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Chapter Text

Bilba purled and knitting away, hands deftly moving and eyes following her work. The needles clicked and the ball of yarn gently let itself go as the purple vest she made swallowed it up.

She pulled her toes back from the fire, tucking them beside her on the armchair. These chairs were big enough for two hobbits to share, if they didn't mind personal space- and true, most didn't. But this was Erebor, and it was unlikely she would be sharing space with a hobbit again. Instead, Ori sat in the chair beside her, writing quietly.

Pursing his lips, the soft scratching ceased, and he leaned back to read over the page.

"What do you think of this?" He asked quietly, handing her the parchment. Blowing gently on the ink as she took it, she shifting and settling comfortably again.

"These are sentence fragments here," she pointed, "and here. And I would rephrase the second paragraph; it sounds a bit disjointed." She handed it back to him. "But it's lovely."

"Thank you," he smiled, the same way he always did; warm eyes, closed lips. Simple and pleased.

"You know, a hundred years from now," Bilba picked up her knitting again. "In a hundred years, they'll look on your logs and journals, and read about the Company and the rebuilding of Erebor, and they'll say, 'That Ori. We are certainly lucky to have had him around.'"

He shook his head with a lopsided grin. "In a hundred years, I won't stand to read it. Because, all I'll think about is how that was the best time of my life. And how silly I was."

Bilba blinked for a moment, setting aside her knitting in their cheery little room. She had forgotten he'd be alive then. Then another thing hit her.

"Now just a minute!" She cried, sitting straighter. "Who says you're silly! Whatever for?"

The dwarf's eyes widened at the gumption in her reaction. He shrugged dismissively, "Just having a laugh."

"Don't think for one moment you're not terribly important, Ori," Bilba furrowed her brow seriously. "I've met kings and wizards and you're one of the most remarkable people in Middle Earth."

His face reddened, and he reached over to give her hand a squeeze. She smiled, and turned it so they were palm-to-palm, and held him fast.

They sat in silence, enjoying the smell of applewood and soft popping of flames. The windows were open, letting in fresh mountain air and sounds of crickets. Her gaze drifted to him, looking so peaceful with his eyes closed, and she took her time admiring him. He was a freak of nature by Shire standards, but after all their adventures she found him cute. His face was good natured, with a strong jaw and dusting of freckles, and the amount of hair was terribly masculine. The light from the fire cast a warm glow on him and she felt her heartstrings tug.

"Can I get you some tea?" He murmured, tilting his head towards her, eyes connecting with hers.

"Tea would be lovely," she said softly.

There's something peculiar tonight, Bilba thought, watching him get up with a final squeeze to her hand. He was smooth and stable, walking like the stone floor was an extension of himself. He pulled the kettle from the fire with his bare hands, and she felt acutely aware of his breathing, and the flash of his throat as his heart beat. Slowly, she realized she was biting her knuckle, reclined in her chair. Clearing her throat, she straightened just as he brought her a mug.

The hobbit thanked him, and moved over in her seat, patting beside her. His eyebrows shot up for the briefest of moments, before he smiled broadly and it crinkled his face. Wiggling in beside her, he was toasty and soft, and smelled of books and tobacco.

Bilba allowed her tea to steep and her body to relax. It was difficult to say if she had ever felt safer or more comfortable than this moment, wedged between Ori's cardigan and the plush cushion, the whole sides of their bodies touching. On impulse- she had many of those lately- she leaned up, and kissed his whiskery cheek.

Ori paused, mug at his lips, and looked down at her with a pleased expression. "What was that?" He muttered.

"A kiss," she whispered, smiling toothily.

"What does it mean?"

"It's a sign of affection."

"Oh." He was very pink, and beaming, and murmuring into his mug. "Then dwarves kiss when we touch foreheads. But that, um, can be romantic."

"A kiss can as well."

"Oh."

They sipped their tea in silence, and Bilba leaned her weight against him, as she had countless times before.

This time, he turned his head, and kissed her on her curls.

She looked up and him, and he flushed. "Was that right?" His voice was hushed, and intimate.

She swelled with happiness. "Yes. You can kiss anywhere. But the meanings differ."

"How is that?"

"Well," she felt her face heat up, "A kiss to the cheek means fondness. A kiss to the forehead is tenderness. A kiss to the hand is a sign of respect-"

"We kiss hands too! But only people you're very close to."

Emboldened by all this kissing talk and a lack of cultural sensitivity, Bilba picked up his hand and brought it to her forehead.

Ori was quiet.

He took her hand in his palm, slowly bringing his lips down to it. As he brought his head up again, they locked eyes.

"You dwarves are so aggressive about everything," she laughed. He smiled toothily.

They leaned forward together, touching their brows ever so gently, and Ori sucked in a breath at the touch. She turned to face him fully, and he did the same, Bilba bringing her hands up, tentatively cupping his face, cradling it close. Ori breathed in, out, and in, and looped his arms about her waist and shoulders, hugging her protectively. They held each other and thought left her; all she could feel was Ori. A broad grin grew on Bilba's face, and she opened her eyes, nuzzling his nose.

"And hobbits?" He whispered.

"We kiss... mouths."

His eyes flicked down to her lips, then up again. Something flared in his eyes, then left just as suddenly.

Her breathing came quicker, her heart speeding up.

When their mouths met it was a simple thing; they held each other so close already. Terribly alien to Ori though, whom with eyes opened puckered his lips out like a fish, and for the hell of it Bilba did the same.

They parted and smiled. They kissed again with their foreheads, Ori leading, grazing and tapping their skulls together softly. Then Bilba advanced on his mouth with her head tilted and eyes closed. A quick learner, he mirrored her movements, and this meeting was soft and full of plump lips. Bilba moved her mouth against his, taking his breath with her.

They kept going.

Bilba wrapped her arms around his torso, enjoying his loose, squishy layers. Alternating between Dwarf and Hobbit kisses, the pair smooched and bumped and nuzzled their way into a fog of the mind. Ori's beard was rather soft, too- too long to prickle, and he peppered her face and neck with tiny kisses making Bilba laugh and his heart flutter.

They slowed as fire burned low, and the room chilled. Bilba swung her leg over his waist, straddling him, and Ori groaned at the contact. Thighs warm, hands warm, mouth warm... She licked his bottom lip and he did the same inquisitively, raising an eyebrow as their mouths opened and tongues touched. It was slimy, and tasted of copper. But her tongue felt better the longer they did it, until he was groaning, and his eyes rolled back into his head as they clumsily delved deeper.

Ori's hands were on her hips now, legs weak, as she rocked their pelvises together and he struggled between the joy and utter debauchery of his erection pressing between her legs. It made his head spin- her little moans, angling her hips to please herself through their clothes using his penis, how she looked with her eyes squeezed shut and her lips open like that, all pink and swollen. He did that. She let him do that, she wanted him to do that. He was losing himself to a raw instinct; they chased each other with their mouths when they parted for too long, he was thrusting up in earnest, losing his footing on the floor, his toes curled in his boots, he would remove his hands from these hips when they pried his cold dead body away-

"Wait! Wait-" he croaked, and she stopped immediately, concern on her face.

Chapter Text

"Are you alright?" Bilba gasped.

"Yes! Oh, Mahal, I- I’m. Feels, too good." They rested their foreheads together with lips parted, and they stayed like that, chests heaving. Opening his eyes, Ori swallowed.

"What are we doing, Bilba," his voice was low and husky, his pupils dilated.

"I don’t know," The heat in her belly swelled, and she moved so their lips were ever so slightly brushing. "We can stop," she whispered.

His breath was warm, and he asked just as softly, “Do you want to?”

She shook her head, snaking her hands up and into his hair. She rubbed his cheek with hers before nuzzling his nose and, tenderly, lingeringly, kissing his mouth. For a delirious second, heat coursed up inside her like a firework.

She pressed her cheek to his chest, feeling his heart hammer through all that knitting. He wrapped his arms around her and held her flush to his body. She arched into it, rubbing her breasts firmly against him and grinding their hips together. He gasped, fingers clutching at her. She groaned and nibbled his neck.

Ori’s breath shook, his voice shook, his body shook. “Whatever this is, I want it.” He kissed her face once, twice. “But… no more tonight.” He bumped their heads together, breath slowing, rubbing the dip of her back in soothing circles. “I-“

Bilba kissed the corner of his mouth. “Say no more.”

The next morning, the pair lay intertwined on the chair, Bilba sandwiched between Ori and the backrest. They shared his cardigan, Ori cocooning her in his arms, Bilba snuggled into his chest. They barely fit, and their legs dangled off the arm. Robin’s egg blue filled the sky alongside bright yellow sunshine, while the windows fogged at the edges. The smell of crisp morning and Bilba were the first thing Ori realized, then he could hear the Company’s muffled voices as they moved about the hall, pulling him from sleep. Ori blinked blearily and found himself in a faceful of curls. He grinned, and nuzzled her.

"Bilba," he muttered, voice froggy.

She didn’t stir.

"Bilba, it’s morning."

Nothing. Ori yawned.

"They’re gonna wonder where we are," he pleaded, grin widening as she pouted and squeezed her eyes shut, burrowing deeper into his embrace. What can best be described as a whine came from her, and he snorted.

"We gotta get up," the dwarf reasoned.

"Aren’t we, though," she said, voice muffled, wiggling her hips onto his morning erection. Scooting up to rest her face in his neck, Ori hummed happily, running a hand down her side and tracing her curves. It was all very new, and exhilarating, and damn the consequences he wanted this.

He maneuvered himself atop her, yawning again, as Bilba shimmied to be fully under him with a wicked look in her eye. Supporting his weight on his elbows, Ori leaned down and gave her a long dwarf-kiss. They rocked their hips together lazily, hardness rubbing firmly against her clitoris through cotton. Spreading her legs further, the hobbit smiled into his collarbone, arms wrapped around the dwarf’s torso. He grunted softly, slipping fingers down to grasp the swell of her hip. Their thrusts found a rhythm. The pressure of his weight and the stimulation below had Bilba wiggling and sighing; she ran her nails up his back, then down again and under his tunic. Fingers splaying over warm skin, she felt his muscles move under her hands as he thrust. Leaning her head back she groaned, and he seized her neck with his mouth, kissing and nipping.

"Ahh," she breathed, arching, and he closed his other hand over her wrist, pinning it down.

"Bilba, Ori!" A voice called from up the hall.

The pair sprang up and away, but the cardigan held them fast! In a heap of limbs and arousal they collided, and desperately pulled the thing off as heavy footsteps approached the door.

Wresting free, Bilba leaped onto the seat beside them, pulling the nearest book to her. Ori straightened his clothes and pulled Bilba’s knitting onto his lap, fumbling with the needles just as the door swung open.

"Ah!" Oin smiled, hooking his thumbs in his breast pockets. "Breakfast is ready. Be quick! Or it’ll be gone it will."

"Thank you," They chimed, Bilba closing the book and standing up. Oin turned and headed back down the hall, closing the door behind him, and the pair stayed in silence.

Breathing heavy, Bilba turned to Ori, as he held the knitting over his erection with his head leaned back.

"I’ll need a minute," he said, and Bilba laughed.

Rolls flew overhead as loud guffawing and arguments filled the room. Bofur nudged Balin, and they laughed about something, while Kili and Dori bickered with grins on their faces. Bombur and his wife held hands on the table, listening as Gloin regaled those closest with an animated story, and Oin and Thorin read something together. Ducking a flying toy, Bilba caught Ori’s eye, and they shared a smile.

Breakfast was a pleasant affair, as dishes were passed around and jam fought over. Bombur endeared them all with his thick-cut bacon, and a heap of eggs fit for an army. The Company always shared their meals. Despite not being on the road anymore, nobody so much as thought about it when they continued eating together and kept the same communal spaces- call it a habit, or a family. Even when Gloin and Bombur’s wives arrived with their children, the group had simply fetched more chairs.

The kids liked Bilba well enough; her novelty to them was starting to wear off. This morning she sat beside Gloin’s boy, Gimli; just entering his tween years by her reckoning.

"Aunty Bee, can you pass the butter?"

"Of course."

"Thank you," He slathered his toast with care. "So what do you do again?" He took a bite, watching her with interest.

"I’m a linguist; I translate things." Bilba explained, catching a roll as it flew overhead.

"What kind?"

She cut into her breakfast. “Currently, trade agreements from Common into Sindarin.”

"Elf? You speak Elf?" Gimli asked incredulously. "Why would you wanna do that?"

"Well, I read it better than I speak it. But I include my translated copies with the Common copies when we send them away. Helps improve our relations, you see. Shows our cultural tolerance."

"Elf money’s probably tainted," Gimli groused into his porridge.

"It’s not so much about the money as it is discouraging future war," Bilba had never believed in talking down to children, especially adolescents. "Having trade improves communication and public opinion."

Gimli shrugged. “I’m not one fer politics,” he said.