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Bilbo carefully skirted around the Elvish guard, making his way down the narrow, winding stairs as quietly as possible.
It would seem the king of Mirkwood had complete faith in his dungeon cells, as he only saw fit to place one guard at the top of the dungeon stairs, where they couldn’t even see the dwarves.
It seemed foolish to Bilbo at first, until he watched Dori, the strongest dwarf among them, push against the bars with all his might. The bars didn’t move, not even a little bit. So perhaps the king was justified in his faith.
At least it made it convenient for Bilbo, who entered the dungeons every evening after a day of wandering invisibly (thanks to his strange little ring), looking for a way out and for food to fill his belly. With no guards able to see him, he could take off the ring and move among the dwarves openly, filling them in on things he found that would help them escape (rarely anything), passing along messages, and checking on their wellbeing before finding a safe spot to curl up and sleep before he started his search again.
As soon as he slipped out of view of the guard, he took the ring off with a soft sigh. Removing the ring always left him with this feeling of both relief and a yearning to put it back on again. He attributed this to his nervousness about getting caught.
If he got caught not only would they lose their only hope of getting out, they would also be subject to whatever punishment the king dealt out for hiding Bilbo’s presence.
He tucked the ring safely in his pocket before hurriedly moving along, passing by Bofur and Balin’s cells quickly. He would get back to them eventually, they understood. He wanted to see one dwarf in particular.
Dwalin.
He wasn’t quite sure why Dwalin was the one to capture his affections. He wasn’t exactly what Bilbo had in mind as a fauntling when imagining his perfect partner. But then again, Bilbo highly doubted that he was what Dwalin pictured either.
Why Dwalin? He had pondered the question since he had first realized that the breathless feeling he got around the large dwarf wasn’t fear, but the makings of an all out crush.
A crush! And at his age no less! He didn’t want to think of what all the respectable hobbits back home would think, or the gossip that would spread about Bachelor Baggins crushing hard on a rough and gruff dwarf such as Dwalin.
But then again, he wasn’t home and there very much were no respectable hobbits around.
Bilbo let out a soft sigh as he rounded a corner and laid his eyes on his dwarf’s cell. Yes, his dwarf. He had a claim on Dwalin and vice versa, even though there was nothing official between them, and there wouldn’t be --they had decided so after admitting their feelings at the carrack-- until Erebor was retaken. If Erebor could be taken that is. They didn’t like to think of what awaited them at the mountain or what Bilbo’s job entailed.
Bilbo moved forward and gripped the bars of the cell, pressing close as his eyes sought the dwarf’s large form.
“Dwalin.” He breathed softly.
Dwalin stood up from the ledge he was perched on, moving quickly over to the bars where he slid his hands into Bilbo’s.
“Bilbo.” He said relieved. “Have you eaten, Amrâlimê?” Dwalin asked softly, looking Bilbo over for signs of damage, taking in how tired his hobbit looked.
Bilbo sighed softly, squeezing Dwalin’s hands. “I stole a few bread scraps from the kitchens.”
Actually he stole scraps from what had been cast aside after the elves supper, but Dwalin didn’t need to know that.
“It’s getting harder to steal. I think they finally noticed food going missing.” He admitted softly, he didn’t want to worry Dwalin, but he needed to share his concerns with someone.
Dwalin’s face scrunched up, showing that he didn’t like that one bit. He pulled away for a brief moment, keeping a hand on his as he retrieved a tray with a bread roll and a salad.
It was proof that Bilbo was far too hungry, as he ate quickly and without fussing a bit over the fact that Dwalin wasn’t eating all his food.
Dwalin watched him with a worried look, hand slipping out to cup Bilbo’s cheek. “I’m going to set aside half my meals for you. And I will not argue with you.” He added firmly as Bilbo opened his mouth to protest.
The hobbit relented and leaned into the touch with a soft sigh, hands moving through the bars to settle on Dwalin’s chest, stroking the rough fabric of his tunic. Oh how he wished the bars weren’t separating them, so that he could bury himself in Dwalin’s arms and rid himself of the cold that had settled in his bones since he had first crossed the threshold into Mirkwood.
“Any sign of a way out, yet?” Dwalin asked, stroking the hobbit’s cheek, pressing his head to the bars.
Bilbo shook his head wearily. “Nothing. The elves are thorough. The guard doesn’t leave their post until another is already there. The keymaster never leaves the keys unattended. And the nearest exit is in the kitchens, and to get to it we would have to sneak past over a dozen elves. Even more now that they appear to be preparing for a festival.”
Dwalin let out a sigh full of disappointment and frustration.
Bilbo’s heart ached. He knew Dwalin didn’t blame him, but he also knew the dwarf was becoming restless. His imprisonment was weighing on him, as it was with the rest of the company. And with Durin’s day getting closer, they began to grow snappish with him, acutely aware that he was wandering free and they were stuck in place. Of course, many understood that he was trying his best; however, others were less understanding and more willing to question his capabilities as a burglar.
Dwalin, of course, noticed the mournful look on Bilbo’s face and he was quick to comfort him.
“You’re doing your best, Bilbo. I have faith in you.” He said drawing his hand into the cell to kiss the back of it.
Bilbo smiled.
It would be surprising to many to see how attentive and gentle Dwalin was once one saw past his roughness, the tattoos, and the threatening demeanor. Bilbo found him to be quite kind and thoughtful. Lending Bilbo his spare cloak when he discovered the hobbit had forgot his, helping him use and care for Sting properly, lending his blanket whenever he thought Bilbo had become too cold, even standing up for him whenever he felt someone in the company said something unfairly.
Dwalin hummed softly kissing his hand again and pulling it to his heart. “You’re smile never fails to brighten any mood.” He said with a gentle look.
Bilbo flushed and moved to cup Dwalin’s cheek. “And you never fail to make me smile.” He said with a small chuckle.
Dwalin was also surprisingly romantic, when he wasn’t being bawdy for the sake of seeing Bilbo flustered and embarrassed.
Bilbo was not happy to let go of his dwarf, but he could hear Gloin’s bitter mumblings further down in the dungeons and he sighed.