Work Text:
Once they were truly settled in Erid Luin (if a debilitated, run-down, abandoned mountain with scraps of iron in it could be considered settled - not that Dwalin would dream of saying this to Thorin, after everything his prince had done to bring them there), Thorin presented Dwalin with an office. It was tiny but functional, tucked between the wing that was being restored as the mountain’s main hall and the area that had been quickly cleared out as a holding area for criminals. It was small and simple, but what really mattered was the thought behind it: that Dwalin was important enough to Durin's Folk that he deserved something so precious and at such a premium as individual space.
The great prince then proceeded to dump a lifetime's worth of work on Dwalin's hastily constructed desk and disappear into the mines to "oversee restorations."
Over 100 years old and still an unrepentant work-skiving brat.
Dwalin didn't fall for that majesty shit, thank you.
Of course, the first task Dwalin gave himself was putting a decent lock on his door. He had no interest in having anyone messing about with his belongings, and all that had been on the door when he arrived was a sliding lock. He made plans for a proper tumbler and clicked a heavy bolt over the bar for the time being, one he'd had for several years.
Then he went through heaps of paper and sort-of-organized them into haphazard piles that would have given his brother a heart attack, put out the small fire in the tiny fireplace, and headed home (after firmly checking the lock).
He showed up bright and early the next morning, still a bit damp from a quick bath after his morning training with Thorin (handed the prince his ass, he did, and not above crowing about it either, as long as no one else was around to hear it), unlocked the firmly locked door, and walked inside.
His desk was spotless. Someone had . . cleaned it. Organized it into neat piles, with little . . . notes on them. And the center was completely clear.
Except for the teacup.
Dwalin scowled at it.
It was a solid stoneware cup, delicately decorated in a repeating geometric design, and inside was a rolled up piece of paper.
Nice office. Bit of a mess though. Took care of that for you.
And sweet Mahal, whatever idiot had broken into his office and pawed through his paperwork (Dwalin pointedly ignored that they were well organized and the notes were actually labels) had signed the note with a heart.
Dwalin stomped out immediately to commission a tumbler for his door.
------
Dwalin missed the installation of his new lock because he was busy arresting the biggest pain-in-the-ass in Erid Luin.
"Evening, Dwalin," Nori drawled as Dwalin tossed him in a cell. Again. He ought to carve the idiot's name in it.
"Shut it," Dwalin snarled back. "Tell me where you stored the goods and it'll go easier for you tomorrow."
Nori's absolutely ridiculous eyebrows rose with the most patently fake innocence in history. It was the same face he'd tried on Dwalin twelve years before, the first time Dwalin had arrested him (and foolishly, foolishly gone easy on him because he was stealing food and he'd seen him give half of it to an awkward lad in his thirties who looked like he could use a few pounds). It hadn't gotten any better with practice. "I don't know what you mean," he said, pressing a hand over his heart as though mortally wounded. "I would never steal." Then he smirked. "Borrow, maybe, in secret. But never steal. "
Dwalin snarled and put on an extra guard.
The thief was still gone in the morning.
It wouldn’t be the last time.
-----
One week after the installation of his tumbler lock, Dwalin came into his office to find a delicate sort of fluted ceramic thing he finally realized was meant to be a teacup (it looked like it would break if you sneezed on it), and under it a thick folder of papers and the note:
Might want to talk to the sons of Woda, oh great captain of the guard. They don't seem to care much for our boss.
------
Dwalin arrested ten dwarves based on the evidence in that folder.
But he still put in a second lock.
-----
The third cup was dark red, with a deep black wolf burned in the finished wood.
Nice try with the new lock. Have you considered just nailing the door shut and ripping it off every morning? I'm sure the bulging muscles would impress the ladies. Or gentledwarves. Whatever digs your gems.
-----
Thorin gave him the Curious Eyebrows when he saw Dwalin adding a metal bar and a deadbolt to his office door, but didn't ask any questions.
------
The fourth teacup came with a sort of built-in strainer Dwalin had never seen before, and he certainly wasn't going to admit that it appealed to the lazy teamaker in him not to have to use a separate pot.
Dwalin hated doing dishes.
You should train more in the morning. I was right about the bulging muscles. Very nice view to start the day.
----
He didn't have time to add a lock before the next message, but it also came with no cup, just a small dagger pinning it to the desk.
Young princes in danger. Move quickly.
And a list of names.
----
Five days later, a plain green cup (Dwalin was very fond of green) and a small canister of dark cinnamon tea.
Good job. Would've missed those brats.
-----
In six months, Dwalin had four locks and a deadbolt on his door, a twice-locked cabinet in his office, and a bolted chest under his desk.
And twelve teacups.
Along with four major arrests for the conspiracy against Thorin, an execution in a kidnapping attempt against Fili, and even a bloody tunic from the warning that had kept his head on his shoulders one night.
And finally, for each teacup, a note in meticulous handwriting, signed with that ridiculous heart.
-----
When Dori, the soft-hearted, hard-eyed owner of Erid Luin's little teashop, came blasting into Dwalin's office, growling about how no one was taking him seriously but this was his livelihood and he had a boy to support and how could he be expected to sleep at night with someone stealing his merchandise, and he was done dealing with Dwalin’s half-witted peons who couldn’t catch a thief if one walked up and pinched their bum cheeks, Dwalin felt like.
Well.
Like an idiot.
"I'll take care of it," he grunted.
Dori narrowed his eyes at him, and Dwalin had a sudden flashback to Moria (Dori had picked up orcs and thrown them). "I'll definitely take care of it," he said, more firmly.
"See that you do," Dori growled, and stomped out.
----
For once, Dwalin left a note on his desk instead of receiving one, but he put it under a proper stein, simple and heavy to prevent too much spilling if a dwarf had indulged a good bit already.
Stop annoying your brother by stealing his teacups.
His answer came by teapot (the stein was gone).
Is this better?
-----
"I'll take this as a no," Nori said when Dwalin tossed him in a cell (with a new lock).
"Stop stealing from your brother."
Nori grinned at him. "But it's fun," he purred.
"And stop breaking into my office!" Dwalin pitched his voice low even though he'd sent the other guards away.
Nori looked thoughtful at his. "But that's even more fun. That I found a way to annoy Dori and flirt with you at the same time is something like genius. I'd need a truly excellent and well-thought out reason to give it up."
Dwalin sputtered. "Flirt with-?!"
Nori raised a braided brow at him. "Please don't pretend you didn't notice."
Dwalin harumphed.
And blushed.
Nori grinned, a slow reveal of teeth Dwalin was pretty sure were pointed and he had no business looking attractive while doing it.
"Let's make a deal," he said.
Dwalin growled.
"I think after you accepted twelve courting gifts-"
"Twelve what-"
“And returned one-”
“That was just to hold down the note!”
"I've earned a little consideration."
"You can't - you stole them-"
"Well of course I did, dear, though I still prefer secret borrowing." Nori draped himself across the bars in a way that Dwalin did not in any way find appealing, no matter what certain portions of his anatomy might claim. "Courting gifts are supposed to come from your craft."
"Stealing is not a craft."
Nori shrugged. "Semantics."
He smiled, slow and lazy.
Dwalin scowled, dark and angry.
And then.
Against his will:
"I'm not meeting you in public."
"Naturally not. That would ruin my reputation, being seen with a nobleman AND a guardsman? No thank you. I'll meet you in your office as soon as I escape from here."
Dwalin smirked. "We've reinforced the cells, especially this one. Don't think you'll-"
The door slid open silently on its shiny new hinges. The thief grinned. "Twenty minutes then?" he asked.
And Dwalin sighed.
(but he did show up)
(and well)
(who knew?)