Chapter Text
Gandalf would say that it all began due to the Valar blessing them with this kind of magic. However, and Bilbo wanted to stress this very much, that old coot was sometimes also a big ball of nonsense wearing a wizard hat and could not be trusted to relay events accurately.
Good thing that a hobbit was chosen as the 13th member. In Bilbo's extremely reliable opinion, the Valar were out to get them.
What else would one call seeing the future versions of both himself and Thorin appear out of the blue during first breakfast?
Right, where was he?
So, it definitely did not begin on a sunny day. In fact, the sun had been hidden behind dark clouds for hours and showed no signs of coming out anytime soon. It looked rather like a downpour was going to happen any second now. First goblins and wargs and now that. Bilbo was not enjoying the thought of sleeping in absolutely drenched clothes again. He had had enough of that at the beginning of the journey!
They had just finished climbing down the Carrock, or in Bilbo's case were mostly carried down. He was gently sat down on the ground by Dori and the hobbit thanked him profusely.
“No need, Master Baggins. We cannot have our burglar falling off this rock, lest we lose our lucky number,” Dori said distractedly while dusting off his trousers.
Bilbo began to stammer out a reply but was interrupted by an arm suddenly slinging around his shoulder. Nori quickly ruffled the hobbit’s hair before pulling him closer. This resulted in Bilbo’s cheek being uncomfortably squished against the dwarf’s chest.
“Lucky number indeed. And don’t even think about protesting, Bilbo.” Nori leaned in to tweak the sharp tip of his ear, very much ignoring the hobbit’s affronted gasp. “Sheer dumb luck still counts as luck, burrahobbit.”
Bilbo managed to successfully wiggle his way out of Nori’s hold and poked the thief several times in the stomach.
He held a hand protectively over his ear and put the other directly in front of Nori’s face. “If you could stop abusing my poor hobbit ears, Nori, then I would be most thankful.”
Now that Dori was finished with righting his clothes — after all, one should always aim to look presentable — he tugged on one of his brother’s eyebrow braids. Hard. And repeatedly.
“How all kinds of manners,” tug, “only passed down,” tug, “to Ori is a complete mystery,” tug, “for me, brother dear.”
Some metres away, Bilbo spied Ori frantically hiding behind his scarf and pretending not to be in any way affiliated with the two of them. Never mind that the majority of the company was already glancing between the tousling brothers and their resident scribe.
A fruitless endeavour considering that everyone knows they’re related, he chuckled. But overall not a bad idea, Bilbo thought while subtly stepping away from the scene, which had now evolved into Dori holding Nori in a chokehold. The thief’s legs were wildly kicking left and right and almost hit the hobbit’s toes more than once. And well, a hobbit had to protect himself and his best assets, didn't he?
Bilbo turned around and just as he was about to reach Ori — if anyone was willing to talk about something wildly different it would be him — he was rather rudely intercepted by Kíli.
As the dwarf began to pull on his arm and lead him in the opposite direction of Ori, Bilbo asked confused and a little bit put out, “Kíli, what are—”
“No time to waste, Mister Boggins. Uncle wants to see you,” he called over his shoulder with a cheeky grin and an exaggerated wink.
The hobbit blushed and stumbled after him, gaping and willing the flush on his cheeks away. Unfortunately, the later endeavour remained unsuccessful.
Get it together, Bilbo Baggins, he chastised himself.
It turns out that, after reconnecting with his dwarves behind the Misty Mountains, where he and Thorin had that weirdly intense eye contact following Bilbo’s excellent speech, and that entire orcs and wargs business, where they had even hugged for over ten seconds, Bilbo was quite ready to explore the possibility that Thorin… might just be a dwarf worth getting to know. On a deeper emotional level, so to speak.
A dwarf that is terrible at first, second and third impressions, of course, but no one’s perfect, he reasoned. Bilbo was furiously ignoring the voice in his head that slyly added, Doesn’t hurt either that he looks very handsome.
He was brought out of his reverie by Kíli clearing his throat obnoxiously loud and in that short second Bilbo realised they were now standing behind Thorin and Balin, who had been discussing something in low tones.
As the two of them turned around, Kíli presented Bilbo with a flourish of his arm and an over-the-top bow, “The burglar. As requested, Your Majesty.”
He could see that Thorin was fighting the urge to raise a hand and rub his forehead. Instead he looked away and exhaled very loudly. “...Thank you, Kíli,” he said tersely.
The dwarf grinned. He sauntered away, backwards and seemingly extremely satisfied with himself, while yelling, “You are very welcome, Uncle!”
Thorin sighed and pinched his nose. Then he looked at Bilbo and spoke quietly, “Regardless, I am thankful you came here, Master Baggins, no matter how involuntarily it may have been.”
Bilbo waved a hand to show that it was already water under the bridge. “Never mind that.” He dithered a bit in place, rocking on the balls of his feet, when the dwarf didn’t say anything else. Bilbo nervously cleared his throat. "What did you need me for?”
Thorin went a little red in the face and opened his mouth but then closed it again. Balin sighed and explained, “Ah, we were wondering if you had any input about tonight’s shelter, Bilbo. Gandalf tells us these parts are closest to the Shire in terms of flora and fauna.”
This did not explain exactly why Thorin was suddenly so flustered, but Bilbo was willing to write it off as a mysterious case of dwarven seasonal allergies. Perhaps the stone of the Carrock was even the culprit. Being thrown onto it by eagles could not have been very helpful in that regard. It had looked rather dusty.
Thorin unexpectedly flinched and rubbed his side while levelling a glare at Balin. The latter just smiled serenely in response and gestured meaningfully with his hands at Bilbo.
The hobbit frowned, Did Balin just—
His thoughts were interrupted by Thorin stomping closer to Bilbo. After one last look at Balin, he added reluctantly, “Your expertise would be appreciated on whether it would be wise to make camp here or to push through until we reach Gandalf’s… acquaintance.”
The hobbit looked between the two of them, a tad bewildered. Did he really need me… just for this?
Bilbo hooked his thumbs underneath his bracers and pursed his lips. “Well,” he coughed, “well, I would say that this meadow looks safe enough to rest. A break from all the running would do us good.” He leaned in to whisper to Thorin, “I didn’t notice any poisonous plants, if that’s what you were asking.”
Something that should be obvious, even to a dwarf. Óin as the company's healer at least would be knowledgeable in that, wouldn't he?
Thorin had frozen and Bilbo was worried that the dwarf wasn't even breathing when Balin stepped in and clapped Bilbo on the shoulder. “We thought the same thing but it never hurts to get a second opinion.”
What exactly is going on with these two?
Feeling increasingly awkward, he said, “I’ll just,” he pointed a thumb behind him, where, unbeknownst to Bilbo, all the others had gathered and were watching the entire spiel with increasing interest, “be going then.”
Balin nodded. And before anything else bizarre could happen, Bilbo took his chance and, with one last glance at Thorin, speedily walked away from that disaster of a conversation.
As he rushed away, the hobbit was wondering why Thorin had looked so awfully constipated at the end. Perhaps it was the allergies again?
Bilbo stopped once he reached the rest of the company, who didn’t even have the decency to pretend they hadn't been eavesdropping. The hobbit ignored the snickering of a certain pair of troublemakers and went to stand next to Bofur.
Just before reaching the dwarf, he was brought to a halt by a commiserating pat on the shoulder by Dwalin. Bilbo nodded in thanks but was left a tad confused when the dwarf muttered to himself, “Thorin, you fuckin’ idiot.”
He turned his head a little to see Dwalin purposefully stride towards Balin and Thorin but before he could see what happened next, Bofur came up to him and nudged Bilbo with an elbow.
“So… that was odd.”
The hobbit’s shoulders slumped in relief. “Oh, thank goodness you saw that too. I was worried maybe it was just me.”
Bofur grinned. “Nope, looked positively strange even from afar. Now, what did he have to say to you? You know,” he waggled his eyebrows, “so far away from the rest of us.”
Bilbo blushed and squeaked, “Bofur! Balin was right with us the entire time.”
Bofur snapped his finger in triumph. “Aha! And how did you know I was talking about you and our esteemed leader, Bilbo?”
“You know I actually went to you in order to escape the inevitable teasing from the others but I see I’ve been mistaken,” he huffed.
The dwarf put an arm around his shoulders and said, “Nah, I’m sorry, Bilbo. So, what did he wanna talk about?”
Bilbo grimaced and shrugged. “That’s just the thing, I actually have no idea. Apparently, he wanted to get a ‘second’ opinion about tonight’s shelter.”
Bofur made a face. He muttered, “What kinda awful flirting is that even, Thorin?”
“Excuse me?”
“Ah, nothing for you to worry about.”
The dwarf could see that Bilbo didn’t quite believe him, therefore he took off his hat and then promptly put it on the hobbit’s head. Seeing as it was a bit too large, it obstructed Bilbo’s entire view.
He pushed it up and glared at Bofur.
The dwarf just grinned as he saw Bilbo preparing to launch into a long rant about why one should not do this. This one was probably going to include some of the hobbit’s wild Took cousins and their mischief.
Mission to distract their burglar from Thorin’s utterly failed wooing: successful.
The hours passed and according to Bilbo’s stomach it was getting quite close to dinner. Glóin was currently busy setting up a fire — less for warmth and more for Bombur’s cooking. However, there was one thing standing in the way of a delicious dinner as it turned out: a rather substantial lack of food.
Bilbo put a hand in his pocket and decided that now was the time to reveal his secret stash.
He hesitantly approached Bombur and tapped him on the shoulder. Bilbo coughed, "I might have a… temporary solution to our food problem."
The dwarf's eyes lit up and in the corner of his eye, Bilbo could see that a few of the others suddenly sat up straight and were listening in rather obviously on their conversation.
He opened his mouth but was interrupted by Fíli teasing gently, "Finally going to share some of your snack treasure with us?"
"Um. I- yes, I was just going to offer that." Bilbo peered closely at him and asked, "How do you even know about that?"
The dwarf grinned. "Heard you always munching on something and was curious to find out what."
"Well," he stammered, "well— hobbits eat more than dwarves so obviously I had to ration differently than you lot." He defended himself and crossed his arms.
"Halflings eat more?"
Bilbo turned to see Thorin striding determinedly towards him. "First of all," he glared at the dwarf, "'halfling' is an insult and I would ask you not to use it again."
Thorin lowered his head in agreement.
The hobbit nodded approvingly. "Secondly, a well-fed hobbit eats a minimum of six meals a day. Although the majority of us do indulge in seven."
An astonished shout of, "Seven?!" echoed around the entire camp. They all stared at him incredulously.
Bilbo shrugged, a bit uncomfortable at the attention, and explained, "Well, obviously. Who did you think all the food in the pantry was for?"
Silence.
Balin spoke up, "I don't think any of us thought that far ahead, laddie."
Bilbo hoped he had adequately conveyed his disapproval with his face. "Never mind that. So, I can offer," he paused to rummage through his pack and pulled out several bundles wrapped in dark green cloth, "the finest cheese in Westfarthing, some slices of pumpernickel, an pumpkin seed whole-grain loaf and some good old twice-baked bread."
"...Bilbo, you have an entire loaf of bread in there?"
The hobbit didn't even blink. "Well, of course. Those bread sorts keep the longest due to the rye or the whole-grain."
Bombur nodded in agreement. "Perfect for adventuring."
Bilbo preened a bit. "Indeed."
After the hobbit had successfully broken off generous pieces for each dwarf and Gandalf, he sat down on a log and munched happily on his pumpkin bread topped with cheese.
What he didn't notice was that the dwarves, especially the leader of their company, kept glancing at him during the meal, their eyes full of amusement. Luckily, no one mentioned anything. The last time Gandalf commented on some of the more hamster-like qualities of hobbits he had received quite a stern talking-to from dear Adamanta Chubb. Plus, even a wandering wizard was not immune to the threat of missing out on the next batch of vanilla crescents.
Apropos wandering wizard. After most had finished their impromptu dinner, Gandalf stood up and chose his seat next to Bilbo. At the hobbit's inquiring gaze, he held up his pipe with a twinkle in his eyes. From his pouch Gandalf pinched a few tobacco leaves and carefully put them in the bowl. Bilbo's eyes widened as he inhaled the smell.
The hobbit turned to the wizard and asked, "Gandalf, would you mind sharing some of your Old Toby? I'm afraid mine got lost during the scuffle with the goblins."
The other nodded and Bilbo quickly found himself relaxing as the wizard kindly lit the hobbit's pipe. No more than a few minutes had passed before both of them were blowing smoke rings into the dark evening sky.
Although Bilbo did suspect that Gandalf cheated a bit with his magic. He could swear that the old wizard's smoke rings always flickered a bit in the beginning, as if they were used to a different shape. And the hobbit did remember what extravagant forms Gandalf's fireworks had always turned into.
"Now, Bilbo, care to hear a story?"
He huffed in fond exasperation. "You would tell it either way, wouldn't you?"
One corner of Gandalf's mouth went up. "A good tale deserves to be heard and appreciated by its audience."
"And I assume you'll force appreciation out of me, one way or another." Bilbo sighed and gestured impatiently with his pipe. "Go on then."
"Many ages ago, when hobbits had not yet crossed the Misty Mountains and founded their Shire, it was said that one time Nienna's sorrow was so great it crossed the sea between Valinor and Middle-Earth. And that it only found rest upon reaching a plain inside a great wood.
"The elves called that place an isle in the sea of woodland, since even when you stood on the flat ground, you could see trees everywhere and stare in awe at their roots embracing each other in the ground. One day a man walked in those woods and he saw a shadow of himself."
At Bilbo's astonished look, Gandalf added, "A friendly one, of course. They were said to have enjoyed each other's company before the shade disappeared as the first moonlight appeared over the woods. The man never shared what those two talked about. He only ever spoke of it as a crucial turning point in his life."
The wizard lifted his pipe once again and tapped it against his mouth in thought. "I never found out where exactly that supposed isle was..."
The hobbit sighed. "You do know where it is, don't you?" Bilbo asked with a slight accusatory tone.
"My friend, I just said—"
Bilbo waved a hand impatiently around in the air. "Yes, yes, you did say that. However," he raised an eyebrow, "and I repeat, you absolutely know where it is. You cannot tell me that you, Gandalf, never bothered to find out more about that."
The wizard opened his mouth but was interrupted again by Bilbo.
"I distinctly remember a certain wizard once saying that curiosity is the greatest gift one was ever given and that we fauntlings should follow into his footsteps and always remain inquisitive."
Gandalf laughed. "Bilbo Baggins, for a moment I forgot that I chose Belladonna Took's son as the lucky number for Thorin's company." He lowered his voice and spoke with mischief shining in his eyes, "I must keep its location secret only for a little longer."
Bilbo murmured, "You have some sort of shenanigans planned, don't you?"
"Allow an old man his fun, Bilbo."
The hobbit stood up and pointed at the other, "I will, as long as you leave me out of it."
Then, Bilbo walked away and was therefore unable to hear Gandalf's reply.
"Well, I cannot quite promise that..."
After a most satisfying evening meal, courtesy of Bilbo, and that unusual tale from Gandalf, the hobbit was preparing his place to sleep. There went a fairly considerable amount of planning into that. After all, being aware of the wind direction, the dampness of the ground, the nearest shelter and using a ludicrous amount of layers in general, were key elements to sleeping outdoors.
A secret tip from his mother was to wear clothing made out of wool to prevent bug bites. Alas, Bilbo had only remembered that tidbit when he was already far away from the Shire, so he had to make do without on his journey.
While he was laying down his blankets, he suddenly heard someone drop their stuff right next to him. Bilbo looked up to see Thorin stiffly spreading out his own blankets.
“Um.”
Thorin frowned at him. “What.”
How do I say this nicely?
“Well, it’s just usually you don’t sleep…” next to me, “so far away from Fíli and Kíli.”
The hobbit expected Thorin to explain why exactly that was the case — perhaps he just wanted some peace and quiet after being chewed on by a warg. Most understandable really, even Bilbo needed a nice nap after finishing his daily chores in Bag End. And there weren't even any orcs!
What Bilbo did not expect was for Thorin to look even more constipated than he did before their dinner. The dwarf nodded decidedly and then shouted across the camp for his nephews to get over there.
The slightly muted chatter of the others fell silent at that.
The brothers looked at each other and Kíli hesitantly asked, eyeing the lack of distance between Bilbo's and Thorin's blankets, “Are you sure, Uncle?”
“Yes.”
The two dwarves shrugged and proceeded to join their uncle. While they were getting ready for sleep, Thorin threw a glance at Bilbo. “Better?”
The hobbit, who had attempted to appear engrossed in rummaging around his pack, stuttered, “Um, well— well, yes?”
“Good.” And with that the dwarf placed his sword next to his bedding and laid down on the ground, ignoring the way Bilbo was staring at him in stark confusion.
The hobbit threw a despairing glance at Bofur, who just shook his head and shrugged. The dwarf mouthed, I don’t know either.
Bilbo sighed and went to 'bed' himself. Before he closed his eyes, he risked a look at Thorin and became a bit entranced with his profile. Thorin's nose did look awfully regal from this perspective.
In fact, he was so distracted that he didn't notice that the dwarf was doing some staring of his own.
Just before he fell asleep, Bilbo thought, Surely, tomorrow will be a less exciting day.
When Bilbo woke up, he was so perfectly comfortable he almost believed he was back at Bag End. Everything was snug and toasty. Even the weight on his chest was a pleasant feeling. There was only—
Sneeze.
The hobbit raised a hand to push away the strands of hair that were tickling his nose.
Huh, my hair usually isn't long enough for that.
He froze. Now properly awake, Bilbo realised why exactly he was so comfortable. On his left side was Thorin, whose arm was wrapped tightly around Bilbo’s waist. And more importantly, whose hair had been brushing against his face.
The hobbit slowly and very carefully turned his head to see that the dwarf was still asleep. Bilbo relaxed and he did not even bother to discuss with himself the merits of going back to sleep in this position — after all, Thorin was the one who moved and put his arm around him, so who was he not to indulge himself a bit?
He was about to go back to sleep when he caught a glimpse of Fíli and Kíli grinning at him. Bilbo blushed bright red and quickly ducked his head to avoid any more eye contact. Unfortunately, exactly this movement was what woke Thorin from his slumber.
The hobbit stilled when he felt Thorin’s arm tighten around his waist and pull him closer. After a moment Bilbo was about to relax again and enjoy the impromptu cuddling when he heard some grumbling from behind.
He felt the exact moment when Thorin became aware of their position. The arm around Bilbo became rigid before the dwarf slowly extracted it and promptly put space between the two of them.
The hobbit thought about pretending to be still asleep but considered it futile. Surely, Kíli and Fíli would not hesitate to tell their uncle that he had in fact already been awake. As if those two would let an opportunity like that go to waste.
Throwing all caution to the wind, Bilbo hesitantly offered up, “G-Good morning?”
After all, you cannot go wrong with a simple 'good morning,' he reasoned with himself. Except, of course, when the recipient is an elusive merchant of fireworks with a penchant for appearing only at great parties.
Thorin only grunted.
Bilbo rolled his eyes. Note to self, a 'good morning' can also go wrong, if the other person is a surly dwarven king.
The hobbit opened his mouth but closed it again when he heard Thorin stand up. Bilbo turned his head to watch as the dwarf hurriedly grabbed his sword and stomped away.
What he could not see anymore was Thorin slowly and repeatedly flexing his right hand, almost as if he was memorising the shape of something or rather someone.
When Bilbo sheepishly left their bed himself, he noticed that half of the company was staring at him.
Flustered, he stuttered, "Um, I was just—" The hobbit gave up trying to explain anything that had just happened in the past few minutes. Instead, he busied himself with folding his blankets and, when Bilbo saw that Thorin had just left his strewn across the ground, he clicked his tongue.
Instead of also folding those, Bilbo naturally did the most sensible thing in this situation. He grabbed Thorin's blankets, hurried across the camp with his armful to where the dwarf was brooding by himself and promptly dumped all of them over Thorin's head.
Ignoring the spluttering and the angry swearing from underneath all those fabrics, Bilbo said pointedly, "You left those, by the way."
Finally freeing his head from the sudden blanket confinement, Thorin snapped, "Master Baggins—"
"Entirely inappropriate camping etiquette, Master Oakenshield," he tutted. "I'm sorry but did you want ants in your blankets tonight?"
The dwarf sighed in annoyance and immediately lost all his temper. "...No."
He grinned. "See? I did you a favour here."
Thorin frowned and turned his head away. "If you say so, burglar," he dismissed Bilbo.
Actually, this was the point where the conversation appeared to be over. However, the hobbit still had something to say.
In a moment of shyness, Bilbo rocked on his feet back and forth. He leaned forward and whispered to Thorin, "You know, I wouldn't mind... waking up like that again."
The dwarf looked up at him with wide eyes. "Truly?" He seemed almost breathless.
Bilbo smiled. "Without a doubt, Thorin."
At his friend's nod, the hobbit patted him softly on the shoulder.
Both were entirely oblivious to any onlookers this had attracted. At least this was the case until Bilbo went to walk away. He turned around and halted when he saw a dozen pairs of eyes pointed at him.
"Do you lot not have anything better to do?" He grumbled.
"Not at all," was the response of a grinning Dwalin.
Bilbo sniffed and chose not to answer that. He swiftly walked to the other edge of their camp — watched closely by Thorin, who had not taken his eyes off of Bilbo — and inspected the berries he saw growing on the bushes. Perhaps he might even spy a blueberry in these parts!
In his embarrassment Bilbo was not quite aware of how much time had passed until Bifur came to get him for first breakfast. At least for the hobbit it would be the first.
The dwarf tapped him on his shoulder and said, “Uzrak malkûn, baknablâg.” Master hobbit, breakfast. For emphasis, Bifur pointed behind him at Bombur, who stood over a pot cooking on the fire. Apparently, during Bilbo's 'absence' the dwarves had scrounged up some food.
The hobbit’s eyes lit up and he nodded. “Thank you very much, Bifur.”
With that they followed the delicious smell of spiced beet stew. Bilbo grabbed a bowl for both him and Bifur and gave one to the dwarf when he sat down next to him.
As Bilbo was about to eat his first bite, he noticed a white flash in the corner of his eyes. He looked towards the edge of their camp and flinched.
Near the blueberry bushes, where he had stood just moments ago, he could make out a bright glare of light, which seemed to grow alarmingly fast in size.
Bilbo shot up from his log and hastily pulled his sword from its scabbard. He was tugged back by a hand on his elbow and the hobbit stumbled as Bifur pushed him behind. They were quickly surrounded by the others and Bilbo felt just a tad safer surrounded by his dwarves.
And although he was about to protest being, once again, put in the middle of a protective circle, seeing as he did just slay an orc, Thorin shouted before Bilbo could even say anything. "Gandalf! Do you know what this could be?"
But the wizard did not get the chance to answer. All eyes darted to the light as it began flickering and the smaller plants around it were ripped out of the ground due to a sudden flare of energy.
One last burst of light and it exploded.
In a flash Bilbo's world turned upside-down. He was thrown backwards and landed roughly on Óin and Glóin. The hobbit groaned and rubbed his sore side. He slowly tried to roll away from his dwarven pillows — a middle-aged hobbit could not be a comfortable weight after an explosion, no matter how much stronger his dwarves were.
Bilbo only heard a faint, "Here, laddie," before he was gently lifted up and then set down next to Glóin. He blinked up at the dwarf before clapping him in thanks on the shoulder. The hobbit stood up on only minimally shaky legs and offered a hand to his helper.
After helping Glóin up, even though Bilbo suspected that he was not a big help at all, he looked around to see his friends had also recovered a bit from the impact. At last, everyone was back on their feet.
As the hobbit turned his head in the direction of the light, he gasped. It was gone. In its place he could make out the hazy shapes of two people. One of which appeared to be… suspiciously hobbit-sized?
He mumbled to himself, "What in Yavanna's name..."
Bilbo held his breath as the smaller figure took several steps forward and hesitantly waved.
In an awfully familiar voice, it spoke, "Well, um, good morning?"