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Chapter Text

Thorin’s eyes were closed. The warm darkness of the inside of his eyelids soothed his nerves and blocked out the world under the Mountain. Being king was tough business. And, he thought ruefully, he wasn’t as young as he used to be. He felt the mattress shift at one corner and cracked an eye open to see his burglar looking at him. A triumphant sort of feeling washed over the dwarf king and he let his eye close again. She was his. His beautiful, responsible, caring wife. Her hand touched his leg gently, petting the coarse hair. That was another thing he loved about her. She appreciated his hair, admired it in a way he imagined dwarvish females didn’t. Her hand moved down toward his ankle and past where the hair thinned out. With gentle fingers, she played with the fine wisps of black that grew on the top of his foot, and Thorin jerked fully awake, yanking his feet out of her reach.

“What are you doing?” The tingling, ticklish feeling was still racing along his skin and Thorin rubbed the top of his foot furiously, glancing at Billa. He was dismayed to see that the hobbit looked wounded, her hand still poised above where his foot had been a moment ago. Before he had married her, he probably would have given her a wounded look right back, huffed and grumbled, then went on with his life. But this blasted halfling, with her pretty soft face and big brown eyes, had somehow twisted things around so that he was the one that felt at fault for what had just happened. Guilt warred with righteous indignation, and they wrestled in the muddy interior of Thorin’s brain while he stared at the hobbit. She stared back, still looking hurt.

“What business are my feet--I mean,” the dwarf was positively flustered now, “my feet have no business--er. Don’t touch my feet. That tickles.” The injured expression faded slightly, replaced with confusion.

“Tickles?” He wasn’t sure how to identify her tone. It wasn’t curious so much as it was questioning. “Your feet… are ticklish?” And now it was disbelieving. Thorin frowned and momentarily stopped rubbing his offended foot.

“Yes. Why shouldn’t they be? Everyone has ticklish feet.”

Billa’s lips twitched. Her eyes turned up at the corners and crinkled. Her throat tightened visibly and Thorin knew seconds before he heard it that she was trying very hard not to laugh. But laugh she did, and for some reason it made him feel like he was the butt of the joke. It was the dwarf’s turn to frown, but rather than having the grace to look even the slightest bit contrite, the halfling nearly fell off the bed, laughing harder than ever.

“And what, exactly,” he growled, hurt turning to frustration as her giggles wore on, “is so funny?”

“Ticklish… feet!” she gasped, wiping tears of mirth from her eyes.

“I fail to see how that’s at all humorous,” he grumbled, shifting uncomfortably. Billa managed to sit up and calm herself, but there was definitely an amused twinkle in her eyes.

“Did you sincerely think, after watching me walk for months over everything under the sun with my bare feet that hobbits suffer from such an,” she snickered, “unfortunate condition?” Her humor didn’t lighten his mood in the least and as he scowled darkly at her, and Billa seemed to realize that he was being serious. Clearing her throat several times, she composed herself.

“I wasn’t trying to tickle your feet,” she told him, the twinkle in her eyes threatening to turn into a laugh again. “I didn’t know feet could be ticklish. Among hobbits, it’s considered a… gesture of affection and trust to touch your partner’s feet. Married couples sometimes wash each other’s feet to show their devotion and the strength of their marriage.” Thorin’s scowl was draining away now and he felt somewhat foolish. Of course she hadn’t been trying to tickle his feet. Why would he have thought that? He thought he might need to apologize, but he couldn’t find the words. He gazed at her for a long moment before he realized that she was smiling.

“You old silly,” she accused him fondly, and stood up.

“What are you doing now?”

“Showing you how hobbits apologize.”

Thorin thought later that he should ask her to apologize more often.

Chapter Text

The Art of Battle; Glory and Technique. Billa read the title of Thorin’s book and sighed. He had a right to relax however he liked after a long day of kingly duties, but the little halfling didn’t understand how reading about warfare would relax anyone. Still, he would do with his evening as he saw fit.

And I will do with my evening whatever I must to get his attention. Billa smiled. This was a game she played occasionally, one that she usually won and never told Thorin about. There were rules, of course. No speaking, for one. And no overtly seductive actions. That made winning too easy.

With another sigh, she dropped her shawl over the back of Thorin’s armchair and settled by the fire, sitting on the floor so she was near his feet. Billa was gratified to see that he’d removed his boots already. Less rubble and dust tracked into her rugs. His stockings caught her attention, though--particularly the one on the foot closest to her, which had a hole through which one hairy toe was peeking. The hobbit started to smile. She’d intended to mend the tear in his trousers without making him take them off, but this gave her a better idea. Quick, clever fingers made short work of the lacings on his trouser-legs, and in moments, Billa was pulling his stockings off, trying not to smile too obviously.

Thorin tried to pull his foot away from her, but when that failed, he looked down at his wife with a frown. Dark eyebrows rose, then fell as he felt his stocking slide off, exposing the foot underneath. His expression clouded with confusion, and he tried to pull away again. This time she let him, and he had a moment of relief that ended as soon as she reached for his other foot.

“What are you doing?” Putting his book aside a bit more hastily than usual, the dwarf pulled his feet out of her reach. Billa spared him a glance, eyes bright with mischief. That made him wary. His frown deepened and he stood up. The halfling was grinning by then and watching his feet with a clear purpose in mind. The feeling that rose in him wasn’t quite fear or panic, but there was definitely an unpleasant flavor to it. Whatever it was that she was going to do (and he had a sneaking suspicion that she was going to do something truly terrible, like tickling) Thorin didn’t doubt that she would succeed in doing it. But just because she had her mind set on something didn’t mean he wasn’t going to fight it!

“Leave my feet alone,” the Mountain King growled, striding toward the bed. Billa paid no heed to his words, and as she followed him, the dwarf had the fleeting impression of Kili’s impish grin looking out of her face. With a scowl, he sat down and yanked off his remaining stocking. He regretted it moments later as Billa attacked his feet again, grabbing for them with her soft little hands. He swung them up onto the bed, and she followed, giggling.

“You’re acting like a child,” he pointed out, both embarrassed and annoyed. Billa ignored him, sitting on his legs. Thorin grabbed her around the waist and lifted her onto his chest. Though she squealed in protest, she didn’t fight very hard, and when she’d come to rest on top of him, she turned over and kissed his nose with a grin.

“I win,” she murmured, brown eyes sparkling happily.

“Win?” Thorin tried to sound grumpy, but it was hard to be anything but happy when she looked at him like that.

“I always win when you hold me.” Billa pressed her nose into his beard and Thorin tightened his grip on her for a moment.

“So you’re done trying to tickle my feet?” He wanted to be sure before he let her go. The look her got from her would have been comical if he hadn’t been so braced against any attempt at humor.

“Tickle… your feet?” Billa looked puzzled. “Your feet are ticklish?” It sincerely looked like she’d never encountered the concept before. Thorin had a feeling he was about to learn something new about hobbits. Perhaps he would always be learning new things about his wife.

“Yes. Aren’t yours?”

The female blinked and shook her head. “No.” But there was a glimmer of understanding in her eyes now. “Between hobbits, it’s a gesture of affection and trust to touch your partner’s feet.”

“Oh.” Considering how proud hobbits were of their feet, that made sense. “Well… I… um…” Thorin fished for words as she watched him, smiling that infuriatingly understanding smile. “My feet… are ticklish.” Could he have possibly been any less eloquent? Billa giggled.

“I see.” Her smile faded slightly as she thought. “And… does that mean you won’t want me touching your feet anymore?”

The words “rock” and “hard place” passed through Thorin’s mind as he looked down at the halfling. He didn’t like the feeling of helplessness that came with being tickled. He also disliked the feeling of helplessness that came when his wife was upset.

“Um, no, that’s not… I mean… if you really wanted to,” he mumbled, wishing he could be grumpy with her, because that was easier, “I guess I wouldn’t mind… too much.” Billa’s dark eyes went all soft and the dwarf was caught only slightly off-guard when she kissed him.

It wasn’t until much later that Thorin was thinking clearly enough to marvel at how well his burglar could handle feet.

Chapter Text

"There. Now doesn't that feel better?" Fili stood back with a pleased smile to look upon his handiwork. The boots came up to mid-thigh on the little hobbit, but it hadn't escaped his notice that her feet were actually a little snug in their leather casings, and Fili wondered again at how large hobbit feet were. Billa, for her part, stood awkwardly in boots she was practically swimming in, looking rather uncomfortable.

"No. It feels like Dwalin's about to come decapitate me for being in his boots." The halfling looked distinctly nervous as Fili took a step away and his brother giggled. The others were watching, some with amused expressions, others pitying. No one moved to help her.

"Oh, he's bathing, Billa. He doesn't need them." Kili grinned. "Now come on. Take a few steps and see how they feel. You might like wearing boots."

"I do NOT like wearing boots." Billa wiggled her toes and grimaced. "I can't feel the ground. It's like I've got slabs of wood tied to my feet. Help me out, Fili." But when she reached for him, the dwarf took another step back, a mischievous light dancing in his eyes.

"Come on, Billa. Don't be a spoilsport. Just a few steps."

Billa looked around desperately for a sympathetic face, but no one seemed even remotely willing to help her. Fili and Kili had started to dance around each other by that point, singing about "the halfing that lived in a shoe," which was possibly the most ridiculous thing she'd ever heard. Lifting her feet carefully and setting them down harder than normal, because of the weight and unfamiliarity of the footware, she clomped after them.

Kili stopped first. He took one look at Billa, swaying uncertainly on one of Dwalin's enormous shoes while she looked for a place to put the other one down, and started to laugh. Fili joined him. If they'd intended to motivate her to move faster, they succeeded.

Billa lunged forward with a growl, yelling at them to take the boots off, and the brothers dodged away with howls of laughter. The hobbit hopped and clomped after them a short way, then the toe of one huge boot caught against the heel of the other and Billa hit the dirt hard. Fili and Kili didn't have enough time to recover from their laughter enough to get worried. In seconds, Billa was on her feet and again and looking furious.

If the boots had been too big for her feet, then they might have understood better why Billa couldn't seem to stay upright for more than a dozen paces. But she tripped and slipped and misstepped and faux pas'd her way around the fire in pursuit of the brothers who by now were helpless in the midst of gales of laughter.

"Wait 'till get my hands on you, you little piglets, I'll knock your heads in!" The mental image of Billa doing anything that violent was too much for Fili. He keeled over with a gasp, holding his stomach as tears of mirth trickled down his very pink cheeks. Billa caught up to him, only to misjudge the distance, step on him, and topple with a startled squeal.

"What're you doin' in my boots?"

Billa was on her back, so she couldn't see Dwalin, but she didn't need to see him in order to know the sour expression on his face. He stomped over to her, yanked the boots off her feet, and stomped away again, muttering about people that had no respect for a dwarf's property.

Billa's eyes were watering as she gingerly ran her fingers through the hair on her feet, making it fluff and curl properly.

"Very worth it." Fili sat up, holding his stomach. "Pay up." With a snigger, Kili handed his brother a number of small coins.

"I admit, Brother, I didn't think you'd have the nerve to use Dwalin's boots."

"They were the only boots big enough, Brother."