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As the journey wore on Bilbo and Thorin got closer. They would sit together at camp and eat together. Their bedrolls slowly came closer and closer until they were flush against one another and they slept under Thorin’s large coat snuggled close. Everyone knew what was happening. The lighter mood of Thorin’s heart and the more frequent smiles made it evident. One night the company got to see the little couple openly flirt while Bilbo was cooking. Fili and Kili had managed to catch a deer and Bifur and Gloin had skinned it. Bilbo set about cooking the meat along with Bofur so that it did not spoil quickly while making a particularly delicious smelling stew with wild herbs that Bilbo and Balin had found not too long ago.
When most of the company had gone to bathe in a nearby pound Thorin had returned early and couldn’t help his mouth watering. He came up behind the hobbit and gently pinched that lovely little bottom eliciting a surprised squeal. Bilbo jumped, moving a few steps away and turning around with a hand on the pinched area. He held up the wooden ladle and waved it at Thorin, a smile on his face as he tried to make his voice serious. “You shouldn’t be sneaking up on people when they are cooking.”
“Sound advice but sometimes it cannot be helped.” Thorin moved towards Bilbo who only scuttled farther away with a laugh.
“Nnno, no.”
“And what if I do it again, burglar?”
“No dinner for you then.”
“Hardly fair since you are the one cooking. I should have more claim to your meals than you give me.”
Bilbo turned back to the bubbling cauldron and stirred the stew. “My cooking is average at best.”
“You don’t give yourself enough credit, as usual.” Thorin slipped behind Bilbo and wrapped his arms around the hobbit’s middle, resting his chin on top of the honeyed curls.
“And you’re starting to give me too much.”
Thorin closed his eyes. He buried his nose into Bilbo’s hair and took in a deep breath of the soft scent of spices and nuts. He smelled like the festive seasons where family gathered and all was well. He gave a soft kiss before moving away.
“Aww,” Bofur adjusted some of the meat that was lanced on sticks, leaning towards the fire. “The two of you are somethin’ else.”
“Excuse me?” Bilbo asked, a blush coming to his face.
“You don’t see love like that often. It’s good to see.”
Bilbo smiled softly. “Thank you.”
Once the meal was eaten and the venison was fully cooked and cooling the company settled in. Some singing songs, others talking about whatever came to mind while sharing some tobacco. Thorin laid back against a fallen tree with Bilbo next to him. Everyone left them alone as they seem to be having their own heated discussion that would end in chuckles or a butterfly kiss to the temple.
“Soon I will want a braid my little hobbit.” Thorin said pulling Bilbo close to his side.
“A braid? Don’t you have enough? Have any more and you’ll look like Dori.”
Thorin chuckled. The low rumble soothing, encouraging Bilbo to rest his head on the dwarf’s broad chest. “Not those kind of braids.”
Bilbo took Thorin’s hand and flattened their palms together looking at the size difference. Their palms were almost the same size. Bilbo’s fingers were shorter and slimmer. “What’s the difference?”
“Most dwarrow have intricate braids to show off to attract a special someone to their side. While there are other braids that show you have been taken and you are not interested in anyone else.”
“I’ve only braided bread before.” Bilbo admitted. He made a funny face. “My hand looks horrible compared to yours.”
“Your hands are perfect.”
“No, look.” Bilbo sat up straighter and shifted their hands so that Thorin could see as well. “My palm is square and wide, my fingers short and stubby. Your hand is actually in proportion with lovely fingers and lovely everything, ugh.” Bilbo dropped his head on Thorin’s shoulder and dropped his hand. “I’m not describing it well, but you have wonderful hands.”
“Still not giving yourself enough credit.” Thorin picked up Bilbo’s hand. “You have what is called an artist's hand. It shows that you are predispositioned to reading, writing, and crafting. Mine are called balanced hands. I do a little bit of everything but master of none.”
Thorin put Bilbo’s hand to his cheek, leaning in to show how perfectly the palm fit. In return he placed a hand on Bilbo’s hip, fitting like a piece to a puzzle.
“If I say something along the lines of ‘you’re the master of my heart’ would you find it to be a bit too much?”
The dwarf smiled. “Perhaps but not at this time.”
Bilbo’s thumb brushed over Thorin’s lips, rewarded with a kiss to the dexterous digit. “Will you show me how to make the braid?”
“Silly thing to ask, my hobbit.” Thorin kissed Bilbo’s palm. “I will gladly teach you.”