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“What’s your favourite food?” Bilbo asked.
The air around Thorin and Bilbo was light and comfortable as they lay side by side under the shade of an oak tree, staring up at the leaves as the sun set.
Thorin took a moment to carefully consider his answer to yet another of Bilbo’s questions.
They’ve been asking these simple little questions for hours now and the pair had long lost count of them, yet each question was received with careful consideration and the utmost sincerity and honesty. They would whisper to each other their answers as if revealing world altering information, something that is to be a secret.
“I believe it would be lamb and mint pies,” Thorin replied thoughtfully. “Unfortunately, I have rarely had them since we left for Ered Luin. Though, much more recently I have been craving those cinnamon honey scones you had out at Bag End.”
“My honey scones? I must agree, they are probably my favourite food, thus they are my specialty! I learned the recipe from my mother, the great Belladonna,” Bilbo said proudly. “Many of the neighbours have tried to replicate it and none have succeeded.”
Thorin chuckled. “Admittedly I asked Bombur that if we survive this journey, he would have to try replicating your recipe.”
Bilbo had a gleeful look in his eyes as he clasped his hands together. “Try as he might, he will not succeed! If you want more of my scones then I suppose you are stuck with me and at my mercy,” Bilbo teased. “Indefinitely.”
Thorin shrugged easily. “I never knew I was at your mercy since Bag End over some honey scones. Here I thought I started to be at your mercy on the Carrock.”
—--------
The Carrock is really what started these small little questions they were exchanging.
To put it simply, Thorin felt guilty about being a complete ass to the hobbit who just saved his life, showed his company loyalty with the elves, and continued to show that same unwavering loyalty and support for them all when he emerged from the goblins den.
So, Thorin wanted to formally apologise for his behaviour, clear all misunderstandings and ire that the miraculous hobbit could harbour against him.
A hug was fine and dandy but really did not make up for all the ire and shit Thorin blamed, judged, and at low times of irritation would ridicule the hobbit for.
And yes, Thorin has reason not to trust others and to not put his faith in so-called allies. He’d taken many hits in his life so it is no wonder he’s wary, and of course he stands by still being a leader whose trust needed to be earned.
But he was so very wrong to not even try to let trust be earned by Bilbo.
Because Bilbo was so, so deserving of his trust.
Thorin had his reasons for his ire, his suspicions on loyalty and capability. But he was proven wrong in this case, so spectacularly wrong and he was determined to amend such a grave oversight.
So, when Thorin spotted Bilbo alone relaxing in the shade of one of Beorn’s grand oak trees after lunch, he believed this was his chance to amend his mistake.
The apology went rather smoothly, with the benevolent hobbit responding with nothing but understanding and the tiniest bit of snark that Thorin has grown to appreciate over the two months of knowing each other.
He really had misunderstood the hobbit.
“You are not what I expected,” Thorin admitted after the apology.
Bilbo laughed. “You certainly are not what I expected either. I mean now that I think about it, what lunatic gets lost in the Shire and tries to face the equivalent of an orc warlord alone? Certainly not the king I expected.”
“Thank you again,” Thorin thanked with a small sincere smile. “For helping me.”
And that was supposed to be it. The future King under the mountain had made his amends, treated him like any other dwarf within his company and that would be the extent of their relationship. A professional relationship that Thorin could put good faith in, perhaps the simple beginnings of a friendlier acquaintanceship than he had expected from that hobbit and that would be all.
So, having done all that he came for, tying all his loose ends he began to move to join his kin inside and turned away.
Bilbo stared at him for a beat. “Why don’t you come sit beside me,” he called after Thorin. “I think for this journey it would be best if we knew each other better.”
Thorin turned around and stared at the hobbit with puzzlement. They had made peace did they not? “Why?”
“Because I think we don’t know each other well enough, so we always have disagreements or misunderstandings of one another. I for one am tired of them and would like to clear all the air between us.”
“I thought we just came to an understanding of one another,” Thorin defended, still standing and looking down on Bilbo’s seated figure. He thought he made a good apology but maybe not.
Bilbo rolled his eyes at the future King.
“We have. But,” Bilbo gently grabbed Thorin’s wrist and tugged for him to sit next to him on the grass in the shade, “if I am to be your Burglar, I would rather know who I am working for and who is the man whose kingdom I am fighting for.”
Thorin allowed himself to be seated as Bilbo added; “Likewise I believe you would like to know more about my capabilities as a Burglar.”
The Master Burglar was not wrong. Thorin would like to gain an understanding on how the burglar thinks as his fellow companion. Not because he doubts Bilbo as a burglar (his miraculous appearance after the goblins proved enough that he would make a fine burglar already) but because the hobbit constantly confounded him.
“Alright then Master Burglar.” Thorin would take it as a challenge. “What do you suggest to get to know each other? Ask each other a bunch of random questions like what’s your favourite season of the year?” Thorin remarked.
Yet when he looked at Bilbo he saw the hobbit’s eyes lit with interest as he smiled.
“You know, that’s actually not a bad idea.”
“You’re not serious.” Thorin raised an eyebrow at Bilbo.
“Well, why not? I don’t have any other ideas yet,” Bilbo shrugged. “Unless of course, you aren’t comfortable with such questions.”
Thorin sighed.
“No halfling, I think it is an acceptable idea.”
“Wonderful! I believe my favourite season is autumn.”
—--------------------
Thorin realised quickly he would not be the best at answering some of these questions.
“Thorin, you can’t say you don’t like any of the seasons,” Bilbo said reproachfully, once Thorin responded that he did not have a favourite season as they all had their disadvantages.
Thorin pursed his lips. “Well winter is easily the worst season.”
Bilbo sighed. “Again, that is not what I asked.”
“Winter is bad for starvation and getting food supplies to the mountains. Summer is better for that, in addition the weather is warmer and more stable overall. Yet each year more of my people claim to be getting burns from the sun as well as having to look out for floodings when the snow seasonally melts. It would be better to stay inside for summer as well,” Thorin reasoned.
“So then you like Spring and Autumn,” Bilbo stated.
“Perhaps. Though in spring whenever the fresh air meets my nose I seem to find it itching.”
“Huh, there must be a flower whose pollen you don’t like up in the Blue Mountains.”
“I guess there are less disadvantages in Autumn. For the most part my people are safe and I can move around outside freely.”
Bilbo frowned at Thorin. “Is that why you like Autumn?”
“I suppose. Never thought that deeply about it until now though. Why is Autumn your favourite?”
Thorin noted how quickly Bilbo’s face lit up. “I love the changing colours of the leaves, and the coolness in the air. After a day in town I love to go into my hole and curl up under my blankets in my chair by the hearth and read a book whilst I drink my favourite tea. I love to look out my window every now and then and be greeted by the vibrant display of reds, yellows and oranges nature has provided. I am never cosier nor more comfortable and never more grateful for my home in those moments,” Bilbo whispered dreamily to Thorin.
“I suppose I can understand better why you, shall we say, heavily criticised our travelling environment.”
“Just say how I bemoaned and complained constantly on this journey. It is unlike you to be polite or sugar coat anything.”
“As well as I am reminded why you miss your home so.”
Bilbo smiled gratefully. “And I have now confirmed without a shadow of a doubt that you love your people, and they seep into everything you are in little secret ways.”
It was Thorin’s turn to smile at Bilbo.
“Not that you’re reasoning that having autumn as your favourite season is bad per say, but do you have any fond memories with a particular season? Like for example in the summer, did you like to go swimming or something? When I was younger I would always swim with my Took cousins.”
“I suppose I taught Fili and Kili how to swim one summer many years ago. But usually when they played in the water I was talking with my sister and Balin about the floods.”
For some odd reason Bilbo did not seem satisfied with that response. Thorin frowned.
“Next question,” Thorin gently prompted after a second.
“What is your favourite colour?” Bilbo asked, moving to cross his legs and fully face Thorin.
“Durin blue,” Thorin answered with no hesitation.
Bilbo chuckled. “Yeah, I hazard a guess.”
“Yours?”
“I am not sure to be honest.”
Thorin looked at Bilbo quizzically.
“Hobbits' favourite colours are usually expected to be more… earthy? Like your greens, yellows, browns and perhaps reds.”
“And do you like them?”
“I like them well enough, I suppose for a hobbit. But-”
“But?”
“Well, it's just that I would be considered odd for a fascination with this particular colour.”
“It is a colour Bilbo. And we are so far away from the Shire so you don't need to care for others' judgement. What is your favourite colour?”
Bilbo’s eyes darted to Thorin’s eyes then to the sky and smiled gently. “Blue, I think.”
Thorin gave time for Bilbo to continue.
“I have always liked the colour of the sky and the water since I was a fauntling and my mother always liked that I liked blue. I always wanted to wear it as a child but as I grew and the Shire began to watch me more I guess that changed somewhere and I forgot the appeal of the colour. Maybe. I guess I never was reminded much of blue until this journey.”
“What reminded you of blue on the journey?”
There was a pause as Bilbo looked into the grass and smiled to himself. “Nothing in particular.”
Thorin simply did not believe that but continued on.
“What is your favourite animal?” Thorin asked.
“I didn't think you would ask something like that. Give me a moment to think,” said Bilbo. “What is yours?”
“Guess,” Thorin challenged.
“Why do I feel like the fearsome King would be a strong and proud animal. Like a wolf who is the leader of a pack – or a bear.”
“Ah my dear burglar, that is simply what I tell those who do not know me well. I certainly respect those animals but they are not my favourite.”
“Well that is certainly surprising. I was sure you would admire a more predatory animal. What I mean to say is you are very protective and strong like a bear and wolf, never really crossed my mind that they would not be your favourite.”
“Did you want another guess?”
“No. I am curious now. Tell me.”
“Only my sister and maybe Dwalin and Balin know the extent of this obsession I had when I was a child, so you must guard this with your life.”
“Should I be scared?”
“Never.”
Bilbo waited eagerly.
“When I was a small child, before the dragon, I was completely enthralled by the ravens that resided in the mountain.”
“That’s it?”
“So much so that I would pretend to be one.”
Bilbo was sensing a theme. Most of Thorin’s favourite anything either were linked to his family, his people or his childhood in Erebor. It was fascinating to connect them all to one of the three categories.
“What did you like about them?”
“Well they are just so intelligent, to carry our messages as they do. Their ability to fly is nothing short of incredible. Our people would train the intelligent creatures to do tricks. And they are so very loyal.” The more he talked about the birds the more animated the King Under the Mountain got. It was quite charming, Bilbo thought.
“Never have I met any creature more loyal than the ravens. Once they recognised you as trustworthy they would be by your side till the end. It is honestly very inspiring.”
“You truly value loyalty above all else don’t you,” Bilbo stated mildly. “That’s why you were so wary of me wasn’t it? Before I saved your life you always believed I would abandon this company or be disloyal to the quest.”
It startled Thorin how blatant he was about it. Maybe that was a root value of his that rang deeper than he originally suspected.
“Well, I am royalty and thus need to choose whom I can trust with the utmost care less I doom my people to ruin and suffering,” Thorin began to defend or perhaps explain.
“No need to explain yourself. I very much value loyalty as well. So I promise you this; I have no intention nor belief that I could betray you in any way. So you may rest easy and know I may always be trusted.”
Thorin didn’t realise how tense he was as he exhaled.
“You don’t owe me anything Burglar.”
“But I want to give you that support anyway. After saving each other's lives; you saving me from falling during that storm and I saving you on the carrock, we should always be trustworthy to one another from here on. I promise you will always have a loyal companion from the Shire.”
“You seem so sure.”
“Then I swear it on this oak tree.”
“I swear it too.”
—---------
They got through many more questions that afternoon and covered an array of topics. From discussing stories and songs they prefer, what beverages they like, and simply a bunch of random but personal information about each other.
It should have been awkward. It should have been invasive. Yet it just felt so easy to exchange their little mundane secrets with each other under the tree. The afternoon stretched and the sty was begging to have a yellowish hue that indicated soon it would be sundown. But the dwarrow and hobbit hardly seemed to take note.
They laid side by side in the grass now just simply talking.
Bilbo couldn't remember the last time he talked this easily with someone for so long.
Thorin could not remember him the last time ever talking for this long. Perhaps with Frerin and Dwalin…
His tongue felt loose and he continued to tell Bilbo more and more small preferences and little stories about himself and was delighted to listen to Bilbo’s stories.
He couldn't remember the last time he felt this relaxed and wholly himself. Just Thorin. Not a King nor Uncle on a dangerous quest. It made something inside him hum and buzz, much like the giant bees that flew overhead in the garden.
So long had it been since he had spewed small and inconsequential truths about himself. So rare that anyone would ask another to begin with. To think this little creature had the gall to look into the eyes of the King Under the Mountain and simply see a man was…touching, to say the least. It would give Thorin a queasy feeling after this conversation concluded he was sure.
He never expected this development. He never thought he would get to know someone like this.
—----
“Wait so Kili and Fili asked me to sound like a Barn Owl because you shoved your love of birds onto them?!”
“Everyone should know the difference between owl calls.”
“Thorin, I nearly died and went into a panic because honestly who knows the difference! I swear you and your nephews are going to kill me!”
“I should begin teaching you the difference so it does not happen again.”
—--------
“I don’t have a favourite flower.”
“Pathetic. You must have a favourite. Here I will list some for you.”
…
“Master Burglar to be honest I believe you are making up words now.”
“Just pick one!”
“I don't know! What are those next to us?”
“Clover flowers. Don’t you dare pick them! They are considered weeds!”
“Well I choose them!”
—---------
“So have you ever actually stolen anything in your life?”
“I’ll have you know that in the Shire I was legendary at stealing from the Maggot’s crops in my youth with some of my Took cousins!”
…
—----------
“Favourite stone?”
“I actually quite like the sound of emeralds.”
“That is very befitting for you.”
“They have meaning?”
“They have meaning, Burglar”
—--------------
“Sweet or savoury?”
“Sweet.”
—--------------
“Ah, I would have to agree with you there Burglar.”
“Great minds think alike.”
—--------------
“You know, I honestly thought you would oppose this little game,” Bilbo said, laying on his back and resting his head on his arm looking at the now pinkish side.
It would not surprise them if they got called for dinner soon. In fact it surprised them that they had been left alone for this long. Usually everyone was asking to speak with Thorin about the rest of the journey every second moment.
Not even Oin came and interrupted them to check on Thorin’s injuries.
Perhaps their company was simply that tired from their dealings with goblins and orcs the night prior.
“Why would you think I would oppose the game?”
“To me, you just never seemed like you were one to be comfortable sharing all of this with just anyone.”
“Ah,” Thorin conceded unintelligently.
“But I am honoured to know all this much more about you.”
“And I you.”
They smiled at each other under the Oak tree, as they were painted in pinkish light.
“Perhaps we will be better companions than we ever thought we would be compared to when we met at Bag End,” Bilbo whispered.
“I am inclined to believe you are right.”
“Thank you for giving me a greater understanding of you, Thorin.”
“Thank you for today, Bilbo. You truly are not what I expected.”
They laid in comfortable silence for a moment before Balin was sent out to collect them for dinner.
As the two dwarrows began to head back inside Bilbo held back a moment before picking up a small acorn from the ground under the tree that now held their secrets.
He placed the acorn in his pocket, smiling.