son. She dipped the bread into the soup before taking her first bite. Mouthful, she closed her eyes and hummed approvingly, then after swallowing she said, “This is quite good, Dis, darling, thank you.”

Without looking at her husband, she added, “It’s too bad your father can’t appreciate it. But I suppose when you get to be his age, you just can’t handle your drink like you did when you were young.”

Her teasing worked and instantly Thrain picked his head up. He didn’t look any better than Thorin had when he’d first awoken, his hair a tangled mess that fell into his face and blended with his just as tangled beard. He still had on his clothes from the night before and unlike Thorin, he hadn’t changed so his good clothes were covered in various stains and wrinkled from being slept in. In short, he looked awful and messy. Despite this though, he pulled himself upright in his chair, grumbling, “At my age? I’m a perfectly respectable age and I can hold my drink just fine, thank you very much.” Still grumbling, he rubbed his eyes repeatedly to clear them, then blinked a few times before they focused on Fris. He stopped grumbling and his face brightened immediately. He clumsily reached over the table and grabbed Fris’ free hand. She hid her smile by taking another bite of bread, but she let him entwine their fingers. “Fris! My dear, Fris, my darling jewel, you look ever so lovely this morning!”

Ignoring Dis and Thorin’s snickers, Thrain scooted his chair around the table to Fris’ side. When he was close enough, he leaned towards her, lips puckered for a kiss. Instead of her lips however, he was met with a large chunk of bread. He leaned back, eyes growing wide with confusion, and the bread followed. Fris rubbed the bread against his lips, and after another moment of confusion he followed the silent command and opened his mouth. Under her watchful gaze, he took a bite, chewed it up slowly, and swallowed it. Satisfied, Fris smiled at him and reached out to caress his cheek. He leaned into the touch until she was holding his head up. Still staring and smiling dopily at her, he let her feed him, opening his mouth each time she offered something.

With their parents focused on each other, Dis and Thorin looked away from them, an attempt to offer them some semblance of privacy. Huffing, she stood up from the table and picked up the bowl she’d been trying to give Thrain. Still eating, Thorin watched her pour the soup back into the bigger bowl and put the now empty bowl in the sink to be rinsed later. After she rejoined him at the table, he swallowed his mouthful and asked, “Are you not going to eat?”

“I ate earlier, while I was cooking,” she explained. She glanced over at Thrain and Fris, rolling her eyes even as she smiled. “I’ve been trying to get him to eat something, or just drink some water, for almost an hour.”

Thorin followed her gaze and watched Fris literally spoon feed his father a bit of soup, being careful not to let any drip into his beard. Chuckling, he stuffed a bit of sausage into his mouth and said, “He’s always been a fool for mother, Dis. You know only she can get him to listen when he’s hungover.”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full, Thorin, goodness,” Dis leaned away from him, fighting back a smile, and shooed her hand playfully at him. “How old are you, brother? It seems you’ve forgotten.”

“I’m old enough,” Thorin responded after swallowing his mouthful. He took a long drink of water to wash it down and pushed his plate away. Now that he’d stuffed himself, his hunger was appeased, at least for the moment. Wiping his mouth dry, he stood up. Neither of his parents reacted to his movement and he wasn’t about to disturb them, but he couldn’t sit there and watch them either. He set his empty bowl in the sink with the other dirty dishes, finished the rest of his water before adding it to the growing pile, and then set his plate that was still partially full on the counter, out of the way of the rest of the food.

With his mess cleaned up, he leaned over and kissed Dis’ hair. She caught his sleeve before he could walk away and asked, “What are you going to do now?”

Shrugging, he replied, “I’m going to find Bil- Master Baggins and get started with planning. We can at least get something started, and Father and everyone else can join us later when they’re ready.”

Something gleamed in Dis’ eyes in response to his answer. She smiled sweetly up at him and asked, “Could you wake the boys first, please? I want them to eat while the food is hot.” He was instantly suspicious of her smile and the sweetness in her voice, but there was nothing unusual in her request. So, staring at her with narrowed eyes, he hesitantly nodded. “Oh, thank you, brother!” She grinned and pushed him away from the table, causing him to stumble before he caught himself. He glanced back at her, still trying to figure out what she was planning, but when her smile didn’t budge, he had no choice but to let it go.

Sighing in resignation, he turned away from her and left the room. Whatever it was, he was confident it wasn’t as bad as anything else she’d done to him when they were younger. He could handle it. Holding onto that confidence, he leisurely walked through the hallways. As much as he wanted to rush and get the boys up as quickly as possible, so he could get started planning as fast as possible, being at home for the first time in months was enough to calm his impatience. He was surprised by the simple joy he found just being in the familiar halls he’d spent much of his life in, seeing the doors to his family’s various rooms. He passed a few people, a few cousins, but most people were still sleeping off their hangover or they’d already started their day’s work elsewhere.

It took him a few minutes to finally reach the door to the room that his nephews shared with Gimli, but for once he didn’t mind the time it took. He was so calmed and relaxed by the walk that when he reached it, he’d forgotten all about Dis’ strange behavior. He stopped in front of the door and paused when he heard voices on the other side. He recognized his nephews, it was impossible not to with how loud they were, and he knew one of the other voices had to be Gimli. But the fourth eluded him. Even when he leaned closer to the door he couldn’t place it. He wasn’t worried, as he trusted that no one could make it to the family side of the inn without permission, but his curiosity was piqued.

He really wanted to open the door and surprise them all, his nephews, Gimli, and the stranger, but he restrained himself. He raised his fist to knock, but before he could, the door suddenly opened. He looked down and suddenly found himself staring into Bilbo’s eyes. He froze, his hand stuck in the air. Bilbo was just as frozen, his mouth dropping open. They stared at each other, neither moving nor making a sound, for a long moment. Finally, they both snapped out of it at the same time. And then they simultaneously spoke.

“Thorin?!”

“Bilbo?!”