Chapter Text
A Time Before You
‘I’m telling you-’ He protested, voice lost amongst the boisterous guffaws of his brethren.
‘He couldn’t sit down for a week!’ Kili finished with a smirk, dodging as Fili made to thump the side of his head.
‘You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?’ Fili pouted as Kili shrugged, finishing up the last of his stew.
‘What else are brothers for?’
They had been of the road for close to a fortnight now. The further the party of fourteen drew away from the Shire, the more relaxed they seemed to become – well, save for one certain hobbit. And an inscrutable wizard who, thanks to his pipe weed, very rarely seemed on edge at all. Oh – and Thorin. The would-be King without a mountain was always tense, no matter what. Or so he had been, until their latest evening.
There was nothing special about it; Just an average night. A campfire, some company. Some bloody forest and rocks and the cool damp of early evening settling around them. Same ol’ recipes from Bomber – not that they weren’t appreciated, mind you; but one could only stomach so much rabbit stew.
Bofur surveyed the camp with an easy smile. Tensions were to be expected; it wasn’t every day that a group with such diverse background would travel halfway across middle earth together.
Miners and toymakers, Kings and thieves. It’s a wonder we’ve not killed each other yet
Warm blue eyes fell on the last of their company; their fourteenth. He sat slightly to one side, just out of the warm glow of the flames. No other eyes seemed to space him a second glance.
Speaking of which…Yes, his broodiness himself – glaring at the poor wee lad again
Bofur couldn’t understand it. Sure, their hobbit was a little fussy, and prim…and proper…with manners and a huge pantry and a round, soft waist and chubby cheeks and soft, un-calloused hands…but he was there, with them, wasn’t he?
That’s more than most of us can say for our own kin
Watching he crowd surrounding the two boisterous dwarrow princes, Bofur noted, not for the first time just how little their burglar had integrated with them.
We’ll just have to do something about that…
‘No time like the present’ He said to himself. ‘Bilbo!’ Wide grin stretching his lips, Bofur beckoned their hobbit closer.
Eyes wide, Bilbo looked behind him, just to be sure – just to be certain that it was indeed him that Bofur was calling to. Just seeing his uncertainty made Bofur cringe.
Poor lad. We haven’t been treating him that bad, have we?
‘It’s your turn to spin a yarn. Wouldn’t you agree, lads?’
Wide blue eyes stared at him blankly.
We really need to focus on getting him to pay attention to what’s going on under his nose if he’s to make it as far as the dragon…
‘Go on!’ Kili piped up.
‘Oh yes, Mister Boggins! Let’s hear what you naughty Shire-folk get up to behind closed doors-’
‘-and in those prized gardens-‘
‘-and hedgerows!-’
‘-of yours’.
Fili and Kili smirked as they jostled the shorter male, watching with clear amusement as his eyes darted from one to the other as they took turns in speaking.
Dawning understanding quickly replaced confusion. A deep, hot blush spread across his cheeks to the tips of his pointed little ears. Fingers clenching around his bowl, Bilbo ducked his head, avoiding their eyes. ‘That’s not really appropriate talk for polite company, boys.’ His voice held an air of finality to it.
Aww, nice try, but you can’t get around dwarven stubbornness that easy.
‘Not for polite company?’ Bofur piped up, holding out his bowl as Bilbo collected them, head down. ‘Lucky for us, I don’t see any polite company around.’ He winked, raising his voice. ‘Do any of you see polite company around here, lads?’
It’ll do him some good. Help him bond with em. Once they see he’s not so different from the rest of us, they won’t mind his priss and pomp quite so much. I’ll bet my hat on it
‘No, really Bofur. That’s not-’ The hobbit scowled at him for the first time.
Just like a kitten. All ruffled and harmless
‘Come on, Mister Boggins. Don’t be such a prude.’
Hands trembling, Bofur watched as Bilbo slammed the bowls down into the large empty pot Bomber had used to cook dinner.
Best start carving a new set by the sound of things…
‘Well, I never! To-‘ Bilbo started, puffing himself up to his full height.
‘Oooooh, is that an admission?’ Fili jumped in, snickers emanating from around the camp.
‘Think we’ve got ourselves a virgin!’ Fili crowed, thumping Bofur on the shoulder.
Maybe the lads’ll know when to stop. Surely their Uncle…
‘Yet another area in which our burglar falls short.’ Thorin’s lips twisted into a small, confidant smirk.
And with that, the whole company – even young, barely experienced Ori, pounced on the topic, their teasing blending together to create a loud, barely understandable cacophony of noise.
Oh no…
Pushing the princes’ hand from his shoulder, Bofur placed his knife and half-finished carving on the ground besides Bifer. Why were Bilbos shoulders shaking in such a way? What was that noise – high pitched, a gasp, perhaps? – and why is Malhala’s name had no one else taken note of their burglars’ less than enthusiastic response to their good natured teasing.
He barely made it to his feet as Bilbo stumbled away from camp, pot clutched tight to his chest.
Surely those hadn’t been tears staining his cheeks…had they?’
‘Oh Malhala help us…’