Chapter Text
Thorin woke to the call of his name. He was in a room that was far too bright. Hissing at the daylight assaulting his vision and the uncomfortable crick in his neck, he tried to sit up. He scowled at Bilbo, who chuckled at his plight from beside him.
While Thorin struggled towards wakefulness, Bilbo looked searchingly at his face. "You've been overworking yourself again, my King," he chided. "Or maybe you are simply bored by my impassioned speeches on the finer points of gardening."
"No, no," Thorin groaned, yanking himself up from his slumped position and scrubbing his hands over his face roughly. "I am very interested in- in…"
He struggled for a moment before Bilbo took pity on him. "Soil fertilization, dear."
"Ah, yes. That."
Bilbo laughed that bright laugh. "Of course. But I'm afraid I'll have to regale you with the wonders of gardening at another time. It seems we have company," he gestured towards the door to indicate one of Erebor's guards clomping down the cobblestone path in their direction.
The dwarf guard was a strange contrast against background of the lively garden. He was all rich, dark cloth and gleaming armor where the garden was overflowing with colorful blooms. Beams of bright sunlight speckled the path from skylights. A warm, gentle breeze blew through the wide field of mismatched flowers and impacted the approaching dwarf much the same way it would impact a wall. Thorin wondered if he looked as out of place as the guard did, dressed as a king of dwarves and lounging on a wooden bench in his hobbit's sanctuary.
"My lord," the dwarf addressed his king, with a perfunctory nod in the consort's direction which Bilbo returned in an equally curt manner. "I was sent to report; There are some visitors arrived today from the Far East."
Thorin pulled himself out of his seat and stood, brushing his trousers flat with excessive force. The guard straightened to sharp attention, matching his king's return to courtly decorum. "The Far East?" he grumbled. "How far east?"
"Nobody has thought to inquire, your Majesty. Far enough to make it clear where they came from without asking. They are a bit… peculiar."
"Have they threatened the kingdom?"
"No, your Majesty. They've just been... looking."
"Looking," Thorin repeated.
"Yes, looking. At everything and everyone. Very… intimately."
"Hm," Thorin hummed. "Have they shown interest in an audience with me?"
"No," the guard hesitated. "But Captain Dwalin thought it best for you to be notified of their presence regardless."
"Very good," Thorin agreed. "Dismissed."
"Thank you, your Majesty." the guard replied. He turned to march his way back through the swaying field to the doorway from whence he entered.
Thorin sighed, sinking back to the bench beside Biblo, who took his husband's hand and rubbing a gentle thumb across his scarred knuckles. "Sounds like you're going to have a busy day," Bilbo observed. "Just try to find a few spare hours for yourself. Even if it's only listening to my lectures about soil," he finished, giggling as Thorin kissed the tip of his nose, gentle as the spring breeze.
"I adore your lectures," he grumbled. "Even the ones about soil. I lament the loss of so many minutes listening your sweet voice, which crafts the art of gardening into the highest of wonders. Alas, I have missed it, all for the dreary substitute of a black abyss! If only these mortal shells did not require such tedious maintenance," he cried, throwing his hands beseechingly towards the sky.
"Oh, no!" Bilbo cried through his laughter. "Once you start talking poetry, I know you're done for." He sobered, gripping Thorin's hand more tightly. "You know, I bet the kingdom could manage itself for the rest of the day if you decided to extend your nap, my king- even if we do have... visitors."
"If only it were that simple." Thorin lamented as he rose, helping Bilbo to his feet in turn. "I may be out late tonight."
"What a surprise," Bilbo stated dryly.
The two parted at the garden gates. Thorin turned to watched his husband as he walked down the hall. He was on his way to the library, presumably, to complete some work of his own. In his deep blue coat and muted green trousers, the Hobbit seemed to glow with life against the greyish background of Erebor's halls.
Bilbo must've felt Thorin watching- he nearly ran into a passerby trying to sneak a look over his shoulder back towards his where his husband was watching him. Thorin could hear his Bilbo's fluttering apology all the way down the hall.
He chuckled fondly as he moved down the path toward the Throne Room. Perhaps he might make it home earlier than expected, he reassured himself. Even if he didn't deserve a night off, Bilbo certainly deserved a night in.
***
Thorin suppressed a yawn as he watched the crowd milling about in the market below. Occasionally he picked out one of the visitors his guard had mentioned to him earlier that day. He began to muse over their characteristics, trying to guess their race.
From where he was standing, he could see they were about the height and shape of your average Ereborian, but they were different in a way that was hard to place. They moved like animals, prowling from stall to stall or loitering in dark corners. They were built like a dwarf too, but thinner- more wiry. Thorin would guess they were surface dwelling, despite their dwarfish statures.
He frowned to himself, tugging on his braided beard. It was not uncommon for visitors from other lands to enter Erebor with interest in trade of goods or information, or simply to foster good relations with one of the most prosperous and famous dwarf kingdoms in Middle-Earth. What was concerning about these visitors was that they had arrived unannounced. They trickled gradually through the front gates in small groups over a long period of time, and once they were inside, spent their time lurking in dark corners and unnerving the locals. Thorin had checked in with the guard again, only to learned they had already received several complaints from concerned vendors who had believed the strangers were after their goods. No action had been taken, but it was becoming a tense situation in the buzzing marketplace.
Thorin found it concerning, but not concerning enough to act. These foreigners hadn't caused any harm so far, disturbing though they may be. The most anyone could complain about in their presence was a case of indignity, which is often unavoidable when two cultures collide. Maybe these visitors would do the dwarves of Erebor some good, he thought. Open their minds to new things, like his marriage to Bilbo had done for him.
Thorin suppressed an embarrassingly besotted grin. Yes, every dwarf could afford a little run-in with another race. In the end they might even discover themselves better for it. Even so, Thorin would be keeping an eye on these Easterners. They were a bit more suspicious than your average Hobbit.
He retired from his watch over the marketplace to attend the impending council session. He trusted these visitors would merely continue to "look" for a few hours while he got this business out of the way. And if they didn't, well- he was confident his guardsmen could handle a few savages from the Far East.
***
A few hours had well passed and he was still in council. Discussion had degraded to levels which had the King nodding off in his chair at the head of the table. Honestly, how long could an argument about the distribution of lamp oil last? The two old, grey dwarves creaked and crowed over who got more and when in their slow, groaning voices until it sounded like a lullaby to Thorin's ears.
Fortunately, he was rescued by Balin- who saw Thorin's slowly reclining posture and acted to keep him from embarrassing the crown by actually falling asleep in his chair.
"Thank you," Balin cut in, interrupting the head of the Mining Regulatory Council, who turned his rheumied eyes to Balin slowly, as though waking from a dream. "I'm sure we'll have another meeting to discuss this issue, but for now we have other matters on the agenda."
Thorin discreetly sat up straighter in his chair as heads began turning in his direction, trying valiantly to make it look as if he had never been slumping in the first place.
"On the subject of the Royal Consort's suggestion," Balin read off the agenda in a very official voice, "to establish a trade route between Erebor and the Shire, homeland to the Hobbits, who are skilled with the land and-"
"A ludicrous suggestion," the head of Trade interrupted promptly, sneering as he stuck his pointed noise in the air. "The cost of shipping goods over half the distance of Middle-Earth would far outweigh any benefit the trade route could offer."
"Well," the head of Agriculture replied. "The people of the Shire are well known for their farming abilities. Even shipments of their seeds and soils would have an impact in Erebor's interest-"
"Yes, in impact, indeed... but not enough impact to outweigh the costs," the head of Trade cut him off. "It's clear the only one to truly benefit from the route would be the people of the Shire themselves."
"If you're suggesting the Royal Consort is only seeking the betterment of his own people through a trade route, I suggest you take a moment to recall how the Royal Consort came to be in the position he is now," Balin cut into the conversation like a knife, quickly coming to Bilbo's defense before Thorin could form voice for his anger.
"Yes, Mister Balin," the head of Trade replied blithely, seemingly unconcerned over the Head Advisor's deadly tone. "I was merely pointing out that the Royal Consort has done nothing but better his own position and and interests within the kingdom since his marriage. He has used his wealth and position as a key advisor to assist other nearby kingdoms more than he has Erebor itself. And when he has seen fit to work in Erebor's favor, it has been in the most peculiar ways- such as the restoration of the library of all things."
Thorin shot up from his chair before he remembered he was in court, and there was etiquette for this sort of situation. Only he couldn't bring himself to care. "He is the Royal Consort of Erebor," Thorin began, voice straining with ire. "And he will not be accused of selfishness, so long as I am King. Not only did he abandon his home and his life to help us regain the kingdom in which you now couch yourselves in comfort; he nearly sacrificed his life for it.
"He came to Erebor for his own reasons, and though obscure at first, they were clearly noble in the end. Such have been his efforts as Consort.
"Though you may not understand the need to restore the library," Thorin turned to the head of Trade, who looked rightly alarmed in the face of his kings fury, "or establish a trade route- though his reasons may be obscure- he is sure as rock not doing it for 'his own gain'.
"A dwarf may have never prioritized the restoration of the library, but the Consort is not a dwarf. His actions benefit Erebor in ways we would never even think to consider on our own, even if shortsighted dwarves like you are too blind to see his value.
"As long as I'm alive," Thorin leaned over the table, looking down on the head of Trade, who was shrinking into his chair. "No one will accuse Bilbo Baggins of selfishness."
"That went well," Balin stated grimly as he and Thorin walked together down the low-lit halls towards their respective quarters, after the meeting was adjourned.
"He deserved it, that shirumundu rukhas," Thorin replied heatedly. "Disrespect towards any member of the royal family is not acceptable."
"Oh, I'm not doubting your motives," Balin replied. "It's your methods I'm worried about. Not to mention reminding you council of… hard times doesn't exactly encourage faith in your reign."
Thorin knew what he was getting at. A high temper and a loose tongue was how his grandfather had started as well. It only took a little to make even the least oily politician jump at the opportunity to doubt the sanity of their king.
Thorin clasped Balin's shoulder as they reached his quarters. "It won't happen again, my friend," he assured him, smiling fondly down at him.
Balin gave a put-upon sigh. "You're not the one who has to deal with the outcome of such outbursts, my King," he chided.
Thorin gave Balin a hearty slap on the back and smiled wider, wishing him a good-night as he wandered off down the hall to his own quarters.
As soon as the doors were shut behind him Thorin heaved a mighty sigh, removing his heavy crown and placing it on its stand on the mantle.
Shrugging out of his clothes, he dropped them on the floor in a trail until he was down to his thinnest layer of underwear. Crawling into bed, he slid under the heavy furs, trying in vain not to wake Bilbo as he curled around the Hobbit, breathing in his soft curls.
Bilbo mumbled a groggy, "Back already?" Thorin pinched his stomach lightly in retribution as the hobbit giggled at his own joke. "Did the council meeting go well? Anything interesting happen?"
Thorin, blowing out the candle Bilbo had left burning for him simply said, "Only a three hour long argument over lamp oil."
"Sounds horrible," Bilbo laughed, already falling back to sleep quickly in the warm embrace.