Chapter Text
There was something strange going on, Kíli thought as he looked down at the little metal bowl that held Bilbo’s kibble. If something strange hadn’t been going on, a more apt description would have been to say that the bowl should have held Bilbo’s food, because usually it was gone mere minutes after Kíli had filled the bowl. Now it was hours later, and about half of the small brown nuggets was still distinctly uneaten.
“Fíli,” Kíli called over his shoulder. “I think I need to take Bilbo to the vet for a check-up.”
“What?” Fíli poked his head into the kitchen. “What’s wrong with him?”
His ears must have been burning, because a moment later Bilbo trotted into the kitchen; nails clicking cheerfully against the laminate. He looked healthy enough, Kíli supposed, and it wasn’t like he couldn’t stand to lose a pound or two, because even for a Welsh Corgi he was rather stout, but he had never seen Bilbo leave food before, and he told Fíli as much.
They both observed how Bilbo glanced at his food and how he then pointedly looked away.
“So I think I should have them check him out, just in case. I’ll phone and make an appointment.”
“Yeah, maybe,” Fíli agreed and hunched down to tussle Bilbo’s short fur. “Do you have the money for it?”
“It’s fine, I can take it out of the scholarship money for now, I already talked to Bofur about some extra shifts at the coffee shop. I was planning on saving up for a new phone, but I guess me and a touch screen is not meant to be.”
“Wuff!” Bilbo remarked as he flopped down on Fíli’s feet.
“I know,” Kíli smiled. “But still,” he nudged the bowl with his foot. “You sure you’re not hungry?”
“Maybe you should wait a few days,” Fíli suggested when Bilbo just ignored them. “He might just be in a funk or something.”
“I guess.” Kíli bent down and gathered up the small white and brown dog who cheerfully started to wash his face for him.
“Stop that,” Kíli scolded. “I know all too well where that tongue has been, don’t think I don’t.”
-
The next morning when Kíli went to fill the bowl, it was empty and the young man grinned as he poured more kibble into it. However, when Kíli came back from Uni that afternoon, the bowl was again only half-empty.
“Maybe he’s finally realised that he’s a dog and not a hoover?” Fíli said without looking up from his notes.
“He stared at me the entire time I was eating my hamburger,” Kíli told his brother, hand stroking over Bilbo’s silky ears. “And he never begs. He’s hungry, so I don’t know why he doesn’t just eat.”
“Diet?” the blond snickered, but he stopped when he heard his brother sigh. “If you’re really worried, then ring the vet. I’ll pay for half of it, awesome brother that I am. But then you’re cooking the next time Professor Balin decides to make my life miserable with his essays.”
“Deal,” Kíli said, looking down at his furry little friend. Bilbo looked back and licked his hand.
-
The vet couldn’t find anything wrong, and pointed out that Bilbo really could lose a few pounds without any harm being done. Somehow the dog seemed to take this personally, and for the rest of the day Bilbo was in a grand huff, only rising from his little doggy bed when absolutely necessary. The food remained in the bowl.
-
“Maybe it’s the heat?” Ori suggested. “It is awfully hot. I’ve been sleeping with my window open for the entire week.”
They were sitting in the library, which was one of few places on campus which actually had air conditioning, and while Ori might have ended up there anyway, Kíli had to admit that part of the lure for him was indeed the blessedly cool air. And the company of course.
“Yeah, so has Fíli. Mum’s already scolded him twice about open windows and burglars. I don’t know how she knew he had the window open, being across the bloody continent and all, but I guess that’s just part of her super powers.”
“That’s the good thing about living on the eight floor,” Ori grinned. “Burglars just aren’t that dedicated in our part of town.”
“Apparently not in ours either as we remain decidedly unburglared even on the first floor.”
For a while they sat in silence; Ori studying and Kíli pretending to study when he actually tried to count all the cute little freckles on Ori’s nose.
“Maybe I should try getting one of those electrical fans,” Kíli remarked idly after losing count for the third time. “If it doesn’t help Bilbo then I can always use it.”
_
It didn’t help Bilbo who almost got his tail stuck in it. And then he kept to growling at the fan whenever he saw it. If the fan had been capable of caring about such things, it was still doubtful it would have been very impressed as Bilbo’s growl was about as threatening as a handkerchief. Even so, in the name of domestic peace Kíli banished the fan to the bathroom, a place that Bilbo already avoided as he didn’t want to give anyone the idea that a bath was needed.
It went on like this for a week. Every day Kíli filled the bowl. Every day Bilbo ate about half of the kibble and by the next morning the bowl was completely empty. The occasional mournful glance Bilbo sent Kíli and Fíli while they ate morphed into full out pleading puppy-dog eyes; leaving both brothers in a state of semi-permanent guilt even though they knew that people food wasn’t really good for dogs, and even though they could see Bilbo’s half-full bowl on the kitchen floor.
“Sumthin’ ‘eeds to be done ‘bout this,” Fíli declared as he hurriedly stuffed the rest of his lasagna into his mouth. On the floor Bilbo let out a huge sigh and moved to lie between Kíli’s feet instead, peering hopefully up at him. “What if you keep him in your room tonight so he can’t eat the food, and then maybe he’ll eat the entire thing tomorrow morning?”
“Can’t exactly hurt,” Kíli said and forced himself to not put his plate down on the floor.
-
The next morning the bowl was empty and Kíli frowned down at Bilbo who wagged his tail and went to snuffle up the remaining crumbs.
“Something strange is definitely going on,” Kíli muttered, knowing very well that Bilbo had spent the entire night in his room. He had been restless for a while, but a corgi had to be pretty damned restless before he managed to open doors or walk through walls.
-
The following night Kíli made camp in the kitchen.
Whatever was eating that food, he was going to be there to see it. He invited Fíli to join him but his brother had no sense of adventure and preferred to spend the night actually sleeping. Sleeping was for the weak, and for those without a coffee machine within easy reach.
It was close to 2 am when Kíli heard the soft sound of claws against the floor. At first he thought it was Bilbo, but since the dog was again stuck in Kílis room for the night it couldn’t be him. The sound was also too faint for it to be about 35 pounds of Corgi.
Holding his breath Kíli saw how a shadow unfurled itself from the dark hallways and slunk into the kitchen.
It revealed itself to be a cat. A huge cat, easily the size of Bilbo and perhaps even a bit larger and it made short work of the remaining food. After it had finished eating it looked around, but it struck Kíli as more of a searching glance and not a wary one.
It didn’t look like the cat had a collar, but that didn’t necessarily mean that it was homeless. Perhaps this was just a hobby, going into strange houses and convincing the pets to give up part of their food.
Kíli frowned when he realised that he didn’t know if Bilbo had done it voluntarily or if the large black cat had bullied the Corgi into it. He got his answer shortly after when the cat let out a questioning meow which was almost immediately answered with a couple of short yips from behind Kíli’s bedroom door. That was the same sound Bilbo made when Kíli came home after having been away for a few days so apparently Bilbo rather liked this cat.
Bilbo had always had a big heart so perhaps it shouldn't be a surprise than even a giant of a cat managed to fit in there.
The feline in question seemed a little confused when no dog appeared, and after a few more minutes he crept out of the kitchen in the direction of Fíli’s bedroom.
The open window, Kíli realised. That was how the cat got in an out.
When he let Bilbo out of his bedroom the Corgi immediately took off towards the kitchen, nosing at the empty bowl, tail wagging all the while. It wilted a little when the dog realised that the cat had already left, and Bilbo looked up at Kíli as if seeking an explanation.
“You know dog food isn’t really good for your little friend,” Kíli told him and Bilbo wuffed at him and set about licking up the crumbs the cat had left. Lost in thought Kíli went to get the bag of kibble and dumped a scoop into the bowl to Bilbo’s surprised delight.
-
The next night there was two bowls in the kitchen, one with Bilbo’s regular kibble, and one with something that the can had declared would be 'what his cat deserved', which to Kíli sounded more like a threat than anything else, especially considering the way it smelled.
-
A week after that, (and after two more nightly expeditions, bribery in the form of tuna and ham, and the pleading looks from Bilbo which for once worked in Kíli’s favour) their flat had a new occupant. The cat liked curling up around Bilbo, tuna and sleeping on Fíli’s laptop, in that order, and seemed to have few ambitions beyond that. Though since the cat was a cat Kíli would not have been surprised if it had secret ambitions to conquer the world, or at least a small part of it.
He (because that was what a hasty peek had revealed the cat as) wasn’t marked or tagged, and upon closer inspection his dark fur had more than a couple of burrs caught up in it. Add to that that his ribs were just a little too prominent for it to be healthy and Kíli hadn't had to try very hard to convince Fíli that they needed to keep him. Especially when it seemed that their new friend didnt mind staying.
He was skittish whenever they had company, (even Ori was treated with a good deal of mistrust) and the visit to the vet was better forgotten entirely… but for some reason he didn’t mind when Kíli or Fíli petted him. His purr was a deep raspy thing, and he never sounded happier than when he could flop all over Bilbo like a lumpy black blanket.
They decided to call him Thorin.