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Summary
“Your shirt,” says Thorin, quite out of the blue, and Bilbo looks down his front to see if there is a spot of tea or jam or anything equally embarrassing spilled on it. He is relieved to find nothing of the sort and looks up at the dwarf with an eyebrow raised in question.
Thorin sits mute, his still-smoking pipe forgotten in his hand. He looks on for long moments still, seems almost lost to a thought before he shifts and lifts his gaze to meet Bilbo’s inquiring face.
“It is familiar to me. Did you not wear this on the eve we met?”
In which Bilbo and Thorin re-enact the evening they met.