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If there was one thing Dwalin would never have believed possible, it was being grateful for the chance to deny his kinship with Thorin.
Unfortunately, Thorin was a dwarf utterly incapable of expressing his feelings normally, glaring and barking orders in a funereal tone, then acting surprised by the very real fear the hobbit felt toward him.
Even at that moment, Thorin’s blue eyes were fixed on Bilbo, and Dwalin couldn't tell if the anger in his gaze was directed at Bofur or at the warg that had left Thorin in such a bad state he couldn't reach Bilbo himself.
“If you stare at him like that,” Dwalin said, enjoying the way Thorin flinched, “sooner or later he’ll think you still despise him and run off as far away from you as he can.”
Because it was obvious Bilbo wouldn't abandon them on their quest. The hobbit was as mad as only a dwarf could ever be.
“I’m not staring,” Thorin said stiffly, before adding, “If Bofur squawks any louder, the wargs won’t need to track us; they’ll hear us.”
“And your jealousy has nothing to do with it, does it?” Dwalin asked; after all, if Thorin was going to embarrass him with his emotional ineptitude, Dwalin could certainly embarrass him right back.
“I’m not jealous,” Thorin said, his voice dropping to a growl at the sight of Bofur’s hand on Bilbo’s arm.
Dwalin was proud of Bilbo; he no longer recoiled like a typical hobbit but accepted his place as their hobbit.
“What is it?” Bilbo asked, drawing a smile from Dwalin as he realized that Thorin’s intense stare had made Bilbo turn around.
“Nothing.” Thorin snapped back in response to Bilbo’s look, flushing at having been caught red-handed.
“If you say so,” Bilbo said doubtfully, deciding that Thorin was a problem not his to solve, and turned back to talk to Bofur.
Dwalin laughed at the look on Thorin’s face.
“You’re right,” Dwalin nodded. “You aren’t jealous at all.”
Thorin huffed, scowling as he watched Bilbo and Bofur.
Yes, Dwalin nodded; his king was an idiot.
May Mahal have mercy on them all.