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Chapter Text

Bilbo Baggins was dreaming.

That was the only explanation he had for the continued sensation of being wrapped in hard, strong arms, with leather and fur and soft hair underneath his fingertips.

"I could not have been more wrong," The regal voice whispered, almost seductively, into his ear, and the hobbit slid from sleep to wakefulness in a smooth moment, eyes wide, breath coming fast as he stared into the hard darkness of the room he was sharing with Fíli and Kíli in...in...Gandalf's friend's home.

The details of their journey, since being deposited on the craggy peak by the eagles, rushed back into Bilbo' s mind, causing the burglar to relax back into his pillows.

Of course, the return of his dream to the forefront of his mind caused him to blush hotly, pulling the covers over his face. He could only hope he hadn't spoken aloud while dreaming, as he had oft done when he was a wee little hobbit.

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Bilbo woke again mere hours later, roused from his sleep by Fíli and Kíli's voices, in a tone that dwarves considered to be 'hushed'. To Bilbo's surprise, a third voice, deeper in baritone, joined their conversation.

The Hobbit immediately tuned out the words that were being sad because Thorin. Thorin and that (dare he admit it!) seductive, sexy voice.

It all came crashing down on him. The hobbit had no idea how it happened, or how it had crept up on him unnoticed, but...

Sometime after he had left the Shire for a wild and nearly hopeless quest of reclaiming a kingdom long lost, Bilbo Baggins, former ordinary hobbit, and now-burglar, had developed intense feelings for Thorin Oakenshield, rightful King of Dwarves. The hug after Bilbo had saved Thorin's life had only insured that these feelings were not going anywhere.

Of course, his feelings took no notice of the fact that Thorin was, most likely, not interested in him. At all.

And why should he be? Bilbo was just a hobbit, a regular, mostly-sensible hobbit while Thorin was a Prince, majestic and strong.

There was no doubt in Bilbo's mind that Thorin had room in his heart for Bilbo as only a friend.

The thought caused a deep ache in his chest, and Bilbo rolled over on his side, eyes still tightly closed.

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The sky was bright when the hobbit dared open his eyes, the voices long gone. No doubt the dwarves were enjoying a hearty breakfast while Bilbo continued to play at sleeping. Sooner or later, though, if Bilbo did not appear at the table, Thorin would send someone in to rouse him, and that was the last thing the small hobbit wanted.

The faux-burglar rose from his bed, pulling on his proper-clothes and made his way to the raucous laughter of the dwarves, dreading every single step that brought him closer-

"Burglar!" Kíli shouted, and the rest of the dwarves chorused his name, dragging him over to the table, food and merriment flying over his head.

The hobbit stubbornly refused to glance Thorin's way, which was a hard thing to do with the Dwarven Prince's gaze digging into his back.

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Two days later, Thorin's company finally left the home of Beorn, making their way to the Mirkwood. Tingles ran up and down Bilbo' s spine, but he said nothing, huddling deeper in the cloak Gandalf had magically appropriated from absolutely no where, fingers digging into his pocket to grasp at the ring briefly.

He pulled his hands from his pockets when Bofur strode up to him, beginning to tell a tale that present company had heard at least five times in the past month. As the more rambunctious dwarves began to complain, quite loudly, with even Ori joining in, the hobbit said not a single word.

Thorin's gaze continued to dig painfully into his back for the remainder of the day.

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By the time they make camp at the edge of the forest,Bilbo has not said more then five sentences. All the dwarves have picked up on it, by now, and if Bilbo wasn't in the middle of an emotional crisis, he would find the antics the dwarves have adopted to rouse him from his inner melancholy, both amusing and heartwarming.

But alas, the burglar kept his mouth sealed. His words must be watched like a hawk, because he cannot burden Thorin with these one-sided feelings. Perhaps once Erebor had been reclaimed, Bilbo would let the words spill forth from his mouth. Until then, he would sit, and suffer slowly, in silence.

When Kíli walked towards him, a bowl dangling in front of Bilbo an obvious offer, the hobbit managed a half-smile in response to the young dwarf's own, and grabbed the bowl by both sides.

As he ate, the hobbit continued to ignore the heavy gaze of Thorin on his back, wishing silently he could wipe the feeling of Thorin's arms around him from his mind.

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Eventually the hubbub of dinner began to die down, and the dwarves unfurled their bedrolls. Dwalin was given first watch, and Bilbo raised an eyebrow as Kíli kidnapped Ori to sleep with him and Fíli.

No one else seemed to bat an eye, though, so the hobbit grabbed his pack and settled down at the edge of the sleep-circle the dwarves had created. He curled under his blanket and waited for sleep-and the dreams- to claim him.

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Bilbo dreamed that night of a heavy weight settling down behind him, of a strong and thick arm curling around his waist like he was the most precious thing in the world. Heated breath cascaded across his ear, and the hobbit thought idly to himself that he never wanted to wake up.

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Bilbo woke up alone, and he struggled to push down the disappointment that surged in him at this fact. His dream had been just that, a dream, and he had gone to bed last, at the edge of the Dwarven circle.

Of course he had woken up alone.

The hobbit climbed out of his bedroom, packing up his things and saddling them to the pony he'd acquired from Beorn. Only once that was all done did he go to join the dwarves for breakfast.

So intent on both his breakfast and trying to keep his blasted dreams out of his head, he didn't even register that Thorin was nowhere to be seen.

He did notice, however, that Dwalin was staring at him, like he was trying to figure something out.

(Actually, most of the dwarves kept glancing at him, because he still hadn't said a word).

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After breakfast, Bilbo helped Bofur and Nori clean up (which took a while, dwarves were rather messy, after all).

Drying the last wooden bowl, he placed it on a long, coarse, and previously white towel and turned around, only to come face-to-face with Ori.

The youngest dwarf was gazing at him with an intensity that made him flinch a bit.

Bilbo blinked, swallowing down the dryness in his throat, he opened his throat. "Erm..." The hobbit struggled to speak again, but his throat locked down. He would not speak of the dreams. He fought against his mind, before, finally, "Ori, what are you...?"

The dwarf practically beamed at him, unfolding his arms and practically tackled him to the ground in a hug. Bilbo gasped for breath as they hit the forest floor.

There was dead silence from the rest of the dwarves, before Kíli yelled, "Group hug!"

The next thing the hobbit knew, he had at least five dwarves on top of him and Ori. He could glimpse Bofur's hat, Fíli's beads, and Kíli's hair, but judging by the weight on top of him, Bombur was definitely one of the dwarves who'd joined in.

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After about five minutes, Bilbo began to gasp for breath, causing Fíli, who'd somehow managed to get squished next to the hobbit and Ori, to push everyone off. Bombur ended up rolling quite a ways until Dwalin stopped him with his foot.

That caused the dwarves to burst into laughter as the red-haired cook struggled to get to his feet. Bilbo even managed a soft huff of amusement as Gloin finally dragged Bombur to his feet by his beard.

Fíli smiled at Bilbo as he helped the hobbit to his feet. "Feeling better, then, burglar?" He asked.

Bilbo smiled in response, but his throat was still closed up and no words would spill forth without quite the effort.

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Thorin reappeared while the dwarves were still poking fun at Bombur. He raised an eyebrow at Ori and his nephews, who had pretty much glued themselves to Bilbo's side.

He made no comment of it, instead choosing to briefly give the order to move out.

If any of the dwarves noticed that the shy smile that had been on Bilbo's face since the group hug slipped off when Thorin rejoined them, they said nothing, but Bofur launched into another one of his tales and Kíli began to insult said dwarf's hat. Bofur retaliated by poking fun at Kíli's non-existent beard, and very quickly the company began teasing each other, laughter ripping through the column.

And still the halfling did not smile.

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While they rode through the forest, Kíli and Fíli kept on either side of him, with Ori riding just behind them. Bilbo was a little unsure under their protective behavior, but he said nothing to dissuade them, instead tucking his cloak further over him and attempting to make himself even smaller on his pony.

Bofur's cheerful voice floated over the column, the hat-wearing dwarf beginning a tale of which, miraculously, they hadn't heard before. The hobbit let the dwarf's voice soothe his soul. As Thorin rode down the column, Bilbo turned his head away from the Prince's gaze. He could do this.

It would be hard, but he could do it. He could keep his feelings locked up, for the good of the quest.

His heart squeezed in his chest, and he absentmindedly placed a hand over his chest, not noticing Kíli watching him, curious.

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Bofur abruptly stopped talking an hour later, looking around. "Has anyone seen Gandalf?" He asked, confused.

The eleven other dwarves began to murmur, before Thorin cut them off. "He is scouting ahead-he said there was something he wished to investigate. Now, lower your voices. We do not know what is lurking in these woods."

The dwarves immediately began talking quieter, although Bofur's voice still carried to Bilbo's ears.

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Approximately half an hour later, the company was attacked by a pack of gigantic spiders.

Bilbo withdrew his 'letter-opener', although he had no real need to, with Fíli, Kíli, and even adorable Ori with his slingshot taking defensive positions around him. Battle raged, and the halfling managed a half-smile as Dwalin's voice rose above the noise of battle, cursing the spiders and their bastard origins (or something like that; Dwalin had opted to intersperse his common curses with those of a different tongue, one of which Bilbo did not know).

A spider reared on its back legs, and Bilbo managed to cleave two of its legs off as they threatened Kíli.

"Cheers, burglar!" The Durin grinned, sinking an arrow into the spider's body.

Bilbo, surprising himself, grinned back.

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The battle raged on, the spiders' gigantic size forcing the thirteen dwarves and their hobbit-burglar off the ponies and on the ground in order to get close enough to sink an axe or sword into them. Fíli and Kíli were still flanking him, although Ori had been dragged in between his brothers.

Bilbo caught sight of Bombur wielding his gigantic spoon, sticking his weapon into a spider's eye to distract it while Bofur and Bifur finished it off.

As he turned to face another spider, Bilbo caught sight of Thorin, and his breath left his body, weakening him.

The Dwarven Prince was wielding his sword with an easy mastery, looking every bit the royalty he was as he stabbed his sword into spider after spider.

The rest of the world seemed so far away, Fíli and Kíli's worried voices echoing in his ears as he went limp in between them, a spider leg catching him in the side, and sending him flying through the air, pain blossoming across his chest. He barely heard Kíli scream his name, followed by Thorin's voice in an outraged yell before everything went black, Sting slipping through his fingers.

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Everything was dark, and still Bilbo dreamed.

He dreamt of strong hands holding him tenderly, of flashes of axes, swords, and arrows. He dreamt of leather and fur, and a deep voice pleading with him to wake up, of not to leave.

He dreamt of hot, wet tears falling, splashing against his skin.

Bilbo wished silently that this dream was real, so he could comfort the person in his dreams that he was alive, and well.

Bilbo had never liked tears, and he liked them even less when someone he cared about was crying.

The dream was abruptly swept from him, and Bilbo fell endlessly through the dark blackness.

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Bilbo drifted slowly from the edge of unconscious, barely aware of the voices and noises around him, until, suddenly, he was completely conscious, and he could hear every little noise and detail around him.

"-for another day. If he does not wake by then, we will move out anyway, and he shall ride with me."

Thorin, The hobbit thought hesitantly. His voice sounded close, almost as if he was-

He was being held. Snuggled, rather, which caused him to flush. Thorin's arm was wrapped snugly around the hobbit's waist, and Bilbo was 99% sure that his head was in the Prince's lap.

"Very well," Balin's voice said. "I shall inform the others."

Bilbo was feeling rather faint again, and he hadn't even 'woke up' from his last bout of unconsciousness, at least from the point of the dwarves.

A groan escaped his lips before he could help it.

Thorin started beside him. "Bilbo?" He asked, and the hobbit could hear a hint of worry in his voice.

The halfling cracked an eye open. "What happened?" He asked, moving to sit up. Thorin kept him pinned, though.

"A spider sent you flying, halfling. Ori!" He barked out. "Come, see if our burglar is fit to move!"

"I'm fine," Bilbo weakly protested as Ori (and all the other dwarves, upon seeing Bilbo awake) came towards them.

Thorin fixed him with a steely glare, while still managing to look worried at the same time.

Ori knelt next to him, brows furrowed as he prodded Bilbo with a finger cautiously. Bilbo waved him off, and managed to slid out from under Thorin's arm, who growled at him.

"Burglar-"

"I'm FINE, Thorin," His voice was scratchy after a few days of not using it. His throat attempted to seize closed again, but he managed to spit another sentence out anyway. "Any chance of some food, though?"

Bombur, as if he'd been waiting for Bilbo to ask, thrust out a wooden bowl filled nearly to the brim with heavenly-smelling stew.

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"I'm fine," Bilbo said hesitantly two hours later, right before the sun would begin to set.

"Aye, uncle, our burglar is awake and healthy!" Fíli clapped a hand on the hobbit's shoulder, only to quickly remove it when Thorin glowered at him. "Kíli and I can flank him, Bofur in front and Ori behind him, keep an eye on him?"

"Absolutely not," The Prince growled. "He hasn't been conscious for more then three hours. And that strategy didn't work so well last time," He practically spat, and Fíli visibly flinched.

"Uncle-"

"I'm right here, you know," Bilbo spoke, each word harsher on his throat then the last. "And you can't delay the quest any longer."

There was silence, from each and every dwarf, and Thorin's scowl deepened.

"We cannot lose our burglar-" He started.

"You won't," Bilbo cut him off. "Unless you keep being pigheaded, in which case I will turn around and return to the Shire, and you will be entirely without a burglar." His throat was burning at the end of his little speech, but once this argument was over he'd go and find some water to soothe his throat.

Thorin scowled at the hobbit, who just continued to stare defiantly back. Bilbo wasn't actually going back to the Shire until this whole ordeal was over with, but the Prince was being difficult, so the hobbit was going to be difficult right back.

"Fine, we will set out tomorrow," Thorin eventually grumbled, looking very much like a disgruntled teenage hobbit who'd been caught stealing. "But you will ride with me."

Bilbo flushed deep red. "Oh, that's unnecessary, I'll be fine-"

Thorin stared at him, obviously not leaving room for complaint.

The hobbit huffed, cheeks still tinged bright red. "Oh, very well."

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Bilbo was going to kill Fíli and Kíli.

Well, perhaps not kill, but he was going to sneak unpleasant herbs in their food and this really wasn't funny!

He could feel Thorin, all of him, pressed up against his back as he managed to guide the pony they were riding. Bilbo could practically feel himself flushing as he continued to inhale the scent that the hobbit couldn't describe as anything but Thorin.

He caught a glimpse of Kíli smirking as he moved in front of then to scout ahead, and glowered.

When they stopped for the night, Bilbo couldn't get off the pony fast enough.

"Enjoy the ride, burglar?" Fíli practically cackled, and Bilbo responded with a very rude hobbit word he hadn't taught them yet.

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Thorin sat down next to Bilbo during dinner. The hobbit had elected to remove himself from the circle of dwarves once again, and the Prince seemed determined to find out why.

"What ails you, hobbit?" Thorin rumbled in his ridiculously seductive voice, and Bilbo fought hard to keep the blush off his face.

"I have a problem," He said finally, when it was clear Thorin wasn't going anywhere until he got an answer. "A problem that cannot be solved until our journey is over, and dwarves have a homeland once again."

Thorin grunted, but thankfully did not pry any further.

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Bilbo found himself settling down for the night in the middle of the Sleep-Circle, entirely by accident.

He was still tired, one did not simply just get up after being thrown by a spider and walk around like nothing was wrong. So, as it was, the hobbit found himself retiring first, well before any of the dwarves, who continued with both dinner and freely mocking one another (the burglar was sure Fíli and Kíli had started it, once again) while still managing to keep an eye on the hobbit, to make sure he was quite alright.

The hobbit just sighed at his companions, but settled down into his bedroll, preparing to ignore them and dream (most likely about Thorin. Stupid dreams).

He was almost in the realm of dreams when a heavy weight settled next to him, and the hobbit caught a glimpse of dark hair and a ring-Thorin? He inhaled sharply.

"Sleep, little hobbit," The Prince rumbled. "I will keep you safe."

Right. Like Bilbo was going to be able to sleep with the object of his affections laying so close to him.

...Well. He would at least try.

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Thorin was still fast asleep by his side when Bilbo woke suddenly in the early morning, a silent gasp on his lips and his heart thudding fast in his chest.

He could not remember what it was that woke him. Perhaps it was his dream, which was also escaping his grasp. As it was, he was the only one awake besides Bofur, who was keeping watch.

The hobbit sighed, glancing over at the still-slumbering Thorin. His feelings for the king were starting to overwhelm him, and if something didn't happen to resolve them soon, he was going to blurt them out, for the hobbit could feel the words on the tip of his tongue.

Bilbo stretched, easing out of his bedroll and standing up. There was no way he was going to get back to sleep before it was time to get up, and maybe the smell of breakfast would rouse the heavily sleeping dwarves.

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And rouse them he did.

He had been cooking for no more then ten minutes when the dwarves began to awaken, smelling sausage and various other delights.

Fíli and Kíli, upon awakening, sat down on either side of the hobbit and just stared at the food like it was their salvation. Bombur also came over, rubbing his hands together and smacking his lips.

The hobbit shook his head fondly, but began passing out breakfast. He remained mostly quiet, but he did speak to the dwarves when they spoke to him, and he smiled the entire time.

He flushed when Thorin stared straight at him, but turned his gaze away and returned to listening to Ori, who was describing the strange dream he'd had about a rainbow bridge and creatures called angels and strange devices you could communicate through.

It made no sense, but the hobbit sat and listened, lest he be reminded of Thorin's heavy gaze on his shoulders.

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The darkness of the forest began to settle more firmly around them the farther they travelled, and the darkness unsettled Bilbo a little.

He didn't say anything, though, for Thorin was still watching him like a hawk even after he managed to convince the dwarf-king to let him ride alone.

That had been a long argument.

Behind the hobbit, Fíli and Kíli, for once, were remaining diligent and watching their surroundings. That worried Bilbo more then anything else; for the brothers, no matter what the situation, always were so full of life and mischievous.

The company was dead silent; not even Bofur was talking, and amongst the quiet there was only the thud of hooves and clinking of metal.

There was a faint clicking among the trees, and there had been, for quite a while. Bilbo didn't know how he hadn't known until now, but it sounded like the spiders from before-

"THORIN!" Someone shouted, and then battle was on them once again.

"Bilbo!" Bofur's voice said, and he managed to pull Sting from its sheath and stab upwards as one of the spiders leapt over them, and then everything became a haze of battle.

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By the time it was all over, they had lost the ponies.

The spiders had all forced them off their mounts, and the ponies had scattered. They could waste time looking for them, or they could continue pressing on, towards Erebor.

They all turned to Thorin, for his decision-

And that was when they all realized Thorin was gone.