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It had been a while since he had seen any of the company, although he knew where most of them were. Bilbo Baggins had been wandering the winding tunnels of Thranduil’s dungeon unseen for weeks thanks to the magic ring he had found in the Goblin tunnels. He had located all but one of the thirteen dwarrow; separated and shoved in dark holes far away from one another. The only one he had not located was their leader, and Bilbo wasn’t even sure he was in the prison.
He had honestly started to give up on ever seeing Thorin Oakenshield ever again. That thought made Bilbo’s heart ache with a pain that was not physical.
He’d always preferred hobbit lads to lasses, but he had never had someone take his breath away quite like Thorin had when he had strutted into his hobbit hole.
Thorin was the tallest of the dwarrow, second only to Dwalin perhaps, with a broad chest and shoulders, strong arms, and long dark hair with a few regal silver streaks. His beard was shorter than most, trimmed in such a way to enhance his fantastic bone structure, but it was Thorin’s striking blue eyes that had taken Bilbo’s breath away.
The dwarf king had sauntered through Bilbo’s green door with a confidence that was unlike anything the hobbit had ever seen. His very presence seemed to fill the entire entryway as he smiled around at his kin before turning back to Bilbo. Cool eyes scanned the hobbit from his large furry feet to the top of his sandy curls, sending a rush of blood to Bilbo’s cheeks. That heat was effectively doused as Thorin offered scathing words about his character and Bilbo remembered having half-a-mind to smack the smug git.
Bilbo pulled a face at that thought, almost kicking grumpily at a small stone before he thought better of it. He may be alone in the dark pantry, but that did not mean there wouldn’t be someone in the kitchen close enough to hear the sound. He grabbed some food and a bit of drink before slipping past the various cooks and other staff that loitered in the kitchen. He allowed his feet to carry him to his favorite lunch spot as his mind wandered again.
The one thing that still bothered Bilbo was the fact that Thorin was a complete enigma to him. The dwarf seemed to have conflicting opinions of him depending on the day, ranging anywhere from disdain to almost fondness. He still wasn’t sure if the king liked him or not. Sure he had accepted Bilbo into the company, but accepting someone and liking them were two different things.
Bilbo had held a deep respect for the dwarrow and their quest, despite how ridiculous and impossible it seemed, and that was especially true for Thorin. However, throughout the ups and downs of their journey thus far, his opinion of the dwarf king had shifted. No longer was there simply a wary respect, but a deep fondness for the majestic oaf had grown in his chest.
Curling up on a darkened ledge that overlooked one of the main galleries, the burglar tucked into his meager lunch, listening all the while for any elves. Not far off was one of the elven guard’s break rooms and the guards were never short on gossip. Their words had been helpful in locating his friends in the past, so he often came here to see if he would hear any news of Thorin.
He didn’t have to wait long for his plan to pay off, as a small group of elves rounded the end of the hall and moved towards his hiding spot. It looked like a few new recruits were getting the full tour of the dungeon this afternoon. Bilbo slipped from his perch and followed them, listening to their hushed conversation detailing the layout of their prison, noting with interest that there was a lower hall that the hobbit had not yet found.
Then one of the new recruits asked the perfect question, “Do we currently have any one held in the lower hall?” and Bilbo perked up, very interested in the answer. The commander in charge of the tour seemed reluctant to give any details, but eventually confirmed that there was a prisoner down there. Bilbo’s heart leapt with a sudden influx of hope and he had to stuff his knuckles into his mouth to keep any exclamation from escaping him.
He continued to follow the little party of elves, hoping that they would lead him to the way down to the lower halls. They took many turns and walked past many of the company, whom the hobbit only spared passing glances, before they finally reached a staircase.
“That leads down to the lower halls of the dungeon, but you will only go down there by Lord Thranduil’s orders.” The commander stated, but Bilbo only half listened as he waited for them to move on so he could go down there. Once the elves moved on, the hobbit slipped down the stairs silently until he came to the bottom.
Bilbo peered around the edge of the archway into the hall. The air was cooler than upstairs and the light was dimmer, but still enough to see by. The doors to the cells were not simply bars that allowed the occupant to see out, but heavy-looking solid metal doors with only a small barred window. Unlike the halls above, this area seemed disturbingly quiet as he stepped out into the hall.
Bilbo took a moment to calm his racing heart and school his breathing into something more steady and silent. He walked to the first door and pressed his ear to it, listening for a few moments before moving on. Even sleeping dwarves made a ridiculous amount of noise, at least where a hobbit is concerned, which is part of how he found the others.
About five doors in or so he heard it, the scuff of a boot, and Bilbo froze. Elves did not scuff their boots, but dwarves did and he listened intently for the sound to come again. He didn’t have to wait long, and Bilbo crept down the passage toward the sound almost not daring to breath in case he missed another sound. It sounded like Thorin was pacing back and forth in his small chamber and the hobbit only knew he had found him when he could hear the dwarf king muttering.
He sounded furious, albeit a little less fiery than his usual ire. Bilbo paused outside the door, eyeing the window for a moment. He was just leaning in to whisper to Thorin when the dwarf kicked the door in his anger, sending the hobbit sprawling backwards onto the stone floor with a yelp.
“Who is there?” the dwarf demanded as if he had been the one scared and not the one doing to scaring, “Show yourself!”
“That is one hell of a greeting, Master Dwarf, for someone who has spent a long time looking for you.” Bilbo muttered, pushing himself up into a sitting position. He glowered up towards the barred window, watching as Thorin’s fingers slipped around two of the bars.
“Bilbo Baggins, is that you?” Thorin sounded like he was dreaming, completely unable to believe his ears.
“Who else did you expect?” The hobbit replied, not missing the fact that the dwarf had used his name. Not just his last name in the usual “Mr. Baggins”, but his first name. He was positive that his cheeks were glowing red and he was thankful that he was invisible to the dwarf king.
“Prove it.” Thorin growled, leaning forward so that Bilbo could see his features as he scanned the hall for the hobbit, “Show me your face right now or you shall receive nothing more than you have already.”
Something in his tone brooked no compromise, so the hobbit obeyed. He pushed himself to his feet, silently moving so that his toes brushed against the door. He crouched as low as his legs would let him before slipping the golden ring from his finger and sliding it into his vest pocket. Taking a steadying breath against the fluttering in his gut, Bilbo finally rose to his full height, standing so close to Thorin that he could smell the musky sent that lingered on his skin.
Thorin stood stock still, staring at him in wonder. Bilbo could see the dwarf’s lips were slightly parted and stormy blue eyes slid over his features in wonder. Though if he was honest with himself, the hobbit was also staring. He barely noticed that one of Thorin’s hands had slipped from its spot around the bar until rough fingers brushed his cheek.
Bilbo froze as the pads of Thorin’s fingers slid across his cheek before tracing the outside of his ear. Without thinking, he leaned into the touch as a thumb swiped over his cheekbone before sliding back. The large hand settled around the back of the hobbit’s neck and pulled him closer until his lips met Thorin’s.
Shock and desire warred inside Bilbo’s gut, his logical mind trying to discern what was happening as his heart shouted for joy. Surely this kiss would have been bestowed upon any of the company who had discovered their leader. The thought that Thorin’s lips were only pressed to his because he was there and not because it was Bilbo made his heart ache. After a moment of tense indecision he relaxed, allowing himself to bask in the only attention he was ever likely to receive from the dwarf.
The next thing he knew, sharp teeth nibbled at his bottom lip shortly followed by the soothing, hot flash of Thorin’s tongue. Bilbo gasped, parting his lips automatically before his brain had processed what had just happened. Thorin tasted dark and earthy, yet sweetly addictive and Bilbo groaned as their tongues twisted and tangled in the oldest kind of dance.
His hands moved of their own accord, desperate to feel the dwarf currently laying claim to his mouth. His right hand found Thorin’s where it still held on to the bar of the window for dear life, coaxing his fingers free so they could twine together. His other hand slid up the dwarf’s strong arm, fingers catching in layers of heavy fabric and fur before finding their prize. Bilbo slipped his fingers into Thorin’s long hair, tugging slightly so the dwarf changed the angle of their kiss and going deeper.
The dwarf king’s growl of approval was something the hobbit felt more than heard. It reverberated through his bones and sent lances of pleasure down his spine, adding fuel to his ever-growing arousal. They broke apart with a wet sound and Thorin rested his forehead against Bilbo’s as best he could through the bars as they both tried to catch their breath.
“Now that, Thorin Oakenshield, is one hell of a greeting.” Bilbo stated between breaths, smiling despite himself as the dwarf chuckled.
“It is only fitting for one who, as you say, has spent such a long time searching for me.” His voice was low and raspy, grating across Bilbo’s skin and raising goosebumps in their wake. The hobbit allowed his eyes to flutter closed and purred quietly as Thorin twirled his fingers through his short curls.
A peal of warm laughter echoing down the corridor brought reality crashing back down on their heads. The hobbit’s head had snapped towards the direction of the noise while his fingers tightened their grip around the dwarf’s hand. Thorin had tensed as well, the hand in Bilbo’s hair had moved to his upper back and pulled him closer to the door as if to protect him.
They could hear footsteps now and Bilbo realized the elves must be coming for Thorin. “I must be going now,” he sighed, cursing the fact that they were not in a better position to work out where they stood in their shifting relationship.
“Wait, no you-!” Thorin sounded almost panicked before the hobbit cut him off with another kiss. While it was a little chaster than their previous one, it held a strong promise.
“If I am caught there will be no way of escaping this place and you can’t reclaim Erebor from inside a cell. Not to mention that we wouldn’t get to do that again.” He finished with a cheeky smirk. Uncertainty painted its way across the dwarf’s features for a brief moment before he slowly nodded and released the hobbit.
“Be safe and come back to me.” Thorin ordered in a fierce whisper. Bilbo nodded before ducking out of Thorin’s view and slipping the magic ring back onto his finger. None too soon, the hobbit realized as three elves appeared around the corner at the end of the tunnel.
Bilbo watched their approach with mild trepidation, their conversation abruptly coming to a halt as the elves stopped outside Thorin’s cell. The two dressed in the typical guards uniform waited as the third, the Keeper of the Keys, opened the heavy metal door.
“Out you come, Dwarf,” one of the guards sneered, “Our Lord would like to speak with you.”
There was a moments pause before Thorin stepped out into the hall. As he did, Bilbo noticed him scan the corridor, blue eyes sliding past his hiding spot before focusing on the elven guards.
To someone who didn’t know him, the dwarf king appeared to simply be pissed off. But Bilbo could see the truth in the slight flush of his cheeks and the pink color of his lips. Bilbo flushed slightly at the almost stiff way Thorin walked as the elves led him away, trying not to ignore the fact that he may be the cause.
After the group disappeared up the stairs, Bilbo stood and reached a hand up to brush two fingers across his bottom lip. He felt branded, burned beyond repair by the heat of Thorin’s kiss. He was utterly ruined for anyone other than his King and Bilbo was already itching for more.
Fin.