Chapter Text
“Nobody is forcing you to wear it, Thorin.”
“But it is practical.” Bilbo barely had the strength to look at Thorin. How could a man be so fully clothed in such blazing-hot weather? A simple glance at Thorin made Bilbo feel cramped! “Where should I store my coin if not for my pockets. And where must I keep my glasses?”
Bilbo shrugged. “On your head?”
“Don't be ridiculous.”
Right, he was being ridiculous. Was it ever different?
There was nothing he could do. He has been trying for one full week to draw Thorin out of his garb. The weather in the Shire has never been this achingly hot before, and while Bilbo had quite the wardrobe to compromise with this weather, Thorin had nothing with him but long-sleeved tunics and trousers taller than Bilbo himself! It was a true shame, it was, and Bilbo begged Thorin to change. He could see he was hot. His face would take a very concerning shade of red and he would be sweaty, sometimes panting like a hound if they moved through the village... It was unhealthy, and at this point, Bilbo was growing more and more anxious... Mainly because the temperature continued to rise with each passing day.
Bilbo groaned when Thorin reached for his coat. “You are not going to wear that–“
“So what then, I will have to carry our groceries? I need my pockets.” Thorin tucked both his hands in the pockets of his leather coat. In all honesty, Bilbo actually felt his own body itch at this point, as though he was laden with many layers of clothing himself, and his hands seized with the will to yank those clothes right off Thorin's body, and let him breathe. “Or need I remind you of the last time I did not take my coat, and we had to purchase a bag.”
Bilbo's eyes fluttered shut with frustration. “We didn't have to buy one–“
“So we would've had to walk twice. Because that is convenient,” Thorin said. He drew open the round door of the Smial. The heat crashed onto them like the burning of Smaug’s fires - unexpected and unforgiving. The one positive about living underground was that it was usually rather cool, so opening the door was a bit like an unfair battle. It would be overwhelming, and almost sickening. At least Bilbo could fight it well. He wore short pants and a very simple short-sleeved blouse with suspenders. Had his blouse been any thinner it wouldn't even exist at all!
And then there was Thorin, who strode out of their house in his fur boots, a black pair of trousers, a tunic of thick, wintry material and a leather coat...
Bilbo pushed his straw hat on his head with a deep sigh, following him down Bagshot Row towards the markets.
After having grown accustomed to the heat, it wasn't all too bad. Not to mention that the markets made do best they could – there were many hobbit children playing with water, people moved around with fans or even handed them over to others, there was an exchange of cold liquids and even tubs of water to set your feet in. Cool feet meant a cool hobbit!
As often as he could, Bilbo tried to point Thorin in another direction. “Perhaps we should swim,” he tempted.
Thorin shook his head. “I still don't fancy swimming. And we brought no towels.”
“Bathe our feet, then?”
“And walk home bare-footed? Risk stepping in something sharp again?” Thorin scoffed. “Or even worse, push wet feet in my boots.”
Bilbo rolled his eyes, scanning his surroundings. “A drink?”
“Let's just purchase what we need and go home,” Thorin said with a chuckle. Bilbo could hardly keep his composure, Thorin must be so very hot, how could he still function this properly?! “We'll sit in the garden, then I won't need my coat or my boots–“
“You don't need them now, Thorin!” Bilbo cried.
“I beg to differ!” Thorin drew his coin purse from the pocket of his jacket and smiled, tossing it up in the air. “Where else should I have kept this!”
And Bilbo nearly drew the hair from his head with irritation.
Now it wasn't entirely illogical of him to behave like this. Thorin wasn't the best actor there was, but he would do anything to assure Bilbo he was well. This meant he'd go through miles of length to keep up his appearances, even while he was smothering himself to death in his own clothes. Bilbo had learned this, of course, and sadly now was no different.
They had purchased most of what they needed for their fruit salad when Thorin started picking at his own clothes. “Take them off,” Bilbo suggested kindly, with a very strong hint of urgency. “Please.”
“No,” Thorin said simply, pushing a small pouch of blackberries in his pocket after having received them. “Where else must I keep this?”
“Hand them over to me then, I'll carry them.”
“No,” he repeated. Oh, with the stubbornness of dwarves! “I put on this coat so you wouldn't have to.”
“And I begged you not to put it on,” Bilbo countered.
Thorin huffed, but not specifically at Bilbo. Again he pulled a bit at his collar.
They were about to buy some apples when Thorin stumbled on the spot. Bilbo immediately reached out for him. “Are you alright?” he asked. Thorin swallowed hard, and Bilbo could hear how dry his throat was. The dwarf swayed slightly before he nodded and pushed himself back upright. “Thorin, please take these off,” Bilbo pleaded.
Thorin again swallowed. “But then I’d have to carry–“
“You honestly think that’ll be worse than when you faint on the market square? Enough – let's find you some shade.” He took Thorin by his large hand, but almost startled to feel it not only sweaty, but like an actual oven. Bilbo has never before held someone who was overheating but he was positive that this was it.
He took Thorin to sit down on a simple wooden bench. Bilbo had taken matters in his own hands at that point, prying a nearly drenched coat from Thorin's body and drawing the boots off his feet. Hobbits came from left and right to help dunk Thorin's feet in some cold water, used their make-shift fans to cool him down, and bring him something to drink.
At last, Thorin sat in nothing but his trousers, but they had rolled those up to reach a bit above his knees. All of this, and Bilbo was still nervous for his health.
And you can hardly blame him, because the following day, when it had gone even warmer, guess how he found Thorin standing in the kitchen. “I'll fetch some herbs–“
“No, no!” Bilbo barked at him. “You won't wear your boots and you won't wear your jacket!”
Thorin looked up in surprise. “It was only a small mishap–“
“You overheated!” Bilbo cried with dismay. “A – And yet you dare to present yourself before me dressed with even more clothes than yesterday?!” Thorin only shrugged.
That had done it.
Bilbo locked Thorin up in the smial, sincerely afraid for his health, and had gone out on his own. If Thorin wasn't going to change, then he'd have to help him with it. It wasn't always appreciated, but if Bilbo wouldn't, then no one would.
Every day, it was a bit more quiet outside than the day before. Hobbits would stay inside or head over to the Brandywine River, or another body of water they could cool themselves off in. The markets were rather desolated as well. Luckily Bilbo could still find the tailor, who stood safely underneath a colourful cloth tarp, so the sun wouldn't burn his body. “Good morning, mister Bilbo! How can I be of your service?”
“Good morning. Do you remember making Thorin some clothes?”
The hobbit smiled. “Of course I have, it was one of my most fascinating projects!”
“And you still have his measurements?”
“Indeed!”
Bilbo handed him a scroll of parchment, which the tailor unrolled. “This outfit, please.”
The hobbit had let out a merry laugh, seemingly overjoyed to have been gifted such a challenge.
Little did Bilbo know that the true challenge lay in his own hands, where he had to continuously keep Thorin in check, and force him to remain inside. The only time he'd allowed Thorin out was to sit in front of the smial. They would both sit in only trousers – though Bilbo would wear his hat – and they would sit still, so they could absorb the heat better.
It took the tailor no more than four days to deliver him a notification that the work was finished. Elated beyond belief, Bilbo had jumped out of his hobbit hole and hurried down the Hill, fetching Thorin his newly sewn clothes.
He found Thorin sitting behind a desk in the study, as fully dressed as he would normally be and his reading glasses on his nose. “Here.” Bilbo was not fancy or sweet about it, he simply set the package down on the table, atop of Thorin's book. The dwarf jumped and looked up at Bilbo with surprise. “A gift.”
“A gift?” Thorin whispered. “What for?”
“For you.” He pointed at it. “Unpack it.”
Thorin chuckled, but it wasn't entirely with glee. “Please tell me I did not forget–“
“No, you forgot nothing. This is a simple act of health, is all! I hope you'll like it!”
Smiling, Thorin drew the string from his package and began to unfold the fabric until he discovered a small pile of clothes, coloured with blues of many shades. Thorin gasped, holding up the piece of clothing that lay on top.
The first item was a very simple pale blue blouse with puffy sleeves not beyond the elbow, it was rather thin but of strong material, there were no patterns or fringes and, like Bilbo had hoped, pockets. Two of those sat on the chest, one slim and tall to house Thorin's glasses and the other deep and functional to carry coin.
The second item were short trousers. They were a deep steel blue, rather dull-looking but very much in the style of the average hobbit in the Shire. This one too was clad with pockets, in the front and back, some that could be closed with buttons and some open. This could easily carry at least three days worth of food, Bilbo reckoned!
The third was a silver-grey waistcoat with a sky-blue hue, painted with intricate design. The wear of hobbits was usually rather swirly and curly, flowers or leaves or anything that resembled nature. For Thorin, he'd requested something better suited, the faint and subtle design of dragon scales. It wasn't prominent nor too remarkable, lest you had a hard look at it. Just how Thorin liked it. The buttons were decorated with Thorin's sigil, a detail Bilbo adored, and this too had two functional pockets.
The accessories that came with had Thorin chuckle with delight. The tailor had fashioned a simple belt for Thorin, one for the sake of appearance but also for function. It was leather dark but beautiful, one that could be looped around his trousers or worn over his clothes, as he sometimes would. The other was a very simple set of suspenders, as dark blue as Thorin's trousers were.
The shoes had been the stars of the show, Bilbo reckoned. Shoes weren't very safe hobbit-territory, so that they had been made was already a huge surprise to him. They were very simple, flat soles with leather straps to keep it around Thorin's foot. Thorin had not hesitated to take off his boot and push his foot in this strange... shoe-device. It fit him beautifully, and kept the underside of his feet safe from anything sharp.
“There's more in the making,” Bilbo said, watching Thorin look down at his new shoes and wiggle his toes. “This is for today, so you can look presentable, and you can breathe–“
Thorin launched himself off his seat and took Bilbo into a crushing hug. Bilbo nearly choked. “Ghivashel, this is outstanding!” he bellowed happily.
“Well, good, I'm glad–“
“Wait here!” And within a second, Thorin had grasped his clothes and had disappeared. Bilbo stood on the spot, blinking hard. This ought to be a positive response, no?
Bilbo amused himself in the kitchen until he heard a strange flapping noise. Thorin came walking over, dressed in his new clothes. And now it was Bilbo's turn to gasp with delight.
“And?” Thorin presented himself by keeping his arms wide open. He had dressed to mimic Bilbo's current wear; the blouse, suspenders and trousers, as well as his floppy shoes. He'd even filled his pockets with all he would usually carry around.
“Oh, you look wonderful!” Bilbo complimented.
Thorin had never been more excited, immediately moving over to Bilbo. “I managed to give everything a place and there is still room left! I reorganized – see, I now keep my wallet here, so I have one pocket left in my blouse for good use.”
Bilbo laughed. “I see! Very well done–“
“And the trousers are nice and short, it is very enjoyable! That being the case, it is a rare occurrence that there's so many place to store my stuff!”
“I am thrilled to h–“
“I was thinking of wearing the belt, but would that be too much? I think so. And I tried on the waistcoat!”
“Oh, how d–“
“I will say it was a bit loose but perhaps that's good, there fit more in my pockets that way.” Thorin began to rapidly look around. “I wager I could fit a cup in it.”
“A cup–“
“Come! We must find how much these clothes can carry!” Thorin was nearly trembling with ecstasy. “And we must show the others, Bilbo! Let's go outside!”
Bilbo cocked his head. “I thought you wanted a cup–“
“There will be time for that later!” Thorin took hold of Bilbo's hand and yanked him out of the smial. “I wish to test my shoes!”
He's never, never seen Thorin this... should he say childish? Perhaps excited. Lively. Enthusiastic! And Bilbo wagered no one had. He was most likely the first to lay witness to Thorin jumping up and down on the same spot, waiting for something to pierce his foot. And when nothing did, he laughed as though he never has before.
They went to the market where Thorin wanted to buy things. Not because they needed them, oh no. So he could show off how functional his new wear was, and how great he felt not being strangled to death by the heat. It was the cutest Bilbo had ever seen him, and he was privileged to be with him all day, while he bounced and bragged.
And you would not believe how bright Thorin shone when hobbits of all sizes and ages gathered to have a look at his leather soles. Bilbo had smiled with absolute awe, seeing Thorin tower above a handful of hobbits, that were charmed more by Thorin's sudden gulf of self-esteem rather than his new outfit, and were drawn to him like flies to cattle.
That same night, Bilbo sat on the couch, smiling as he watched Thorin inspect himself in a mirror, searching his clothes for imperfections, because he dared not believe his clothes could be this stunning without fault. At long last he did sit down. Once he had, he almost immediately drew Bilbo into his side, pressing their heads together. “Thank you, Bilbo... This is the most precious gift I have ever been given.”
“You are very welcome,” Bilbo hummed. “And the feeling is mutual...” He nudged his head a bit harder against Thorin's. “Seeing you today has been the biggest pleasure I have had in life so far.”
And he wasn't lying. It wasn't only Thorin's behaviour, but his well-being. When he held onto Thorin's hand a moment later, it wasn't hot or feverish. It was on perfect temperature, as was the rest of his body... Just how it was meant to be... “I don't think I'll ever take them off again,” Thorin murmured.
Bilbo chuckled, his head tucked in the crook of Thorin's neck. “For all I care, you never do,” he cooed.
Thorin had gasped.
And when there was a dreadful summer storm ongoing, Bilbo was groaning from the top of his lungs again. “Can you please wear something weather-appropriate, like your jacket–“
“Why? These clothes are practical enough,” Thorin had argued, gesturing at his thin blouse, waistcoat and shorts. Bilbo had buried his face in his hands, whimpering. “What makes you think I'll change out of these clothes? I love them!”