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The very first time Thorin saw Bilbo, he knew the hobbit would be trouble. The messy blonde hair and bright eyes, he didn’t want to be the one who dirtied that hair or dampened those eyes with the grief and tire of travel. Dwarves were nothing like hobbits, the poor thing would be lost a long way from home. He pitied the creature if anything, but Gandalf was insistent on his attendance.
Through the weeks they traveled, exactly as he’d predicted, the hobbit was getting more wearied by traveling, bags under his once exuberant eyes, and constantly wandering to seek solace under a quiet tree. Of course, more often than not, the dwarves packed up and left him, not realizing until Gandalf stopped for a headcount and he’d come running after the company, pack haphazardly strapped on, breathing hard, fear lining his soft features.
Which is precisely why Thorin had wandered away to try and find the hobbit, figuring he’d be tucked under a tree like usual. The company was leaving in a few hours, and he figured Bilbo deserved fair warning. Finally, after several minutes searching, he spotted a small form, knees to the chest, leaned against a tree near the edge of a cliff, waiting for sunrise. Thorin tread as lightly as a dwarf could, coming to a stop just beside the tree Bilbo was leaning against. They sat in silence a bit longer, he assumed Bilbo had heard him from the slight twitch of hand to sword.
Finally, Bilbo glanced up, “Are you going to stand there and stare at me, say something, or join me?” He asked, raising a brow before reverting his gaze back to the horizon. Thorin made a vague grunt in return, taking a seat next to Bilbo, and the hobbit had a pleased smile on his face, head leaned back slightly to rest on the trunk of the tree. Thorin considered telling him not to bother waiting for sunrise, as that’s when the company was to leave, but they wouldn’t leave without Thorin so he wasn’t too worried.
Soon enough, little rays of sun were peeking up and illuminated the pair as they watched in silence. It was strange for Thorin, he’d never watched a sunrise just for the enjoyment. Sunrise was time to get up, to continue moving to some unknown destination on the task of reclaiming something called home. So he found it even more odd as his muscles began to relax. Bilbo glanced over, “I can’t imagine the mighty dwarf king gets much time to admire sunrises. Especially when we reclaim Erebor. No sunrises under the mountain.” He commented, a note of sadness.
“Dwarves and halflings are very different. Sunrises are the start of our day, not something to be ogled.” He replied, a mild shrug moving his shoulders. Bilbo laughed quietly, “It seems lonely, but I suppose the life of a hobbit is rather dull to the likes of you.” He glanced over to judge Thorins reaction, an understanding nod. “We do have one thing in common though.”
“What would that be?” Thorin asked, hobbits were about as different as it could get from dwarves, even more so than elves. “Storytelling! Though hobbits don’t like adventuring much, we tell great tales of it. We have stories about our beginning and history and, well, everything.” He said proudly, warm grin lighting his face. “Every culture and race has that, Bilbo.” Thorin responded, blue eyes skeptical. Bilbo shrugged, “I’d imagine ours are better considering we have time to actually write them.” He replied a bit defensively.
“And are you a great writer, hobbit? Have you written any great tales of adventuring?” he probed, Bilbo turning a slight red, “I wrote a story about the sun once, and the moon. I’m saving my tales of adventuring for my return home. If I return home.” He said quietly, chewing the inside of his lip. It was the one uncomfortable thing everyone in the company carefully avoided, the possibility of failure, of losing any of their number.
To tie over the tension, Thorin nodded out to the rising sun, “You wrote about that one? Will you tell me the story?” He asked and the hobbit looked positively relieved, nodding a bit. “I don’t know if it’s any good,” he admitted, “No one has read it or heard it.” He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. Thorin glared a bit, “Stop stalling, the company must leave soon, and I wish to hear a great hobbit tale.” Bilbo nodded quickly, taking a deep breath.
“Well, the moon and sun see each other twice a day as they trade places in the sky,” he began, eyes fixed to the ground. “It wasn’t until the moon fell in love with the brilliant rays of the sun, but he thought the sun would never notice him because he was dark and cratered and the sun was so bright. But on the other side of the world, the sun had taken notice of the moon. The sun liked the darkness of the moon and how he brought peace to the world. The sun caused trouble and with those bright rays burned those around him.”
His cheeks now burned red, having never let anyone else hear his tales, but Thorin seemed to be hooked onto every word, blue eyes boring into Bilbo before he continued. “So they quietly admired one another everytime they saw one another. The moon told the stars of his love, and the sun told the clouds. The stars apologized, for they could not help, but the same did not go for the clouds. They lingered after sunset to talk to the moon. “Moon?” they asked, “Do you know the sun loves you? He’s been watching you and he loves you.” The moon was taken quite by surprise as never in his life had he thought to catch the romantic notice of the sun.”
Thorin’s gaze hadn’t changed, not making a sound throughout the story. Bilbo took a deep breath and continued, “And the moon cried, “I love him, too! I love the sun!” The swelling in his heart was unknown. The clouds were pleased and lingered until the sun came back. One whispered to him of the moon’s love, and he burned brighter than ever, having become weary over the past weeks over his dilemma of the heart. The moon said nothing, stoic as ever until the sun called, “I love you!” over and over until the moon was just about to pass over the horizon, replying quietly, “I love you, too.” They now circle the earth everyday wishing for the moment that they may be together.” He concluded, finally looking up to judge Thorin.
Thorin was speechless for a moment. Bilbo’s voice had been soft and unsure, fumbling over the words of the story. He thought over the words of the hobbit’s tale, eyes widening just a fraction. “When did you write that?” he asked quietly, finally moving his eyes to look to the ground. “I, um, a couple days ago? I was watching the sunset and thinking of the company and it came to me. That’s why I was late.” He responded, taking up a twig to fiddle with.
“Thinking of the company?” Thorin asked, not used to being unsure. This journey seemed to bring on many things he wasn’t used to, such as the warmth in his chest as Bilbo told his story. “I-yes. I suppose. I was thinking how you would all make such great characters, and the group as a whole...” He trailed off, biting the inside of his lip slightly. Thorin regarded him quietly, “What characters were you thinking of when you wrote that?”
Bilbo was now tracing invisible patterns in the dirt, “Well I was looking at the sunet, and I guess I thought of you as the moon?” he replied quietly, “You’re quiet, and dark, you bring everyone peace when there is none and sometimes I think that you don’t think much of yourself when you should.” he commented lightly. “Then who, pray, is the sun?” Thorin asked, eyes moving back to Bilbo who had frozen. Finally, the hobbit looked up. “Well, you’re the moon. Who is your sun?” He asked, standing and brushing off his trousers, walking towards camp. Thorin only sat another moment before briskly following Bilbo.
He grabbed the hobbit’s wrist pulling him back a few feet, “I... I think you’re the sun.” he said, surprised the words were even leaving his mouth, but not as surprised as Bilbo seemed. “Really?” the hobbit asked, eyes wide. Thorin took a moment before nodding. “Yes, I think you’re the sun.” He nodded a bit awkwardly. He’d never really loved anyone or been fascinated with anyone the way he was with Bilbo. Quietly he took a step back, releasing the small wrist.
Before he could do anything else, Fili’s voice rang out from not that far away, “Uncle! Uncle, where are you?” Just a bit further, Kili’s voice could be heard calling the same. Only moments later, Balin appeared, “Thorin Oakenshield as leader of this company you mustn’t wander off like that!” he scolded, Thorin raised an eyebrow, “Tell that to the hobbit. I was searching for him, considering how often we lose him.” Balin glared for a moment, “Fine, but we must continue if we are to keep out of the way of the pale orc.” he commented.
Balin walked a few steps, calling to Fili and the dwarves passing the message that Thorin was found and safe. Thorin lingered as the dwarves began to make their way back. Bilbo was glaring at him, “What!?” he asked, confused at the hobbit’s annoyance as they’d just had... a moment? He wasn’t sure what to call it. “Blame it on the hobbit? I have a name. And it was your decision to come find me.” he replied, still annoyed. Thorin groaned, “They can’t know. I’m not sure I even know. Bear with me?” He asked, how his nephews dealt with having had several girlfriends and boyfriends, they must be as insane as he thought they were.
Bilbo was quiet for a moment. “Fine. Under one condition.” He said, staring challengingly into the dwarf’s eyes. Where this new confidence came from, Thorin did not know, “And what is that?” he asked, voice coming across as harsh as usual, and Bilbo seemed shaken for a moment. “Kiss me.” he demanded. Thorin did a double take, “What?”
“You’ll never know if you like someone unless you kiss them. And you have a lot of making up to do considering the way you’ve treated me.” His voice was just a bit shaky to Thorin’s ears. The hobbit was in no position to make demands! Thorin was king under the mountain! Son of Thrain! Yet he found his hands on a tree to either side of Bilbo’s face, leaning in slowly then all at once, capturing Bilbo’s lips with his own.
He’d kissed before, certainly. Young dwarves had quite the hunger for physical affection, but every face he’d kissed had been rough and bearded, only occasionally smooth as a woman, but the women would roughly grab him, not that he minded, but this was entirely different. Bilbo was tentative and gentle, and his face was smooth. Thorin soon stepped. “We must get back.” He said, and Bilbo nodded seeming unsure.
Just a few feet from camp, Thorin smiled, “Bilbo, you should change your story. The end of it. ‘When the moon fell in love with the sun, all was golden in the sky.’” He said, then mounted his pony, motioning for the company to leave. Bilbo smiled and didn’t stop for the next several miles, and even then he was practically glowing which earned him strange looks from the other dwarves, but he didn’t acknowledge them, admiring a mane of dark hair near the front.