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Today was the day. It had taken Bilbo months, almost a full year, of research but with Balin and Ori’s guidance, he had done it. He had made an acceptable courting gift for the king. And finally, finally he was ready to reveal the truth of his heart to the one he loved.
It had been sitting in Thorin’s tent gently running a washcloth over his face to clean it of the grime and blood from the battle when it first occurred to Bilbo. He had no desire to ever be apart from this dwarf. They still had their challenges ahead of them, and Bilbo would be lying if he said the goldsickness did not still frighten him at that point in time. But he had come close, so close to knowing a world without Thorin Oakenshield. It was a barren, lonely place, and he has been alone long enough.
Bilbo had all but rushed to find Balin afterwards and while the dwarf was delighted at the prospect of his staying and learning their courting customs, he didn’t seem too terribly surprised. It had been slow going in the beginning, most of their effort spent surviving the winter and getting Erebor and her king back on their feet. It was that first summer when Dis and the first wave of Erebor’s people returned that they were able to really start on Bilbo’s lessons in full.
Due to Thorin’s position as king, there were a lot of nuances for him to navigate. For example, he could not give Thorin a gift unless the king had shown him favor in some way first. Luckily, the mithril took care of that. It had been an important first lesson considering Bilbo had been wanting to chuck it in the furthest corner of his wardrobe, never to see the light of day again. It had actually been Thorin to change his mind on that front as during one of their many discussions of what had happened in the early days of the mountain, Thorin assured him the sentiment still held true even if the gift had been presented in the depths of his goldsickness.
The next obstacle had been Bilbo having to craft a gift for the dwarf himself and have it approved by two people close to Thorin. Because Balin was advising Bilbo, it could not be the older dwarf so Bilbo had chosen Dwalin and Gloin knowing they would be hard but fair with him. Negotiations had lasted another two weeks as Bilbo’s lack of craft had been an issue. Finally though, they had settled on something Bilbo could make that would still be worthy to the station of the king.
After that, Bilbo had poured every spare minute he could into creating the gift. Staying up well into the night, sometimes even being pulled away to Rivendell or the Greenwoods to gather materials he could not find in Erebor’s own halls. It had left him little time to spend with Thorin and he knew the dwarf despaired the distance, but Bilbo hoped he would understand once he was done.
With four members of the company knowing any illusions of secrecy were completely gone as he watched them linger with big grins and encouraging gestures after the council meeting. Bilbo shot them all a glare and gave a little shooing motion to get them out the door. Balin had told him that gifts should be given in privacy so the receiver was not pressured by social expectations, and the king’s time was never his own. Now was going to be the best chance he was ever going to get. Luckily, Thorin was completely oblivious to his friends’ antics, and before he could head out the door, Bilbo stopped him with a hand on his arm.
“Thorin, may we speak privately?” Bilbo asked, his nerves about to turn him into a stuttering mess at any moment.
“Of course.” Thorin stated as he nodded to Balin and the guards that lingered.
Balin gave Bilbo a bright smile and a wink when Thorin wasn’t looking, and Bilbo waited until he heard the great stone door slam shut before beginning.
“First off, I would like to apologize for my absence of late. I must admit I do greatly miss our walks through the mountain.”
His words had the intended effect as Thorin seemed to visibly relax, a smile tugging at his lips.
“It relieves me to hear it. I have missed you as well.”
Bilbo’s ears nearly wiggled in delight. Not the walks, but Bilbo himself was what he missed. Any sort of lingering doubts or fears fell by the wayside as Bilbo confidently produced the box containing his gift from where he left it on the side table.
“I am glad to hear you say so as I have made this gift of my own two hands so that you will know my intent.” Bilbo recited the line given to him by Ori.
Thorin paused for a moment before shaking his head and accepting the box. He slipped the lid off the top to reveal the leather bound book within. Dyed in Durin Blue, Gloin had helped Bilbo pick out the gems that decorated the front that framed the title Uzbâd Yanâdu Durinul (Kings of the Sons of Durin). Thorin looked sharply at Bilbo who merely nodded in encouragement. Carefully, Thorin cradled the book in his large palms before he started leafing through the pages. His brows furrowed before his jaw dropped in amazement.
“Bilbo, this is…”
“It’s every king the Longbeards have ever crowned…in the Third Age at least. Trying to go back further was challenging to say the least.” He admitted sheepishly.
Thorin’s eyes scanned the pages hungrily, his fingertips brushing each illustration Bilbo had added himself before he got to the end. His brows furrowed in confusion.
“It’s blank?” He questioned.
“I thought perhaps it would be fitting for the current king to record his deeds and accomplishments himself.” Bilbo explained with a small, pleased smile.
Thorin carefully closed it before giving the book the attention it deserved once more.
“It’s beautiful.” He admitted softly.
Bilbo’s heart soared. Once more he was riding with the eagles and he could not be pulled back down. Would it be appropriate to kiss Thorin after he accepts? Bilbo could not remember what Balin had said with regards to what happened after this.
“Bilbo, I…” Thorin began, his eyes shining brightly.
Bilbo leaned in eagerly, waiting to hear the phrase he’s been building towards for so long. Suddenly, horror overtook Thorin’s expression as he looked between Bilbo and the book in his hands. Bilbo’s heart plummeted as Thorin placed it back in its box and covered it with the lid. He turned to hand it back to Bilbo without a word. Bilbo knew what that meant. Ori and Balin hadn’t lingered on it, assuring Bilbo it wouldn’t happen, but Bilbo had still learned the signs of rejection well.
“I don’t understand.” Bilbo all but gasped.
“No, I don’t think you do.” Thorin agreed sadly. “Bilbo, what you just offered me…I cannot accept under false pretenses. You need to know…”
Bilbo didn’t need or want to know anything more. The bitter sting of dejection already was painful enough. He didn’t need Thorin’s words of pity added to it. The box fell to the ground, and the harsh ‘slam’ that followed seemed to illustrate the sound of his broken heart well enough.
“Bilbo!” Thorin called out.
Bilbo didn’t even realize his feet had already brought him to the door, but he dare not stop. Wrenching the great, stupid, heavy thing open, Bilbo escaped out into the hallway. The smiles turned frowns on the faces of his friends blurring as he raced by them. There were more shouts of his name, and Bilbo picked up his pace. He already had his little ring in hand so when he slipped the corner, he disappeared completely.
***
“Another?”
Bilbo blinked his eyes, looking up from where his head lay against the bar to see the dwarf behind the counter staring down at him with a sympathetic gaze. Bilbo could have snickered imagining what kind of sight he must make as he lazily nodded his head in assent. The empty pint was taken away only to be replaced with another frothy mug. Bilbo carefully lifted his head, the heavy and numb feeling having him nearly sliding out of his seat as he lifted the cup to his lips and downed more of the warm, bitter ale.
There were currently five working taverns in Erebor. Bilbo chose the one furthest away that he knew none of his friends frequented to drink himself stupid. The dwarves that came in gawked at him, clearly recognizing him as the sole hobbit inhabitant, but one glare and they left him well enough alone. Bilbo was beyond tears, beyond anger, he just wanted to forget now. To no longer see those soulful blue eyes staring down at him with sadness and pity.
Bilbo shut his eyes as he gulped down the drink as quickly as he could. It took a lot for a hobbit to get drunk, especially on weak mannish ale which was all Erebor had available at the moment. After eighteen pints (or was it nineteen?), Bilbo finally could feel the pleasant pull of numbness settle under his skin. Now, he just needed a really good distraction. Uproarious laughter from a couple of tables down caught his attention.
It looked like it was some sort of betting game happening between five dwarves. The one raking all the coins to his side was the one who was doing the laughing while the others had sour faces. Bilbo watched a bit in interest trying to see if he could figure out the rules. Something about guessing how many of a particular number they had under their cup, only Bilbo noticed something about the dwarf that kept winning. His dice always fell the same way. They were loaded.
“That’s Kublar. He’s not popular with the other lads on account of him winning all the time.” The bartender mentioned to Bilbo.
Bilbo snorted. “That’s not shocking. Considering he’s cheating.”
The bartender’s eyes went wide, and it took Bilbo a moment of sitting in the silence to realize he was not as quiet as he thought he was.
“What was that? You beardless whelp!” Kublar growled as he stood up and approached Bilbo.
Bilbo spun around in his seat, catching himself from falling out of it completely. He could see the surprise register across the other’s dwarf face when he realized exactly who he was. It didn’t lessen the flush of humiliation. Bilbo had a couple of options before him, especially when considering how much bigger the dwarf was and the fact that his punch would probably hurt. But Bilbo was well past the capacity for rational thought. He puffed out his chest as he glared the dwarf down.
“I said you’re a cheater. Check his dice if you don’t believe me.”
The other dwarves didn’t hesitate to reach over and roll his dice only to frown at what they found.
“Clean.” They complained, just as eager to find an answer for their continued earnings.
Kublar turned back to Bilbo with a sneer as he grabbed him by the front of his shirt.
“Kublar…” The bartender warned. “You’ll bring down the wrath of King Thorin if you harm one hair on that halfling’s head.”
Bilbo felt a pang at hearing Thorin’s name, and he wanted to test that theory. Would Thorin be upset if this dwarf beat him to a bloody pulp? Or would it be the kind of worried exasperation you might have for a friend?
“I don’t give a shit.” Kublar growled. “This wretch has insulted my honor. No dwarf would let him get away with that no matter whose bed he’s warming.”
Bilbo narrowed his eyes as his heart gave another sharp jerk. He held up his hand, letting the dice that he pulled out of Kublar’s pocket fall to the bar next to him. The entire time he held eye contact with the dwarf glaring down at him.
“Let me guess. I rolled a five.” Bilbo sneered.
Kublar roared as he slammed Bilbo into the bar. His head hit the stone, and he immediately saw stars. Bilbo realized at that point he might have bitten off more than he could chew as Kublar pulled back his fist to land a punch on him when hands descended on him, pulling him away from Bilbo. He slid to the floor, landing on his bum as he shook his head and tried to follow what was happening.
The other four dwarves were fighting Kublar with all their might, easily overwhelming him with their combined strength when one of them got ahold of his winnings. The bag went flying through the air, only to land on the ground, gold coins spilling everywhere. There was a single pregnant pause where everyone watched the coins scatter and settle on the floor. After that, it was a free-for-all. Dwarves were diving for the coins, punching, kicking, and biting any in their way. Bilbo thought this was the perfect time to beat a hasty retreat.
Crawling on the ground, Bilbo avoided dwarven boots, tables and chairs being thrown around, and ale being dumped around him. He was only a few feet away from the door when he felt a hand wrap around his ankle.
“Uh-oh.” He complained, right before he was wrenched backwards along the ground.
Bilbo was flipped over with Kublar glaring menacingly down at him. Blood dripped from a corner of his mouth, and his left eye was already beginning to swell.
“Where do you think you’re going, you little shit?”
Bilbo pointed towards the door as if it should be the most obvious thing. Kublar growled as he pulled Bilbo to his feet, slamming him into the wall.
“I think I’m going to enjoy this.” He sneered as he pulled back his fist.
Bilbo winced, knowing this was definitely going to hurt when a blade slid into view, lining itself against Kublar’s neck.
“Do it, and it’ll be the last thing you ever do.” A voice warned behind him.
Bilbo was released, sliding down to land on his rump once more as he could only stare up in fascination. Was he actually seeing what he thought he was seeing? Or was this some sort of fantasy conjured after getting his head knocked about? Thorin stood over the dwarf’s shoulder, looking like the picture of righteous fury as he spun Kublar around to face him. It looked like it pained the dwarf to bow his head to Thorin with a grumbled ‘My King’.
“You. Do. Not. Touch. Him.” Thorin snarled in warning.
“My King, this little honorless sneak dared to…”
“ITKITÎ! (SILENCE)!” Thorin cut him off. “You are speaking of the future Consort of Erebor, and you will give him the respect he deserves.”
“The what?” Kublar cried, aghast.
“Yeah, the what?” Bilbo repeated, completely flummoxed.
Thorin finally turned his eyes to Bilbo at that point. The pain and the longing having replaced the pity from earlier. Bilbo shook his head at the wild turn of events, quite determined he must be dreaming. In fact, if his head wasn’t pounding and his back aching, he would be thoroughly convinced this could be nothing but a dream. Thorin finally turned away from him, passing Kublar off to a guard with instructions that he was to remain locked up until Thorin personally reviewed his case. After that, he sheathed Orcrist before reaching down to offer Bilbo his hand.
Bilbo blinked down at it, wondering if his hand would phase through it if he tried to take it. Bilbo poked at it, just to make sure it was solid, which seemed like a perfectly logical thing to do. Thorin still rolled his eyes at him as he grabbed Bilbo’s arm and yanked him to his feet.
“Not so fast.” Bilbo complained as the room spun and he had to take a couple of steps to orientate himself.
“You’re drunk.” Thorin grunted as he placed a steadying hand on his back.
“False! I was getting drunk. I don’t think I quite got there yet. Just another pint or two.” He explained, eyeing the bar with longing.
“Nope. You’re done. We’re going to your room.” Thorin instructed.
“You are not the boss of me!” Bilbo squawked, trying and failing to pull himself free of Thorin’s hold.
“I am the king.” Thorin remarked wryly.
“And apparently I’m the Consort.” Bilbo snorted.
That was clearly the wrong thing to say as a heavy silence descended upon them. Did…did he just imagine Thorin had said that earlier? His cheeks flamed and his eyes watered as his heart broke all over again. Of course he had imagined it. Thorin rejected his courting gift. Bilbo reached forward to rub at his chest, only to stumble too far forward. He was falling, prepared to meet the ground with his face, when Thorin caught him with a curse.
“Come on. I’ll get you home safely.” He intoned softly.
Home. Once home was a comely smial in the hill. Then home became in the arms of a dwarf king whose heart he found could never be Bilbo’s own. He didn’t know where home was now. To Thorin, it was the room Bilbo had moved into when he felt moving into the royal wing would be too presumptuous. He stumbled along, Thorin’s tight grip on his arm keeping him from running into a wall or planting himself on the ground. Although his pace was far too fast for Bilbo’s gait, which he told him in not so many words.
“Too much.” He complained.
“What is too much?” Thorin sighed.
“Rushing. Everything is blurry.”
“We’re almost there.” Thorin tried to bargain.
“But I have to piss.” Bilbo complained.
“Well you can’t do that here in the hall!”
Bilbo wasn’t quite sure how Thorin did it. One moment, he was staring at the sconces passing by his vision. The next moment he was standing in his water closet, staring down at the bowl below as relief hit him strongly. He looked over at Thorin who was standing to the side, ready to assist him, but keeping his eyes on the ceiling far above.
“Are you a wizard?” Bilbo asked, astonished.
Thorin rolled his eyes. “No, not a wizard. Just a slightly irate dwarf.”
“Because of me?” Bilbo asked.
Thorin’s gaze turned melancholy and his shoulders slumped. “No, because of me.”
“Oh.” Bilbo hummed as he finally finished, pulling his trousers back up before turning to Thorin. “Well that makes two of us!”
The exasperation was back as he flushed for Bilbo, which was unnecessary. Bilbo would have remembered to do it himself…eventually. Then he began to crowd Bilbo out the door and to his bedroom.
“I worked hard on that book, I’ll have you know!” Bilbo explained, digging his heels in even if that did very little in stopping Thorin from tucking him into his bed.
“Sleep well, Bilbo.” Thorin told him gruffly as he poured Bilbo a mug of water from the pitcher on his dresser and pinched the candle wick, dousing the room in darkness save for the soft orange glow of the embers in the fireplace.
Before Thorin could walk away, Bilbo reached out and snatched his hand, tracing the hairs on his knuckles.
“Why couldn’t you have loved me?” He asked softly.
There was a sharp intake of breath above as Bilbo kept his eyes firmly on the thick dwarven fingers before him.
“We should talk about this in the morning. When you’re…not drunk.” Thorin whispered, his voice thick and hoarse.
Bilbo sniffed as he let Thorin go, rolling over to face the opposite wall.
“There’s no need. Would rather not get rejected twice, thank you very much.”
“Oh Bilbo.” Thorin sighed as Bilbo felt the bed dip near his legs. “I didn’t think…I thought you couldn’t possibly know what it meant. That you meant it as a very fine gift of friendship, not…courtship.”
Bilbo spun around, scandalized. “So you’re saying you thought me stupid or incapable of picking up on social cues!”
“I thought you a hobbit!” Thorin roared as he jumped to his feet to pace. “I thought it unfair to hold you to our customs. And I thought about how our friends would love nothing better than to win a pot of gold after I made my own feelings so obvious.”
“Your feelings?!” Bilbo asked incredulously.
“Bilbo, I gave you mithril.” Thorin sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.
Bilbo blinked and blinked again. Yes, yes he did do that. It was quite a handsome piece of mail too. Bilbo had it hanging up in his wardrobe at this moment. Thorin had called it a gift of friendship at the time, and Bilbo had thought it was nice of him to find armor in his size before they rushed into an ill-fated war. Balin had said it was a ‘show of favor’ that allowed Bilbo to court Thorin in the first place.
“And that…was significant?”
Thorin threw his hands up in the air. “See?! Like this! Why would I believe you knew any different? Do you understand now?”
Bilbo shook his head so rapidly that he actually ended up making himself dizzy and nearly falling out of the bed had Thorin not been there to catch him. He sighed as he righted Bilbo once more, pushing on his chest to get him to lean back against the pillow.
“Like I said.” Thorin told him gruffly. “We’ll talk about it in the morning. Get some sleep.”
“Thorin!” Bilbo shouted, making the dwarf groan.
“What?” He asked.
“Does this mean you’re open to the idea of courting me?”
Thorin’s eyes softened and a small smile pulled at his lips. “Yes, very much so.”
Thorin started to walk away again and Bilbo shouted for him again.
“What, Bilbo?”
“Will you stay with me?” Bilbo requested, worrying his blanket between his fingers. “Only, I’m quite sure I will think I imagined this if you leave now, and I may not have the courage to seek you out on the morrow, and I’m quite difficult to find when I don’t want to be found…actually how did you find me tonight?”
“Process of elimination. Plus some patron was running and screaming about the resident halfling about getting punched silly.”
“Well that was completely untrue.”
“Bilbo, he was twice your size and had you pinned against the wall.”
“And do you see a punch mark on me?!” Bilbo declared, yanking his shirt up.
Thorin took two heavy steps, to grab Bilbo’s shirt and pull it back down, giving him an exasperated glare.
“Yes, you are quite lucky I was there to step in when I did.”
“Luck.” Bilbo clucked. “I don’t believe in luck. We make our own luck. Someone said that to me once. Someone very wise, I’m sure.”
“It was me, Bilbo.”
Bilbo blinked, his mind going completely blank for a moment.
“It was you, what?”
Thorin released a long drawn upon sigh as he pushed Bilbo back into the bed, and pulled the covers up to encompass his head.
“Go. To. Sleep.” He ordered.
Bilbo spluttered as he fought to free himself much to Thorin’s amusement.
“But what about…?”
Bilbo patted and rubbed the spot next to him to help Thorin catch on to what he meant. There was a hesitation in Thorin’s gaze, but also a longing that warmed Bilbo quicker than any ale he had that night.
“I don’t…think it would be proper.” Thorin tried to deny.
Bilbo blinked. “I was going to leave my trousers on.”
Thorin made a keening noise in the back of his throat that Bilbo mistook for offense.
“Unless you want me to take my trousers off? I admit the idea has merit, especially if we were to…”
“Leave your trousers on.” Thorin interrupted. “Please. Don’t give me any more temptation.”
“I only meant…” Bilbo started as he held his hand out, motioning it back and forth in a gesture that was clearly understood by Thorin.
He rushed forward, clutching Bilbo’s hand in his own to get him to stop before pressing a kiss to his lips to shut him up.
“Not that. Trousers on. We will sleep and nothing more.”
“Ever?!” Bilbo cried aghast.
He certainly knew that others went about such things differently and was quite respectful of that fact, but he also had needs and was rather hoping Thorin was the same.
“Mahal, you’re going to kill me.” Thorin groaned as he pressed his forehead against Bilbo’s own. “We will discuss it. Later. Tonight, just sleep.”
Bilbo gave him a bright grin as he agreed happily. Thorin walked around to the other side of the bed, seeming to hesitate. Bilbo patted the spot next to him again which had Thorin releasing a short snort and yanking his boots and outer coat off. Once he was stripped to his tunic and trousers, he pulled back the covers and crawled in next to Bilbo. Bilbo immediately slid over to Thorin, resting his head against Thorin’s chest. Thorin chuckled, his hand coming up to slowly pet down Bilbo’s back.
“Sleep, mudùmê (my comfort).”
And that time, it sounded like a perfectly good suggestion.
***
When Bilbo awoke the next morning it was to the dry mouth, a muzzy feeling in his head, and the strong urge to piss that he typically associated with a late night of drinking. What he found to be new was the warm weight wrapped around his arms and legs and the press of a body against his back. Bilbo froze for a single breathless moment before slowly trying to wiggle his way to freedom without waking his bedmate…whoever it may be.
“By Mahal, do you ever stop moving?” A deep voice hoarsely groaned.
Bilbo immediately used the moment to flip himself over only to gasp at who he found. Thorin was in his bed. Thorin with loose hair draping his face and a sleep mussed tunic was breathing softly out his mouth in his attempt to continue sleeping. And all Bilbo could think about was the fact that he still really needed to piss. He warred with his desire to find out why the object of his affection was laying in his bed with him and fulfilling nature’s calling that would definitely have an embarrassing ending if he let it go for too much longer. Of course, the second won out, and as he was staring down into his toilet, all the memories from the previous night came rushing back making him moan aloud.
“Bilbo? Are you okay?” Thorin asked through the door.
Bilbo actually wanted to die. He couldn’t believe that…wait a minute. Bilbo finished up his business rapidly, feeling his mouth go dryer at the sight of Thorin laying on his side, the covers slipping down to his hip to reveal his unclothed, hairy chest as he blinked up at him with a small smirk.
“It wasn’t a dream?” He whispered, not expecting an answer.
“Not a dream.” Thorin yawned gruffly.
“You told me you wanted to court me.” Bilbo admitted hesitantly.
“Yes.” Thorin mused.
“Even though…my gift.”
“Your gift was incredible. I accept it gladly. Can we talk about this in an hour or so?” Thorin grumbled.
Bilbo’s breath caught as he slowly smiled, hope filling the hole in his heart as he finally allowed himself to believe this was real.
“You called me the future Consort.”
“I know. Presumptuous, but then again you’re the one who invited me into your bed. Trousers off if I wanted.”
Bilbo hissed a mortified sound as he covered his face with his hands. He did, in fact, do that. Two large hands gently grabbed his own to move them down to his chest as Thorin kneeled on his bed, staring down at Bilbo with such a loving look.
“Since you’re obviously not going to let me sleep in, let me tell you plainly. I love you, Bilbo Baggins. I’ve loved you since before I stepped foot in this mountain, and every day since. I would love nothing more than to be courted by you, married to you, and spend the remainder of our days together.”
Bilbo grinned widely as he stepped closer to Thorin. He wanted all of that too, and now it was finally within his grasp. Bilbo didn’t hesitate to lean up and meet Thorin’s lips for a kiss. Neither of their breaths were particularly palatable, but it was that fact that sealed for Bilbo that this was actually happening. Thorin accepted and loved him in return. Bilbo leaned his forehead against Thorin’s own as he started playing with the hairs on Thorin’s chest, biting his lip with a smirk.
“So how long before we do get the ‘trousers off’ stage?”
“You’re an absolute menace.” Thorin shook his head before pulling Bilbo down with him on the bed.
Apparently, not long at all.