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The feeling of ground beneath his bare feet as the giant eagle set him down was a blessing, though it did nothing to temper his fear. Bilbo had honestly paid little attention to the flight away from the battle, too focused on Thorin’s unconscious form. He stood with his heart pounding in his chest as Gandalf bent over their leader, whispering some ancient spell. Relief hit him like a tidal wave, nearly buckling his knees as the dwarf king inhaled a deep breath and asked for him, though it didn’t last.
“You!” Curt and barked – he really should have known.
It seemed that after everything they’d been through, not even saving the dwarf’s life could make Thorin Oakenshield be anything other than a rude, pretentious, acerbic, stubborn jerk. Bilbo had seen his softer side, glimpses in Rivendell and after, it was there in the way he joined the singing that Bofur started, obvious in his love for his nephews and the way he grabbed for them as the goblins first attacked them, and visible in his confused relief when Bilbo had shown up after their escape from the goblin tunnels. That was the side of Thorin Oakenshield that he had fallen for, was still falling for.
“What were you doing?”
To be perfectly honest, Thorin’s tone was starting to irritate him; as was the way he was advancing on the hobbit, prowling forward like a wolf hunting a rabbit. It was as if he expected him to shrink and cower, and he may have a few days ago, but after everything he’d been through since entering the Misty Mountains Bilbo was tired of being scared. He was tired of feeling helpless, tired of having to defend himself from the people he was trying to help, tired of being seen as some weak thing that could be easily dismissed. He was done.
“You nearly got yourself killed!”
Thorin was almost into his personal space now, menacing glare attempting to set him ablaze. For a single heartbeat Bilbo thought to shy away, but then his Tookish sensibilities flared up and he rose to his full height and nearly shouted back, “Oh, I was not the one who nearly got himself killed!”
Thorin started, dark eyebrows rising and his step faltering, and Bilbo wasn’t about to give him any time to recover his bearing, “I was not the one who, until only a moment ago, was lying unconscious on the ground. So don’t you dare talk to me about nearly getting myself killed when I did so to save your stubborn arse!”
The look of utter shock on the dwarf king’s face at being yelled at was utterly priceless, but Bilbo only felt partially vindicated. No, he wasn’t nearly done, and took this moment to advance on Thorin, “Don’t you dare stand there and chastise me and tell me I don’t belong when I have been willing to sacrifice everything for this quest. For you.”
A sharp jab of his finger to Thorin’s chest shouldn’t have done much, certainly shouldn’t have made the king flinch the way he did, but if it got the point across Bilbo wasn’t going to complain. This was the first time he’d ever seen the dwarf at a loss for words, which was good because now that he’d started, Bilbo was not going to stop until he had said everything on his mind.
“I have killed for you, Thorin Oakenshield; thrown myself head-first into a pack of orcs and wargs to save you because you are too stubborn and prideful and arrogant to see the consequences of your actions. I bet you hadn’t even stopped to consider what would have happened if you’d actually died back there.”
There was an almost imperceptible shake of Thorin’s head, lips parted and lake blue eyes wide with shock and confusion and something Bilbo would almost call fear. Good, he thought, let this scare him, let him know exactly what he put me – everyone through so he won’t be so stupid in the future.
“First off, this quest would be for nothing. Not because no one would want to finish it, not because our leader is gone, but because you were the one to make everyone here believe – really believe – that it could be done. You are the driving force behind this entire venture, the one and only reason any of us are here right now. I will say, though, that we would probably keep going and finish what we started, but it wouldn’t be the same. Erebor would not be the same.” Bilbo gestured blindly behind him to the East.
“You and Balin are the only members of the company who have ever seen Erebor; the only ones who have any idea what it used to be like, as far as I can tell. Rebuilding it to the splendor and beauty that it once was will require both of your knowledge, so losing one of the only two people who have a clue what it should be like would be highly detrimental for what would essentially be a fledgling kingdom. Erebor needs your vision and determination to reach her potential.”
It was by far the kindest thing he’d said since the start of his little impromptu speech, and Thorin shuffled a bit. He still seemed off kilter, quietly watching Bilbo as he took a few steps back, knowing that he’d need the space for what he was about to say.
“The most important thing you failed to think about, though,” he started a little more softly, “was your nephews.”
Thorin jerked like he’d been physically slapped, eyes widening for a moment before narrowing at him. Bilbo was crossing a very big line here, and he knew it. He didn’t need to see the fire behind those lovely blue eyes, or the fierce almost snarl that contorted his handsome face, or the slight tremble in his arms from clenching his fists so tightly to know that.
Still, he needed Thorin to hear this, needed him to understand the fear that they had all felt when he had charged towards the Defiler, “If you had died, they would have lost their father figure, their idol. You are the only one they look to, the one they emulate, and what do you think your death would have shown them? What kind of example would that have set for the new king of-?”
"Enough!" Thorin roared, one hand slicing through the air. He stalked towards the hobbit, closing the space between them until they were toe-to-toe, glaring down at him.
"Is it?" Bilbo shot back, pushing down the fresh wave of fear as the stench of blood and smoke covering the dwarf stung his throat, "Has it finally sunk into that thick head of yours? Because I don't think it has. I think you are going to do the exact same thing again, if given the chance. What if I'm not there to save your sorry-"
His words died in his throat as Thorin’s hands grabbed the side of his face, pulling him into a bruising kiss. Of all the things he’d been expecting, being kissed by Thorin wasn’t one of them – though it was currently more akin to a mashing of lips than any kiss Bilbo had ever received. His beard scratched roughly against his chin and the pressure against his mouth was such that he felt like he could almost taste blood. Bilbo fisted his hands in Thorin’s hair and yanked, dislodging the dwarf with a grunt before claiming his mouth again with more finesse, but no less fervor.
He was still angry with Thorin, still scared that he wasn’t really there, and he pushed all of that into the kiss. He could feel Thorin’s broad palms skimming down his sides and across his back as if the dwarf was trying to reassure himself that Bilbo was there as well. Bilbo’s own hands slid down the wide expanse of the dwarf’s chest, feeling the minor dents in the scales of his armor and the damp patches where he had been bleeding. It was suddenly all to much for him, and tears spilled down his cheeks as he wrapped his arms around Thorin’s middle and hugged him close.
Thorin tensed for the briefest of moments before completely relaxing into the embrace with a groan that Bilbo felt down to his toes. The king pulled back just far enough to press their foreheads together, his steady, deep breaths mingling with the little hiccups of air Bilbo was managing as he fought to get everything under control. Thorin brought one hand up to his face, swiping the pad of his thumb across Bilbo’s damp cheek in a comforting motion, and when he murmured the hobbit’s name, the king’s voice sounded almost raw.
He squeezed his eyes shut, unable to look up at the dwarf quite yet, not while more tears leaked from behind his lashes. He simply curled his fists tighter into the dwarf’s heavy coat and pulled him closer. After a few shaky breaths, Bilbo finally managed to get his voice to work, whispering fiercely, “Don’t you ever do that to me again.”
The hand resting against his back twitched, fingers digging in just a touch as the dwarf held him a little more tightly. Thorin nuzzled his nose against Bilbo’s and whispered, “Oh bunnel, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize I had frightened you so much.”
“If you just called me ‘bunny’, I will hurt you.” Bilbo sniffled, sounding more sulky than grouchy like he’d intended. Still, it earned him a soft chuckle from Thorin, and when he finally opened his eyes the king was smiling softly down at him, and oh, what a lovely sight that was.
“Peace, Bilbo.” Thorin dropped a soft kiss to his forehead, “I called you ‘bunnel’, which means ‘treasure of all treasures’ in our language – for you are a true gift from Mahal. I should never have doubted you. In that regard, I have never been more wrong in all my life.”
There was heat spreading across his cheeks, and warmth pooling in his belly at the king’s words. It was the nicest thing Thorin had ever said to him – the nicest thing anyone other than his parents had ever said to him – and he wasn’t quite sure how to respond. The dwarf’s expression was open and kind; though the soft smile was quickly turning to concern the longer he simply stared.
“I – I would have doubted me too,” Bilbo manages to stutter, “And I don’t know that I’m really so special as to be called a treasure. I’m just a simple hobbit, really, though that was awfully sweet of you to say.”
“I would not have said it if it wasn’t true, at least to my eyes.” Thorin says softly, “You are far kinder and braver than many that I have met, with a heart of gold and a spine of mithril. Perhaps a simple hobbit from the Shire is exactly what this dwarf needs.”
Bilbo was well and truly blushing now, nearly crying again, but still managed to tease, “I suppose you do need someone to keep you in line and make sure you don’t do anything too foolish.”
If he’d thought Thorin’s small smile earlier was lovely, the grin he was receiving now was absolutely stunning. It spread slowly, lighting up his whole face and making him look decades younger, and all Bilbo wanted to do was kiss him to see if it tasted as sweet as it looked. He didn’t get the chance, though, as Thorin pulled him into a bear hug, holding him close while Bilbo snuggled his face into Thorin’s fur mantle.
After a moment, they pulled apart, Thorin’s hands sliding down Bilbo’s arms as the king gives him an almost shy, but incredibly soppy smile. It sets butterflies dancing in his chest and pulls an answering smile from him that Bilbo suspects is just as daffy. Behind Thorin, someone clears their throat, causing Bilbo to jump slightly, and then Dwalin is asking rather gruffly, “You two done yet? Yer makin’ everyone uncomfortable.”
Bilbo heard a loud ‘thwack!’ and when he risked a glance over Thorin’s shoulder, he could see Balin scolding the warrior under his breath. Most everyone else was staring at Thorin and Bilbo, and he felt as if he was turning as red as his prized tomatoes. Still, he managed a glare at the company, “Just because you all have overly-large noses does not give you the right to stick them into other people’s business.”
That earned him a few chuckles from the dwarves; even Thorin was shaking with quiet mirth, which turned into outright laughter as Bilbo muttered between them, “Worse than a whole clan of hobbits eyeing up a feast, I swear.”
It warmed him all over to have made Thorin laugh, it was such a rare sound and oh so lovely. Almost as lovely as the joyous gleam in those clear blue eyes that Bilbo couldn’t help staring at. He was just reaching out to claim Thorin’s grin for himself when Dwalin offered another snarky remark, “We’re startin’ down, so be quick about whatever yer doin’. Won’t be our fault if Azog catches ye with yer pants down.”
Bilbo spluttered, his face heating at the implication, though any retort died on his lips as he watched an answering flush spread over Thorin’s cheeks. Still, the dwarf king managed to regain his voice much more quickly and shot over his shoulder, “If we did, you can be certain that we would fair far better than you did the last time you go caught with your pants down.”
“Oh, now there’s a story I’d like to hear!” Bofur crowed, and there were answers of a similar nature. Bilbo peered over Thorin’s shoulder to watch the warrior as he turned a deep shade of red, glaring at Thorin’s smirk and ignoring the company until, surprisingly, Nori stepped forward and started ushering them away, “Come on lads, they clearly wanna be left alone, nuffin for it.”
Dwalin turned on his heels and stormed off towards where Gandalf stood, followed by the rest of the company. With a final, sour glare at Thorin, Nori took up the rear position, pushing Fíli and Kíli along until, finally, they were actually alone. Bilbo couldn’t help but comment, “So, Dwalin and Nori are actually together. I had wondered.”
“They certainly have most people fooled,” Thorin flashed him a grin, “They’ll be most upset that you figured them out.”
“Well, between your comment and Nori jumping in, I’m certain that I’m not the only one whose suspicions have been confirmed.” Bilbo reached out, curling his fingers in the hem of Thorin’s coat, “Dwalin does have a point, though. We shouldn’t linger.”
The dwarf king allows himself to be pulled closer, his broad palms rising to cup Bilbo’s cheeks, “No, we should not, but I am not going to waste the opportunity for a moment alone with the one my heart calls to.”
The smile Thorin gives him after that admission is so unbelievably shy, as if the dwarf isn’t sure how Bilbo will respond, which may not be unfounded since he finds himself rather speechless at the moment. Still, he must have managed something, because Thorin is grinning and pulling him into the best kiss yet. It starts sweet, but quickly turns playful as Thorin nips at his bottom lip, which Bilbo reciprocates before soothing it over with another lush kiss and another.
Still, it is all too soon that Thorin is stepping back, laughing softly at Bilbo’s disapproving whine even as he allows Bilbo to pull him back in for a few more lingering kisses. Bilbo lets him step back the next time, making sure to keep ahold of one of the dwarf’s hands as he is loth to lose all contact. Thorin is still smiling, though, which is a true victory, even if that smile is tinged with slight regret as he says, “We should follow them before someone comes to find us. I would like to locate a quiet place where I can set a braid in your hair in peace, amrâlimê.”
“Amrali – what?” The foreign word had caught his attention, but then the rest of Thorin’s words caught up to Bilbo and he couldn’t help asking, “Braid?”
Bilbo was pleased to watch a dark blush spread from Thorin’s cheeks up to his ears as his gaze flickered down to their joined hands. Still, Thorin squeezed his fingers and answered in a steady voice, pronouncing the unknown word carefully, “Amrâlimê, love of mine, I wish to plait a braid of intent into your hair. It would signify my desire to court you, if – if you would permit it.”
Bilbo was stunned speechless by the admission, and he’s only able to find his words again when Thorin’s gaze returns, questioningly, to his face, “Amrâlimê?” He repeated slowly, watching Thorin smile and nod, “It’s pretty, I like it. Almost as much as the thought of wearing your braid of intent.”
The slowly dawning realization of what Bilbo meant was a wondrous thing to behold as Thorin’s face went slack before he flashed that blinding grin. Bilbo couldn’t help grinning back, though he will deny yelping when Thorin scooped him up in those strong arms and twirled him around until they were both breathless from laughing and Bilbo pounded on the dwarfs shoulders. When Thorin finally put him back on his feet, Bilbo pulled him into another long kiss, pulling away only enough to tell him, “You’d better teach me that braid so I can plait it into your hair, too.”
Thorin smiled at him with so much joy and – and love that Bilbo could feel himself blushing down to his furry toes. They shared another kiss before Thorin grabbed his hand and started leading him down the Carrock as quickly and excitedly as a tween with their first crush, explaining all the while about dwarven courting traditions. When they met Balin about halfway down, the elder dwarf was kind enough to pretend he couldn’t see their hands clasped tightly together, or soppy looks Bilbo and Thorin kept exchanging.