Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Then Yavanna said to Aule: “Eru is merciful...Yet because thou hiddest this thought from me until its achievement, the children will have little love for the things of my love. They will love first the things made by their own hands, as doth their father. They will delve in the earth, and the things that grow and live upon the earth they will not heed₁.

When the world was made fresh, a god called Aule created the dwarrow race. He infused the Seven Fathers of the Dwarfs with many talents, much akin to his own. A love for stone and earth, to yearn to create with the tools of the world, were given to the dwarrow. They were made to be strong, and stubborn. For Morgoth₂ ran amok in those days, and Aule feared for his children’s safety.

But for all their gruffness and blunder, they were given another gift. For Aule knew the joy of a soulmate in his wife, Yavanna. He wished that his children of stone would find their soulmates, which he bestowed as “Ones”.
While Men were not created bound to Fate, the Dwarrow were, and from the beginning of time they were destined to find their soulmates. Most would find them among fellow Dwarrow, but there would be a few who would find their One beyond their own species.

For Yavanna had great sympathy for her husband’s creations, and was greatly distressed when she learned that they were cursed to always be at war with Men and Elves. In a swell of empathy, she stole a few soul halves from Aule and spread them to other kinds, in the hope of fostering love for all things through such unions.
As for Yavanna’s own children, they were created to love the earth. She created the Hobbits in a great anger against Morgoth, who was destroying nature on his path of evil. She made Hobbits to love the earth, to share, and to love fiercely. To be a joyous folk, quite happy with a simple life and no yearning for war.

But despite all their power, Yavanna and Aule could not have predicted what was to come. For while they were gods, only Illuvatar₃ could see the future, and when they asked he would simply laugh.

<sub>1. Source: The Silmarillion
2. Morgoth is a Valar that rebelled against Illuvatar. He escaped to Erdu, Earth, with the intent of taking over. Sauron served him in the beginning before Morgoth was defeated.
3. Illuvatar is the head God of all the gods. Also known as Eru or the One. Yavanna and Aule are what are known as Valar, lower level gods with specific realms of power. Yavanna is of the earth and growing things, while Aule is of stone and blacksmithing.</sub>

Chapter Text

“Dwarrow will know their One almost immediately. They will feel something akin to the world being lifted off their shoulders, and that feeling will only remain while they're around their One. Once separated, it will feel like a great weight is crushing them. This only lasts until the two have come together and said their secret names to one another……..Dwarrow Ones - Original T.A 2101, re-written T.A 2950”

    Bilbo didn’t remember being parted from Thorin’s body, nor did he remember being cleaned and put to bed. He did remember a loud squawking noise waking him up.
     “Dratted bird.” He scolded, waving the bird away from his tent entrance. He slowly rose out of bed, in no hurry to face his friends. The mithril shirt that Thorin gave him caught his eye, hanging on the corner of his cot. Bilbo’s heart caught in his throat. He hesitantly reached out to touch it, and on closer inspection he noticed that it had been thoroughly cleaned of the battle.
     He froze. The battle. What happened to everyone. His memory was spotty, the clearest he could remember was crouching over Thorin’s body, mumbling about eagles. And crying. His eyes were scratchy, evidently he had cried a lot more than he could recall at the moment.Bilbo shook himself out of his grief and continued to dress, only pausing briefly before donning the mithril shirt. The battle may be over, but danger was still very present.
     The hobbit peaked his head out. There was a voice coming from somewhere he couldn’t place, and it sounded very familiar. Bilbo crept out of the tent, following the sound.
     To his great surprise, it led him two tents down, where a much larger tent sat. Dwalin stood outside the entrance, and Biblo could tell that he hadn’t cleaned since the battle. The only thing that had been cared for was his very large, very sharp axe. Bilbo swallowed thickly. He had no idea if the rest of the Company held anything against him. He supposed he could trust Bofur, but he had no idea where the dwarf would be.
     “Bilbo, you don’t need to skulk, you’re welcome in. I’m just guardin’ against no-goods.” Dwalin grumbled, beckoning him in with a curt turn of the head.Bilbo cursed quietly, apparently he wasn’t as quiet as he once thought. He approached the large dwarf, steadily avoiding eye contact.
     “Thorin’ll want to see ya anyway.” Dwalin grunted as the hobbit reached the tent entrance. Bilbo’s eyes grew wide.
“He’s alive?” He breathed out, forgetting his intention on avoiding eye contact.
     Dwalin raised his eyebrow and snorted before shoving Bilbo into the tent. The hobbit stumbled in, nearly falling flat onto the hard dirt ground. But a strong arm caught him, and he looked up into the smiling face of Oin.
     He carefully righted himself and looked around. Fili and Kili were sleeping in two cots to the left and Thorin in a cot on the right. A thin divider ran down the middle, separating the nephews from their uncle.
     Thorin was not asleep. In fact he was very alert, staring directly at the small hobbit that had disturbed his presence.
Bilbo swallowed.
      Oin patted him on the shoulder and left, quite happy to leave the two to quarrel it out.

      Bilbo had every intention of having an argument. On standing his ground. He most definitely didn’t intend to run to the king’s side and bury himself in a one sided hug. His face flushed when he realized what he had down. Then two strong arms encircled him, trapping him at Thorin’s side.

     “Thorin, I-I thought you had died.” He was not happy to find himself crying, and to be crying directly onto Thorin’s tunic! He felt his face get even hotter. There was nothing to do, as Thorin didn’t loosen his grip for a good 5 minutes. Bilbo felt his chest rumble against his ear as Thorin replied,
“I have not died, much to my cousin’s chagrin.”

     Bilbo smiled through his tears. He had finally grown comfortable perched on the side of the cot, embracing the king when Thorin let go. His previous comfortability aside, Bilbo jumped up from the cot and took a step back.

     Both men stood there, encased in silence. Blue eyes searched Bilbo’s face. Thorin shifted his gaze to the tent roof right above the curls on Bilbo’s head and huffed.
     The one thing Bilbo did not expect to come out of his King’s mouth was “How are you”.
Bilbo began to stutter, something he hadn’t done since that first night when he had met Thorin.
     “I’m...I’m alright. Bit sore, got a nasty knock on the head before I came and found you but I’ll be fine.” He finally managed out.
     A large hand grabbed his right hand and gently held it. Thorin’s previous mask had fallen, and in its place was concern.
     “Did you let Oin look at it? It could be a concussion.” Thorin asked, and his unoccupied hand reached for Bilbo’s head and then pulled back, hesitant. Both of them could remember all too well the last time Thorin had reached for the hobbit’s head.
     Bilbo shook his head and mumbled something about more important patients before rolling his eyes and shaking off his nervousness. Where had that even come from, he knew not, as Bilbo Baggins was no wimp.
However, having Thorin hold his hand was incredibly distracting, and he could barely come up with any other thoughts. But he tried. Oh did he try.

     “How are you even alive? I saw your wound, and you bled out in my arms.” Bilbo stumbled over the second part of the sentence, the pain of loss, even temporary, still strong.
Thorin rolled his eyes, although not unkindly.
“It was only a stab.”
     Bilbo huffed. If Thorin thought that was reassuring he had another thing coming
“A stab by your heart!”
     Thorin waved his words away. “I’m fine.”
“You bled out! In my arms!” Bilbo didn’t feel like crying anymore.
     “I got new blood.”
“You gave me parting words Thorin.” Bilbo deadpanned, glaring into Thorin’s eyes.
     Thorin snorted and might have retorted, if they hadn’t both heard movement through the curtain.
“Bilbo? Is that you?” A small voice called from the other side of the divider.
“Yes Kili, I’ll be right there” Bilbo said, before turning to hiss at Thorin “Look what you did, you big buffoon.”
“You were the one who asked after my stab!” Thorin huffed in return.

Bilbo threw up his hands in frustration and went to join Kili.

     “Did you fix it with Uncle?” Kili asked as Bilbo sat next to his cot.
     Bilbo raised an eyebrow at the prince.
“You just heard us. Did it sound like we fixed anything?” Bilbo muttered, fully aware that Thorin could hear them on the other side of the curtain.
“Well you were teasing him again so I figured…” Kili trailed off. “Wait, is Fili ok? Why isn’t he awake.”

     “I’m awake.” Grunted the unmoving pile on Fili’s bed. All Bilbo could see of the dwarf was a tuft of blonde hair sticking up.
Fili shifted to his side and glared at his brother from an opening in his blanket. “I was trying to sleep more but something kept me up.”
“Sorry about that Fili, your Uncle should’ve known to be quiet.” Bilbo said loudly, bringing over a glass of water for the blonde dwarf.

     Fili gave Bilbo a smirk as a squawk sounded from Thorin’s side of the tent. He readily accepted the glass of water, draining it all in one go and handing it back to Bilbo. Then Fili tried to climb out of bed.
     Bilbo gently pushed him back onto the cot.
     “It’s barely been 24 hours since the battle and you’re already trying to move about! I highly doubt Oin gave you permission for that.” He raised his eyebrows on the last line, and pulled the covers back over the dwarf. Fili pouted but didn’t protest, curling back up under his covers.

     But Bilbo should’ve known better than to turn his back on Kili. The young prince had not only risen out of bed, but was trying to pull his boots on while a thin layer of sweat covered his face.
     “Kili, I don’t care if you’re real royalty now, I will go get Dwalin to tie you down if you don’t crawl right back into bed.” Bilbo snapped, rushing over to pry the boots out of the prince’s hand. Despite the determined look on Kili’s face, Bilbo was able to easily pry the boots out of his hands and push him back into bed.
     “But Uncle Bilbo, Someone has to go deal with everybody, and these two buffoons,” Kili indicated to his brother and uncle, “Got themselves stabbed.”
     “So did you!” Fili snorted
Bilbo didn’t even have time to process the Uncle Bilbo comment, as both boys started arguing with each other.
     “No one is going anywhere. That includes you, Thorin.” Balin said as he stepped into the tent, pointing at what Bilbo could only assume was a standing Thorin.
Bilbo peaked through the curtain, and sure enough, Thorin was shakily standing next to his cot, with a rather sheepish look on his face.

     Bilbo pulled Kili’s blankets back over him, and tucked him in so tightly he wouldn’t be going anywhere anytime soon. He turned, checking that Fili was still in bed, and snorted. The older prince had fallen asleep, one foot sticking out as if he had been considering getting up and passed out mid-decision.
“Blasted dwarfs” He muttered to himself, although a smile graced his face.

     Bilbo bid farewell to Balin and Thorin before slipping outside. Dwalin was still standing guard, but it appeared Ori had joined his company. They were whispering furiously to each other when Bilbo stepped out of the tent, and rather than interrupt them he put on his ring and wandered away.

Chapter Text

     Over the next two weeks, Bilbo found himself helping more and more with diplomacy. Balin often volunteer him, claiming Thorin was asleep, and shove him in front of an important Elf or Man. Why even Balin believed that he and Thorin had the same level of authority baffled Bilbo. But apparently he was doing well, as they now had a few treaty agreements with the Elves, and another one coming along with Dale.

     “So, you're representing Thorin?” Bard said, raising his eyebrow at the small hobbit standing before him. They had come to an agreement on trade,and had turned to the idle talk one does before departing.
     “I’d rather say I’m doing better than just representing Thorin.” Bilbo snorted, lighting his pipe.
“I wasn’t aware it was a competition.” Bard said mildly, accepting a light from Bilbo.
     “It’s not a competition.” Bilbo said, “I’ve already won.”

     Bilbo also made it his mission to check on Thorin and his nephews. Every once in a while the echoes of his banishment from Erebor rang through his ears, but he always dismissed them.

     After all, no one else seemed to remember it, and the entire company was currently planted in the middle of the ruins of Dale while they waited for Erebor to be cleansed by Gandalf. So he wasn’t actually disobeying Thorin. Besides, it lifted both Bilbo and Thorin’s moods.

     He found that the farther he got from Thorin, the heavier he felt. His mood would darken, and in the worst moments, he would snap. He had felt this heaviness before, on the journey to Erebor, but had always chalked it up to the stress of it all. A remark from Balin that Thorin was having the same issue bothered him greatly. What would happen when they had to go their separate ways? Was the king becoming so dependent on Bilbo that he wouldn’t be able to return to the Shire?

     He still felt conflicted with the Shire. He often had to remind himself not to get too settled in, but everything else was yelling for him to stay. With every passing day he became more and more entrenched in dwarven politics, and unlike in the Shire, he quite enjoyed it.
Privately, he feared the quiet loneliness of his old hobbit life.

     Meanwhile, Thorin was pouting. He wasn’t angry that there was someone responsible running the ship, he just was mad that he wasn’t the one responsible for running the ship. Every afternoon Balin would return to Thorin and give him a rundown of all the day's events, and every evening Bilbo would join the king and give his perspective.
     Even through Thorin’s brooding, he could admit he liked hearing Bilbo’s perspective. He brightened Thorin’s mood in a way no one had before. Bilbo had become quite valuable as an advisor, in a way Balin could not.
     For while Bilbo could be terribly polite in front of their allies, he could absolutely rip into them in private the way Balin would refuse. Thorin often wondered if all Hobbits were as sarcastic as Bilbo, but was frankly afraid to ask.

It was one of those evenings, only two weeks after the Great Battle, and Bilbo was complaining.

     “I mean, really, what are they trying to imply! Just because I’m standing in for you at meetings, it doesn’t mean we’re attached at the hip!” Bilbo took a pause to catch his breath, hands spread wide in a frenzied attempt at explanation.

“I’d be rather concerned if we were.” Thorin said dryly.

     Bilbo huffed. “Yes well, they keep giving me messages as if I’m your personal raven. I have better things to do than remind you that there's a dinner tomorrow and muck like that.”

     “Is there a dinner tomorrow?” Thorin idly asked as he whittled away at a branch.
Bilbo paused mid rant to think. For one peaceful second, he was silent.
     “No there isn’t, but there is another meeting on Friday. I don’t suppose you’d want to attend it yourself.”

     “Ah, But you do it so well, Master Burglar.” Thorin smirked, knowing full well that Bilbo would go to the meeting.
Besides, the few times Thorin had attended alone and later tried to relay information to Bilbo, the hobbit had gotten frustrated with him and said he never paid enough attention. To be fair, Thorin had been focused on not insulting Thranduil, which Balin had said was an improvement.

“So they say.” Snarked Bilbo in return.
“I might insult Thranduil if I go.” Thorin hummed. It wasn’t a threat, technically it was a very real problem. A problem Thorin had no problem indulging.
“Or Bard.” Bilbo sighed as he watched Thorin carve.
“Or Dain.” Thorin added
“Or Elrond...again” Piped in what sounded like Kili
“Or Gandalf.” Came Fili’s voice.

     “Gandalf has never been concerned with Thorin’s insults.” Bilbo called back
     “I thought you two were asleep.” Thorin added

“And miss out on the day's events? Never.” Said Kili, who had shoved the curtain over and was grinning.
     “Hearing it once from Balin wasn’t boring enough?” Bilbo asked, smiling at the rambunctious prince. Kili was looking much healthier, and so was Fili, and for that Bilbo thanked Yavanna.
     “I always sleep through his explanations. I much rather like your version.” Fili said, and his brother nodded in agreement.

 “I- is that true?” Bilbo glanced at Thorin for confirmation. The king merely gave a nod, still intently carving. It seemed like he was making a small talisman. Bilbo didn’t ask.

 “Well at least someones being entertained by my frustrations.” Bilbo snorted. He beckoned to Fili, grabbing fresh bandages and a bowl of water Oin had left behind earlier. The young prince carefully sat up, allowing Bilbo to perch at the end of his cot.

     “Ahem.” Came a voice from the entrance of the tent. Bilbo glanced up. It was Bofur. The dwarf was staring intently at the floor.
“Come in Bofur, what’s going on?” Bilbo said, smiling at his friend. It seemed he felt as out of place as Bilbo did.
   
  

“Well, er, there’s someone here to see Kili and- er,” He glanced at Thorin, who hadn’t even looked up when Bofur entered.
     “Ah. Yes.” Bilbo winked at Kili, who was very confused for a second and then realization hit his face. Fili let out an amused snort, but chose not to say anything.Bilbo finished re-wrapping Fili’s shoulder and rose.

 “Tell Kili’s guest to go get him some water and then sh- they will be allowed in.” Bilbo said to Bofur, who nodded and left the tent in a hurry. The hobbit then stood at the foot of Thorin’s bed.
     “Thorin, I remember Oin telling me you need to start moving about. Come, let's go for a walk.” He thrust a dwarf sized walking stick into Thorin’s empty hand and didn’t wait for a response as he began to tug the king out of bed.

 “Is this really necessary? And who's visiting Kili?” Thorin huffed, gently placing his carving supplies on a small crate that had been placed next to his cot.
     “Oh no one you need worry about, just some of his old friends.” Bilbo tutted, waiting at the entrance as Thorin slowly joined him.
“Kili has other friends?”
“Thorin that’s just rude.”

     Bilbo already regretted taking Thorin on a walk. At every step they were interrupted by someone. While their own silence was awkward, intrusions were still not welcome. And the king, in a bizarre attempt to make connections with their Men and Elf counterparts, was tolerating it.
Even Dwalin, who had insisted on following them at a respectful distance, wouldn’t scare away the interruptions despite Bilbo’s pleading glances. Apparently he was in on Thorin’s courtesy attempts, although how he could stand it Bilbo couldn’t understand. But Dwalin ignored him most effectively, and eventually Ori joined the guard with distracting conversation.

     They finally made it to the edge of camp, and Bilbo gave a sigh of relief. No more bothersome people should follow them. There was barely anyone beyond this point, and those that were there didn’t want to be interrupted either.
Thorin, for all his attempts at courtesy, seemed much relieved as well. Ori and Dwalin were still following, but Dwalin was intently listening to something the other dwarf had been explaining for the last 10 minutes and wasn’t particularly bothered with whatever Thorin and Bilbo were doing.

     Then came the awkward silence. For despite all their comradery in the face of danger, Bilbo and Thorin didn’t just...talk about everyday things. It was all dying confessions and yelling. They could have great banter, sure, but only if someone else had to come up with the topic. Bilbo could laugh if it wasn’t so pathetic.
     Thorin stared off at the mountain behind them. He did a lot of that. Staring. Brooding. It got on Bilbo’s nerves, and today was no exception. He had to come up with something.

  
   “What were you carving, earlier?” Bilbo asked, poking Thorin to knock him out of his brooding.
Thorin looked down at the hobbit, a strange look over his face.
     “It’s just a knick-knack.”

 “Thorin, King under the mountain, is carving “just a knick-knack?”” Bilbo asked, raising an eyebrow. While he waited for a response, he found a nice warm rock to sit on. Nice and rock were not words he would generally put together, but it was sitting in the middle of a sunbeam.

     Thorin rolled his eyes. Not very kingly, but who was gonna tell on him. Bilbo surely wouldn't. Balin told him before that Bilbo had made worse faces in negotiations.
     “If you must know, it’s a talisman of sorts. But yes, a knick-knack as you so thoroughly mock, to keep my hands busy as I can’t do much else.” Thorin said, towering over the rock and the hobbit sitting on it. Sometimes he understood why Thranduil never sat in a dwarves presence, it gave a sense of authority.

Bilbo didn’t respond, as if waiting for more.
     “I usually carve stone, obviously, but with my injury and the lack of good stone, I can suffice with wood.”
     “Didn’t you call Thranduil a wood fucker the other day.” Bilbo said
     “It’s different.”
     “Sure it is.” Bilbo smirked at him.
     “I’m surprised you would even repeat that phrase. Not a very proper Hobbit of you.” Thorin teased

 “Your lot has apparently made me terribly indecent. Although my relatives may argue I’ve always been indecent.” Bilbo almost looked...sad? When he mentioned his relatives. The small hobbit pulled out his pipe and lit it, silently smoking.
     “Do you...When do you hope to return?” Thorin asked, kinder than he had been before.
Bilbo smoked in silence for a minute.
     “Honestly, I’m not sure if I want to return. Being terribly indecent is perfectly well among dwarves, but to be such among Hobbits? I could be run out of town.”

 “Your Hobbits sound terrible.” Thorin said. He pulled out a pipe, bigger than Bilbo’s, and lit it as well.
     “Not all of them, my parents were wonderful.”
     “Most people don’t include their parents when they say people are terrible.”

Bilbo eyed Thorin and continued talking.
     “My mother was more an adventurer than I. Which was to be expected, being a Took and all, but it was still a bit of a shock when she took off on her own adventures, usually alongside Gandalf.”

     “She sounds more dwarf than hobbit.” Thorin chimed in.

Bilbo laughed. “Yes, I suppose you could say that. But no, she was just a rather extreme hobbit. ”
     “Does Gandalf just kidnap a hobbit every generation or so?” Thorin chuckled, and puffed on his pipe.

Bilbo paused and then nodded, laughing along with Thorin.
     “I suppose so. Although, I wouldn't wish the grief of this adventure on any of the young hobbits I know.”
   
  

Bilbo felt his face fall as he spoke, and busied himself with his pipe. He felt Thorin’s eyes on him as he refilled his pipe. Why he had felt the need to share so much with a dwarf he would probably be leaving behind, he had no idea.
     They sat in silence. The sun was beginning to wane, and a faint crescent moon could be seen coming over the horizon. The rock that had been so warm before began to feel chilled, and Bilbo began to shiver.
Thorin rose from their rock perch, and shifted his outer cloak off his shoulders.

“You always have a home here, if you so choose.” He said and then gently placed his cloak over Bilbo’s shoulders. Bilbo didn’t give any indication of hearing him, and was staring off into the shadow of the mountain.
Finally, he sighed.
     “Thank you Thorin, that’s very kind.”

     If he meant Thorin’s cloak or his statement, Thorin could not tell.

     A week later Erebor was ready for inhabitants. Gandalf had lifted what he could of the dragon’s greed off the gold and added some magic to the support beams. He claimed he trusted the Dwarves to restore the rest, but Bilbo knew that Gandalf would leave behind more than he told. When he tried to broach the subject with the old wizard, Gandalf had merely given him a smile and shoo-d him along.

     “I don’t know why I can’t walk with the rest of my people.” Thorin grumbled to Bilbo.
     “Weren’t you the one to say that everyone still in medicine tents would be carried into Erebor.” Bilbo said, knowing damn well that he was the one who pushed for it.
     “Well.” Was all Thorin said, not meeting his friend’s eyes.

Bilbo snorted and finished packing all the little trinkets of Thorins. Since that first talisman, Thorin had carved 3 pipes and a flower, which Bilbo had suggested when he ran out of ideas. Thorin even said he could have it, considering he’s the only hobbit on the mountain. He paused to look at the wood flower and a flutter rose in his chest. Bilbo shook his head and hastily packed it with the rest.

Balin led a party of 5 or so dwarves in to carry Thorin’s cot, along with Thorin, into a cart waiting outside. Bilbo took the bin of trinkets and placed them with his own belongings in another cart outside the tent.

“Ey Ladie, moving your things together already? Seems a bit fast.” Dori joined him at the cart, poking Bilbo in the side.
     “Although I don’t know much about your peoples standards, maybe it’s terribly slow!” Bofur chuckled as he spoke, and began to poke around in Thorin’s stash.
     “Now I don’t know what you mean, but you know Thorin won’t keep track of his stuff on top of everything else, so it’s fallen to me.” Bilbo retorted, annoyed but not sure why.

     “Ey, like everything else has.” Nori said, who Bilbo could’ve sworn wasn’t there a second ago.
    

 A loud shout stopped Bilbo’s response, and all three of them turned and watched as Thorin was carried on to the cart. He wasn’t yelling, but by his red face he definitely had been. Bilbo rolled his eyes once Thorin was safely on the cart and turned back to his own belongings.

But one of the dwarves meant to cart Thorin off came over, said not one word, and started pulling Bilbo towards Thorin. Balin had magically disappeared as he was so apt to do, and once again, Bilbo took the burdens of the kingdom onto his rather small shoulders.
     “Thorin, what’s the problem now.” He grouched, stomping up to the side of Thorin’s cart.
     The dwarf that had pulled him over spoke after Thorin apparently decided he was too good to repeat himself. Bilbo rolled his eyes. Again.
“The only way we could get Thorin to ride in the cart is if you ride with him, Master Biggins.”

“It’s Baggins.” Bilbo sighed. He didn’t have the energy to argue, and frankly, if he got to sit instead of walking the 5 miles up to Erebor, he wasn’t going to complain. He checked once again that his belongings were well secured, and then climbed in next to Thorin. The cot that he was on filled up most of the space, so Bilbo found himself sitting on the cot as well.

Thorin looked unbearably smug.
“You are being ridiculous.” Bilbo said.
“But you obliged.”
“But I obliged.” Bilbo sighed.
And the cart took off towards the mountain.

Chapter Text

     It had been a week since they had moved into Erebor, and Bilbo was frustrated. He hadn’t seen most of the Company all week, save Fili and Kili, and Thorin hadn’t said a word to him since they had arrived. Bilbo found himself dragging his feet more and more with every passing day.

     He found himself missing those two weeks in Dale. Helping with negotiations and ending his day with a report to Thorin. He had fancied he found a place for him, and then the move into Erebor had destroyed that.

     The boys had shown him to his room, despite both of them on crutches and Bilbo actively trying to stop them at every step. They had eagerly informed him that they were giving him the best room besides Thorin’s. A glint in their eyes made him nervous, but he accepted the room, or rather, rooms, nonetheless.

     It was a nice room, Bilbo had to admit. He wasn’t excited about living in the royal wing, but Fili and Kili insisted. He shook his head. Saying No to those boys was nearly impossible. Even Thorin had difficulty, much to Bilbo’s amusement.
He was finishing placing all his things around the room when he heard a soft knock at the door.
     “Come in” He called, closing a drawer.
Kili stepped into Bilbo’s room, shutting the door behind him.

      "Bilbo, I need your advice."

“I’m not very good at advice, could I offer you some scones instead?” Bilbo said, moving to sit at his chair by the fireplace with said plate of scones. Kili did take a scone, but did not move to eat it. The prince shifted awkwardly on his crutch, staring into the fireplace.
He was joking, mostly, but he really didn’t have much advice for anyone. But Bilbo’s resolve shook as he took in how anxious Kili appeared, and sighed.

“Well, out with it.”
Kili gave a great sigh of relief and words began to tumble out of his mouth faster than Bilbo could follow.
     “Oh thank you Uncle, I would usually ask Thorin or Fili, but it has to do with Tauriel and really, Fili is just miserable at relationship advice. He’s a craftsman, you know, and doesn’t have time or energy for Ones or any such things. And well, it’s fairly obvious why I can’t ask Thorin, considering how badly he’s going with you and-”
     His heart softened at the harried prince’s words and Bilbo held his hands up “Whoa whoa, slow down. Start from the beginning. What’s going on with Tauriel? And please sit down, you dwarves tower too much.”
      Kili took a deep breath. He carefully sat on the armchair across from Bilbo and began to fiddle with his hands again. To Bilbo’s mute horror, he was crumbling the scone all over the armchair.
“Tauriel’s my One.”
Bilbo nodded, pulling his gaze from the mess to Kili’s pinched face, “Ah”

“You don’t know what that is, do you Uncle.” Kili said, a rare moment of clarity in the youngsters face.

     “No, I suppose I don’t. But are you even allowed to share it with me? Is this some dwarven secret?” Bilbo asked, chuckling a little. The irony of Kili coming to confirmed bachelor Bilbo for relationship advice was not lost on the hobbit.
      Kili thought for a moment. “I think it’s fine, after all you're a dwarf friend and basically family at this point, with Thorin and all.”
“With Thorin? What do you mean?”

Kili gave him a strange look and then promptly ignored his question.
“A One is the other half of someone’s soul. I guess it is a dwarf thing if you’ve never heard of it. Basically Yavanna took part of our dwarven soul and gave it to other souls to create soulmates.”

Bilbo frowned. “I thought Mahal created the dwarves.”

“He did, but Yavanna felt bad for our natural animosity towards outsiders and wanted to create bounds to foster togetherness.” Kili said, clearly quoting someone else, likely Thorin.

Bilbo nodded, puffing on his pipe. “Hobbits do have something similar. So, Tauriel?”

Kili flushed. “I wanted your advice on what to make her for a courting gift. What with her being an Elf I’m not sure. I thought, since both of you like the outside?…”

      Bilbo was flattered, truly. But what did he know about female Elves? He barely understood his own kind, and that was a feat in and of itself. Besides, his own persuasion had always been towards men.

     Tauriel was nice enough, but he had barely spoken to her. A twinge of guilt sat in his stomach. Did he really know so little about his companions?

     “I don't know Kili, when it comes to courting Hobbits are very simple. The chaser will give their intended a bouquet of flowers, and then maybe take them on a walk.”

     Kili’s face lit up with relief. “Flowers? I can make flowers! Thanks Bilbo!” He quickly stood and made for the door. As fast as one with a crutch and a limp could go, anyway.

“Kili, wait.”

The prince paused.
     “Just remember, it’s the thought, not the thing, that matters.”
Bilbo hummed, staring into the fireplace.

Kili’s face split into a grin. He nodded and slipped out the door before Bilbo could say anything else.

“This will certainly be interesting.” Bilbo said to the pile of crumbs where Kili once was.

      The next morning, Bilbo had every intention of going to the kitchens. He had been stuck in his room all week, terrified of getting lost in such a place as Erebor. Plus, Dwalin had assigned a guard to him, and he hated being followed. Even if those following meant well.
     

But his guard came in handy that day, as he was able to guide Bilbo to the kitchen. The guard’s name was Bruni, and he talked endlessly about history. Or rather, what history he was allowed to share with outsiders, even Dwarf-friends.
     Bilbo didn’t mind, as he was very apologetic whenever he had to cut himself off from spilling a secret.

Bilbo privately wondered how in the world so many dwarves didn’t spill secrets more often, considering how pliable Bofur and Gloin were when they were drunk. He shook his head. A thought for another day, as they had arrived at the kitchens.
     He asked Bruni to guard outside of the kitchen, to give him some semblance of privacy.

“Ah, Bilbo! Where have you been! I haven’t seen you all week!” Bombur cried out when he spotted the Hobbit standing amidst the kitchen.
Bilbo tried to come up with an excuse, but nothing came. He just shrugged, smiling at his friend.
“Come, sit, I bet you’re hungry! I made plenty of food for everyone.” Bombur threw his arm around Bilbo’s shoulder and walked him to a bench along his workspace.

Bilbo sat and gratefully began to eat, letting the warm stew fill up his stomach.
“So, how’re you liking it here, my friend?” Bombur asked as he chopped what looked like potatoes to Bilbo.

The hobbit stared down at his bowl. No one had asked him all week, and now that someone had, he had no idea where to start.
“It's...fine Bombur, it’s nice to sleep in a real bed again.” Bilbo said, giving him a mirthless smile.
“Ay, it is, but what’s bothering you lad?”

Bilbo sighed and glanced around. Good. No kings or nosy nephews in sight. Since when had he considered Fili and Kili nephews, he couldn’t tell.
     “I’ve barely seen any of the Company since we arrived, and I definitely haven’t seen Thorin since the cart ride in.” He grumbled, embarrassed the minute he finished speaking. Who was he to complain that the King wasn’t paying him mind?

Bombur watched him with a peculiar look on his face. Almost akin to Kili’s the night before.
     “Ay, it’s difficult to be separate from those you care for. My wife and I only reunited yesterday, as she came in with the first caravan.”
     What that had to do with him and Thorin, Bilbo didn’t know. “Oh, that’s great Bombur, I hope to meet her soon.” He really was happy for his friend, even if he felt like a pit of despair.
      Bombur nodded in agreement and poured the potatoes he had been chopping into a mixing bowl.

“I suppose you’ve been feeling worse everyday, separated from Thorin after the med tent and all.” Bombur said,
Bilbo nodded eagerly, grateful for the moment to gripe over the King.

“Yes, that’s exactly how I feel! Sometimes I think about barging into his room or interrupting a meeting, and then I remember where I am.”
He grumbled a few more intelligible things about stupid dwarves, but Bombur knew better than to take it personally.

Bombur nodded in understanding.

"Had the same issue with my wife, with her being my One and all." The dwarf watched Bilbo for another minute and then added.        “How about I set up dinner for the two of ya tomorrow. I have good reason to believe that he doesn’t have a meeting in the evening.” Bombur tapped his head and winked at Bilbo. He was clearly thinking more, but at this point Bilbo didn’t care.

 Bilbo stared at the kind face of Bombur, debating his options. Finally, he broke eye contact. “That would be great.”

     Oh, Thorin had a meeting that evening. He had a meeting every evening for the next month. But Balin and the Company were conniving, and Thorin was right in the middle of it.

      Bombur followed through, and that evening Bilbo found a nice meal for two set up in his sitting room. Bombur had even left an abundance of sweets and wine, to Bilbo’s great joy.

Now all he had to do was wait. He stoked the fire, dusted his shelves, cleaned the rug, everything. And waited.

      Finally, just as the sun had fallen down and the moon rose, a soft knock sounded at his door.
Bilbo ran to the door, and then paused. He couldn’t seem eager. No, he was going to make Thorin regret ignoring him all week. He straightened his vest and neutralized his face. And then he opened the door to Thorin.

“Ah, come in. You’re late, you know.” Bilbo said as the king slowly limped into his sitting room. Thorin still carried a crutch, and would likely limp for a long while. Another thing Bilbo had been shut out from helping with. The king gave him a wry smile.

“My apologies. My advisor wouldn’t be rushed.”
     

That stung. If Bilbo was his advisor, they would’ve had dinner two hours ago. They would’ve been talking and laughing. Not staring at each other and tense.
     “Well, Balin does have a tendency for tediousness, doesn’t he.” Bilbo finally said, giving Thorin a weak smile. “Please, sit and eat.” Bilbo continued, beckoning towards the table with the mostly cold food on it.

     Thorin softly returned the smile and limped over to the table. Bilbo hovered nearby, one arm reaching out as if to catch Thorin should he fall. Thorin carefully took the seat across from Bilbo and placed his crutch against the wall behind him. Bilbo began to fill his dish with food, indicating to Thorin to do the same. They sat in an almost comfortable silence as they both began to eat, and Thorin began to relax.

 “I'm sorry that I haven’t visited since we arrived.” Thorin said, biting into his food and then continuing, “It was brought to my attention this morning, and I was not ignoring you on purpose.”
     “You were ignoring me by accident?” Bilbo quipped, mid bite. Honestly, he was getting as bad as the dwarves. Bad influences and all that, he could remember his mother warning him. But it was too late to worry about it now.

     Thorin didn’t respond. He was a bit terrified, to be honest, that Bilbo would yell at him any moment. But it seemed that just as Thorin’s own negativity had been banished the minute he saw Bilbo, perhaps the same had occurred within the Hobbit.
“You can always visit me too, Burglar.” Thorin said, as he reached across the table and placed a hand over Bilbo’s.

     Bilbo, to his credit, didn’t freeze completely. He just stared at the dwarven hand covering his own, and yearned to entangle their fingers. But the moment was lost and Thorin pulled back, returning his attention to the food in front of him.

They continued eating in silence. Bilbo let out a shaky breath, earning a glance from Thorin.
     “We were a lot better at this when I was your stand in.” Bilbo said,
“Ay, we were.” Thorin smirked back. “I suppose I could give you the rundown of the day instead?”

“Sounds boring.” Bilbo was eager to rejoin familiar territory. Insults.

Thorin frowned, “But I-”

Bilbo interrupted. “If you’re going to take my role, I’m taking yours. That means I get to complain every step of the way.”

Thorin raised an eyebrow at him over the food. “I wasn’t that bad.”

     “Yes you were, just ask your nephews. Absolutely insufferable.” Bilbo said, although there was no real bite behind it. He said it the way one would say “Very handsome” or “I love you.” Bilbo groaned inwardly. His brain hadn’t fully returned from Thorin’s earlier gesture.

     They sat in a comfortable silence for a while. Bilbo was particularly engrossed in some very delicious raspberry tarts. He would have to remember to get the recipe from Bombur later.

     And whenever Bilbo peeked across the table at Thorin, he was terribly involved with a pile of potatoes and sausages. After the third glance confirmed his suspicions, he grabbed a broccoli from his portion. And threw it at Thorin.

     “You should eat more vegetables.” He said mildly, taking a great bite of his own broccoli to enunciate his point. Bombur always knew to send up vegetables for the Hobbit, and based on the amount, the chief had not expected Thorin to partake. He then tossed another piece across the table and onto Thorin's plate.
     Thorin’s face contracted with so much revolusion at the small green thing that landed on his plate that Bilbo couldn’t help but laugh at him. It was pathetic, he could lead a kingdom but not eat a vegetable.

      “Dwarves don’t need green fluff.” Thorin muttered as Bilbo continued to chuckle at him.
“How do you expect to stay strong without some vitamins.” Bilbo scolded, although half heartedly. He had to admit, Dwarves lived a lot longer than Hobbits. Maybe they knew something the hobbits didn’t.
“You sound like my sister.”
“Ah, she got the brains then.”
“I’m not eating the little tree.” Thorin poked at the little broccoli and scowled.
“It’s called broccoli.”
“Is that a contagious disease?”
Bilbo sighed, “No, and if you are truly my friend, you will eat it.”

     Thorin narrowed his eyes at the hobbit. “You’re trying to poison me.”

     If I wanted to poison you, you’d be dead by now.” Bilbo threatened. This got a bewildered look out of Thorin, as if considering the possibility of such a small hobbit killing him. Not that Bilbo was that much shorter than the dwarf king himself.

“You’re very dramatic, Master Burglar.” Thorin rumbled, finally getting over his initial shock.
“That’s rich coming from you.” Bilbo huffed
“Everything’s rich coming from me.” He said
“Oh very funny. Eat the broccoli.”
Bilbo glared. Thorin glared.
Then Thorin gingerly lifted the broccoli to his mouth and took a bite.

A loud crunch filled the empty static of Bilbo’s sitting room.

Bilbo watched with amusement as Thorin’s face contorted as he chewed. And then swallowed.
“That was disgusting.” The dwarf finally mustered out
“You’ll get used to it.”

After much sputtering and complaining, Thorin admitted that the broccoli wasn’t that bad, although he claimed he’d chose it instead of being stabbed, so Bilbo didn’t have much hope.
As the night drew to a close, the two agreed to meet up for dinner once a week. Both for reasons all too similar.
     And as the weeks went by, they would meet for dinner. They talked of many things, of Bilbo’s home, of Thorin’s, of the stars and the rocks deep under the mountain. And for a while, all was well.

Chapter Text

     It was breakfast in the great halls of Erebor, and Bilbo was late. So was Thorin, and Balin, and no one was going to wait for them. Didn’t matter if Thorin was king, they were hungry and the food was getting cold.

     “Do ya think Thorin’s started making anything for Courting?” Nori asked through mouthfuls of food.
“Uncle would’ve said something.” Kili said
“Which one?” Fili asked
Kili shrugged and continued eating, apparently either Uncle would do.

     The rest of the Company didn’t question why the princes called Bilbo “Uncle”. They each had a soft spot for the hobbit, and no one could begrudge the boys another role model.
     Although if Bilbo heard them call him a role model he would likely vocally oppose, and the dwarves had a silent agreement not to mention it to him or the princes. Or Thorin for that matter, as while he would agree, it would bring up other reasons why the boys could call Bilbo Uncle.
None that made the king very pleasant to be around.

“Well it’s almost spring, if he wants to keep Bilbo around he better get on with it.” Bombur said as he brought out more bread.

Kili glanced up at the cook. “Yeah, but Thorin said that Bilbo said that he didn’t feel comfortable in the Shore. Maybe he’ll stay here.”

“It’s the Shire, Kili, and that doesn’t mean anything. Bilbo’s done a lot that he doesn’t feel comfortable with.” Bofur joined in from across the table.

     “Yeah but if he cares about Thorin as much as-” Nori was cut off by a sharp nudge from Bofur. He glanced at the doorway, where Bilbo had just stumbled in, very red faced.

“I’m so sorry I’m late, I stayed up last night and then slept in this morning.” Bilbo apologized as he took a seat between Fili and Kili.

“It’s alright lad, just glad you made it in time.” Bombur chuckled and handed him a plate already loaded with Bilbo’s breakfast.

     Bilbo thankfully took the plate and began to scarf down the food.
“Just in time too, you look half starved.” Bofur joked, returning to his own plate of food and taking a bite.
Bilbo’s face tinted and he tried to slow down, allowing himself to chew the delicious potatoes that Bombur had made for him.

     Thorin then came sweeping through followed by Dwalin. Dwalin quickly took a seat between Bombur and Nori, who had saved the seat for him.
Thorin moved to sit next to Kili.

     “Oh no Uncle, you can have my seat.” Kili said, quickly shoving his plate over and rising out of his seat. “So you and Bilbo can talk.” He finished, bowing dramatically to the ground.
Fili rolled his eyes at his brother's antics. But he sure wasn’t going to discourage them either.

Bilbo looked up at Thorin and back at the empty seat next to him. Honestly. Dwarves. Stubborn as can be.

     “We talked last night.” Thorin said, raising an eyebrow. But he sat in Kili’s spot anyway, taking a plate from Bombur in the process.
Bilbo felt the tightness in his chest begin to loosen as Thorin took Kili’s seat. He felt his face go red as his arm brushed up against Thorin’s and sighed at his own pathetic self.

      Nori and Fili glanced at each other, making bets without saying a word.
“So you two were together last night.” Bofur asked, eyeing the red that was slowly covering Bilbo’s face.
Thorin gave an affirmative grunt around his mouthful of food.

Bilbo could see where the dwarf was going with this, and did not like it one bit.

     “I’ve got to go, see you all later!” He hastily said as he shoved the last few bites into his mouth and stood up, nearly knocking into Fili in his haste to avoid touching Thorin.
He hastily exited the meal hall, muttering about stupid dwarves and huffing.

     Thorin and Bilbo had been together the night before, but it was a far cry from what Bofur was imagining.
The evening had started out fine, until Thorin asked for Bilbo’s opinion on an issue of state and it dissolved in them arguing. Thorin had left in quite a huff that night and they hadn’t talked since.

     Bilbo chided himself as he wandered the halls of Erebor. He was in the wrong, for once, and knew that he needed to apologize. But instead he ambled down a hall that he believed led to the library, where a nice armchair and book would be waiting.

     Ori had made a point of organizing all the books written in Sindarin and Westron for Bilbo to read. He had apologized profusely at the large amount of the library written in khuzdul, but Bilbo didn’t begrudge the dwarves their language.
He knew how it felt to have his secrets, and didn’t wish to expose the dwarves for his own curiosity.

     He eventually did make it to the library, although he had to ask for directions one too many times. The armchair and bookshelf was just as he left it, and he sat with a sigh of relief.

     Most of the Company didn’t frequent the library, and more importantly, Thorin didn’t have time to come looking for him. And Ori knew to leave Bilbo to his books, to the hobbits great pleasure.
Bilbo spent the rest of his day reading.

     That evening, Thorin slowly walked to the rooms of Bilbo Baggins.
He wanted to apologize for being so obstinate the night before. A small voice whispered in his head that this was the last straw, that this would push away Bilbo for good. Thorin waved away such thoughts, but the anxiety still swirled in his stomach.

     He had a week till spring, and he had no idea how to convince Bilbo to stay. The idea that Bilbo was his One had been worming its way through his brain, interrupting his thoughts at the most inopportune times. He knew that a dwarf did not need a One to fall in love, and yet he hoped that it was true.

     The rareness of Ones made him hesitant to share such thoughts with even Dwalin, and he wouldn’t even consider sharing it with Bilbo. To imagine himself special enough to be bestowed a One by Yavanna made him flush with embarrassment, and he almost feared retribution for blasphemy.
But he still hoped.

Thorin stopped outside Bilbo’s door and raised his hand to knock.
Knock.
Knock.
Knock.

“Come in” Called Bilbo’s voice from the other side. Thorin took a deep breath, a last ditch attempt to calm his nerves, and entered.

     He crouched slightly, almost expecting something to be thrown at him. There had been some tossing of cauliflower yesterday, on both their parts.
“Thorin! I’ve been looking for you.” Bilbo said, and then to Thorin’s shock, smiled at him.
“I’ve been looking for you as well. But when I heard you were in the library, well…” Thorin shrugged stiffly.
VBilbo nodded slightly, smiling in embarrassment. In the past, Thorin had found Bilbo reading and attempted to talk with him. After what Thorin considered a lovely conversation, Bilbo had looked up and said “Oh I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were there.”

     “Please, come join me.” Bilbo said, indicating the armchair across from where he was sitting. Thorin moved to join him, and accepted a scone that Bilbo pulled out from...somewhere. Thorin figured better not to ask.
     “I wanted to apologize. For last night.” Thorin blurted out. But instead of seating himself across from Bilbo, he had gotten down on one knee in front of his chair.

      Bilbo paused, surprised. Thorin was apologizing? Usually that takes a life or death situation. And he spoke as much out loud.
     Thorin winced slightly. Even the king could admit that he had a bit of a bad track record with apologies, and Bilbo had received the brunt of his issues. Biblo reached out for Thorin’s chin, as the king had been staring down at his feet and whether or not Thorin knew the implications, it was uncomfortable. He gently pulled Thorin’s face up, and looked into his eyes.

     “I actually wanted to apologize to you for yesterday as well.” The hobbit said, still staring into Thorin’s blue eyes. He had meant to tell the dwarf to get up and stop being ridiculous, but he had been...captured by the unusual openness of the dwarf’s face.

“You were just trying to help.” Thorin said

“No, I was being bossy.” Bilbo retorted, patting the side of Thorin’s face, “You know it’s true.”

Thorin considered denying it. But he was very tired. “Yes, I suppose you were.” He admitted.

Bilbo raised an eyebrow at him. “That was easy. I accept your apology too. Now get up and stop kneeling.”

“I- Thank you. Very kind.” Thorin managed. He internally groaned at his absolutely terrible sense of words. He did rise though, and carefully took a seat across from Bilbo.

     A knock sounded at the door. Bilbo sighed and rose to answer it. Who else sought to interrupt what had been a nice night. A dwarf with a crow was standing in his doorway.
“A letter was sent from the Shire for you, Master Boggins.”
“It’s Baggins. Thank you.”

Bilbo accepted the letter from the messenger and returned to his seat. He opened it and Thorin watched as his face grew pale.
“What’s wrong?” Thorin asked, finishing off his scone.

Bilbo looked up at Thorin, pale as the parchment in his hand.

“I’ve been declared dead.”

“What?!”

     Bilbo shoved the parchment into Thorin’s hand and buried his face in his hands. Of course. Of course, when he’s finally becoming comfortable, when he’s finally finding his place.

     He glanced over at his friend. Thorin was standing by the fireplace, pouring over the letter. Bilbo allowed himself to watch the king, with the fire playing shadows across his body and his furrowed brow. This is what he would be leaving behind, who he would miss for all his days if he returned the message.

     But would it be better to be rid of the reminder of his unrequited love? Bilbo’s thoughts stuttered. He had never called it that before. Love. But not seeing Thorin everyday might hurt less than how he felt now.

Finally Thorin spoke with an angry rumbling. “You cannot go.”

“Thorin, I must. They won't accept anything besides me standing before them, and leaving again would only allow them to take my things.”

“No.” Thorin said, heat rolling off his tongue.

“Thorin, I have a duty to my family to return as head of household. Just as you have a duty here, I must return to mine.”

     “You hate it there. You’ve told me yourself.” Thorin snapped, tossing the parchment aside. It landed in the fireplace and began to kindle. He stormed towards Bilbo, grabbing his shoulders roughly.

     Bilbo couldn’t meet his eyes. “I have a duty, no matter how I feel.” Now was not the moment to enjoy Thorin’s hands practically encasing his shoulders, but he found himself leaning towards the dwarf anyway.
For a second, Thorin allowed Bilbo to lean against his arms, and he pressed his forehead against Bilbo’s.
“You cannot leave us.” He said, reaching up to cradle the side of Bilbo’s face.

     But then Thorin was gone. And Bilbo fell to his knees.
“I’m sorry.” Bilbo whispered to the empty room. “I’m so sorry.”

Chapter Text

     The Company stared at Bilbo in shock. He had just declared that he would be returning to the Shire, as he had been declared dead and must correct this terrible mistake. Some rule about needing a body to prove he’s alive.
All but one. Thorin sat at the head of the table, a look of sad resignation on his face. It was never a matter of if, but when for him. Deep down, he knew that Bilbo would return to the Shire, even if Thorin agreed with the reason.

“But you have to come back once they know you’re alive!” Kili cried, and the rest of the company joined in in agreement.

     Bilbo shook his head. “Any more amount of separation from the Shire will only give them reason to take my property away. I’m head of the Baggins family, and must be present to deal with the issues that follow.”

     At this the dwarves started yelling different suggestions, ranging from writing a sternly worded letter to them straight out to threatening war.

Bilbo sighed to himself. He knew this wouldn’t be easy, but the cacophony in the room was reaching a ridiculous height.

He glanced over at Gandalf, who had recently returned to Erebor.
The wizard sighed and rose to his full height. “SILENCE” He bellowed.
The room went silent.

“I must go.” Bilbo said again.

“Let some of us accompany you then.” Balin said from beside Thorin.
Bilbo avoided Thorin’s gaze and nodded.
“That I can do. But I cannot return.”

“I’ll go!” Kili stood up

“Aye, me too.” Cried Bofur

Other voices joined, and eventually the whole group had volunteered, minus Thorin and Balin. Bilbo was surprised when even Dwalin offered.

      Balin spoke again. “We will decide who returns with our Burglar. In the meanwhile, we will plan a great feast to see you off.”
     Bilbo’s heart clenched. He truly felt that he belonged in Erebor, but he could not shirk his duties in the Shire. Tears began to form and he quickly wiped them away, hoping no one would notice.

     Fili, who was seated next to him, discreetly handed Bilbo a napkin. The hobbit whispered his thanks and dabbed his face. He ventured a glance at Thorin, and his blue gaze bore into the Hobbits. For a second, Bilbo fancied that he could see love in the blue, that Thorin would make some declaration and demand he stay by his side.

No declaration came, and Thorin stomped out of the room.

     Bilbo had every intention on leaving that day, but the dwarves insisted on giving him provisions and a proper send off. He wouldn’t be leaving for a few more days, atleast long enough to collect supplies for Bilbo and those traveling with him.
     In the end, Bofur, Dwalin, Kili, and Nori would be returning to the Shire with him. And Gandalf, of course, who had returned for just that purpose.

     Every dwarf in the company made a point of stopping by, giving him pieces of armor or advice, offering their assistance one more time. Every dwarf but Thorin.

Bilbo tried to find him in those 3 days before his departure. He even tried waiting in Thorin’s room all day till he returned, but even then he didn’t show.

     But then Thorin didn’t even show up for the meal that they shared each week, and Bilbo broke.
He would not go to Thorin. No, if the dwarf needed to tell him something, he would have to find Bilbo. He would not search any longer.

     He mulled over the last time they had spoken. The something more that had been laced in the air, that made him believe that maybe, just maybe, Thorin was trying to say something. Something important. Something that would make him stay.

      But it wasn’t said. And Bilbo knew that as king of the mountain, Thorin would not be able to pick who he loved. Even if Thorin did care, which just the thought made Bilbo’s heart hurt, he would not speak for the love of his people and kingdom.

Bilbo set to packing.

      The evening before Bilbo’s departure, a small gathering formed. The Company of Thorin Oakenshield was saying farewell to one of its members, and they would see him off right.

     Bilbo was squished between Fili and Kili, who seemed to make it their mission that he wouldn’t run off. He rolled his eyes at the thought, even he had some self preservation and knew he wouldn’t get far without some companions.

     It seemed some of the dwarves also took it as an opportunity to try and convince him to stay one more time.
He had managed to shoo off a few, but Balin, to his great surprise, approached him.
     “Can I talk to ya privately laddie?” The dwarf asked, indicating a corner of the room with a bit of privacy from the rest.

      Biblo hesitantly glanced back at the table, but it seemed the princes were involved with a drinking competition. He snorted. So much for their “mission.”
He turned back to Balin and nodded.

They found a small alcove, near enough to the party as to not be odd, but far enough so no one could hear them.

“What can I do for you?” Bilbo asked.

Balin seemed hesitant. He was slightly pacing, as much as one could in the small space, and muttered something to himself before stopping in front of Bilbo.
     “I would never interfere in other’s private affairs.” He said, “But this is a matter of importance.”
Bilbo listened, not daring to speak. His nosyness overrode his instincts.

      Balin took another breath. “And I will still have to be a bit indirect due to our laws, and I hope you can catch my meaning. You cannot leave us without great repercussions. Thorin will not be able to handle it.”

     Bilbo’s curiosity instantly faded. He looked down at the floor,and began tracing old dwarven carvings that covered it with his foot.
     “I’ve already spoken about this with him. He’s going to have to be able to handle it. I don’t know what laws you speak of, but Thorin is not my king and I am not bound to them.”

     Bilbo desperately wished otherwise, but he knew it to be true. Thorin needed dwarf advisors, dwarf friends, to help lead his country. Whether a hobbit stays or goes need not affect his kingdom.

      Balin sighed and patted his forehead with a small kerchief.
“But you won't be able to handle it separation either. Your…” He seemed to struggle for the right word. “...Connection is unique and should be honored. Separation only leads to pain. And in rare cases, sickness.”

     Sickness? Pain? What was Balin talking about? Damn confusticating dwarves, Bilbo thought privately. Outloud, Bilbo sighed.
“I will always treasure Thorin’s friendship, and everyone else's. However, no friendship can keep me from my duties in my own home. Surely you understand the need for home.”

     With every rebuttal Balin seemed to only become more agitated. It was concerning to the point that Bilbo vaguely wondered what a heart attack in a dwarf would look like.
“Would nothing keep you here?” Balin pleaded one last time. And for a second, any reason would have been good enough for Bilbo. Anything to keep him with his dwarves. But he couldn’t stay.
“The one thing I want I have no hope of receiving.” Bilbo said, and with great turmoil in his heart, turned and walked away from the dwarf.

     Bilbo spent the rest of the party wandering between dwarves and saying his goodbyes. He even hugged those who were amendable, and tried to memorize every scent, every image, every laugh. And if his heart was slowly breaking, he would not show it.

      Bilbo and his company rose at first light. It was a silent procession as they filed out of the city. The cool morning air billowed between knapsacks and jackets, ruffling hair and tickling noses.
     To say that he was holding it together was a long shot. It was more everyone didn’t look at Bilbo’s face too closely, and he sniffled quietly. He thankfully remembered a handkerchief this time. But Dori had made it for him, and looking at it only caused the tears to start all over again.

     He had calmed a bit by the time they reached the front gates, and he was glad. For there stood the King under the Mountain, Thorin himself. He watched the procession and they watched him, curiosity plain across the faces of all but Kili and Bilbo.
Kili, because he was quite done with Thorin’s stubbornness , and Bilbo for much the same reason.

     Thorin slowly moved to meet them. He stopped in front of the four dwarves and a hobbit, and nodded. Bilbo tried to wipe his face, as if that would hurry along the blotchiness that covered it.
“Gandalf is on his way.” He said simply. The company nodded in understanding, and Kili dropped his pack and sat down.
     Thorin then stood in front of Bilbo.
“I will not plead that you stay, but I would like to speak to you before we go our separate ways.”

     Bilbo glanced back at his dwarves. They had followed Kili’s lead and were all seated, and Nori had pulled out a game consisting of rocks and sticks that he and Bofur began to play.

     Bilbo stepped back towards the gate and indicated that Thorin did the same. The pair stood and watched each other, both hesitant after their last interaction. Bilbo’s face warmed at the memory of Thorin’s hands on his shoulders, and he was the first to look away. He stared intently at the handkerchief in his hand, twisting it over roughly.

Thorin finally spoke.
“I would like to give you something to remember me by.” He pulled out something from one of his hidden pockets. Thorin paused for a moment and then held out his hand.

Bilbo leaned forward to see what Thorin was holding.

     A pair of gleaming beads, beautifully carved, were sitting in his palm. The beads had intricate carvings, which looked familiar to Bilbo but not in a way that he could place. The king seemed unsure of himself again, and silence prevailed for a moment.
“I- I would like to braid them into your hair. If you would be willing.” He finally managed, not quite meeting Bilbo’s gaze.

     Bilbo reached up to touch his hair, which had grown quite long, almost past his chin, and thought for a moment. It was no declaration of love, but he would take Thorin’s friendship as far as the dwarf was willing. He knew nothing of the meaning of dwarven beads, and could only marvel at their beauty. But he only spoke of their beauty outloud.

Thorin’s face flushed, which Bilbo found odd, but chose to ignore it in the last interaction they would ever have.

     “They are...beads representing friendship. They call you Dwarf Friend and all who know the meaning will help you if you’re in need. They mean you are part of our family and are not to be messed with.”

     Thorin said, his face even more red than before, which Bilbo didn’t think was possible. He hadn’t seen Thorin this flushed in a long time, and it worried him. Was he getting sick? The irony of Thorin surviving this long and then succumbing to a simple illness almost made Bilbo smile. Almost.
“I would gladly accept, Thorin.” Bilbo said softly, bringing his hand up to take the beads.

“Please sit so I can braid them in.” Thorin asked, the gentlest Bilbo had seen him, well, ever. The hobbit quickly complied, and found himself seated between Thorin’s legs.

     He couldn’t resist leaning back into Thorin’s hands as he began to braid, and for a moment he forgot that they were in front of 4 other dwarves. He closed his eyes, desperate to memorize such a moment for his loneliest moments.
     He didn’t know anything about braids, or which one Thorin was giving him, but he knew that he would never remove the braid. He would memorize it if he could and repeat it for the rest of his life.
But Thorin didn’t need to know that.

After a few minutes, Thorin’s hands left his hair.
     “It is done.” Thorin murmured in his ear, and he shivered. He quickly rose, and reached up to touch the braids. He couldn’t see them, but could feel two intricate, identical braids hanging down each side of his head. And at the end of each, the beautiful beads.

     He turned to Thorin and smiled. “Thank you, for everything.”
Thorin nodded and stepped away from the hobbit, although his gaze still rested on Bilbo’s hair. The world seemed to freeze as the two stared at each other. It felt important, somehow, although Bilbo would not be able to place it for months to come.

     Then a voice sounded from behind Bilbo.

     “If you’re done, we must be off.” Gandalf said as he rested a hand on Bilbo’s shoulder.
He glanced up and then realized that his entire traveling company had watched him melt under Thorin’s hands and he felt his skin become very warm.

     He shook off Gandalf’s hand and grabbed his travel pack, steadily avoiding eye contact with everyone else. To his relief, no one said anything as they all grabbed their own packs and began to walk away from Erebor, and into Middle earth.

     When they were what he felt an appropriate distance away, Bilbo looked back at the great gate of Erebor. And if he could trust his eyes, he was sure a small figure in royal blue was still standing where Bilbo had left him.

Bilbo turned back to the road. He would not look back again.

Chapter Text

     The King under the Mountain was miserable, and everyone knew it. But they could not reason as to why. Rumours ran amok through the citizens of Erebor ranging from ridiculous to far too close to the truth.
      Balin, in all his wisdom, wouldn’t confirm nor deny any of the rumors to any of the dwarves that sought him out for questioning.
The company knew the truth, and that was far too many dwarves as it was.

     Thorin was kicked out of court on the third day after Bilbo’s departure. By Balin, no less, and ordered to go take a bath and solve his anger privately.
Apparently throwing a knife at one of his counsel members was not “appropriate kingly behavior.”

     Thorin climbed into the Royal Baths, and sighed. No matter what anyone said, no amount of relaxing would solve his problem. He knew exactly why he was miserable, and he could not fix it. Bilbo leaving had reopened his wounds, and he could not even raise his head to clean them out. He knew, now, that Bilbo was his One. Dwarves are taught from an early age to identify the Longing which accompanies having a One. But he had never gone looking for his One, and satisfied himself with helping his people. The Longing slowly turned into a dull ache. He could live with a dull ache.

Until he met Bilbo.

     Of course, it was not immediate recognition. The entire quest, Thorin basically ignored everything but The Quest. He didn’t even notice that the dull aching was gone. He recognized that he cared for Bilbo and that he would not wish to see the hobbit dead, but not much beyond that.
Thorin climbed out of the bath and sighed. He knew that he had a tendency to be obtuse and clueless about interpersonal matters. Dis, his sister, would never let him forget it. He could be a good leader, but he couldn’t see love when it was staring him in the eye.

     Until he almost died. Or rather, he did die, and something brought him back. Oin had told him on more than one occasion since the battle that he had no idea how the king survived his wounds, and that it was likely divine intervention. He had sworn Oin to secrecy, knowing that such a rumor could cause havoc in the newly restored Erebor.

So he decided to take a renewed interest in living his life, not just a life for his people.

     And what good it did him. It was wonderful, those few months. Even a lecture from Bilbo was now wonderful, because they were alive. Thorin was alive and could love and he would. He would’ve liked to start a courting present while in the med tents in Dale, but he would not have been able to hide it well from anyone, let alone Bilbo. The hobbit always knew when something was being hidden from him.
     Bilbo scolding him most fiercely for not mentioning one of his many aches and pains after the battle came to mind. It briefly warmed his heart, and in the process, the great pain of longing subsided.
But it never stayed away long.

     He did create a courting gift once he was cleared from the medical hall by Oin. But he could not bring himself to give it or even test the waters. A fearful side of him revealed itself within the safe walls of Erebor, and he became hesitant. There had been no indication that Bilbo felt the same that he did, and he would not use his authority to demand such things.
     Of course, Dwalin had tried to knock some sense into him multiple times, but Thorin had always found a reason why not.

     One being his gold madness. He still winced, nearly 2 months later, over his behavior. Bilbo may have forgiven him, in words at least, but he could not forgive himself.
     He spoke it aloud to no one, not even Dwalin, but he greatly feared that it would come back at any moment. He refused to wear gold, sticking with metals like copper and iron. Royalty status or not, he would not go near anything with gold or jewels in it.
     He carefully watched his nephews, fearful that they would fall to their bloodline’s curse as well. Neither showed any sign of it, and he turned his watchfulness inwards.

     Bilbo demanding a meal with him had given him hope, though. It seemed to calm them both, and Balin on more than one account made comments suggesting why exactly it calmed them both to be around eachother.

     At the time, he had wondered as well if Bilbo was his One. But he had hoped that if he was, then the hobbit would’ve said something.

     No one accounted for how stubborn both Thorin and Bilbo were.
Not even Thorin, who should’ve definitely realized.
     In hindsight, he knew. He knew that Bilbo was his One, and that he should’ve said something.

     But he didn’t. Not when Bilbo showed him the letter, not when he told the court, not at the party before Bilbo left.
It felt as if Bilbo wouldn’t really leave. That surely, surely he would stay behind, if not for Thorin but for his friends.

     The day Bilbo was leaving, Thorin flew into a panic. He scrambled through his belongings, desperately searching. And then he found them. The beads his father had given his mother. On them were carvings of Durin’s symbol along with those of love and long life. The only gold that he kept for himself.

And he had given them to Bilbo. He had practically proposed, by requesting what he did. By doing what he did.

     The memory of Bilbo with the two gold beads at the end of two braids. The two braids meant that he was protected by the Durin family, and more importantly, claimed by Thorin Oakenshield. Of course, Bilbo wouldn’t ever know that. But Thorin could not find it in him to be embarrassed.
For Bilbo had told him before that there was no one waiting for him at home. Bilbo going home was him retiring to bacherlorhood once again, and living out the rest of his life in solitude.

     It hurt Thorin, the thought of living the rest of their lives apart and alone. It hurt him more to know that while he had his nephews and family and home, Bilbo was returning to relatives he didn’t much like and a place he didn’t much fit.
     He slowly dressed and retired to his chambers. Fili could handle court for the rest of the day. The longing in his chest had only increased ten-fold since Balin kicked him out of the meeting, and nothing could be done for it.

Chapter Text

     No one spoke to Bilbo as they journeyed towards Mirkwood, and for once he was grateful. Of course he knew they were mad at him, likely renewed by his interaction with Thorin at the gates. But he ignored them and his twisting gut, and tried to focus on the scenery. He obviously hadn’t had much time on the way in, and he wished to memorize it all before he returned to his home.

     They passed through Dale to pick up some supplies. It was shocking to see the city so returned. Children ran freely in the streets, and shops were open and lively on every corner. Bilbo marveled at the changed faces of the people as well. Gone were the haggard looks and permanent frowns of Laketown. They laughed freely in Dale, and he yearned to join in. He silently cursed himself for never visiting before.

     Still, the only words passed between him and his companions were necessary ones. Even Kili, to his surprise, managed to avoid conversation. Although, by the bounce of his feet and something in his eyes, his silence would not last another hour by Bilbo’s guess.

     Bard came out to see them, his children tailing behind him. Bilbo barely recognized them, and he marveled at how they had grown so quickly with proper nutrition and rest.

“You will be greatly missed, my friend.” Bard told him, with a tight smile.
“ Oh don’t give me that look, I already had this fight with the company. I promise to write to everyone, including you.” He snorted, indicating the scowling dwarves behind him.

Bard nodded, waving his kids forward.
“My children made something for you.” He informed Bilbo, stepping back to let the kids in front.
The eldest daughter, Sigrid, held out a wrapped square.
“We made this so you won't forget everything you did here, Mister Baggins.” She explained, gently unwrapping a thin cloth that protected it.

     Bilbo stepped forward to accept , and caught his breath. It was a painting of Erebor, and as he peered closer at the artwork, he could see 14 little figures standing in front of it. He recognized Gandalf’s hat, and knew at once that it was of the company. Of his company.
     He coughed and looked away, desperately trying to keep his tears at bay.
After a moment, he spoke. “Thank you. This is wonderful, and I will not forget anything. I promise.”

The three children smiled at his words and Sigrid nodded, before they all retreated back behind their father. It seemed they weren’t too sure of the Dwarves either.

     He said goodbye to Bard again and they separated, keen to use the light of the day. The dwarves didn’t even complain about the already wasted time, to Bilbo’s mild surprise.

     The way into Mirkwood was not as awful as the way out. Balin had made an agreement with the elves to ensure safe passage, including a full meal and beds to sleep in at Thranduil’s palace. The group ambled along the paths, guarded by two Elves.
     No one spoke to Bilbo. He would catch the dwarves staring at him, or more accurately, at the two braids that Thorin had given him. Kili looked as if he wanted to say something everytime he glanced at Bilbo, but he restrained himself. Even Bofur, Bilbo’s closest friend, wouldn’t speak to him but in necessary grunts.
     Gandalf, not being a dwarf, gave him sympathetic glances, but it seemed he was rather afraid of the dwarves' reaction if he struck up conversation.
Bilbo sighed. This would be a long journey.

     They eventually arrived at Thranduil’s palace. All of them were starving, and the promise of warm beds and food tempered any anger the dwarves still held towards Mirkwood and the elves. Gandalf left the group upon arrival to speak with Thranduil and Galadriel, who was visiting in anticipation of the wizard.

     The meal that the elves provided was delicious. By Bilbo’s standards anyhow, the Dwarves had a similar reaction to Thorin and broccoli, and would not touch half their plate. Bilbo rolled his eyes, but it seemed Thranduil had expected this, and brought out more meat and ale for the hungry party.

     The dwarves caused a great ruckus with their conversation, and soon singing was incorporated as well. But it seemed they had forgotten their hobbit, and he sat at the end, eating alone. It reminded Bilbo of another such meal in his own home, albeit with less dwarves this time and more elves. Eventually he gave up and decided to retire to his room early.

     Legolas volunteered to accompany him to his room, ensuring that he both didn’t get lost and didn’t go wandering where he shouldn’t. It seemed a few of the guard hadn’t quite forgiven him for the sneakery of his previous visit.
They did not speak either, but it was a companionable silence and the closest thing to friendship that Bilbo had felt all day.

     He thanked Legolas and then bid the elf prince farewell at his door and entered alone. A sigh of relief escaped him before he could even sit. He needed quiet and a soft bed, and that’s exactly what his room provided.

     But he still found himself staring at the fire, late into the night. The familiar despair that accompanied any separation from Thorin was reappearing. He had not gone so long without seeing the dwarf king since last fall. Some would laugh at a barely 12 hour separation period causing despair, but Bilbo could not help it.

As he thought further, he had no explanation for it either.

     They departed earlier than the sunrise that next day. The elves gave them some food along with an elven guard to lead them out of the forest. Kili was greatly disappointed when he learned that Tauriel was not among them, and had not returned to Mirkwood for a month or so.

     The rest of the group good naturedly rolled their eyes at the prince’s mild despair, as they all knew that she was his One. How they each found out, Bilbo had no idea, but it was likely because Kili found it impossible to stop talking. The elves quickly escorted them out of Mirkwood, with the promise of lodging and food for those on the return journey.

     Bilbo would not give the other’s the satisfaction of knowing that he was greatly missing Erebor and certain dwarves in Erebor. Judging from the mood Dwalin was in that morning, any excuse was good enough to pick Bilbo up and run back to the great dwarf city. His grumbling could be heard by the entire group, and about an hour in Balin smacked him and told him to shut up in no uncertain terms.

     He tried to focus on the world around him. The great fields between Mirkwood and the mountains were beautiful, and full of wildlife. Bilbo could even cloud watch, if he was careful where he was walking. He eventually found himself in the back of the group, watching a small group of deer in the distance.
He often repeated this pattern and day to day soon blended together. Still no one spoke to him.

     Gandalf would occasionally join him for a brief and generally cryptic conversation. The old wizard had a bad habit of pointing out the braids Thorin had given and making odd remarks, but anything beyond surface observation was shut down by the dwarves around him. The anger that permeated the group seemed to even hinder their own conversations. Or perhaps they simply stopped talking when Bilbo was nearby, he did not know.

     Bilbo had always known that they were a stubborn group, but he had never seen them react so badly. Not even when he stole that wretched stone. What surprised him was Bofur and Kili’s reaction. Kili always appeared on the edge of tears when he had to interact with Bilbo.

      Bofur, on the other hand, had almost a pitying look in his eyes. It seemed he was the only dwarf that remembered that Bilbo had told them he was going to return home a long time ago and had gotten used to the idea. But even he would not speak.
     Bilbo was still fighting the pit of dread that had been growing since he departed from Erebor. He recognized it from before, before the quest, but it had been dulled, almost as if it had given up. It had been something he always had. But it’s disappearance for the last year and a half allowed it to come in with a vengeance.
His attitude was likely also a deterrent for conversation, as even Gandalf now avoided him as much as the rest.

     They passed as safely as they could through the Misty Mountains. Many of the nemeses that they could’ve run into had been destroyed in battles mirroring their own Great one. The main issues were staying dry and not falling to their deaths.
     They arrived in Rivendell, receiving a similar reception as in Thranduil’s halls, albeit warmer. The Rivendell elves had even remembered the dwarves' propensity towards meat, which none in Bilbo’s group could find fault in.

     Bilbo, once again, felt ever the outsider. He slipped away from the main crowd, preferring the company of the great night sky.
He leaned against the railing outside and breathed in deeply.

Despite the valley that Rivendell was in, he felt as if he was on top of a great mountain, looking out at the vast ceiling of stars before him. It was only the mountains on each side that reminded him exactly where he was.
But it seemed solitude was not his destiny that evening.

“Bilbo?” Bofur said softly, joining the hobbit at the railway. He had two mugs of mead in his hand, and offered Bilbo the smaller one.
Bilbo’s eyes widened. He considered voicing his surprise, but guessed better. It would not do to scare off the only proper conversation he would have all week.

     He took the mug and nodded his thanks. He sipped the mead and turned back to the sky, unsure of Bofur’s intentions. Was he a figment of Bilbo's lonely brain? Would he dare speak a full sentence? Who knew. Bilbo fought the urge to roll his eyes at the dwarves. Again.

“They’ll get over it.” Bofur spoke again, still standing there. He was real then, not some figment of Bilbo’s lonely imagination.

Bilbo snorted and took another great gulp of his mead. So Bilbo was to be the topic. Joy.
“Thorin won’t, but the rest of us will.”
Bilbo looked at Bofur. “Kili looks like he’s going to cry constantly, and Dwalin sharpens his axe while making direct eye contact.”

Bofur winced. “Ok, ignoring Thorin’s family, the rest of us will be fine.”

“That leaves, what,” He paused dramatically to count on his fingers,“you, Bifur, and Bomburr.”

“Don’t forget the Ri boys.” Bofur added.

     Bilbo rolled his eyes. If anyone wasn’t going to forgive him, it was Nori. The dwarf had considered Bilbo a brother in trade (aka. Stealing things) and had said as much on many occasions. Now he wouldn’t even look at him. Plus, he and Dwalin were constantly by each other's sides, and if Dwalin hated someone, so did Nori. He spoke the last part allowed. Bofur laughed at the remark.
“Ey, well they both know what it is to have a One and how it feels to be separated.”

Startled, Bilbo turned back to Bofur. “Are they each other’s Ones?”

Bofur looked at him with wide eyes before bursting out laughing. On a better day, Bilbo would’ve been rather offended. Scratch that, he was a little offended.
“What do ya mean are they? Of course they are! Didn’t you see their braids?” Bofur said, gasping with laughter and bewilderment.

     Bilbo had noticed braids on the two of them, but all the dwarves had braids. He thought nothing of it. He knew not to touch, because it’s rude to touch people’s hair, and that outsiders to dwarven traditions definitely shouldn’t, but beyond that he had no clue of any significance.
“What? What about their braids? He asked, his annoyance growing.

      Bofur had calmed down, and took a great swig of his mead. It seemed he was skeptical of what Bilbo knew and what he didn’t. But finally he sighed and started to explain.
“Each braid means something different.” Bofur pulled down a braid that he had stuffed in his hat.
“This one means that I’m Bofur, son of Honur and descended from Durin’s folk.”

Bilbo peered closely at the thin braid.
“And this one-” Bofur pulled out another braid from the other side of his hat. “Means that I’m a Miner, and a highly skilled one too.”

     After Bilbo got a good look at both braids, being very careful not to touch, Bofur shoved them back into his hat.
“Braids can mean all sorts of things, from status, to ancestry, and to mean courtship or marriage. To put a braid in someone else’s hair is often how to start courtship among couples, although family members also help each other put on braids.”
     Bofur paused, taking a great swig of mead.
“And the matching braids on both Nori and Dwalin indicate that they’re courting, and more importantly, that they’re each other's Ones.”

Bilbo’s face turned red. “I didn’t even notice they were a couple, I feel terrible. I always thought they didn't get along.”
      Bofur nodded. “They are an odd couple, that’s true. They’ve both lived hard lives that created hard people. But they love each other, and it doesn’t bother them if other people don’t know it. And they were like that way before they met you, so don’t worry about it.”

     They slipped back into silence. That Bilbo hadn’t noticed two of his friends- well Nori’s a friend, Dwalin was more of a terrifying acquaintance, - were together that whole time was horrifying to him. What else had he been missing? Who else was together? He turned to face the doorway of the meal hall, staring suspiciously at the dwarves inside.
     Bilbo’s mind, reeling with the amount of information in it, felt as if it was stuffed. He also felt a little ridiculous. All those months of him wondering about dwarven customs, and he could’ve just asked Bofur.

     Or he could’ve asked Thorin. Thorin would’ve told him, in any of their shared meals, anything he wanted to know. But he couldn’t see that when he had the dwarf right in front of him, and now it was far too late.
     The thought of Thorin was heavy. Eventually, it found its way into the crack of despair in his chest and settled there. It added to all the other thoughts of Thorin he had since his departure, and it weighed him down.
     He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. Then his hand touched the braid Thorin had given him, as neat as the day it was put in. His curls lent themselves to braiding more than he had realized.
“Bofur, what about the braid Thorin gave me?”

     Bofur started at the question, almost spilling his mead in the process. Beyond that, Bilbo wasn’t sure the dwarf had heard him. He stared off into the distance, and muttered something in khuzdul under his breath.
“Listen, Bilbo, it’s getting late, maybe we should turn in for the night.” Bofur gave the hobbit a wane smile and began to back away from the railing. But Bilbo would not have it.

“What does it mean Bofur.” He repeated, as he attempted and sadly failed to corner the dwarf.
     The dwarf’s face was very red, and Bilbo wondered why. After all, he was willingly telling him all sorts of dwarvish things a minute ago!
“Sorry Bilbo!” Bofur said, taking off into the eating hall, and quickly getting out of Bilbo’s sight.

“Blasted Dwarves.” Bilbo snorted.
His hand still rested on the braid in his hair. An uncomfortable question was beginning to form, and the braid was the key to it.

Chapter Text

Thorin was pouting. Balin had kicked him out of court, and he was pouting like a child. Of course, he would deny it, but Fili knew his Uncle too well.
And the company was very concerned. Most of them had been convinced that Bilbo leaving would push Thorin to action, or at least the hobbit would come running back in a day and everything would be fine.
The idea of two of the same soul willingly separating for longer than two days and not realizing what was right in front of them was unheard of.

They hadn’t calculated for pure Durin thickheadedness. Or the stubbornness of Bilbo Baggins, something they were all well acquainted with. For all his cleverness, he could be very oblivious to what was in front of him.
Even Fili could agree that his family had an...unfortunate tendency towards right motives and wrong ideas, if his brother and uncle’s tendencies were anything to go by.

It was plain to everyone, not just the Company, that Thorin and Bilbo were Ones. In fact, it was so obvious that no one had considered that maybe Bilbo didn’t know. It seemed in his short stay in Erebor, nearly everyone had forgotten how ill acquainted the hobbit was with dwarven culture.

“We can’t storm in there and demand Bilbo return to Erebor.” Balin said, in an attempt to calm the concerned group of dwarves.
Gloin seemed to think that that’s exactly what they should do and glowered.

“Aye, Thorin gave him the beads. If that wasn’t enough, nothing would be.” Dori agreed from the corner of the room.
A roar of agreement rang from Oin and his brother.

“He didn’t notice the wooden flower that Thorin gave him.” Ori offered. He sat next to Fili, knitting away at a small sweater. It looked hobbit sized. Ori was ever hopeful, and it warmed Fili’s heart to know at least someone hadn’t given up on his uncles.

“But Uncle admitted that wasn’t his intended courting gift.” Fili reminded him, gently patting the scribe on the shoulder. As gentle as a dwarves pat can be.
“But he gave him the mithril shirt! Surely that counts as a provider's gift!” Bombur blustered. A few voices of agreement chimed in with his.

“It only counts if both parties are aware that they are courting.” Balin reminded the group.
The group broke into more shouts and suggestions.

Then Fili was struck with a rather horrifying notion. He stood up, commanding silence from the group. Ever since he began to take on more responsibility with Kili gone and Thorin hiding, everyone had seen him in a new light. He was well respected, gone was the days of Fili and Kili, childish duo. Well, for now.
Fili then spoke in a horrified voice.
“What if Bilbo doesn’t know that he’s Thorin’s One?”

Thorin was passing by one of the smaller meeting rooms when he heard shouting. His hand tightened around his sword, which he still kept at all times. Following the loud noises, he barged into one of the rooms, his sword pulled out and ready.

What he did not expect was what was left of his company to be crowded around a table, yelling at each other, with a pale Fili standing watch.

“What’s going on here?” He demanded, immediately shutting down the yelling. All eight dwarves turned and stared at him. They all had terrified looks on their faces, and he was a little afraid to ask.

Finally Fili spoke. “Uncle, I need to speak to you.” He glanced at the rest of the group. “Alone.” He added.
Ori rose first, and pulled his brother out of the room. Then the rest of the group followed. Balin hesitated for a moment, making faces Thorin couldn’t read at Fili until he finally sighed and left as well.

“What is it Fili?”
“It’s about Bilbo.”

6 hours later, Thorin was sneaking out of Erebor.

Chapter Text

     They departed from Rivendell early the next morning. Elrond gave them supplies needed to finish their journey to Hobbiton, along with promises of supplies on they’re return trip.
     Bilbo, despite his best efforts, was in a foul mood that next morning as they headed towards Bree. It was clear to everyone around him that just about anything would set him off, so they all were polite. As polite as dwarves who never had an etiquette class in their life could be. He wished he could blame it all on his conversation with Bofur the night before, or too much mead, but he knew that wasn’t it. The despair in his chest had become a widening crack, destroying everything it touched.
For the sake of what he had left of dwarven friendship, he separated himself from the group.

Still, Kili soon fell back and joined him.

Then, for the first time since Erebor, Kili spoke to him.
“It’s not fair.”
The young prince’s voice quivered even while his face was empty. It was clear to Bilbo that this had been building up since his announcement, and would not be deterred.
     “I know Kili.” Bilbo reassured. He reached for his pipe, a good friend in tough conversations.
“It’s just, we all get our home back, and we’re all happy, but you have to return out of duty and not because you want to go home.” Kili elaborated. He tightened his grip on his back, and his knuckles turned white.

“I know. And I wish there was another way, I just-”

Kili interrupted him. “Just what. No one should abandon their family. Not for anything. I don’t care if your stupid silverwear gets stolen.”

     Apparently the prince had been listening to his rants about Lobelia. Bilbo looked up at Kili’s face. The prince was clearly fighting back tears, and his ears were turning a shade of red reminiscent of tomatoes.

     Bilbo wasn’t surprised by his obvious anger. He was related to Thorin after all. He reached out, gently placing his hand on Kili’s arm. The prince jerked away, refusing to look him in the eye.
“I’m sorry. But we all knew that I had to go home at some point. As much as I care for you all, I don’t belong in Erebor. No one needs me there. But I am needed in the Shire.”

Kili finally looked at him, a shocked expression on his angry face.
“That’s what you think? That no one needs you? Who am I supposed to talk to when I court Tauriel? And you left Uncle even after he-”
     Kili’s voice broke. He paused, taking a deep breath, clearly trying to compose himself.

Bilbo waited patiently for him to continue. He puffed at his pipe, fighting the rising pain in his chest. He loved Kili, but he would not be swayed from his intention.

Kili finally continued, a bit more composure in his voice.
“You belong with your friends. With your family. Why do you think Fili and I started calling you Uncle? Because you are a part of us now.”

     Bilbo didn’t know how to respond. His chest felt very tight, and if Kili didn’t cry first, he just might. Why dwarves pick the worst time to share their feelings, he would never know. He stared down at the ground, puffing away at his pipe.

“Kili, I care about you and your brother as if you were my own blood nephews. But hobbits need the sun, plants, and the open sky. They are not made for halls of stone and windowless rooms.” He finally replied, picking his words carefully.
     Truthfully, he knew that he could get all those things in and around Erebor. And he would’ve, given the chance. But he just hoped the prince wouldn’t think of that.

     He then continued. “Any of the dwarves other than Thorin would happily help you with Tauriel. And you are always welcome to come visit and stay with me for any length of time you wish.”

     Kili didn’t respond, and Bilbo could see tears starting to run down his face. He sighed.
“Please, do not think this is any easier for me. But this is not a final goodbye. We will laugh and talk about poems and courting and all other things again. Do not fret.”
This time, when Bilbo reached out to touch Kili’s arm, the prince did not pull away. In fact, he stopped in his tracks and turned to Bilbo.

     The hobbit could feel a crack forming down his heart as tears fell down Kili’s face. He pulled the young dwarf into a hug, as well as he could, being somewhat shorter. The prince stiffened momentarily, and then wrapped his arms around Bilbo.

They stood like that for a moment, although not so long that the group could leave him behind.

     But even as they both seemed to relax, Kili wasn’t done.
“Fine, ignoring everything about me and Fili. What about Uncle? He gave you those braids and beads and you rejected him. After everything- I thought you two would last, atleast.” Kili said, his face growing pinched again.
     Bilbo sputtered, quite at his wits end.
     “What do you mean rejected him? He told me these were braids of friendship and protection. Bofur wouldn’t tell me anymore than that the other night.” He frowned.

     Kili’s face ran through so many emotions that Bilbo couldn’t even follow. Finally, it settled on a nice shade of pale and tinged red along his nose and cheeks.
     “He told you...that they were for friendship.”
Bilbo nodded, confused.
     “The braids. That only close family or a couple can put in for one another. Is for friendship.” Kili said, sounding faint.

“What are you trying to say Kili?”
     Kili's face had regained some of it's color, although it shone of confusion and not so little anger.
“He gave you braids that told the entirety of the dwarven race that you are his and no one else is to claim you. Does that sound like friendship to you?”

“WHAT.” Bilbo yelled.

Kili stared at him, confusion even more evident on his face. “I mean, aren’t you two each other’s Ones?”

And then they arrived in Bree.

     After that, he couldn’t pull another word out of Kili. The prince had finally learned to keep his mouth shut, and at the worst time possible. Of course, the closeness of their companions probably added in the pressure, and glancing at Dwalin’s axe Bilbo couldn’t find it in his heart to blame him. Not that Dwalin could truly hurt him, but the fear was certainly enough to keep him silent.
     They rested in Bree and then set off to Hobbiton. They would likely reach it by early evening, and Bilbo was looking forward to his bed if nothing else. He hadn’t slept a wink that night, going over Kili’s words.

     Bilbo’s mind raced. Implications ran through his brain, despite all other thoughts screaming otherwise. Was it true? That he and Thorin were each other's Ones?Because if it was true, if it was true that Thorin was his One, and that even the gods demanded they be together. Then he had left his fate. Bilbo had left Thorin. Had left his One, his other soul, with no promise of return, but a promise to never return.
     Of course, it could all just be the fanciful hoping of a dwarf prince that wanted Bilbo to be part of his family. But Bilbo had enough sense to know that wasn’t it. Too many things made sense.
     Slowly, pieces of conversations came together like puzzle pieces. Not just Bofur hiding Bilbo’s courtship from him, but his comments on Dwalin and Nori’s anger, Kili’s anger. He couldn’t even be mad that no one said anything before he left Erebor, as Balin had tried to warn him, and he had shut him down.
     Another thought joined the rest.
     Thorin knew. He had to have. And he hadn’t told him.
     Bilbo felt sick.

     Bilbo still walked alone that morning, although it was more one sided now. The dwarves had more or less warmed back up to him and Nori had even referred to him as his brother the night before. It seemed they could get over his betrayal of his One, he thought bitterly. If only he was sure Thorin would come around. His angry thoughts betrayed him, and his attitude was too much even for dwarven sensibilities. No one walked with him. Well, almost no one.
     He ended up walking next to Gandalf, who had been through every mood Bilbo could ever possibly throw at him. The wizard would not be so easily offended.
They begin to crest one of the hills leading to Bag End. He was almost home.

     But he didn’t want Gandalf to actually talk to him. He wanted to wallow in his own self pity and never speak to another person again. Especially dwarves, but wizards weren’t particularly liked at the moment either. After all, it was a wizard that even got him into such a mess in the first place.

     “Lovely day, isn’t it.” Gandalf said as they crossed a bridge on the Hoarwell river.
Bilbo scowled. The old wizard was clearly goading him after avoiding conversation for so long, and Bilbo wasn’t having it. He wanted to be alone and angry.

     Gandalf was undeterred.
“You should be able to start a spring garden this year.” He cheerfully said.
     Bilbo eyed him suspiciously. Gandalf had never shown an interest in gardening, let alone his own personal garden. In fact, he had once referenced Bilbo’s garden as a “waste of time” and “what would your mother say” which was absurd since Belladonna Baggins had started the garden that lived at Bag End. Granted, he had been trying to lure Bilbo away to an adventure, so maybe his real opinion on gardening was a little kinder considering his love of pipe weed.

     “Indeed.” Was all Bilbo responded with. He then picked up his pace, intending to leave the bothersome wizard behind. He could see his little green door in the distance.
     Friend or not, Bilbo was company to no one today. But to his great displeasure Gandalf simply took larger steps to keep up.
“Since you’ll be all alone, it’ll keep you busy.”

Ah. So that was it.
“I don’t know if I’ll stay that long.” Bilbo said, half to himself. He hadn't meant to reveal his new intentions.
     “So you’re going to run off again rather than take a moment and think.” He muttered, and if it was anyone else Bilbo would’ve assumed he meant it to be unheard. But this was Gandalf. He meant every word he said.
So Bilbo snapped.

“I’ve had plenty of time to think, with the silent treatment my dear friends gave me.” He sniped.

Gandalf gave him a smile, although he wouldn’t describe it as a kind smile. Pitying maybe. Which was rather infuriating.

“Oh, so you have been using your brain. I thought you were being willingly obtuse..” The wizard said.
Bilbo snorted. “Obtuse? What are you talking about.”

“To the aching in your chest and the heaviness in your step.”
Gandalf had lowered his voice so only Bilbo would catch what he was saying. There was no need to remind the dwarves.
Cryptic wizard or not, what Gandalf said actually made sense.

“How do you know about that.” Bilbo asked.

     “I’ve never felt it myself, but the separation of unrecognized One’s is serious business. Can even lead to death if prolonged for two long.” The wizard's voice was still low, and he stared straight ahead as if they weren’t having the most important conversation in Bilbo’s life.

“Kili said that Thorin and I are One’s”

“Mmm finally figured that one out, did you.” Gandalf replied. He took out his pipe and lit it.

“You knew?” Bilbo screeched, and then lowered his voice at the glance of Nori and Bofur. “And didn’t tell me?” He hissed, tightening his grip on his walking stick. Blasted unhelpful wizards.
Gandalf looked as unconcerned as ever.
“I thought you were cleverer than that and would figure it out. Even Thorin figured it out before you.”
So Thorin did know.

Bilbo huffed.

“And the thing about my braids? You couldn’t have hinted that they weren’t just a friendship token?”

Gandalf shook his head.
“The person who intends to do the courting has to tell their intended. If one of us had told you and Thorin hadn’t yet, we could’ve been killed by tradition of the Dwarves.”

     Suddenly both Bofur and Kili’s behavior made sense. It was still stupid, but it made sense. Although, Kili likely said a lot more than he should've, but it wasn't like a prince of the dwarves couldn't be pardoned of such insult. He rolled his eyes.
     “I- that's the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard. And, wait, they’re courting braids?” Bilbo hissed back. “Besides, even if no one else could, you’re not a dwarf.”

“I suppose that’s true.” Gandalf responded.

     “And I’m not a dwarf, so how the hell did they expect me to know without Thorin telling me. ” A sad thought struck him. “Is that really why everyone was so mad at me leaving?”

Gandalf, apparently, was finished talking and quickly sped up, leaving Bilbo behind.
“Blasted wizards.” Bilbo hissed.

     He spent the next hour in silence. Of course he loved Thorin. He had resigned himself to such a fate long before.

     And now, he had confirmation from two people that they were, infact, Ones, and that Bilbo had gone and mucked it up. Of course he loved Thorin, but would Thorin be able to forgive him if he did return to Erebor? He had left, as if saying even the one intended for him by fate wasn’t good enough. The idea of Ones wasn’t even entirely clear to him. Was it fate deciding who he loved and forcing him?
     Bilbo groaned. Even if he knew the answer to that, he wouldn’t be able to resist Thorin actually responding in kind to his affections. He knew that if Thorin showed up on his doorstep, and said that he had been given a spell forcing them together, not even that would stop him. As if Thorin would show up at his door after how he had behaved.

Nori gently nudged him out of his thoughts. They had arrived safely at the top of the hill.

     Bilbo tensed his shoulders as he approached his front door. Inside would be his bed, his kitchen, all his belongings. His home. He gently took the handle and stepped inside.
     It was exactly how he left it. The letter he had sent to Thrain must have gotten through, and they had paused on ransacking his home until he could prove that he was alive.

But it was empty. It was full of all his things, and it was empty. Too quiet. Even his favorite armchair looked disappointing in reality.

This was not his home anymore.

And Bilbo knew, with terrifying certainty, that he had made a mistake.

Chapter Text

     Thorin took off in the middle of the night, leaving nothing except a note for Fili and Balin, instructing them in his absence.

     He took his sword, some food and the courting gift he created for Bilbo. When he made it, he worried it would be too small, but now that he was traveling with it he was quite grateful.

     Thorin refused to sleep. He traveled through Mirkwood, continuing past it in the dark. He would not stop. He eventually crashed somewhere on the edge of the Misty mountains.

     He only slept for a few hours before he took off again.

     Traveling alone was much faster, he found, than with a group of 14. He should’ve known that, but it still surprised him after all his days in the world. For one, his food pack was a lot lighter. He took to foraging and hunting along whatever path he was taking.
     Much easier to stalk prey when there’s only one loud dwarf, vs. 13.

     But all the same he hated being alone. The chasm of Longing within him made motivation difficult, and he had forgotten to eat more than once. He knew that such behavior was unsustainable. But his drive to reach Bilbo overroad most if not all his instincts, and he continued on.

     He blacked out somewhere near Rivendell.

     He hadn’t planned on stopping by Rivendell, even if they had been helpful before. Thorin had wanted to cut through it, sure, but not stop. Certainly not pass out.

     He wasn’t happy when he woke up in an unfamiliar bed, staring at a ceiling that could only be Elf made, and being scolded by a medical Elf.

     “I’m Fine” Thorin growled at the Elf, who had the good sense to back off from the irritated dwarf. Elrond was standing by the door, watching the encounter. He, on the other hand, did not look afraid of Thorin. Blasted Elves.

“You look as if you haven’t eaten for days, you’re dehydrated, and you slept as if you hadn’t in at least 2 days.” Elrond listed off, completely unimpressed.

     Thorin glared at Elrond, and then tried to get out of bed. Elrond didn’t make a move to put him back. But Thorin’s own body simply refused, as he could barely move to sit up, let alone get out of bed.
     “I need to get to Hobbiton.” Thorin grumbled, accepting his fate and laying back down in the bed. He huffed. Of course it had to be a comfortable bed, couldn’t he have one reason to be mad.
     A small voice that sounded like Bilbo told him he was being ridiculous.

Great, now he’s hearing things.

     “What is so important there that you can’t stop to sleep or eat.” Elrond asked, his curiosity clearly peaked. He sent the other elf out of the room and took a chair near Thorin’s bed.
“None of your business.” Thorin retorted, twisting away from the elf. He could feel Elrond’s eyes burning into his back.
“A Dwarven king passing out in Elven territory makes it my business.”

Thorin huffed. Why must everyone constantly invade his business.

Seemingly reading his mind, Elrond continued to speak.
“Perhaps if you didn’t have such dramatic tendencies, you wouldn’t have such issues.”
“I’m not dramatic.”
Elrond didn’t deign his comment worth a response.

Thorin sat in the silence. He would give anything for the Elf to leave, and for him to wake up, on the side of a road, from a terrible dream.
But perhaps Bilbo was worth talking to a Elf.

“My One is in Hobbiton.” Thorin growled out, his back still to Elrond.

“Ah, Bilbo Baggins, correct? I sensed the connection between you two on your quest.” Elrond raised an eyebrow at the dwarf.

     Thorin rolled his eyes. Bloody elves. Of course the elf, he refused to call him Elrond, what kind of name was that, of course the elf knew before even Thorin did. The elf continued to speak,
     “He passed through here a day before we found you. He didn’t seem very happy, lovers quarrel, I’m assuming?” The elf raised one perfectly arched eyebrow at the dwarf.

     Thorin turned and stared at the elf, almost wishing he was lying. But there was no malice in Elrond’s face. But Thorin didn’t respond as his heart constricted. He had only missed them by a day. Elrond took his silence as confirmation and continued speaking. The elf truly did not know when to stop, in Thorin’s opinion.

“If you had written, I would have had supplies ready for you when you arrived.”

“I wasn’t planning on stopping here. I was trying to reach him as soon as possible.”

“By sneaking off by yourself with no horse, very little food, and no map?.”

Thorin growled again, but he knew that the elf was right. He had snuck off in the middle of the night after all. Even he could see the flaws in such a plan.

“Once you’ve recovered, and only once you’ve recovered, I will give you all the supplies you need to reach Hobbiton.” Elrond said, ignoring Thorin’s silence.

Thorin eyed Elrond and asked,
“Why would you help me, considering my obvious attitude towards you and your people.”

Elrond’s face softened for a moment, and so did his voice.
“I know how it feels to be separated from the One you love.”

“Then you understand that I need to leave in the morning.”

“You need to replenish your strength.”

“I’m a dwarf, I can handle a lot worse than a lack of food and a few sleepless nights.”
     Thorin puffed up his chest in an attempt to appear intimidating. It didn’t work. The Elf only rolled his eyes, elegantly to Thorin’s disgust, and nodded in resigned agreement.

“I will have a pony and food ready for you in the morning. Meanwhile, no sneaking out.”

Thorin’s head shot up in surprise. Surely news of his departure hadn’t spread so quickly.
     The elf chuckled. “Yes, the elves of mirkwood were not pleased that you and your group so easily escaped from them. Allies now or not, it’s a blight on their reputation.”
     Thorin’s eyes widened, but he relaxed. He had not been discovered.

     Elrond walked to the door of his room, and paused to look back at Thorin. He even had the audacity to smile at him.
“I, for one, admire your tenacity. Thranduil sometimes needs a reminder that he is not, in fact, the center of the universe.”
     Thorin’s mouth gaped open, but before he could summon a response Elrond was gone.

     Elrond held to his word, and the next morning there was a pony and food waiting for Thorin in Rivendell. Thorin, for all his bias and stubbornness, actually managed to thank the elves before he sped off. They also gave him a similar promise of food and shelter on his trip back, although he was not sure that he would survive Bilbo’s wrath long enough to enjoy the luxury again.

Chapter Text

     Bilbo did not sleep well in Bag End.

     The first night he had crashed, completely exhausted from his journey. His companions did much the same. Bofur and Kili stole his best guest room, and Nori and Dwalin took the second best. Gandalf had denied his need for sleep and trekked on to who knows where, promising to say hello next time he was in Hobbiton.
     The first two days back in his smial was spent over technicalities. The dwarves agreed to stay for a week before they returned home, on his insistence. Then, he had to appear in front of the Thrain and most of the Shire and prove that he was indeed alive and that no, no one would be inheriting anything anytime soon from him. The last bit had been particularly targeted towards his cousin Lobelia, who left in a huff shortly after he arrived.
     He had no time to consider Thorin, or returning to Erebor, or just staying put and giving up.

     But he couldn’t sleep that third night. The dwarves had insisted on a drunk game of who can do the most pushups that night, mostly ruled by Dwalin although Bofur gave a good fight. Kili and Nori didn’t have much of a chance with the pushups, although between the two of them there was no lack of humour. Bilbo, of course, did not participate, but he had great fun observing.
     His mirth ended when everyone finally crashed from the alcohol and went to bed.

     That night he lay awake,trying to calm his mind. But the chaos of his thoughts could not be contained, and he found himself still awake at the early morning light. Bilbo groaned as he rose out of bed. He may not have participated in the competition the night before, but he hadn’t denied himself any drink.
     The smial was quiet, although the faint snores of dwarves could occasionally be heard as Bilbo crept to the kitchen. The pale light of a rising sun shone through the curtains in windows along the front of his home. It was rather smart that the bedrooms weren’t given windows. Wouldn’t be kind to wake guests before they were fully rested, either by the brightness of the sun or a shrill morning bird.

     Bilbo slipped on his jacket, and after a pause, he strapped Sting to his hip as well. It would not do to be caught unawares in the early morning. He then slipped out the door, wincing as it let out a loud creak. He carefully shut it, determined not to wake anyone.

     He paused to take in the crisp morning air. For all his worries and wishes, the air of the Shire could not be beat. Somehow, the air always smelled of apples and hay, no matter where one went within the Shire. As a child Bilbo had tried to figure out the source, but had only returned with no answers and several treats from doting relatives.
     Bilbo sighed. It had been a long while since he could call any of his relatives “doting.”

     He stepped out onto the path. There was no final location that he meant to find, so he walked one of the many paths that led from Bree. Sure, he had been that way before, but he had been tired and irritable, and hadn’t appreciated where he was.
     The dirt of the path, although compact from years of use, was still soft under his bare feet. A cool breeze ran through his hair, tousling it this way and that. He couldn’t bear to cut it, so instead it flew about his face constantly. He almost wished that he had time to get Thorin to teach him the braids before he had left.
     Of course, if he had had such time, he would’ve done a lot of things. He probably wouldn’t have left.

     He was returned to his childhood home, and he felt a stranger there.

     But as the morning turned warmer, he continued to walk. He wouldn’t walk all the way to Bree, as that would take all morning and even hobbits don’t have that kind of leisure time. Besides, if word got round that Bilbo had disappeared and left 4 dwarves in his home, surely things would go upside down quick.

     He let his gaze wander to the edges of the earth, as all around him were fields and hills. Calling them hills didn’t even seem right, not after the mountains he had seen on his adventure. His eyes followed the skyline until it came to rest on a small dot in the distance. It was a person, although much beyond that he could not tell. A traveler from Bree, likely a merchant of sorts either for Hobbiton or just passing through.

     His thoughts didn’t stay long on the dot in the distance. For his predicament filled his mind and soon his mood soured as he focused more and more on Thorin. They were both in the wrong, but Thorin was the one that let him leave without even a word of truth between them.

     The person was getting larger, and he could see it was probably a man, based on the beard. Although, he reminded himself, it could also be a female dwarf or a rather tenacious woman. The person, whoever they were, was leading a pony behind them.

     But if Thorin had let him go, surely that meant he didn’t care enough even for his One. Despite what Kili had said in such earnest, Bilbo couldn’t imagine Thorin just sitting on his throne day in and day out if he truly cared for Bilbo. Surely he would’ve sent at least a letter, an apology, anything.

     The person was definitely shorter than a man. Not a hobbit, but not a man. Actually, now that Bilbo thought about it, the person looked dwarven. He could barely make out a glint of what he guessed were beads in their dark hair.

     He continued to stare at the dwarf. He knew it was rude, but he had already destroyed his reputation, so he couldn’t bring himself much to care. They were a lot closer now, and he could see that their clothing was originally a blue color and now stained with large amounts of dirt. A traveler indeed.

     Wait.

     Was that?

     Bilbo took off in a run.
     He raced towards the dwarf, any idea of propriety long forgotten. Because if he was wrong, he could not stand to have that hope for too long. He would not let it break him.

     He wasn’t wrong.

     Because the dwarf had dropped the reigns of his pony and started to speed towards him as well.

     With blue eyes, dark black hair, and a face he could never forget. It was him.

     Bilbo nearly crashed into the dwarf, barely stopping in time. Thorin stared at him, and for once in his life Bilbo was at a loss for words. He surged forward, forgetting all his anger and doubts and troubles, and embraced his dwarf.

     Thorin stiffened for a moment and then returned the embrace, and there they stood. In the middle of a dirt road, amongst rows of wheat, and covered in dirt.
     “Bilbo- I-” Thorin’s voice cracked. He was clearly dehydrated, and Bilbo shushed him. His arms tightened around Bilbo and the hobbit sighed into the soiled shirt Thorin was wearing. Finally, regretfully, Bilbo extracted himself from Thorin’s embrace.

     “How are you here?” Bilbo whispered. His hands still rested on Thorin’s arm and shoulder, and his right hand slowly crept up to touch Thorin’s face. The dwarf leaned into Bilbo’s hand and sighed. They had wasted so much time, he would not waste anymore. He would touch and love and kiss for as long as he could.
     “I’ll tell you everything later, as I’m sure Dwalin will want a similar explanation. But first, I have to tell you something.” Thorin managed, though his voice was rough from dehydration and travel. He stumbled a bit, and Bilbo held him up as he regained his stability.

“I have something to say too.” Bilbo said, his earlier thoughts returning.

     Thorin placed a finger over Bilbo’s mouth, cutting off what he was going to say next.
     “You’re my One, Bilbo. I thought you knew, and I would’ve never let you leave had I known otherwise.” His dwarf spoke quietly, each word carefully picked. Bilbo’s hand still rested on his cheek, and he began to caress the soft bristle of Thorin’s face with his thumb.
“I know Thorin.”
     Thorin startled at this, and made a move to pull away. But Bilbo was not going to let go before he elaborated. Far too much had been assumed between them.

     “I didn’t know when I left, I figured it out the day I arrived back in the Shire. Your nephew had to basically spell it out for me, but I figured it out.” Bilbo laughed at his last line, embarrassment emblazoned across his face.
     Thorin laughed with him. The dwarf brought his own hand up to cup Bilbo’s face and leaned down. He paused for a moment, gazing into Bilbo’s eyes as he waited for a response of consent or otherwise.
     Bilbo rolled his eyes, although the gesture was not unappreciated, and leaned in. He very gently kissed Thorin, as if any moment he would wake and find it all a dream. He threaded his fingers through the hairs at the nape of Thorin’s neck and pulled him down more to his own height.
T     horin made a surprised noise but complied. Bilbo felt calloused hands hesitantly move into his hair and then rest there. It was awkward, the way many first kisses are, but he would not have it any other way.
They enjoyed their moment until neither could breath, and Bilbo pulled back.

“I wouldn’t have left if I had known. You should’ve just asked me, you big idiot.” He breathed, his hands still nestled on the back of Thorin’s neck.
     Thorin didn’t deny his words, instead leaning down to steal another kiss from Bilbo. This one was better, and longer than the one before, although Bilbo was just as careful. In the back of his mind he began to worry over the state of his dwarf.
     “This doesn’t mean I’m not mad at you.” Bilbo muttered as he gently pulled back and stared into Thorin’s face. He raised an eyebrow to prove his point, and then decided he wasn’t mad enough to actually remove himself from Thorin’s grasp.
     Thorin chuckled. “I wouldn’t expect anything else.”

     The two slowly disentangled, and Bilbo glanced around. Not that he was embarrassed, but he didn’t need rumours to arrive at his doorstep before he did. Lobelia would surely not be pleased with the recent turn of events.
     Of course, he smiled at himself, maybe that would be the icing on the cake.

     But he returned his attention to his dwarf, and noticed, for the first time, the deep set lines along Thorin’s forehead and the bags under his eyes. A quick look over confirmed that he was slightly limping, and his breath came out ragged. Even his hair and beard, usually clean and well tended when the rest of him was not, was a sad state of affairs. The braids that were still intact were messy, and his beard, although still short, had wild chunks striking their own path.
     Thorin stared back in silence, his blue eyes piercing Bilbo’s own. He was exhausted and dirty, but he was here. His dwarf had come for him.
     "Are you ok? How did you get here so soon after me?” Bilbo asked. He had his suspicions, but hoped that for once Thorin hadn’t been foolhardy. He gave the king a light glare, as if to warn him against lying.
     “I may...have forgone sleep for the last couple days. And food. And I ran out of water about a day ago.” Thorin admitted.

     Both expected anger from Bilbo, but instead he just let out a weary sigh. He couldn’t find all his anger at the moment, as it was likely hiding behind the fact that Thorin was here. In front of him. And wasn’t angry with him.
      “Of course you did.” Was all Bilbo said.

     Thorin relaxed in relief, pleased that he had evaded his hobbit’s wrath. So far. Bilbo glanced behind Thorin and saw that his pony had joined them and was waiting with almost a reproachful look in his eye. Likely about lack of apples.
     “Well, let's get you home and cleaned up. And then you will tell me exactly how you got here and why you felt such a need to abuse yourself.” Bilbo said, and it came out a lot shorter than he intended. Perhaps the anger wasn’t hiding itself that well. Thorin winced, but nodded in agreement.
     Bilbo grabbed the reins of Thorin’s pony in one hand and Thorin’s hand in the other, and started to march back to his home.

     They managed to reach Bag End with only a few curious glances. Bilbo knew better than to hope they would go unnoticed, but only hoped everyone would have the good sense to stay away for a while.

     Thorin began to stumble again as they reached the smial, and had to use Bilbo as a crutch. Bilbo left his pony with Hamfast, who had run into them earlier on the road and promised to take good care of it.
     They barely made it through the door before Bilbo gave out under his weight and Thorin slumped to the floor. The dwarf was lucid, but hadn’t eaten all day and was likely completely depleted of all necessary nutrients. Bilbo had scolded him more than once on their walk home.

     Nori came running out into the entryway with his knife drawn.
     “It’s alright Nori, it’s just me. And well, him.” Bilbo said, indicating the king currently seated against his wall. Thorin gave a lazy wave, and then coughed loudly.
     Nori’s eyes widened and ran back into the living room and out of sight. Bilbo rolled his eyes. Dwarves. But he didn’t have time to focus on Nori. Thorin was in need of a hot meal and a warm bed, and Bilbo gave himself the important task. He gently laid a blanket over Thorin’s lap, and leaned down to check Thorin’s temperature.

     “Thorin, you have a fever.” He scolded, and then placed a second blanket over his dwarf’s lap.

     “Sorry?” Was all Thorin could offer in his current state and Bilbo huffed, heading off to his kitchen. He had made some barley cakes the day before, hopefully the rest of his guests hadn’t finished them off. A glass of milk with some protein stirred in and a barley cake would surely help Thorin, and then a good, long, rest.
     He returned to the foyer, plate and cup in hand, to a sight to behold. Dwalin was scolding Thorin, and seemed to have placed his own coat over the two blankets Bilbo had given him. Meanwhile, Nori was hovering with a glass of water and a cookie, although where he got it Bilbo had no idea. Bofur was nowhere to be seen, and Kili was seated next to the king, and had burrowed under the covers with his head resting on Thorin’s shoulder.

     Bilbo watched quietly from the doorframe. What he had been thinking, trying to leave all of this behind, he had no idea. Not coherently, that was for sure. He smiled softly as Nori rested a calm hand on one of Dwalin’s arms, shushing his One’s scolds and then handing Thorin the glass of water.
     The king took it gratefully and drained the whole cup. He was the only one who saw Bilbo watching from the doorframe, and gave him a weary smile. Bilbo’s face warmed at being caught, but he wasn’t sorry for it. He stepped into the foyer, bringing the food and drink to the group of dwarves.
     “Now, now, let's give Thorin some space. No need to smother him.” Bilbo lightly scolded. He placed the plate and glass next to Thorin, on the side of him that wasn’t occupied with a dwarf prince.
     Dwalin just glared at the hobbit, but Nori rolled his eyes and pulled Dwalin back a few steps, giving Bilbo space to tend to Thorin. Kili insisted on staying next to Thorin, and Bilbo didn’t have the heart to tell him otherwise.

     After Thorin had eaten enough to please Bilbo, Dwalin and Bofur, who had returned from visiting the market, agreed to help get him off the floor. Bilbo insisted on giving Thorin his own room, much to everyone else’s protests.
     “My room has the largest bed and is the closest to the living room and kitchen, so we can hear him if he needs anything.” Bilbo explained as he glared at Dwalin, hands on his hips.

     The other dwarves seemed to relax at his explanation, but not Dwalin.
“It’s not appropriate laddie, not with...everything.” He said, waving his hand between Thorin and Bilbo.
Bilbo glanced at Thorin, who was still seated on the ground. The king gave him a weak shrug. Bilbo sighed. If Thorin didn’t have the energy to argue with Dwalin, a long recovery was in front of him.
He turned back to Dwalin and raised his eyebrow. “First you were mad at me for not staying with Thorin, and now you're worried I might fall into his lap immediately?”
     Dwalin’s face tinted slightly, but he stood his ground.
     “I’m not worried about you, I’m worried about him.” He indicated Thorin. Thorin didn’t respond, as his eyes had shut and was drifting off to sleep. Bilbo nudged him awake. It would be much easier to transport him if he wasn’t completely dead weight.

     “Couldn’t we just leave Bilbo’s door open? I mean, that’s what you made me do when I was talking to Tauriel.” Kili suggested from his spot, where he was still curled up next to Thorin. Thorin’s eyes opened and glanced at Dwalin and then his nephew.
     “Tauriel? That doesn’t sound like a dwarf name.” Thorin asked, nudging his nephew in confusion. Kili’s face flushed slightly, and he opened his mouth as if to elaborate.
     Bilbo sighed. Dwarves had terrible timing.

     “Kili’s suggestion is fine, lets get Thorin to your room.” Dwalin hastily interjected before anything else could be said. He stomped over to Thorin’s side and began to lift him up, indicating Bofur to do the same.
     Bilbo silently agreed with Dwalin. There was no need to inform Thorin of his nephew’s proclivities too soon. He didn't need an angry patient. So he hushed Thorin from speaking further and grabbed his dwarf’s sword and pack. He quickly led the group to his room, and carefully placed Thorin’s things on a bench in the corner.

     Thorin had barely been helped into bed before he began to snore, and the rest of the group gave their leave. Dwalin left the bedroom door wide open, giving Bilbo a glare while he did.
     Bilbo snorted. The idea of anything occurring between Thorin and he, while entertaining, was not currently realistic. But the concept that he alone was guarding Thorin’s great virtue or something was utterly hilarious to him.
     He smiled to himself as he wandered about the room, hanging up Thorin’s jacket and boots. The pack that Thorin had brought had been surprisingly light, and when Bilbo looked inside, all it carried was a wrapped package. He wanted to open it, but something told him that if Thorin had gone through the trouble of actually wrapping something, maybe he should leave it alone.
     He pulled up an armchair that he kept in the corner to the edge of the bed. He sat, and realized just how much walking he had done that morning. His feet were aching, a great achievement for a hobbit. Bilbo leaned back into the armchair and sighed in contentment. Thorin’s snores filled the room, and slowly, Bilbo drifted off as well.

Chapter Text

Hushed voices outside Bilbo’s door woke him that morning.
     He blearily peered through his lashes. Kili, at some point in the night, had snuck in and was curled up at the end of the bed. Either he really did miss his uncle that much, or he was another unwanted chaperone. Probably both. Uncle and nephew both snored as Bilbo slowly rose out of his chair. He winced at his stiff muscles and took very, very small steps towards the bedroom door.
     He finally straightened up as he exited his room. His dwarves needed their sleep so he softly shut the door behind him. Soft voices drifted past his ears as he crept into the kitchen.
     The rest of his dwarves were all seated at his breakfast table, deep in conversation. They stopped talking when they noticed he had entered the room.

     “G’morning Bilbo! I made breakfast.” Bofur said, pointing at the countertop across the room. Bilbo braced himself as he walked to the plates of food. There was no smell of burnt food in the air, but he was still wary of dwarvish cooking skills other than Bomburs. To his pleasant surprise, perfectly lovely eggs and biscuits were sitting out, along with fresh orange juice and sausages. He turned to look at Bofur in surprise.
     “You didn’t think my brother was the only one who could cook, didja?” Bofur laughed.
     Bilbo smiled back and shook his head. He took a plate that had already been dished up and returned to his breakfast table.

     He looked at his friends expectantly as he began to eat. Whatever they had been talking about, it was likely important and he was not going to be left out of the loop.
     “We were just discussing how long we should stay, considerin’ everything” Nori filled in, and Bilbo nodded gratefully.
     “We thought we could stay for at least the next 3 or 4 weeks, to give Thorin time to heal.” Bofur said, and then hastily added, “As long as you want us anyway, we wouldn’t want to impose.”

     All three dwarves looked at him imploringly. Of course he would never turn away his friends, certainly not after he so recently regained their friendship. He smiled kindly, as best as he could through his mouthful of eggs and swallowed.
     “Of course you all can stay. You can stay as long as you need. You’re my friends after all.” He said gently, and he dared to reach over and pat Dwalin on the arm. To his surprise, the dwarf didn’t pull back but gave him a smile that reminded him a little of Kili.
     They ate the rest of their meal in comfortable conversation. They didn’t bring up Thorin, and mainly stuck to topics he was comfortable with. He had forgotten how nice it was to have real conversation with someone who didn’t have the mental age of a 25 year old. Or a damn wizard. Not that he didn’t love Kili, of course he did, but the boy could be terribly excitable. It made him wonder how sane Kili’s elf was.

     He cleaned up everyone’s dishes and then excused himself. Thorin could sleep all day, but Kili should not otherwise he’d be bothering them all night. Bilbo crept back into his bedroom with a plate of food meant for Thorin. Both Durins were still fast asleep, and Kili looked as if he would fall off the edge of the bed at any moment. He had one leg already stuck out, just barely brushing the floor.
     Bilbo set the plate of food down in a safe place out of Kili’s eyesight. He poked Kili from a safe distance, as the youngster had the tendency to bolt upright at the slightest waking.
     Kili did just that and looked around in panic.

     “Shhh, it’s alright, it’s just Bilbo.” He said, gently grasping one of Kili’s arms.

     “What’s going on?” Kili slurred slightly, clearly fighting off the urge to go back to sleep.
     “It’s time for breakfast.”
     Kili’s eyes lit up at the thought of food. Bilbo smiled, the young dwarf reminded him of himself as a boy. The prince quickly made for the door, and in his haste managed to smack his head on the doorframe. He winced, but continued out the door. Not even injury could stop him from his breakfast.
     Bilbo rolled his eyes and turned his attention on Thorin. He still looked asleep, although he had suspiciously stopped snoring. Bilbo took the plate of food he brought and walked to the bed, setting it on the small table next to it.
     “I know you’re awake, Thorin.” He said, reclaiming his seat in his armchair.

     Thorin snorted and opened his eyes, and although they were still heavy with sleep, he seemed alert enough.
     “How’d you know?” He asked. He reached for the plate of food and grabbed a biscuit.
     “You stopped snoring.”
      “I don’t snore.” Thorin sputtered with indignation. He took a great bite of his biscuit and glowered at Bilbo.
     “You and every other dwarf in our company snore.” Bilbo sniffed, “Except Fili, he’s a very quiet sleeper, which you all could take after.”

     Thorin snorted. “I don’t snore. I’m a very regal sleeper,” He rose to sit up, and winced in pain. Finishing off the biscuit, he grabbed the rest of the plate and began to eat. Bilbo rolled his eyes but didn’t comment. He rose out of his chair and left the room for a moment, only to return with his medicine kit. Thorin watched curiously his hobbit as he began to unpack it. Many vials and bits and pieces of bandages and gauze came out, along with clean water and towels.
At Thorin’s confused look, Bilbo paused in prepping.
     “You’ve got cuts all over your face and arms.”
     Thorin conceded and leaned back into his pillow. Bilbo began to gently clean off the king’s face with a wet towel. A few of the cuts were still open, and Thorin winced at the towel. But he didn’t say anything as Bilbo pulled back and brought out what he assumed was healing ointment.
     They both fell into a comfortability neither had felt in a while. It reminded Thorin of the med tent and talking through long nights, and he felt at peace. Sure, he had been mortally injured in the med tent, but that was hardly the point. The point was he knew that he was in love then, and he was most definitely in love now.

     Bilbo softly hummed as he cleaned up Thorin’s face. He gently dabbed the healing ointment where it was needed, and wrapped pieces of Thorin’s arms as necessary.
     “I wouldn’t be surprised if you inflamed all your injuries from the battle.” Bilbo scolded lightly, glancing up at Thorin’s face. The king didn’t give any indication that he heard him, and Bilbo rolled his eyes as he returned to his work. Thorin had had 3 or so months after the battle to heal, but some things just ran too deep. Bilbo himself had wrenched his sword arm while fighting and could still feel an ache when he used it too often.

     “That’s dumb love for ya.” Came a voice from the door. Bilbo jumped slightly, and his hand automatically went to his side.

     Dwalin stepped into the room, a smile on his face and biscuit in his hand.
“Isn’t the phrase “dumb luck?” Bilbo asked. He finished wrapping a cut on Thorin’s arm and began to clean up his supplies.
     “Nah, He used all that up on our quest. This little stint was all love.” Dwalin smirked. He walked to the empty side of the bed and sat at the end of it. Of course, nothing about his sitting was contained. He leaned against the board of the bed and stuck a foot,bootless, up by Thorin, letting the other dangle along the side of the bed. He smacked Thorin on the leg, leaving his hand resting on the pile of blankets that was Thorin’s foot.
     Bilbo laughed, his face pink. Thorin would have fought Dwalin for his comment, but seeing Bilbo relaxed, if only for a moment, was worth his own pride. Just Dwalin being there was a little against his pride, as the warrior probably considered himself a chaperone.

     “So are you gonna tell us why you almost died to reach us?” Bilbo prodded. Dwalin looked surprised for a second but then set a grim look on Thorin. Having Dwalin and Bilbo hear it first was likely the best course of action, and then Kili could hear a less...inspiring version. They didn’t need the prince getting any funny ideas in his head, even if Bilbo did think it was sweet that Thorin came after him. In a foolish way, how can I tell you I love you if you're dead kind of way.
     Thorin told the two what exactly he had done. If he left out exactly how many days between sleep or food he went, well that was between him and Mahal. But Bilbo had enough to worry over, he needn't stress further.
     Of course, the hobbit put the math together in his head all by himself, and wasn’t pleased. But Thorin didn’t know that yet.

     “You snuck out? And didn’t tell anyone where you were going?” Bilbo repeated, eyebrows raised and a worried look retaking his face.

     “Ya can’t just do that Thorin, they're gonna think ya got kidnapped or something.” Dwalin said, although he looked a little impressed.
     “Well I left a note for Fili and Balin…” Thorin muttered.

Dwalin snorted but didn’t comment further. He was far past the point of surprise when it came to Thorin’s decision making.
     “I’m glad you came and found me, but you couldn’t have waited until morning to let everyone know? Maybe send a letter so I knew?” Bilbo asked. He was still seated in the armchair, although he had it pulled up to the bed so he could hold Thorin’s hand. The bed was too full even if he had wanted to join, but he had a feeling Dwalin would’ve stopped him anyway.
     Come to think of it, Dwalin was a bit of a hypocrite, if Bilbo remembered correctly. He and Nori had shared plenty of beds and rooms on their quest the year before. Bilbo smiled to himself and filed that little piece of blackmail away for later.

     “I left as soon as Fili told me that you didn’t know anything. He can be quite capable when he wants to be.” Thorin sputtered. He didn’t really have a good reason for why he didn’t wait, but how was that his fault. He was just trying to be a good partner.
     “It seems we owe more to our nephews than we know.” Bilbo said.

     Dwalin smirked at his words, and Thorin looked at him curiously. His face turned red again when he realized what he had said. He knew that he considered the boys his own family, only he wasn’t sure how their uncle would react. Sure, the boys called him uncle on occasion, but their antics were a little more excusable.
     But then Thorin smiled and squeezed his hand. Bilbo squeezed back. If he also starred into Thorin’s eyes for a moment, that was his business.
     “You two are hopeless.” Dwalin snorted. He rose off the bed, as if to leave. “Behave!” Was all he added as he walked out of the room. He also very pointedly left the door open, shoving one of Bilbo’s books in front of it to keep it so.

     Thorin watched him go and then laughed. Dwalin was always a little...pedantic about his standards. Not that they applied to himself or Nori, just to Thorin and mostly when he really didn’t want them. The letters that the warrior wrote to Dis, Thorin’s sister, certainly encouraged compliance. Thorin may be a king, but sisters are always terrifying, no matter ones station.

     But no sister was going to get between Thorin and his One. Thorin shifted over in the bed, leaving a space between him and Bilbo. The hobbit looked disappointed, and began to withdraw his hand. But Thorin held tight and pulled Bilbo onto the bed with him. He tumbled into Thorin’s side, making the dwarf wince. Bilbo carefully sat up next to Thorin, leaving an inch or so between them. Thorin still had his hand, but other than that they had no contact.
     “Ignore Dwalin.” Thorin snorted, as he put an arm around Bilbo’s shoulders and pulled him to his side. Bilbo froze for a second, as if to protest, and then rolled his eyes and leaned into Thorin. The door was open afterall, and nothing they were doing was against any rules that Thorin was aware of. Of course, Dwalin liked to make up rules as well, something he shared with his brother.
     “I’m the king, I can do what I want.” Thorin thought out loud.

     Bilbo looked amused at the remark, and burrowed closer in with Thorin. The king gently pulled the outermost blanket up to cover both of them, and rested his cheek on Bilbo’s head.
     It was wonderful, it truly was. But it was throwing Bilbo for a complete loop. It seemed so recent that they had even been comfortable alone in the same room, and now they were cuddling with the door wide open. But it felt right, and it was balm for his soul to just sit in comfort with his One. They could deal with all their other issues later, because listening to Thorin’s heart beat against Bilbo’s head was far more interesting.
     And once again, the two drifted off to sleep.

     Bilbo woke up to two strong arms wrapped around him, and a deep rumbling against his back. He froze for a moment. It was Thorin, he relaxed with relief as he remembered. It was Thorin and they had been sitting together and then. Then they fell asleep. He groaned quietly to himself. Hopefully nothing about that was against whatever code Dwalin was forcing them to.
     He turned to face Thorin. The king was fast asleep, marked by the very loud snoring. Bilbo smiled. He reached out and caressed the side of his dwarf’s face, running his hand along the bristle of his cheek. Eventually his hand ended up in Thorin’s hair again, and he began to carefully detangle it.
     Thorin twitched in his sleep, causing Bilbo to stop. The king pulled him closer, nearly suffocating him with his hair. Bilbo turned his back to Thorin and shifted comfortably in his arms.
     “I love you.” Bilbo whispered as he drifted back off to sleep.

Chapter Text

Dear Thorin,
     Hi, how are you? I’m great, other than the fact that you ran off in the middle of the night and left my barely adult son on the throne.
     I really hope that this Bilbo Baggins was well worth it. According to Fili, he is wonderful and just what you need. I’m glad you’ve found your One, even if you made terrible decisions to find him. Even if you decided not to inform me of any of your life since last spring.
     Let me make this very clear, dear brother. If you do not return to Erebor as soon as physically possible and retake your throne, so help me Mahal I will come and drag you there myself. Fili is in no way shape or form capable of ruling, and Balin doesn’t deserve this headache at such an age. Also, if you would kindly return Kili and stop letting him tromp all over middle earth unsupervised.
     I will be arriving in Erebor myself in two weeks time, and I expect a letter of response and a promise of arrival. Otherwise, I’m following in your footsteps and hunting you down.

Love,
Dis,
Daughter of Thrain, Son of Thror

Bilbo Baggin’s response to Dis. Thorin slept through a solid couple of days, and Bilbo couldn’t leave her waiting.

Dear Dis, Daughter of Thrain, Son of Thror,
     My name is Bilbo Baggins. It’s lovely to finally hear some words from you, as we have never met. Although, according to your letter, we will one way or another.
     Thorin has also been sleeping nearly constantly since the first few days he arrived, so I’m writing in his stead. He is currently indisposed, and should not travel for the next month. As you mentioned, he made a very foolish attempt to cheat time and space and refused sleep and food to reach my home in the Shire. The only reason he reached me was out of shear dumb love and stupidity. He has luckily avoided maladies other than simple sleep deprivation and hunger, but I am keeping a keen eye on him.
    Dwalin and I gave him a proper scolding when he arrived. And I’m sure Nori and Kili have something to say, they just haven't had the chance yet.
     I agree with you wholeheartedly and will be returning with Thorin to Erebor as soon as possible. Had I known what was happening, Fili would not be ruling. The poor boy has dealt with enough, and he’s hardly old enough. As soon as Thorin is healthy and I get my own belongings and home settled, we will be coming home.
     And fear not, Kili has not been completely unsupervised. I kept a very close eye on him, and he hasn’t gotten into much trouble other than eating me out of hearth and home. Dwalin and the others are also doing well, and intend to stay with me until Thorin is ready to return home.

Lovely to hear from you,
     Bilbo Baggins of Bag End, The Shire

Dis’s response to Bilbo

Dear Master Baggins,
     Thank you for responding so quickly to my message. I was more than a little afraid that the raven would not be able to find you so far out. I have written separate letters for both Thorin and Kili, if you would be so kind as to make them read and reply.
     It seems you and I are going to be the sensible ones in this family. Welcome, by the way. It’s about time Thorin had someone to keep him in line, and I’m glad that my boys will have a better role model as well.
     I will be ruling as regent in Erebor until Thorin arrives. No one fought me on this, and Fili is much relieved.

     Thank you,
     Dis

Aforementioned letters to Kili and Thorin:

My dear Brother,
     Well, if you’ve done one thing right, it’s that Bilbo Baggins. I wholeheartedly approve, and if I had to pick between you and him, well lets just say I’d have a new hobbit friend.
     I will restrain myself from hunting you down, for now. For now, I will focus on ruling as regent of Erebor. Yes, no one fought me on it, and Fili just about fainted from happiness. He’s been spending a lot of time down in Dale since, and I have a feeling we might be welcoming a child of Man into our family before long.
     As for your foolish escapade, take time and rest. I do not wish to lose another brother, and certainly not to something as simple as lack of food. Listen to your Bilbo and I’m sure you will be fine in no time.
     Also, I know that you two started courting, whether you both were aware or not, and I will be planning a wedding when you return. And you will be returning, your One has already promised it.

     Love,
     Dis, King under the Mountain

Dear Kili,
     When were you going to tell me about the lovely elf maiden you're courting? Fili introduced her and while she is an elf, I would be a hypocrite to scold you for loving someone. She is lovely by the way, and has some most interesting observations of our culture that I enjoy.
     I want you to behave yourself while you stay in Master Baggins home, and offer to help out. If I hear that you were a terrible guest, and I will hear, Mahal will not be able to save you. Also, keep an eye on your Uncle Thorin, and make sure he replies to my letters. You boys have kept me out of the loop for far too long.

     Love, Amad