Chapter Text
Thorin knew that Bilbo likes flowers. On the journey he'd stopped to collect no end of them to press in a little, leather bound book he carried in one of his many ample pockets.
This time, the flowers are blue and there are approximately a million of them growing thickly on the forest floor they are walking through. Bilbo seemed to be picking specific ones but how he chose which one to pluck was a mystery. There was an endless amount of choice in the blue carpet the Company passed over.
When they hadn't known each other very well, before Khazad-dûm, Thorin had been rather annoyed by this habit of their Burglar's. He hadn't outwardly complained about it, not when Gloin and Balin were collecting small rock samples along the way, but it had rubbed him the wrong way. It felt like the hobbit wasn't taking their quest seriously enough. Here they were in life threatening danger and here was Bilbo acting like they were off on a jaunt that would have a jolly picnic in the middle of it.
'It's a cultural difference.' Thorin reminded himself. 'Dwarrow may see little importance in flowers but Bilbo had about as much interest in gold and jewels.' It was one of the many differences that he had noticed between their two people as they travelled together, alongside what felt like Bilbo's need to be perpetually chewing on something.
Hobbits and dwarves were built differently after all and as his Amad had once said, 'The world would be a strange place indeed if all the people living in it were the same.'