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Bofur tapped his pen against the scroll, his brow furrowed with concentration.
When a large splotch of ink escaped from the nib and settled on the pale parchment he cursed and quickly put the pen aside.
The ink blot looked a bit like an owl. Lovely. But not at all what he’d been trying to accomplish.
Who would have thought it’d be so hard to think of a good rhyme for ‘gold’. The ones he’d thought of so far just wouldn’t do as ‘cold’, ‘mould’ and ‘scold’ were not at all suitable for a poem about, and for, Fíli.
Fíli deserved only the best of poems. The very best. Which was a problem since Bofur was fairly sure that he’d only be able to scrape together a moderately passable one. If at that.
It’d all seemed so very easy in the moments before he put his pen to the parchment. During those moments Bofur had all the words he’d ever need to describe just how wonderful Fíli was, how brave and lovely and kind. The way his eyes sparkled just before a smile made its way to his lips and how Bofur was sure he’d never seen anything even half as beautiful as Fíli in his whole life.
Not even the Arkenstone could compare.
But then came the moment when the ink touched the paper and as if by magic all the right words disappeared.
The ones that remained usually wanted to flock together in a dirty couplet or two, and the damn things didn’t even want to rhyme properly either.
Besides, he couldn’t court Fíli with a poem full of innuendo. Not to start out at least.
He could always go to Ori and beg for help, but that felt too much like cheating.
Then again... all was fair in love and war… And Bofur was fairly sure this was indeed love.
It’d started on the quest of course, as he’d not known Fíli before. Of course he hadn’t. The toymaker and the prince? The very idea was absurd.
But they’d become friends. Somewhere along the way they’d even become good friends. Only… Bofur wanted more.
It was rather greedy, but as it was one of the few things he’d ever known himself to be greedy about he might as well allow himself to give it a try. And since Kíli was courting an Elf and the world (and Thorin) was still standing, maybe a toymaker and a prince wasn’t that far-fetched after all.
Still, he couldn’t just ‘try’, and do it half-arsed. It had to be a good try. A proper attempt at courting.
So... going to Ori for poetry advise it was.
-
“A poem?”
“Yeah, words in sentences, that rhyme?”
“I know what a poem is,” Ori sniffed. “And a poem doesn’t have to rhyme.”
“A good poem should.” Bofur was fairly certain that this was actually a rule.
“No, it doesn’t have to. But never mind.” Ori shook his head and then smiled at him. “So, you want help writing a poem for Fíli.”
“Um. Never said who it was for.” Bofur scratched the back of his neck. “So you're jumping to conclusions there, Ori.”
“Right,” the younger Dwarf snorted. “I’ve eyes you know. Or are you going to tell me I’m wrong?”
Well, Bofur wasn’t about to do that. He couldn’t lie to Ori, especially not if he was helping him. Nor did he want to lie to him. So instead Bofur shuffled his feet and pulled on one of his hat flaps.
“You’re not wrong,” he muttered.
“Of course I’m not,” Ori said and nudged Bofur’s arm. “Because I’m not blind. I’m not helping you write a poem though.”
“You’re not?” Bofur said, shoulders drooping.
“You should just write him a letter. I don’t think Fíli particularly likes poems anyway.”
“Well, no one really likes poems,” Bofur said. “But you need them for courting.”
Ori covered his eyes with his hand. “No one likes- Bofur, I’m definitely not helping you write a poem. Just write what you feel. What he means to you. Don’t try and make it rhyme. And then you give it to him.”
“Just like that?” Bofur asked, feeling like he was cheating again. “No rhymes?”
“No rhymes,” Ori said firmly.
-
Writing still wasn’t easy, but the lack of rhymes made it a little easier to make progress.
The hardest part was actually making sure that Fíli got it.
Bofur almost talked himself out of delivering several times on the way to Fíli’s chambers. And then a dozen more times between the moments after just having knocked on Fíli’s door and before he opened it.
It’d be so easy to just stuff the letter inside his coat and pretend he’d never written it. Make up a reason for why he was outside Fíli's door.
But that would surely be cheating, and the only one he’d be cheating would be himself, and maybe Fíli in case.. In case he’d not respond to the letter with shock and dismay.
“Bofur,” Fíli smiled when he opened the door, and for a moment Bofur’s knees got confused if they wanted to tremble from nerves or just for the sheer loveliness of that smile.
“I’ve written something for you,” Bofur said, after taking a deep breath. “I’d like for you to read it and- and after you’ve read it, you can come find me in my rooms. If you want.”
“Bofur?”
Bofur held out the neatly rolled up scroll with its not quite as neat script, but he’d at least done his best.
“Please?”
“Of course,” Fíli said, taking the offered scroll. “But why have-“
“It’s- I explain it all in the letter,” Bofur said and tried to smile. But it felt more like a twitch. “So, come find me? If you’d like to.”
“Sure,” Fíli said, bright blue eyes flicking between Bofur’s face and the scroll of parchment. “I’ll find you.”
-
And he did. Bofur didn’t even have time to go get all the way to his chambers before he heard the sound of someone running through the hallways.
“I found you,” Fíli declared when Bofur turned to find him slip-sliding his way around the nearest corner.
Fíli’s cheeks were flushed and his braids were… they made Bofur’s fingers itch and he wasn’t sure if what he wanted more was mess them up more or be allowed to rebraid them. Maybe both. Over and over again until he knew Fíli’s braids as well as he did his own.
“You found me,” Bofur agreed, as Fíli stalked closer. Prowled really. Like he was on the hunt for something.
It was strange. All of a sudden Bofur wasn’t at all nervous anymore.
“If you are mine,” Fíli said as he reached up to cup Bofur’s face. “Then what am I do you?”
“You are-“ sparkling eyes and laughter and golden hair and clever and wonderful and- “-Fíli. You’re my Fíli,” Bofur said, covering Fíli’s hand with his own. “That’s all you ever need to-“
Writing poems was hard and writing letters wasn’t easy, but it was as easy as anything to slide his hands into Fíli’s hair and return his kiss.
- - - - -
[The end of Bofur’s letter to Fíli]
… but I’d much rather have a life that includes you than one that doesn’t have you.
I’ll leave it up to you to decide if I’ll have the honour of having you as a friend, or maybe something more.
But I hope we’ll always be friends. You’ll always have one in me.
I love you, Fíli.
Yours always,
Bofur