Chapter Text
The sky was blue, the grass was tall and green, the birds were tittering from the bushes. Pretty day of spring indeed, hummed Bilbo as he was walking barefoot among wild flowers and hesitating butterflies.
As always in spring he was in a exceptionally good mood. Nothing as a bright day and some flowers to cheer up your mood, he used to say to ...well to everyone who listened.
Bilbo was not the social-type, most of the time. Most of the year he was a stayed at home respectable and quite boring hobbit, who enjoyed nothing more than his books, his tea, his couch and more than that : his calm and loneliness. Guests were not welcomed in Bag-End : this information was so famous in all the Shire that it could almost be written down in some tour guide for foreigners.
When Bilbo deigned going out of this hole for somehting else than daily errands, it was only in spring. Old Hamfast used to compare Bilbo with these birds that always came back as soon as spring started and then flew away to some warmer land. Bilbo was just flying away...well to his living room.
Summer, Winter, Fall : Bilbo was grumpy and it was only really daring and cheeky little hobbits who dared to knock at his round door during these seasons.
But in spring ?
Bilbo was suddenly a whole new hobbit, all young and cheeky, and goofy smile on his face and his curls lightened by the sun. Always outside, always chatting with his neighbours, always with a bunch of flowers in his arms. Looking for adventure and trouble, coming back at dawn after days and nights spending god know here in not respectable at all places with strange friends. If the rest of the year everybody sighed at the mere mention of him, in spring he didn't lack friends. He was beautiful, wealthy, smiling, offering flowers and delicious meals at all time of the day, always ready for going out for a walk : Bilbo Baggins was someone-to-know in the Shire.
But only in spring.
From afar, some laughters and shouts were to be heard. But Bilbo didn't give it a secound thought, knowing well than it was just the usual plays of his friends. Idle and happy hobbits going on a picnic.
They will always be there later. But that would may not be the case of this dazzling sun, this light breeze and the bright colors of flowers. He wanted to stuff himself with the sun, the sounds of the nature, the soft tickling grass under his feet, and the happiness that filled him.
Bilbo closed his eyes, breathed in deeply to enjoy better this perfect day. Standing in the nature, the wind playing in his hair, he was so happy that it almost hurt.
After a long time, he slowly opened his eyes to the sky. Just in time to see the sun being shadowed, the earth being cracked open and the fear taking grip on his heart.
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He was just so precious. The most precious jewel of all, his eyes were shining like diamonds, full of light and hope, all these things unknown in his kingdom and every one of his honey curls were catching each ray of the sunshine. His teeth were pearls ands his skin was smoother than the most worked piece of marble.
All his body, all his person was gleaming with a radiance superior to pure gold.
Precious, beautiful, rare and unique. He has to become his. He was to be his. At any cost.
Thorin, lord of the underworld was not the most gentle and light-hearted lord of middle earth.
To be honest, he was grumpy, king of the grumpy and his nephews liked to call him his Grumpiness. What else would you expect for the god of the underworld, though ?
Thorin was not used to encounter any resistance. What he wanted, he had and when he had to fight for what he wanted, he revealed himself to be fierceful warrior who didn't know what giving up or failing meant. He was obstinate, passionned and able to defy all odds. As soon as he looked at Bilbo, he knows that he had to make him his, or die trying.
It was an impossible meeting.
They're never supposed to meet or even to know that the other existed.
Bilbo was a hobbit, living in confortable hole in the ground, but in love with fresh air, flowers and the light of the sun. Always looking up to the sky.
Thorin lived far more underground than him and his gaze was trapped, always focused on the floor, on the depth of the earth and his unknown riches.
Once upon a time he had been the king of fierce and stubborn dwarves than liked to forge powerful weapons, mine gold and create beautiful jewels from their bare hands. They had commerce with the rest of world and lived in the heart of their mountains. But for now his mind was shadowed, obsessed by gold and the ludricous glow of the jewels around him. Thorin was always looking down to the depth of middle earth where laid the maze of stone that was his kingdom.
They have to go deeper, always deeper, because his lust for gold and gems couldn't be quenched. Rumors were that if he was indeed thirsty for something, he didn't know what he was really looking for.
He was glaring at the world from his trone made of gold, diamonds and rare gems that cut deeply into his skin. The crown he wore at all time was heavy, leaving marks and scars into his skin and bending his head down. Never he minded, never he complained. That wasn't much to endure in comparison to what he had.
Piles of gold, monstruous tresors hidden from view, halls build in stone, wealth beyond imagination. His kingdom was a maze build underground, safe from everything.
At his feet laid the dragon Smaug the stupendous that he had tamed and conquered centuries before and whose character and bad temper matched his owner.
For once Thorin's eyes were cast outside and his look, his mind and his heart were at once captived by the innocent hobbit musing in the meadow on his kingdom.
Let the dragon fly into the sky, let the earth be open, let the earth tremble under his lust and wrath, he had to take him.