Work Text:
“Not much of a thief, are you?”
Bilbo looked up from his perch, still mucking about with the ropes that had gotten tangled when they’d unpacked everything to make camp, lying around him like angry pythons looking to strangle him. He’d been working on them for the past some odd minutes since dinner concluded and had gotten no further with them. In fact, he feared, they may have gotten worse.
Looming over him was Nori. Bilbo had caught onto the names of the company quickly — a life in the shire necessitated being quick to distinguish large gaggles of people from one another — but knowing them all on a personal basis was still beyond him, between half of them being standoffish and the rest betting over his foibles. He racked his brain, trying to remember where Nori had fallen with the exchange of coins when he rejoined the company, but gave it up to poke at later.
“I beg your pardon?” Bilbo asked.
“I said you’re not much of a thief,” Nori said matter-of-factly, looking at Bilbo’s hands tangled in the rope.
“Well…” Bilbo pulled out the vowel for as long as he could, wriggling his hands to free them again. “Thieving and… ropework… are two different things entirely…”
“It’s alright,” Nori said, waving a hand. “Not as if I were going to tell on you or anything.” Bilbo looked up in time to see him wink. “I knew Gandalf was pushing you too hard on the credential of not being a familiar smell to a dragon. Always have to keep an eye on what a conman’s not pointing out.”
“Excuse me, are you calling Gandalf a conman?” Bilbo asked, his voice rising to a higher timber without his permission.
“Aye, but I mean no offence,” Nori said with a shrug. “To either of you. Gandalf was right about a few things, you’re mighty light on your feet and people naturally lose track of you if they’re not paying attention. Though it was fun seeing Bombur jump half out of his skin when you popped up at dinner.”
Bilbo scowled and crossed his arms. “I’d only been trying to help.” He had grabbed some herbs he’d seen growing not far off and brought them over to Bombur, who he knew could appreciate a few fresh herbs for their supper. He didn’t realize that the dwarf wouldn’t notice him until he spoke.
“Aye, but it was a fun sight to watch,” Nori said with a chuckle. “I can see what Gandalf saw in you,” he added, and Bilbo caught the appraising look he was being given.
“The amusement of watching me bungle these survivalist tasks and scare innocent cooks?” Bilbo asked wryly.
“Nay, not that,” Nori said, shaking his head. He leaned in, pulling at some of the knots that Bilbo was stuck in, deftly freeing up one of his hands. “I can see the makings of a great thief in you yet. You just need a bit of polish.”
Bilbo's mouth fell open. “Excuse me! I’ll have you know we Bagginses are quite a proper lot. We do not have the makings of great thieves.”
Nori patted Bilbo’s shoulder in a consoling way before leaning back and holding his hands up. “Was only a suggestion, Master Hobbit. You know, among us dwarrow, it’s quite a compliment to be told someone wouldn’t mind putting some polish into you.”
“Some… polish?” Bilbo repeated, blinking at him. “I’m quite sorry, were you offering me something?”
“Aye,” Nori said. “The tutelage of a master thief.”
Bilbo narrowed his eyes and looked around for good measure. The rest of the dwarves were tending to other tasks, paying them no mind. “Do you… do you mean you?”
At that, Nori shrugged. “Consider it, Master Hobbit. You know where I’ll be.” He turned to leave, but paused, looking back. “Oh, and you might be wanting this for when you’re done with this task.”
He tossed something over his shoulder, and Bilbo just barely managed to catch it before realizing that it was his own pipe. Eyes widening, Bilbo pat at the coat pocket that it had been in just a moment ago, now empty.
Bilbo looked up at Nori only to see him wink, and walk away.
“Thievery isn’t just about being fast,” Nori explained, gesturing with one hand as the other held the reins of his pony. Bilbo’s pony walked alongside his, taking up the rear where they wouldn’t be overheard. “In fact, going fast hurts quite a bit more than it helps. It’s about knowing your target, and keeping attention away from what you’re after.”
“Well, if my target is stealing from a dragon, I think the last thing I’d like to be doing is directing its attention to anything,” Bilbo muttered.
“Aye, hopefully you won’t have to use these tricks on a beasty like that,” Nori said with a nod. “But it’d be better you know them all the same. It’s about technique. Grabbing something so silently no one bats an eye, staying outside of someone’s sight. All good things to know, and not just for the end of this journey.”
Bilbo huffed. “Well, if you’re such a good thief, then why do they need me?”
“Because good thieves don’t go around bragging about being good thieves,” Nori muttered wryly. “Not that I think Dwalin hasn’t muttered his suspicions about me to anyone that will listen. But don’t mind that.” He smirked, shaking a finger. “The only thing more dangerous than one thief is two thieves. Now with that, you just might be able to steal from under the nose of a dragon after all.”
Bilbo looked away, taking in the sight of all the other dwarrow up ahead. He still wasn’t sure about all this dragon business, much less stealing from one. He wanted to help these people and have a bit of adventure on the way, but the idea that he — Bilbo Baggins — could face off with a dragon was overwhelming to say the least. It was a bit nice, actually, to have someone offer some help, but he wasn’t quite sure thievery lessons were the answer.
“Now, techniques I can show you, but you’ll really need someone to use them on. Practice is the best teacher,” Nori continued on, unaware of Bilbo’s mental meandering.
“Practice?” Bilbo yelped, looking back at him. “You mean…” He lowered his voice. “You mean stealing from someone in the party.”
“No one else around, is there?” Nori said with a shrug. “Many dwarrow keep their coins close to the vest, though not everyone pinches them as closely as Gloin. You’ll want someone that’s not too challenging.” He stroked his beard a moment, before grinning. “Well, I suppose there’s always the king.”
“The…” Bilbo realized he was nearly shouting, and looked off to see if he’d drawn any attention, but most of the others seemed to still be focusing on the path or consumed in their own conversations. He looked back to Nori, lowering his voice to a hiss. “You mean for me to steal from Thorin Oakenshield? Your king?”
“Well, easier than a dragon, isn’t it?” Nori said, still smirking. “And a king he may be, but he’s always focused more on the horizon than his coin purse. Honestly, the sticky part in stealing from Thorin is avoiding the notice of Dwalin.”
Bilbo huffed. “Out of the question.”
“I think you’ll be alright, I don’t think Dwalin pays you much mind.”
“I meant about stealing from you king,” Bilbo hissed. “Seems like a great way to get tossed off some bloody cliff in the middle of nowhere.”
“Oh, don’t be dramatic,” Nori said, rolling his eyes. “I’m not saying steal him blind. I’m sure there’s not much on his person anyway. Doesn’t have much riches to speak of, or else we wouldn’t be marching on a dragon occupied mountain.”
Bilbo continued frowning, though he had to admit he had a point.
“Look, just try getting up close to him, next time we camp,” Nori said, placating. “In the meantime, I’ll talk you through what to look for, what mannerisms and movements to keep an eye on, so you can spot an opening. Even if you don’t steal from him, you can learn a thing or two from people watching.”
The next time they made camp, Bilbo begrudgingly made good on Nori’s suggestion. The king often sat on the edge of camp, eyes trained out into the wilderness as his people merrily joked around the fire. Sometimes Balin or Dwalin would exchange a few words with him, but otherwise he seemed to simply want to be left to his lonesome.
Perhaps — Bilbo thought while wrestling with the idea of intruding into the life of a king — he did want companionship, but found it hard when everyone around was one of his subjects. Somehow, that didn’t make him feel much better, even as his feet carried him forward.
He cleared his throat, so as not to surprise him — as apparently dwarrow easily overlooked him — and sat down next to him on the log he had made his throne.
“I… I hope I’m not intruding,” Bilbo said, trying not to stumble over his words. “I just thought, well, you seemed like you could use some company and I wouldn’t mind sharing a pipe with someone.” He pulled his pipe out of his jacket pocket, and gestured at the one Thorin was smoking from. It was much more angular and blocky than a pipe of shire-make, and he wouldn’t mind asking more about it, he thought to himself. Dwarrows certainly seemed to be able to talk at lengths about craftsmanship of various items.
And he could use all the help he could get, as the king seemed to hardly look at him before looking away again, out into the trees. Bilbo followed his gaze for a moment, to ensure he wasn’t looking at some oncoming threat, before pulling out his pipeweed and beginning to stuff his pipe.
“I may have forgotten my handkerchief, but luckily I didn’t misplace this,” Bilbo said, gesturing with the box. “It’s a blend unique to the Shire, or so Gandalf has said, at least. If you’d like to try some, I’d be happy to—”
“Master Baggins, what exactly is it you want?”
Bilbo blinked, hardly believing that the man had spoken. He looked over to see piercing blue eyes now directing their full attention at him.
“I beg your pardon,” Bilbo said, and tried not to sound too haughty when he said it. “As I said I simply thought, it looked like you needed some company… and, I suppose we haven’t spoken much — well, at all — since our first conversation, which…”
Thorin was still looking at him, but said nothing.
“Well,” Bilbo said, having hoped that Thorin would simply pick up his meaning, but he was left with a loose conversational thread. “Which I suppose could have gone better,” he finally finished.
“Are you hoping that your halfling pleasantries will make me change my initial assessment of you?”
Bilbo bristled. “Hobbit, thank you. And that’s not at all what I meant.”
“Good,” Thorin said.
Bilbo narrowed his eyes. “Good?”
“Yes,” Thorin said. “I was hoping you weren’t expecting anything when you’ve given me no reason to think you’re more burglar than grocer than you were when I first looked at you.”
“I beg your pardon!”
“Gandalf insists that you be here,” Thorin said. “You signed the contract, promising you gold and riches if you survive.” He looked away into the woods again. “I assume that’s all you are here for, given your skills are no more suited to this quest than any other of your kind.”
Bilbo blinked again, trying to keep his mouth from hanging open. “I see.” He stuffed his unlit pipe back into his coat pocket along with the pipeweed, and walked away, barely brushing Thorin’s shoulder as he walked away. “Apologies for wasting your time, your Majesty.”
“Of all the arrogant, brutish, pig-headed…”
Bilbo’s pacing was wearing a trench in the ground as he bounced back and forth across Nori’s field of vision. They were far enough away from camp that no one could overhear Bilbo’s treasonous rantings, but they could still easily see the light of the campfire.
“So, I take it that it went poorly?” Nori asked, smirking. He certainly wasn’t about to jump in to defend Thorin; while he believed Thorin was a good leader, there was no denying he could be quite pig-headed.
Bilbo stopped, rooting around in his coat pockets for a moment before producing a coin pouch that he tossed to Nori. Nori barely caught it before Bilbo was pacing again. Nori looked down at the coin purse, seeing the unmistakable markings of the line of Durin; the king’s own coin purse. He whistled. “Well done, lad!”
“No more a burglar than I was at the start, eh?” Bilbo grumbled. “Oh, he will eat those words someday, I swear.”
Nori was smirking at that. “Well, in the meantime, I’m off to go hide this in someone else’s pack before the two of us are executed for treason. Who do you think? Fili? Kili? Dwalin?”
Bilbo didn’t answer, instead continuing to rant about the king as Nori slunk off, deciding who he’d like to cause the most chaos for.
Over the next few weeks, Bilbo learned he actually quite liked pickpocketing. Well, pickpocketing the king, at least. Nori had been right when he said he was less observant than other dwarrow, and in Bilbo’s estimation, he had been quite deserving of being Bilbo’s practice mark. Not that Bilbo ever kept the things he picked up, just moved them around a bit, put them in a different pocket than they’d been in before, or in someone else’s pack entirely. It had caused Thorin more than once to question his own sanity, or get into squabbles with his nephews.
Unfortunately, Bilbo’s skills hadn’t quite translated into anything outside of causing the king to go slightly mad. Stealing back their ponies from the trolls hadn’t quite gone to plan, and not only was Thorin cross about the whole thing but Nori just shook his head in disappointment when Bilbo recounted his failed thieving attempt after the fact.
His first success wasn’t until making away from the goblin stronghold with that fancy ring, and that had been more due to his skill with riddles than pickpocketing.
After that though, things did change. Thorin seemed a different person after his near death experience with the orcs. He no longer scoffed when Bilbo was around, actually spoke to him as a person.
It was a week or so after the orcs that Bilbo had finally gotten him into a conversation about the craftsmanship of his pipe and other trivial things over dinner, when Bilbo turned his attention to other things.
“Now hold on a moment, you’ve hardly got any stew in your bowl there and I know you’ve hardly touched it since we’ve been talking,” Bilbo noted, leaning over to inspect it, as if the bowl itself had sprung a leak.
“Not all of us eat as much as a hobbit,” Thorin drawled back.
“Oh stop that,” Bilbo said, swatting at him. “I know Bombur would fill up your bowl if you went and asked. I’m surprised he let you go with so little.”
“It’s a poor king that takes for himself while his people starve,” Thorin muttered.
Bilbo scoffed. “And who exactly do you see starving around here?”
“No one,” Thorin said, sipping his stew as if that might end the conversation.
“Right, no one except one bullheaded king.”
Thorin paused, and looked at him. “You really are quite interesting, Mister Baggins. I used to think you were a bit too soft-spoken, but now I see you have no reservations, talking to a king this way.”
Bilbo huffed, but internally quashed down a bit of worry that he might have crossed a line. Thorin’s voice was playful, not angry. “Well, it’s your own fault for not letting me fall to my death when you had the chance. Now you have to put up with my mother-henning.”
“A price I shall gladly pay,” Thorin said. “But I won’t be budging.”
Bilbo rolled his eyes.
The next day, Thorin was baffled to find his pocket filled with foraged nuts, and Bilbo pretended not to notice his confusion.
Adding food to the king’s pockets proved for some amusement on the long trip, but Bilbo soon found himself wanting other challenges. He continued swiping things from the rest of the party, under Nori’s tutelage, usually returning them before they were noticed to be missing, but Bilbo couldn’t seem to let his habit of slipping his nimble fingers into the king’s pockets die.
When food seemed to no longer surprise Thorin, he began trying other things to see if they would amuse the king. Leaves and flowers, Bilbo found out quickly, held no interest for a dwarrow; Thorin typically just shook them out from his pockets like so much detritus. Bilbo had nearly blown his cover with a huff about how disrespectful such a sight would be in the Shire, refusing flowers given by another as a gift. But, he reminded himself, Thorin was no hobbit, and they were a long way from the shire.
He tried a new approach, slipping rocks into the king’s pockets. Bilbo had no eye for such a thing, and the first few were just dusty pebbles he’d found along the road. Thorin dumped those out with only a passing furrow of his brow.
Later, Bilbo managed to find some smooth river rocks when they made camp near a stream. He spent longer than he would have liked sifting through the pebbles in the shallows to try to find some colorful ones. The next day when Thorin found those to appear in his pocket he grinned at them, even turning to Dwalin to comment on.
From there Bilbo made it a habit to continue to keep an eye out for anything similar when they stopped at camp, often while off foraging, a skill the dwarrow seemed less attuned to than Bilbo.
Bilbo hardly thought more of it than a way to amuse himself until they made camp at the skinchanger’s house. Thorin had made the rounds, anxiously making sure that his people were safe from the beast outside, and that everyone had comfortable bedding.
“Finally,” Bilbo huffed when Thorin eventually was satisfied to settle down in the spot Bilbo had insisted on saving from him. Thorin shook his head, removing all the hard equipment from his person.
Nothing seemed out of the ordinary until Thorin began placing a few small objects in a row. Bilbo looked up to see the glint of something, and realized what they were.
“Rocks?” Bilbo asked.
Thorin grinned. “A few keepsakes, I suppose. Somehow they keep turning up.”
Bilbo licked his lips, considering how to navigate through this conversation. “Are they… valuable?”
Thorin chuckled softly, keeping his voice down so as not to disturb the slumber of others. “They’re hardly gemstones, Master Baggins. But even stones such as these can hold meaning.”
“Meaning?” Bilbo hoped his flush wasn’t obvious in the dark; and that he hadn’t been sending haphazard overtures like a fauntling gifting dandelions to a half-baked crush.
He chewed his lip and tried not to think why that particular scenario would pop to mind.
Thorin merely smiled, with a cryptic impishness to challenge even Gandalf’s most wicked smirk. “Good night, Master Burglar.”
Bilbo could only frown, left to his own thoughts.
“Are you telling me,” Nori hissed into Bilbo’s ear, startling him slightly, “that you lifted the keys right from under the pointed ears of all these elves without their notice?”
Bilbo was a bit distracted leading the company of dwarrow back the way he’d come from to the winery, and hadn’t noticed Nori making his way to the front of the pack.
“Well, erm, yes…”
Nori punched him in the arm, and Bilbo looked over — expecting some sort of admonishment — only to see Nori’s eyes lighting up as he grinned. “I have never been so proud of a pupil in all my life.”
Bilbo snorted. “Have you ever had a pupil in all your life?”
“No, but the point stands, lad!”
Time seemed to pass in a blur when finally they found themselves treated like royalty in the halls of the Master of Laketown, treated to wine and food before embarking on the mountain in the morning. Bilbo felt himself pulled this way and that between all the merry making as the dwarves found new things to toast to as they got deeper into their cups.
“A poor heist it was,” Bofur said, lamenting their failure to steal from the town’s armory just hours prior.
“We can’t all be as skilled burglars as Master Baggins,” Gloin said, causing another round of cheers. Bilbo could hardly get a word in as his companions stood and made the table quake.
“You know at some point you still need to regale us with how you managed to slip into the stronghold of the forest king undetected and steal the keys to his keep,” Balin said, winking.
Bilbo huffed. “I’m sure the true tale isn’t nearly as interesting as whatever your drunken minds could conjure up,” he said, taking a heart gulp of his own pint.
“Aye,” Nori said, nodding from across the table. “Besides, I doubt it’s the greatest thing he’s ever stolen anyway.”
“Of course!” Ori shouted, wobbling a bit more than the others, either farther into his drink or possessing less tolerance than his older companions. “When we get to the mountain, that will be an even greater tale to tell.”
With the cheers that provoked, Bilbo only barely caught Nori laughing and muttering, “That’s not exactly what I meant.” Bilbo locked eyes with him, and followed his eyes as Nori leered over across the room. The line of sight led him to Thorin, who was standing off by the window. Bilbo looked back to Nori, raising his eyebrows, only for Nori to laugh again.
Bilbo huffed, and slipped out as someone initiated another toast to something or other. As usual, he was able to slip through the room of larger folk mostly unimpeded and unnoticed, until he came up to Thorin.
“Don’t tell me you’re brooding right on the eve of our victory,” Bilbo said wryly, leaning against the windowsill that had captured Thorin’s attention. One could see the mountain from here, an imposing figure that cut through the skyline, only partially obscured through the fog on the window, built up by the body heat of the revelry inside.
Thorin grinned. “Not brooding, Master Baggins, simply thinking.”
Bilbo scoffed. “Well, you’d be the only one. There’s not a lot of thinking going on at the moment, except to find the best excuse to continue drinking.”
Thorin leaned against the sill as well, smiling. “You don’t think reflecting on our accomplishments thus far is worthy of celebration?”
So, Thorin had been paying attention. Bilbo smiled and shrugged. “I think sometimes revelry can just happen for its own sake.”
“No matter how tomorrow goes, we’ve all accomplished a lot, and it’s worth raising a glass to,” Thorin said. “Don’t you have a few accomplishments you’d like to drink to?”
“They’ve already drunk to quite a few of them,” Bilbo said, nodding back over to the crowd. “Though there might be a small difference of opinion over what my greatest accomplishment actually is.”
“Oh?” There was a twinkle in Thorin’s eye. “And what do you think it is?”
“Well, I am the company’s thief, so I suppose it depends on what you estimate to be the most valuable thing I’ve stolen so far.”
“And?”
Bilbo wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol making his head light or the heat from all around them or the way Thorin’s smile gripped him, but something in the mix of it all made him bolder. “And I suppose it depends,” he said, swirling his drink, “on why you kept those river rocks I slipped into your pockets.”
Thorin’s face brightened, a grin spreading across his face that wasn’t entirely surprised but delighted all the same. “Well, that seems more like a gift than thievery,” Thorin said, an excited flush on his cheeks. “But I’ll admit, I thought perhaps the culprit might have made away with my heart as well. And only a master thief could do such a thing.”
Bilbo grinned, and resolved not to let him know how easy he was to steal from.