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"I must be ill," Thorin muttered, grasping his chest as that strange feeling he'd had appeared again, after Bilbo's eyes found him. "What sorcery is this?" he thought, as his stomach felt queasy, beneath the gaze of those hazel eyes.
Thorin shook his head then stomped off, looking for Óin, doing his best to ignore the way his heart pounded a little faster, hearing Bilbo speak animatedly with Ori.
Thorin soon found the aging healer beside a river, drying some of his recently washed herbs, it looked like. His careful pats with a cloth said as much, before laying them to warm beneath the sun.
"Óin, I need to speak with you," Thorin said.
The healer continued working, as if he wasn't there at all.
Somehow, even from where he stood in wait, Thorin could hear Bilbo's laughter, and he ground his teeth; his whole body tense and on edge. The Hobbit certainly had something to do with the way he felt, and now he had to figure out how to get rid of it.
Before Thorin could gripe or plead, Óin glanced up at him.
"What is it, Thorin?" he asked.
"Something is wrong."
Óin's brow furrowed.
"What is?"
Thorin did his best to ignore the image of Bilbo's smile in his mind, because that only seemed to make matters worse.
"I believe I have gained some affliction, from that Hobbit."
Óin frowned.
"How do you figure? I was not aware Bilbo carried anything contagious."
Thorin sucked in a fortifying breath, then explained his symptoms.
Afterwards, Óin shot him a sharp look, barked out a laugh, then stood up.
A hand clapped Thorin on the back, as the healer walked by, saying, "You'll be just fine, Thorin. It's nothing to worry about."
Thorin was not at all assuaged by that.
Days later, Thorin had not recovered in the slightest. If anything, matters had only worsened, and it was all becoming unbearable.
The quest could not continue if Thorin had taken ill, so he decided to try a different angle. One that might bear actual fruit, as Ori was knowledgeable, and he'd been spending a great deal of time with Bilbo. Perhaps, he too had somehow caught whatever Thorin had, and together they could find a solution.
Ori was seated with Fíli, the two cross-legged beside one another, both quiet and sharpening their weapons. It was strange, seeing his eldest sister-son without Kíli around, too. However, Thorin knew the brothers both had been friends with the scribe since they were pebbles, so it wasn't such a jarring sight, just an odd one.
"Ori," Thorin said.
A few things happened; a knife clattered to the ground, the errant blade slicing its owner's hand, as the whetstone that had been in Ori's grasp fell, too. Fíli shot Thorin a sour look, before beginning to bind Ori's wound.
"What can I do for you, Thorin?" Ori asked, after muttering what sounded like words of irritation to Fíli for his fussing.
Thorin paused, watching the careful way Fíli was attending the scribe's hand. Owing to the fact that he and his younger brother were often getting into scrapes, seeing him care for someone wasn't new, exactly. However, Fíli was much kinder about the manner he patched Ori up, versus his brother who he'd gripe at as he did. As if he was any better.
"You've been spending time with Master Baggins," Thorin stated.
Ori's face took on a confused expression.
"Yes," Ori replied.
Thorin watched as Fíli finished his work, which Ori briefly glanced down at, then murmured something soft to him. Rather than paying anyone else any mind, the look on his heir's face was something closer to smitten, as Fíli replied, "Of course."
Thorin found himself with the distinct impression of witnessing something he shouldn't have, which was absurd. Except, he had the thought that were he not standing there, the two might kiss.
Thorin cleared his throat, and the moment broke, Fíli pulling away from Ori to maintain a respectable distance again. He was even further than he'd been before, their thighs not even pressed together.
Ori's eyes met Thorin's own, and there was anticipation as much as a blush on his face. While that was certainly something to be addressed later, it wasn't what needed to be discussed, at the present time.
"Have you had any strange symptoms lately?" Thorin asked, doing his best to maintain a low volume, so that no one could overhear him.
Ori's eyebrows rose.
"Symptoms?" he repeated, confusion clear.
"Yes," Thorin paused, realizing he had both Fíli's and Ori's attentions. They were waiting for him to continue, so he did. "I've noticed myself feeling ill, after being near Master Baggins, and I fear I may have contracted some sort of disease that only Hobbits carry."
Ori pursed his lips. "Have you gone to Óin yet?"
Thorin nodded, then sighed. "I explained my problem to him, and he simply laughed."
"Let's hear it then," Fíli said, his face scrutinizing.
So, as he had with Óin, Thorin explained what he'd been feeling.
Immediately after, Fíli and Ori shared a look. The two held each other's gaze for a moment, before Ori shook his head in Fíli's direction. Thorin was used to seeing his sister-sons be able to speak without words, but this was the first time he realized there was another whom Fíli could do so with.
It was Ori though, who spoke up first, as he rose to his feet.
"Whatever you're feeling, Your Highness, I assure you that I will not contract from Bilbo." Ori held his gaze, his face schooled carefully, as he added, "I believe the symptoms you speak of can only be experienced by you, in fact."
Thorin would have asked Fíli what Ori meant by that, but both of them soon made themselves scarce, leaving him yet again with the thought that he was missing something.
Days went by, and they trekked on.
Thorin did his best to avoid Master Baggins, choosing to notice instead the ways Fíli and Ori were with one another. What had gone unnoticed by him before, was undeniable after a time; the two were clearly together. Whether they were attempting to hide it or not, he wasn't certain, because nothing much had changed in how they comported themselves alone or around others.
However, Thorin noticed that when they thought no one was paying them any mind, they'd go off alone together, or share tender and quiet moments in plain sight. It was nothing untoward, but certainly not something he would have expected to see between his sister-sons.
A love interest though… It made sense, even if he was surprised to discover Ori was the one who had gained Fíli's attention in that manner. The two had earned scraped knees as much as scoldings since their younger years alongside each other, and Kíli. Thorin had thought their interest in each other purely platonic, until being proven wrong.
No, it seemed Fíli had indeed found himself interested in his friend romantically, which… might complicate matters. However, there had been no opposition that Thorin could see from either Nori or Dori, and Ori seemed to return Fíli's affections; welcomed them, even. For the time being, that could be left alone, as they were both adults and capable by themselves.
When they reached Erebor, Thorin knew decisions would need to occur. Regardless, they still had a long way to go, so he elected to leave the pair be, until that time.
Furthermore, Ori was an excellent match for Fíli, in an objective sense, given his various skills, breadth of knowledge, and willingness to join the venture they were currently on. A worthy Consort such as him, even with their class difference, would be hard to find elsewhere. Having a basis of friendship would only serve such a bond, if it would lead to marriage. Time would only dispell any doubt about that, allowing them to further grow together, rather than apart.
They were young, yes, but not so young or inept as to be unable to seek and decide such matters amongst themselves. Internally, Thorin could also admit that Ori was more likely to have a positive impact on Fíli's more impulsive or immature tendencies, whereas his eldest sister-son had already appeared to have bolstered Ori's confidence, leading to him being more brave and outspoken as of late. The conversation at Bilbo's table came to mind, and that put Thorin directly back to thoughts of a Hobbit he was doing his best to avoid.
Regardless, after parsing out his feelings on that particular matter, the dread of being near Bilbo took hold again, when Thorin did not have much else to occupy his thoughts. It reached a particularly painful point, when he noticed Bofur watching Bilbo brush his hair, giving him tips for maintaining his curls, which had grown out even further since the journey began.
Something quite disagreeable occurred within Thorin, and then his chest hurt something fierce.
"Uncle, are you alright?" Kíli asked, coming to stand beside him.
"Why wouldn't I be?" Thorin snapped, weary of this pain, as much as having no clear remedy for it yet.
"You look like Fee, when someone was flirting with Ori, before we left for this quest. I thought he might stab them, truth be told. Of course, that would've irritated Ori, so he didn't. However, Fíli certainly looked like he wanted to." Kíli sighed, before he continued. "Funnily enough, shortly after that incident, the two have been inseparable."
Kíli made a disgusted noise, shaking his head, as Thorin gazed at his younger sister-son properly. He noticed Kíli glancing towards Fíli, smiling a bit.
Fíli was speaking with Dwalin animatedly, seeming to be thoroughly engrossed in that conversation, complete with waving hands. However, Thorin discovered Fíli's eyes strayed in the direction of a certain scribe every so often, who was drawing a little way off, seated on the ground, completely oblivious to the attention he was receiving.
Understanding dawned, and Thorin felt like a fool. A colossal one, in fact.
"Speak of this to no one," Thorin said, then stomped off, unsure of what to do with his newly acquired knowledge.
Bilbo sighed, his eyes lingering on Thorin's tall retreating form, hairbrush in hand. It stalled, as he once again found himself wishing he could follow.
To do so would be untoward, and it seemed that Thorin still didn't think much of him, or his presence within the Company. The sour look on their leader's face, as if he'd swallowed a lemon, said as much. Perhaps, it was best to shove his ill-advised feelings further back into his mind, for certainly, they were unrequited.
Why on Arda would a Dwarf king find him attractive? Silly notion, really.
Truth be told, Bilbo had hoped that by brushing his hair, that might have garnered him something more than the glower he'd been treated to. Dwarves, he had learnt, valued hair greatly, which gave him the idea. Alas, it was not meant to be, he supposed.
"Ah, Bilbo," a voice said, hesitantly, and then his eyes found Ori.
The Dwarf's hands were clasped together, as their eyes met.
"Yes?" Bilbo replied, confused as to why Ori appeared so nervous.
"I wouldn't normally say anything, as it's not my place, but I think you should follow Thorin."
Bilbo's nose twitched, and he glanced around, noticing most of the Company watching. He might have thought it was a joke that Fíli or Kíli had put Ori up to, but suddenly found that everyone was nodding, as though they agreed with the scribe.
So, he glanced at Ori again.
"Why do you think this?" Bilbo asked, willing to give Ori the benefit of the doubt after having seen such imploring expressions elsewhere.
"He's besotted," Kíli replied, before Ori had a chance to speak. The taller Dwarf stepped up beside his friend, who nodded, directly after the statement.
Bilbo glanced between them, then the rest of the Company again. No one made a move to contradict the younger Dwarrow before him.
Still, Bilbo was confused.
"No, he's not. I can assure you he does not like me," Bilbo replied.
Dwalin snorted.
"If he didn't like you, then you wouldn't still be here, contract or no."
The warrior was sitting on a nearby log, sharpening one of his duel axes, an annoyed expression on his face.
"I believe you all are confused. Thorin tolerates me. He doesn't like me and certainly isn't in any manner -"
"He's emotionally constipated," Kíli replied, cutting him off altogether.
"Emotionally what?" Bilbo repeated, though belatedly he knew exactly what it meant, even if he wasn't certain that described Thorin.
"What he means lad, is that our leader has set his sights on you, unknowingly or not, and we have all been witness to his inability to express his emotions. Which has led us to where we are at present."
Bilbo glanced at Óin, who had the look of someone that had seen things, and couldn't be arsed to care whether or not what he said bothered him. His brother Glóin was beside him on a log, nodding his head.
"Right you are."
Disbelief still filled Bilbo, but he found no friend in his emotions, as everyone still appeared certain in what had been said.
Balin stepped forward, and said kindly, "Take it from us, laddie. We've all known Thorin much longer, and though he can be a bit difficult at times, I assure you that what has been said is true."
Bilbo sputtered, then replied, "He has a funny way of showing it."
Balin sighed, as he shook his head.
"Thorin has led a difficult life, with not much time to consider such matters. You are really the first he's shown an interest in."
Bilbo thought to argue further, but there seemed to be no other way; he needed to speak with Thorin.
Thorin sat against a tree, his pipe in his hand, anxiously twirling it. Thoughts of Bilbo Baggins reached a fever pitch, and try as he might, they would not go away.
The Hobbit of his angst appeared soon before him, sporting not only beautiful curls and cheeks dappled by sunlight, or hazel eyes that shone, but his hair was plaited in a way that he wouldn't have known to do himself. Not unless a Dwarf had intervened. Given the way it was done, he could imagine who had a hand in it.
"What do you want, Master Baggins?" Thorin demanded, tersely.
"You know, it's funny," Bilbo began clasping his hands behind his back. "Some of the Company seem to be under the delusion that you might care for me. Silly them. I'll just disabuse them of the notion now, because clearly -"
"Do not pretend to understand what I feel," Thorin snapped.
Bilbo turned an unimpressed look at him, then huffed. "You disagree?"
Thorin grimaced, and glanced away.
"I find your company vexing."
"Why?" Bilbo shot back.
"You are… " Thorin paused, sighing.
His eyes swept back over to Bilbo, and he said, "They are not wrong. When you are near, I ache."
Bilbo's eyes widened a touch, but he did not respond.
"I thought it to be some," Thorin paused, then said gently, "Affliction, but I've determined it is not the sort to be contagious. At least, I hope it isn't."
Bilbo snorted.
"If it were, I would be quite worried, because the only one I've had eyes for this whole journey has been you, Thorin Oakenshield."
Thorin's mouth dropped open instantly, and he could just image the picture he made, so he shut it shortly after. His heart hammered, as he stared at the Hobbit before him.
"You what?"
Bilbo walked forward, then came to sit beside him.
"I find your company vexing, too. However, you are also brave and fun to be around, when you're not scowling." Bilbo said that last part with a pointed look upon his face.
"I -" Thorin began, unsure of what to say.
Bilbo reached out a hand, and touched his. He allowed it to open, and soon the smaller one intertwined with his.
"How about we begin by getting to know one another better? I imagine that would help a great deal."
Thorin met Bilbo's eyes, saying, "It's a start."