Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Billa's minding her own business, very much minding it, actually, glaring out to sea, avoiding her houseguests, and suddenly, there's a splash, she's half-drenched and there's this, this, this, it has to be a tail in front of her face, fin half her height, almost translucent silver at the tip of the tail fading into the most beautiful shades of blue, so beautiful that her hand reaches out without thought.....

She has a half-second to think of how it's warmer than she expected, much warmer than the water, and someone clears their throat from the other side of the dock, the water side of the dock and she looks out of the corner of her eye and the most gorgeous and furious man she's ever seen is leaning there, glaring at her and....blushing?

"Do you always grope before saying hello?" he growls.

"I normally check to see if things that nearly hit me in the face are real and no longer moving, and if protecting myself against a fishie or whatever doing a headstand in my face qualifies as groping...." She growls right back, and reaches out and gives the tail a smack, pushing it away from her.

The man twitches his eyebrows and the tail sways back within an inch of her face. Billa looks cross-eyed at it. It gently taps her nose. Billa gapes.

"H-how is that...you must be....what is that attached to...is it mechanical?" she asks, voice wavering.

He snorts. "It's not attached to a fishie." He waves the tail again, moving it away from her face.

"Um." She bravely leans down and sees that yes, the tail does seem to be heading in his general direction, all we way in his general direction, and as she leans further to make absolutely sure of what her eyes are telling her, she puts one hand out for balance and the tail is suddenly under her palm, making sure she doesn't tip over. She stares as it - as he- gently pushes her back to safety, her hand clasping just where silver starts to shade to blue.... She snatches her hand away. "You're very, I mean, it's very beautiful, and I was curious and am terribly sorry, I've never met a a a a....."

"Merman," he supplies, drawling, exasperated, though he's starting to smile a little.

"Yes, that." Billa says faintly. She blinks for a few moments and puts her hand out. "Billa Baggins, pleased to meet you. Sorry about the groping." She pats herself on the back for the recovery of her manners.

He stares at her hand a moment, visibly pushing down his previous annoyance to be courteous, then pushes himself slightly higher on the dock (Billa tries not to stare too openly at his muscular arms and well-made chest), takes her hand in one of his, and bends over to kiss it.

"Thorin Oakenshield, at your service, Miss Baggins."

"Oaken....but..."

He looks at her from under his brow, grumpy again. "It's a long tale."

"Aren't all sea tales long ones?" A beat too late she realizes that might sound a little naughty. A gleam in his eye as he bends over her hand again confirms that theory.

"All the best ones," he murmurs in a low, deep voice, and Billa flushes to her toes. Then he looks up and gives her a smile of pure mischief, pushes away from the dock and backflips into the water, one last flick of his tail drenching her again.

"I don't think 'at your service' means 'please half-drown me whenever possible!" Billa shouts.

Thorin surfaces about ten meters in front of her. "I would never let you drown," he says, his eyes suddenly serious and fierce.

"I was teasing,..."

"I don't tease about that." He most definitely doesn't tease about it from the protective look on his face.

"Thank you." Billa replies softly, and he gives her small, grave smile.

"So what does 'at your service' mean?"

His eyes flash again. "It's a long tale."

Billa rolls her eyes. "How did I know you were going to say that?"

Thorin grins at her and it's simply stunning. Billa can't even think for a moment, it's such a beautiful smile, and his grin gets even warmer.

Suddenly, Billa hears the door to the cottage open. Thorin's gaze darts behind her, and a second later, she can hear Primula and Drogo chattering away. She half-turns to check their progress, and when she turns back, Thorin is gone.

Billa drops her head, disappointed, and begins wringing out her jumper. Something touches her foot and she jerks, and a strong hand grips her ankle. Peering over the edge, she finds Thorin's head bobbing just above the surface.

"Thorin?" she hisses, jerking her leg, but he holds on.

He shakes his head, puts his finger over his lips, and rubs his thumb over her ankle. His fingers are webbed.

"Come tomorrow, before sunset. An hour before," he all but orders in a low whisper. Billa raises her eyebrows and gives him a look.

"Please." he growls, blushing again, and why his grouchy/bossy shyness makes her giddy, Billa doesn't know, but it does.

"I promise," she whispers softly, and before he sinks beneath the surface, he darts her a pleased look under his brow and kisses her instep.

She's staring vaguely at the water (looking for flashes of silver, blue and blue-black hair) when her cousins make it to the end of the dock.

"Been swimming with the fishies, Billa?" Drogo drawls, giving her wet hair a pat.

"Not quite yet," she murmurs.

Chapter Text

Billa finds it frustratingly hard to dress for a date with a merman at sunset when the week has seen her one day in shorts and sandals, the next in a jumper, socks and clogs.

They’re meeting at the dock, but are they going for a swim? Seems rude to just leave him down there, looking up at her, or ask him to half-jump out of the water and hold himself up on his (swoonishly gorgeous) arms. Or sit on the dock with her when he clearly didn’t want to be seen….

Well, the advantage of living by the sea was that she had an armful of suits. She tossed them all on the bed, deftly put aside all the ones that were a little too faded, elastic a little too sprung….

Would wearing her racer suit for a little more warmth and a lot less tugging than her favorite pink bikini for it to cover her…..anything...properly after she does anything but sit very very still make her look….overdressed? Standoffish? Or is it cold enough to get the wetsuit out? A wet suit would very very definitely be standoffish.

And it would be a “no” to the standoffish on her part, because it definitely feels like a date with the hand kissing and the foot kissing. Billa still feels as if the skin were tingling on the soft curve of her instep, remembering the gentle, warm kiss placed there before Thorin sank under the surface. And the look he gave her from under his brow as he kissed it…. Several more looks like that and she will have no problem staying warm. None at all.

She goes to check the weather forecast and sighs, both annoyed and relieved that she won’t need the wetsuit, which would solve almost all her problems. The one disadvantage to the wetsuit? Monoboob.

Billa shakes her head, trying to focus. Wow, something even more bewildering to dress for than clubbing. How is this her life? At least she won’t be getting drinks spilt on her, her hair accidentally set on fire, or feel like she’s a potted plant dancing in a forest of tall, grabby trees. Or trolls, she recalls with a shudder. Really, things are looking up that her date has a tail and lives in the ocean. And not having to wear heels is a definite plus.

She goes to dig through her drawers again, knowing surely she’s got something that strikes the right balance between playful and posh. And then she realizes she’s got to figure out an outfit to go on top of the suit in case they aren’t swimming and groans.

She squeals in triumph as she unearths a deep purple suit with a kind of an old-fashioned movie star look, but still really easy to swim in, a suit she had assumed had walked off with Lobelia the last time she "dropped by." She throws it on with a patterned sarong as a cover-up wrapped to show off her waist, and a light shirt to keep the breeze off while she waits.

Billa grabs her things and scrambles out to the dock, grateful her cousins had gone back to Buckland that morning to miss her (further) descent into madness and cavorting with mythical creatures.

She stops, runs back, turns on the outside lights so she won’t trip on the way back inside, proud of her foresight. Then, she takes a deep breath and makes her way in the calmest way possible to the dock, trying to force her blush back into her skin with the flat of her hands. Healthy glow: yes. Glow in the dark: no.

As she settles on the dock, Billa takes a few breaths and kicks her feet, laughing at herself, because she had more trouble figuring out what to wear than she had trouble with accepting a date with a merman.

She’s not sure if that’s due to her utterly dead social life, the quality of the blokes in Hobbiton, or that Thorin Oakenshield is the most beautiful man - mer or two-legged - she’s ever met in her life. And the way he looked at her when he was done being grumpy and had gone to flirty….gracious. She pats her cheeks again, checking for mission critical levels of blush, and hums softly to settle her nerves.

A splash and a dark head bobs about ten meters away. Billa waves and gets an especially showy tail splash in return as Thorin dives and swims toward her. She’s grinning by the time he surfaces a few feet in front of the dock.

“Now, that was an entrance,” Billa laughs. Thorin looks charmingly abashed.

“Didn’t want to startle you,” he says in his adorably grumpy way.

“Thank you, Thorin,” she replies, her smile softening into fondness. He ducks his head slightly, and the shy gesture suddenly chases every bit of her nerves away and leaves her feeling giddy and affectionate.

“Hello,” she says.

“Hello, Billa,” Thorin replies, looking up at her, his smile crooked and boyish. “You came.”

“You asked.”

“Yes, well.” Thorin sweeps one hand through the water, splashing a bit. “Not the best introduction.”

“We could try it again.”

Thorin tilts his head slightly and disappears. The next moment, he’s where he was yesterday, having pushed himself up on the dock with far less splash than the day before. His tail waves in front of her face.

“Oh my,” Billa says, not having to feign a blush or a startle at him so close. “Hello.”

That boyish smile again. “Hello.”

“Billa Baggins, pleased to meet you.” She puts out her hand.

His is smile warm as he kisses the back of her hand, then he turns it over to press a tender, nerve-zinging kiss to the palm. It feels unexpectedly sincere, not a hint of smarm, mockery or cheeseyness, just...sincere, gentle but firm, and a clear message of genuine attraction. It catches her a bit funny, right under her heart. She likes it. She likes it a lot. Her free hand rises absently to her chest, as if to keep ahold of that feeling.

“Well, that went better, didn’t it?” Her voice is breathier than she intends and takes a settling breath. “Though yesterday had it high points. Like when I suggested your tail was mechanical.” He gives her a teasing smile, not the one that takes her brain entirely offline, but one that is fond, and sassy and shy and she already wants to kiss it.

“I remember the…” It’s like he can’t bring himself to say such a silly word, but presses on, “Fishie, comment. Vividly." Billa darts him an apologetic smile and laughs, chastened

“I’m so sorry.” He kisses the back of her hand again in forgiveness.

“Why did you say hello, yesterday?” she asks as he (clearly regretfully) releases her hand to balance himself again on the dock.

“I’ve heard you singing, a time or a few times...and, well.” The longer he speaks, the more gruff and short his voice becomes and he stops himself, shakes his head and starts over, gazing at her from under his brow. “I heard you singing, and it was lovely. You are lovely.”

“Thank you,” Billa breathes, caught by the clear admiration in his words and gaze. She stares at him a long moment, and he matches her gaze the whole while, until he has to give his tail a strong flick and shift his hands to maintain his position above water.

“I...I shouldn’t just leave you hanging there, my goodness,” she flusters. “You were planning a swim, yes?” She hauls her top over her head and stuffs it in her bag. When she looks up, Thorin’s gaze snaps from her cleavage to her face, clearly appreciating the view

“Yes, I...” Bright spots of pink appear on his cheeks and Billa does an internal, squealing jig of glee.

“There is a little place, nearby, where we could sit and watch the sunset. It’s sheltered, and an easy swim. He gives her a small, quiet smile. “But it is beautiful, and I think you’d like it.”

“Might be a long swim for me,” Billa says, charmed by the idea but worried.

“Swim as long as you can, and I will help you.” he says, his voice slightly strained as he flicks his tail again. He's holding almost his entire weight on his hands. It's not fair.

“Well, I’m agreed that we can go on some sort of swim,” Billa says, shooing him gently. “You go on back and I’ll be right in.”

Thorin lets go, sinking back down with a modest splash, and swims backwards from the dock, smiling at her. Billa rolls her eyes at her sudden nerves as she stands, unties her sarong and tucks it in her little satchel. She zips it, carefully hangs it around one of the posts of the dock, and dives in.

The water is still warm from the sun, something Billa is very grateful for, but the cooler currents tickle her toes as she surfaces. Brushing her hair out of her eyes, she can feel more than see Thorin approaching through the water, and when she opens her eyes, he’s there, holding a hand under her elbow to keep her steady.

“Hi,” she says, latching on to his stabilizing arm. He reaches forward with his free hand, looking to her for permission, and tucks a lock of hair behind her ear.

“Hello,” he replies. “Would you like to take the swim? Or we could stay here.”

“Underneath the dock is not the best view,” Billa drawls. Thorin looks pleased.

“We should go then. I can give you a push, if you like.”

“Okay,” Billa agrees, but confused on the concept.

“Here,” he says with that shy, boyish smile, turns her and suddenly she’s in the loose circle of his arms, his chest to her back, and she can feel his tail nudge against her legs.

“Bend your legs as if you were going to dive, and brace them against me.” His tail curls under her feet, and she’s crouched as if she were standing on his thighs. (If he had them.) He holds his hands out for her to brace herself and she takes them.

“Now, when I say, jump and push off my hands and tail. You won’t hurt me.”

“Oh, it’ll be like when you surface and dive.” She makes the motion with her hand and she feels him nod.

“Yes, you’ll get a little range and a lot of momentum. Ready?” His voice is low and calm and so close to her ear, she wants to not brace herself against his arms but curl into them and stay. She shakes herself mentally and gets with the program.

“Ready.”

“One, two, GO!”

Billa shoots into the air, arcing above the water higher than she ever imagined he could push her and she has few swoony thoughts about strength and arms as she takes her last breath and plunges to the sea.

As she swims, Thorin slows his pace to stay with her, circling her, swimming on his back as he watches her, openly admiring and encouraging. He keeps track of where they are, and sometimes swims beside her and puts his hands on her waist, turning her in the right direction and giving her an extra push.

After about fifteen minutes, Billa decides that she’s proven she’s a strong swimmer, but if she swims much longer, she’s going to be breathing hard, blotchy and thirsty after a hard workout when they get wherever they’re going. Not optimal.

“Okay,” she says, treading water, wiping her eyes. “I need a break.” He’s there instantly, hands on her waist, keeping her above water and steady.

“It’s not much farther, just behind those rocks,” he says softly.

Billa just treads water and looks at him a moment. For all the warm, admiring looks, the hand and foot kissing, for all the times he’s put his hands on her today, Thorin’s really respectful of her space and her body, and that’s sadly refreshing and wonderful.

“You’re frowning,” he says, frowning as well.

“You’re just so nice,” Billa blurts. Thorin’s eyebrows rise, and he starts to grin very slowly.

“Oh shut up,” she says, flustered, and smacks his shoulder. Thorin’s grin becomes even more delighted. “No, but you are. Lovely mermen, merpeople...merfolk?”

“Merfolk,” he replies, and leans forward to brush his nose against hers briefly, almost too quickly for her to enjoy the gesture, then backs off to, again, a respectful distance while still holding her up.

“Lovely merfolk manners, I suppose, kind and respectful and not all grabby.”

Thorin frowns, and it’s so clear he’s about to go all Avenging Merman about someone who was grabby with her in the past and Billa puts her hand on his cheek.

“You are kind and dear and very much the....gentleman. Gentlemerman,” she says in a soft, strong voice. “I like the way you treat me. Very much."

“Good,” he says in a voice that makes desire throb, low, in her belly. He turns his head and kisses the palm of her hand, and there’s that little throb again, and this time it sends a slow, warm glow through her veins.

“Come,” he says, turning around. “Put your arms around my neck and hang on. It’s not far.”

“I don’t want to choke you,” she worries as she slides into place.

“You won’t,” the smile is clear in his voice.

Billa complies in a little dreamy haze, struck by her luck, struck by the romance of it all, and how drawn she is to Thorin. She tucks her cheek against his head, and he presses gently back, and covers her hands entwined around his neck with one of his,and it’s just lovely. All of it’s so lovely.

They glide smoothly through the water, Billa adding some kicking, though it’s clearly not needed due to Thorin’s powerful tail moving them forward.

They settle in a little nest of rocks that extend under the water to form a small shelf where they can sit together, Thorin’s tail curled around them, and watch the sun paint the sky in comfortable silence for a long while. He reaches behind a rock and offers her - with a certain amount of pride mingled with self-deprecation - a metal flask of fresh water to drink. She raises her eyebrows.

“You keep this stashed here?”

“I normally keep a bit of whisky in it, but for this evening, if you did come….I thought it might be refreshing after a swim."

“Thank you.” He takes a deep swig when she’s done and tucks it back between the rocks.

After, Thorin’s hand hovers at the small of her back, and she looks at him, smiling, a little nervous, and leans back into the touch. She’s rewarded with his large, warmer-than-a-human hand gently rubbing up and down her back.

“Are you magic?”

His hand stops mid-back. “What?”

“Conjuring, transformation, love spells...that sort of thing.”

He stares for a moment, the lowering sunlight gilding him just right, and his eyes are so blue, then he squints at her, and it’s just as ridiculously attractive. He has nice lines beside his eyes, and she likes that his face is lived in, mature.

“Billa, there is no spell. My only magic is…” he flips the end of his tail a little. “The gift of the change.”

“Changed from…”

“My people were once men, many ages past. We were given the gift of the change when our homeland fell. My ancestors chose to change and we have lived many years in the sea.”

“Your voice takes on kind of a…. a storyteller’s cadence when you talk about it.”

He tips his head, agreeing. “I am called on to teach, from time to time. I am a history keeper for my people. I suppose it’s a bit of a habit.”

Billa opens her mouth to ask another question, and his hand is there, gently placed over her lips. “We wandered off course,” he says softly, and cups her cheek. “Billa, there is no spell. No harm will come to you from my hands, I swear it. And if there is affection, liking between us...it’s…if my heart calls to yours and yours replies, is that not a cause for joy?”

“I’m sorry,” she replies, hanging her head. “Things are a lot more suspicious on land.”

“Grabby, unkind?”

“Slick, sly, sneaky, working an angle,” she agrees, and impulsively takes his hand and holds it tight. He strokes the back of her hand with his thumb. "I apologize."

“Caution is good, but, Billa, all I want to is get to know you. When I heard you sing, I...I had to. Such a warm and lovely voice spoke of an equally beautiful heart. And I wish to court you as honorably as such a fine heart deserves.” He teases open her clenched fingers and kisses the palm of her hand, setting Billa’s skin alight. “Even just this short time together….my angle, Billa, is that my heart tells me I want you in my life. You feel right by my side. Your voice, smile, your touch makes me feel stronger and more alive.”

“That’s...that’s….”

“It’s a lot, for the first true meeting.” Thorin kisses her hand in apology and releases her.

“A lot! It sounds like pretty much everything!” Billa quavers.

“Much, much faster than I would have ever dared, but then there was this love spell accusation.”

“Honest to goodness Thorin Oakenshield,” Billa says, her voice rising in frustration. “On the one hand, I want to follow my gut or my heart or whatever and and and wallow in this instant crazy connection with you. On the other, every little doubt about every bad dating choice and every horror story about strangers strapping knives on and lurking about to prey on young women is cascading through my head.”

Thorin gives her a dry look. “And where, exactly, would I have my knife strapped?” He flicks an eye down his very unaccessorized body.

Billa freezes, wide eyed. “Oh my god you’ve been naked this whole time,” she says too loudly, then claps both hands over her mouth.

Thorin swishes his tail gently in the water and raises his eyebrows, all sass, the corners of his mouth trembling with laughter, so beautiful in the last light of day, and Billa starts to giggle helplessly, starting with a loud unladylike snort. Thorin gives her that brain-melting grin of his and she starts to laugh outright because she? Is an idiot.

“I’m so sorry!” she gasps. “You’re so lovely and nice and just too good to be true!”

“So you accuse me of witchcraft?”

“And you counter by practically proposing?”

“Hmm, my nephew used a phrase the other day…..'Go big or go home?'"

Bill rolls off the ledge she’s laughing so hard, but Thorin’s hands reach for her, and his tail nudges her back, and she winds up resting against him, half-turned against his chest and his hand rests on her back again, warm and solid. Her laughter subsides as she leans up to look into his kind, waiting face.

“I am sorry about the spell thing.”

Thorin gathers her free hand and holds it against his chest. “This is different for me, too.”

“Not dated many land girls?”

“No one, land or sea, has called to my heart like you.”

Billa flushes and it takes a moment for her to find her voice. “Because you heard me sing?”

Thorin nods.

“Did you come back to see if I’d sing again?”

Another nod.

Billa sighs and turns slightly, unbending enough to relax against him, and pauses a long moment before she speaks. “My mother and I used to sit on the dock and talk over our days, and we’d always sing at sunset together. Taking a moment to be grateful. I got out of the habit after she became too ill to leave the house.”

“What caused you to begin again?”

“I don’t know. I.” Billa sits for a moment, unconsciously shifting closer to Thorin for warmth. He strokes her back in long smooth caresses, waiting for her thoughts.

“I suppose I’ve finally felt that this is my home again. It took a while to readjust, from being the helping, visiting daughter to being the owner and sole occupant of Bag End.”

“Bag End?”

“Name of my family home. 'End' because it’s the end of lane, of course."

“Of course. And your family has lived there….”

“Father built it for my mother.”

“It looks...warm.” He sighs, and it’s his turn to hang his head. “I really have a better command of language than this. But the word that comes to my heart when I see you and your home is “warm,” and “joy.”

“That’s two words,” Billa says softly, a bit of that joy fizzy in her veins, and smacks him gently on the shoulder. He captures her hand and holds it like it’s something precious.

“Never very good at maths,” he admits, stroking her hand with his thumb.

Billa huffs a laugh and gives him a look. “I don’t believe that for a minute,” she replies, and he gives her with a small, private smile, and a duck of his head, admitting it.

“Nevertheless,” he says softly, kissing her hand in apology. “Those are the impressions I have about your home. That it is warm and full of joy. As are you, most days.” He gives her a careful look. “But not recently. Not this last week.”

His perception and kind tone gives Billa the courage to tell him about her recent past in a way she has told no one else. “Bag End normally is full of warmth and joy. It was always so when I was growing up, it was always so when my parents were there together. Father died this winter, and Mother got ill very soon after, and lingered for months. It was bad, Thorin. Hard. Watching Mama fade like that. There was nothing I could do. She was ready to...to follow him." Billa pauses a long moment, swallowing hard. "And then she was gone….and when I was cleaning out the house, I found a picture of us on the dock.” She stops and took a deep breath.

“I wasn’t feeling very grateful right about then, kneeling in a pile of papers and years of financial records and dusty and dirty. I was a little...angry with her, not putting up a fight, not caring that I, that there was someone, there were people in her life who still loved her, even with Papa gone."

"I nearly threw the picture out, but something made me hang on to it. I put it in my pocket, and when I showered that night, I took it out and put it on the mirror. The next day, I stared long and hard at it, and that evening, did the same. Three days later, I took a glass of wine out to the dock and thought about the good things that had happened that day, a phone call from a friend, or little things I uncovered as I was cleaning, memories or new stories I didn’t know from old letters…” She shrugged. “And I sang as the sun set. Whatever came into my head. Just made up a tune and sang it until…”

“Until you could grieve for her?”

“Yes,” Billa whispers,voice thick, and Thorin gathers her up to tuck her under his chin and hold on tight. She plays with a lock of his hair as she gets her breathing under control.

“I don’t think I heard you that night,” he says softly, his deep voice rumbling against her ear. “The first time I heard you sing was just past this last full moon. I had to be careful of the light, and I wasn’t close enough to see your face clearly, but you had a lamp of some sort with you on the dock. All I knew was a lovely voice, sad and searching, long hair...and splashing feet."

Billa snorts softly. “I take a lantern, sometimes. I can’t believe I didn’t see a merman lurking around my waterfront.” Billa leans up and gives him a look. It’s hard to tell in the moonlight, but she is pretty sure he was blushing.

“I will admit to being sneaky in that manner. I am sorry. I didn't mean to invade your privacy, I just....”

“Curious about the land girl? Your ‘time or two' of hearing me sing, watching me, is more like ‘nearly a month,’ isn’t it?”

“Yes,” he admits softly, his breath warm on her hair. “And I listened as your songs became steadily more joyful. I was glad.”

Billa snorts. “My own merman stalker." Thorin winces. "But apparently a nice one? Why didn’t you say anything until yesterday?”

Thorin waits a long time before answering. “Your friends came. And they were packing up a little, that thing on wheels…”

“A trailer?”

“Yes, a trailer, that was hooked up to their vehicle. And you carried things in and out of the house and put them in the trailer.”

She turns and looks at him. “You thought I was leaving?”

“I didn’t know what to think.” Thorin shifts so they are eye to eye, as much eye to eye as can be had in the moonlight and his tail shifts around her comfortingly, keeping her warm.

“A friend lives nearby,” he points vaguely north. “I like this spot for watching the area, sea and land alike, and take a moment sometimes, to do that, on the way.”

“Sort of a like a rest stop,” Billa offers.

Thorin nods in agreement. “A good way of putting it. I don’t have as much time with my own thoughts as I’d prefer these days. I have a few little places along the shoreline that are good for, as you say, rest stops. There’s another, even closer to Bag End. Especially good for early summer sunsets.”

“And I saw you, a time or two, as I passed through, but once you started singing….I must admit I made excuses to drop by to see my friend, who is now absolutely sick of the sight of me. I had to bring him a cask of ale this week to keep him from throwing me out while I tried to understand what was happening.”

“It bothered you that much?”

His voice is hushed. “Yes.” He clears his throat and looks down. “And yesterday, and the day before, and the day before that, you sat and scowled and didn’t sing at all.”

“It wasn’t quite sunset yesterday when we met.”

“No,” he admits, drawling the word. It was as close as Billa figures she is going to get to him saying he was concerned and came early to see her.

“My cousins wanted me to come back home with them. ‘Not natural’ for me to be all alone down here, like I can’t take care of myself. I’ve done just fine, just fine for years on my own, but now I’m within range of the family….”

“Ah,” Thorin replies, head rocking back in understanding.

“Ah.”

“Will you leave then?” he asks in a very neutral voice, and Billa turns her head quickly to catch his eye.

“No! Most assuredly not! I’m grown and don’t need a minder, haven’t for years! And I’m not about to go to sink myself back into family squabbles and have umptijillion aunts and cousins try to marry me off so that 'so large a home won't be wasted on just one person!' I’m not a prize heifer! I am perfectly happy where I am, thank you very much. I can write and study and thank the green lady we’ve finally got internet access down here, so I don’t have to be tied to a library unless I want to go there, and if I am so happy not to be tied down to the dusty old books that I love, why on Arda would I want to be tied down to their pick of the week, and let me tell you, some of them are just doozies! The last was some, some, some mouth-breathing slacker of a fourth cousin, without an original thought in his head, who just wants to marry me for my money?”

“Why, indeed?” Thorin agrees staunchly, if a bit faintly.

“I can’t believe I blurted all that out.” She slaps both hands over her face and groans.

Thorin curls a bit more tightly around her, and reaches out to run a comforting hand down her hair. “Can I say that I, for one, am delighted you’re staying?”

“Thank you,” Billa says from behind her hands.

“I came to you yesterday,” Thorin tells her in a soft, low voice. “Because I found that three evenings without your voice had become intolerable. And you were clearly upset….”

Billa looks at him from between her fingers. “So your best gambit was to splash me and then be grumpy?”

“I miscalculated my jump.” He mumbles, and she drops her hands.

“I seeee.” Billa eyes him, sidelong. “You liked my singing that much?”

“Billa," he says with that aching note of sincerity that just does things to her. "I didn’t risk my people’s exposure for just a song.”

“You did say,” she whispers.

“I did say,” he agrees, in that velvet and thunder voice of his, and his face in the moonlight is all beautiful shadows and mystery, but he is warm, so warm, curling around her in the water, and she should be freezing by now, but she feels safe and treasured, warm and joyful. His hand on her hair, stroking down her back, is so gentle. She finds, though, in the deepening evening, she misses seeing the bright blue of his eyes and the clarity of his expression. But what he says and does here, with the stars wheeling above them, is enough.

“You are magic,” she whispers again. Speaking any louder would break the charged hush around them.

“How so?”

“I haven’t felt this peaceful in...I don’t know when, unless I was singing. It might be the swim, but I think it’s a great deal to do with the company. You. And not just, you know,” she flips a casual hand. “Mythical creature.”

“I assure you I’m quite real,” he retorts, voice just as soft, and gently tugs on her hair. “But...magic, Billa...”

“Shhh, just the ordinary kind; histories, storytelling, offers of friendship.” She grins at him, teasing bright. “Flirting. Shared things that bind. Courtship.”

“And are we so bound then?” he murmurs, half-teasing, but his voice dips in a way that makes her just want to sway forward, deep into his arms, and say yes a hundred times.

“It seems, Thorin Oakenshield,” Billa says, running a teasing finger down his nose. “I seem to have been providing most of the binding materials. All I know is you’re a merman, a history keeper of your people, are called on to teach sometimes, with a cranky friend who likes ale who lives thataway, needs a quiet moment to himself with a whisky now and then, and likes singing.”

“And you.”

“And me. Rather more than I thought, but just facts. Good facts. But...I feel safe and treasured and very much at home around you.” Her breath catches, and she takes a breath before she leaps. “I would like to know more, to court you. Or is it be courted?”

Thorin takes her hand and kisses her palm, lingering until her hand trembles against his lips, until Billa’s breath hitches in her throat, and she can feel Thorin’s breathing change, too. She gasps, trying to steady herself, rocked by how much she responds to his touch.

“Courted, as I made the approach, in our traditions,” he says finally, his voice rough. “But respond as you wish, Billa.”

“Hmmm.” She strokes his beard, alight and trembling deep inside, and can feel him gathering himself to bend nearer, to kiss her. She puts a hand on his chest. He covers it with his own.

“Does the history keeper sing? ”

“He does.”

“And may I hear?”

“What would you have me sing?”

“Teach me about your world.”

Thorin looks at her for a long time, nods, shifts to tuck her under his chin again, and holds her loosely, hands rubbing up and down her arms.

His voice is warm and beautiful and deep. He sings a song so beautiful and sad, full of love and loss and hope, and finally, peace. Of the fall of a great city, by evil and fire and water, and the intervention of Arda's most powerful. He doesn’t name the city, but the song is clearly about Erebor, The Lost Land, The Lost People, The Wanderers, but it is so very different. Thorin’s song speaks of wandering the sea as well as the land, and of gathering The Wanderers to a place they could call home once more, and live in peace. The Ereborians on land, ages past, had not fared near as well, and from what anyone can tell, despite their fabled long lives, have all but died out.

Billa doesn’t realize she is crying until Thorin lifts a hand to wipe her tears away with an equally wet, salty hand and they laugh at it, softly, and he cuddles her close for comfort instead, and she feels him kiss her hair. They are silent a long moment, and she can feel the shyness and caution begin rolling off him.

“I have a feeling no one on land has ever heard that version of the song of Erebor, dear history keeper.”

“Very, very unlikely,” he admits. “But you asked to know.”

“And now we’re bound by trust. A deeper level of it. You wouldn't know I study history, but I would never, ever share it without your permission. You have my word." She pauses a moment. "May I ask questions? Purely for myself?"

"Yes. I will answer the best I can, as much as I can."

"Fair enough." She leans up to touch his face again, and then his throat, lightly. “I feel like I've been given three gifts. That song and....I could listen to you sing anything. Anything.” She watches his face. “Why did you tell me?”

“Perhaps I feel safe and at home around you as well.”

“But not treasured, yet?”

His hands move on her arm, her back, instantly reassuring. “I do like the way you treat me, Billa, very much,” his voice is so soft, so warm. He bends forward to murmur, “And I like the promise of that ‘yet.’” He brushes her nose with his. "What is the third gift, Billa?"

Billa his brushes nose, right there in front of her, in reply. "Guess." She likes these little nuzzles, brushing almost close enough to kiss, building a lush, erotic haze between them.

"Perhaps I want you to say," Thorin rumbles, nose brushing her cheek, then wandering to nudge under her ear. Billa trembles and Thorin's hands clasp her arms tightly to turn her and draw her flush against his chest.

"Perhaps you already know," she gasps, her head falling back.

"Perhaps," he presses his mouth to her throat, just where her jaw meets her ear. Billa grips his shoulders and tries not to whimper. "Perhaps, I begin to guess." He threads his hand in her hair to hold her in place while he makes her quiver from the lightest, most chaste brushes of nose and lips and beard to the sensitive skin of her throat, then brings her face close to his. "To me, I know you are a treasure, all unlooked for, unforeseen. All the more valued."

“As are you." She gasps at his responding tremor, his pleased rumble. "We are diving very deep for a first date,” she whispers, breath ragged, tilting her chin, inviting, inches from his lips.

“Quite deep," he agrees, stroking her nose again, his own mouth teasingly close. "I am still hasty from yesterday, I thought…”

“I know what you thought, dear one. I'm sorry it made you sad.”

“It made me furious. Leaving and unhappy.” He presses a slow kiss to her cheek. His beard prickles a bit, but his mouth is so soft. Billa presses as close as she can.

“You were pretty grumpy,” she says, voice breathy.

“You grabbed my tail.” A gentle nip to her chin.

“Is that so forward?” She lifts her face, and he explores the edge of her jaw with his nose, and soft brushes of his closed lips, his warm breath leaving cool, shivering trails on her skin, his hands like iron bands on her arms. As if she would budge now.

“.......Quite forward."

“Did you blush? Are you blushing now?”

“You’re in my arms, Billa, your mouth a breath away from mine, what do you think?”

Billa moves a hair closer. “I think that you should kiss me."

Chapter Text

He threads his hand in her hair to hold her in place while he makes her quiver from the lightest, most chaste brushes of nose and lips and beard to the sensitive skin of her throat, then brings her face close to his. "To me, I know you are a treasure, all unlooked for, unforeseen. All the more valued.”

“As are you." She gasps at his responding tremor, his pleased rumble.[...] "We are diving very deep for a first date,” she whispers, breath ragged, tilting her chin, inviting, inches from his lips[...]“Is that so forward?” She lifts her face, and he explores the edge of her jaw with his nose and soft brushes of his closed lips, his warm breath leaving cool, shivering trails on her skin, his hands like iron bands on her arms. As if she would budge now.

“.......Quite forward."

"Did you blush? Are you blushing now?”

“You’re in my arms, Billa, your mouth a breath away from mine, what do you think?”

Billa moves a hair closer. “I think that you should kiss me."

~~~~

“What if I told you,” he asks, and brushes his nose against hers yet again. “That this is the way my people kiss. That I’ve been kissing you all along.”

“Oh,” she says gently, taken aback. “Well, there’s this other way….”

“I know,” he smiles, his voice dropping, nuzzles her cheek and brushes her lips with the tip of his nose, light and swift. “Intended as a gesture of friendly affection, fond teasing, growing attraction...but I find....I've found, with you...” He has to lean his forehead against hers and breathe a moment. "All of that, plus heightening. Longing."

“That, yes,” she whispers, voice unsteady. “Thorin.”

“Beautiful Billa.” The air between them is heavy, charged, and his breath hitches in anticipation with hers. He shifts his hand until he cradles her cheek, draws her closer, and presses his lips to hers gently, a soft short kiss to her upper lip, and then one slightly deeper, brushing her lower lip with his.

She quivers, a soft moan of longing vibrating against his mouth as she clutches his shoulders. He presses yet deeper, and then deeper again before one last gentle kiss, and he draws away slightly to gauge her reaction.

To his delight, she growls softly and steals a gentle, ardent kiss of her own. “Thorin,” she whispers, a small ache in her voice. Thorin has to close his eyes, wrestling with a wave of desire.

“We are diving deep for a first date,” he echos her words of moments ago.

She wraps her arms around his neck in a brief hug. “I know,” she replies, her voice soft and strong. “I am following my gut instinct with you.” She nuzzles his cheek and his nose, smiling at him, teasing, waking his longing once more. “We may be diving deep, but I feel safe with you. Do you with me?”

Thorin is, truth told, a little stunned and too moved to speak by such a gift. He had hoped she would grow to feel sure of him, to claim safety in his arms, especially after her description her former and would-be suitors, but this... He swallows hard and nods.

“What’s wrong?” Billa asks after a moment, her hands moving to soothe on his shoulders. She cups his face and strokes her thumb over his cheekbone, and he leans into the touch.

“I am aware of the honor of your trust, Billa, and I...I should tell you, I should have told you,” he says, bracing for the possibility if her distancing herself from him after this.

“There is another reason for our lighter way of kissing, Billa. Of taking small steps, so. We give our hearts but once. My people. And the more deeply we touch one another…”

He can nearly feel her intent, intense gaze on his face. “You really made a big gamble when you came to say hello, didn’t you? Your people’s secret...your heart, all for some girl you just heard sing.”

“Well, there were those few days you were scowling,” he says hoarsely.

“Thorin,” she chides with affection.

“I watched you sing yourself from grief and anger to the joy of life again, Billa. I’ve never seen the like. Never heard the like. How could I not want to know more? And,” he says, making another gamble. "I have a theory." He takes her hand and puts it over his heart. "Close your eyes, breathe, and when you feel calm and ready, sing."

"Sing what?"

"Anything."

"Okay," she drawls. "This some sort of trust exercise thing?"

"More of a...testing my gut instinct thing."

She snorts. "Do you need to?" She taps her fingers against his chest and gestures to her own.

"Um," he knows he sounds a bit strangled, and he's clearly fighting to keep his eyes on hers, and not her cleavage.

“Right, um, not much room, I guess. And your hands are quite large.”

Thorin chokes out a laugh. “I was thinking more…well, no, that’s exactly what I was thinking.”

Billa chuckles ruefully and pats his chest. “Well. Um. Rather distracted now.”

Thorin’s voice trembles on the edge of a laugh. “Breathe,” he coaxes. Billa shifts, getting comfortable, and did so, one breath, two…

“You sure you don't need to feel my heartbeat?”

“I think it will be fine. Here,” he settles his hands on her waist. “I think it’s mostly breathing together.”

“Right,” she says softly, and shifts a little, snuggling into his touch, which makes him want to just scoop her up, and instead of breathing with her, kiss her breathless.

“Breathe,” she says even more softly, her voice beginning to drop into a murmur. “Sing anything.”

“Anything. Whatever music rests in your heart, waiting.”

“Such lovely way of saying things.”

“Breathe.”

"Bossy." She strokes his chest gently and resettles her hand. “Breathe.”

Thorin waits, mind drifting into a state of deep relaxation. Her breath takes on the rhythm, the sway of the sea. He breathes with her, content, and when she takes a slightly deeper breath, the familiar preparation to sing, he takes it with her. They breathe out music as one.

Billa stiffens in surprise, but keeps singing, a sweet, wordless tune, one he suspects she is creating on the spot, as she sometimes does, singing in the sunset. He sings with her, twining around her melody, his voice supporting hers. It is effortless, and his heart leaps, warm and joyful and light, he is right, he had been right.

She falters, and slaps at his chest weakly, emotion choking her voice. “What was that…”

“We -”

“No, wait, do it again.” She takes a breath, sings, and the music builds around them, soaring. He matches her in speed and intensity, again, without having to think about it.

“What?” she says, breaking off again, her voice thick with tears. “What is that?”

Thorin blinks his way out of the sense of deep peace he’d fallen into. “That was beautiful, Billa.”

“Well, yes, literally half of it was you and how.”

“We have harmony. Are in harmony.”

“I know, you were...we were in sync, too; you weren’t even a quarter beat behind me. I was making the whole thing up as I went, too.”

“Mmm, I thought so.”

She raises her hand to stroke over his heart again. Her hand is shaking, and he presses it against his chest, trying to soothe. “Thorin, what is this?”

“Something we do...something couples do to see-”

“You said you had a gut instinct.”

“Yes.”

“That we? Would be in harmony?”

“Yes.”

“And this is a thing your people do to see if there’s a possibility….”

“Yes.”

“How are you even real?” she breathes.

“Well, my homeland was sinking, fire and screams and flood, and there was this enormous, beautiful voice asking….”

“Waaaait a minute. Erebor sank ages ago.”

“Yes....?”

“Are you telling me that you’re thousands of years old?” Her voice goes high and breaks slightly.

“This enormous, beautiful voice asking my several-times-great-grandfather and the rest of our people if they would accept a gift…..”

She slumps in his arms. “Oh. Okay. Little overreaction there, sorry. I’m. I’m just. But still, you big romantic thing, how are you even possible?”

“Well...when two merfolk love one another very much….”

Billa laughs. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, Mr. Funny. "She presses her hand against her heart. “I’ve never even heard of such a thing. It’s like a fairy tale sort of…. I’ve never. I wouldn't have believed... It was so.” She pulls him into a hug, and he gratefully buries his face in her neck. He can feel a deep tremor in her muscles, and wonders how scared she is. He's had a month to adjust to the possibility of her.

"Little overwhelmed?" he asks.

"Just a touch," she snorts.

"I have a kind of mystical thing with a landwalker." he replied, deliberately sounding stunned. It's not that big a stretch.

"Hey!" she giggles. "You said you weren't magic!"

"Oh, no," he laughs back. "This is not all my fault. It's half your fault." He pauses for a long moment. "Okay, it's a little magic. I wasn't even sure if it would work."

She snickers into his neck and smacks his back with the flat of her hands, and he catches her laughter and they sway, entwined, laughing and gasping until they're both calm.

“I felt so close to you when we sang. "I felt. Golden and...light, in my heart. I still feel-”

A surge of awe and affection tightens his voice, “Me too. I still do.” He hugs her tightly. “Billa, I can’t tell you how I…” A sudden thought slaps him like a cold wave, and his arms go slack in shock. “Billa, I’m not. I don't want to push or... I just wanted to show you…I didn't know it would be so...”

She pulls him back into a tight hug. “Listen, you,” she whispers in his ear. “I’m mostly hobbit, you know, a little human mixed in, and then there’s the family story that The Old Took had himself a selkie or a fae or some sort of mythical creature for a wifae, but the key thing is, I’m mostly hobbit, and hobbits only give their hearts once, too. And I’ve not wanted to give my heart to anyone ever. Oh, I've dated, but..I thought I wouldn’t ever, maybe couldn’t..maybe since my parents were so very happy I was waiting for some sort of perfection found only a few times a century, and the odds it would happen twice in the same family.... I’ve been in your company for less than a day, and even though you watched me from afar without my knowledge for a month, I still feel wonderful and safe and happy here, with you. With you in your arms, touching me, holding me. Singing with me.”

She leans back so that they are face-to-face, then eases back on her heels. “I’ve told you I want to be courted. I’m asking you to kiss me. I’m telling you I trust you. And I’m telling you, that’s not a small thing for me, either.”

“You do not wish to wait until you are sure….”

"We may be in harmony, but not getting married, dear one, or sleeping together, unless this is that big a step for your people.....wait." Billa puts up a hand up, her voice unsteady at last. “You...you said ‘you’ not ‘we.””

Thorin inclines his head, unable to quite say it aloud, and Billa takes a deep breath.

“You want to court and be convinced of my feelings, perhaps see them grow a bit, and give me time to be convinced of yours.”

“Is that not what courtship is? It’s not that I doubt you…”

“It’s that you’re a big romantic idiot?”

“Among other things,” he confesses. Among other things he’s not quite ready to spring on her, lest he finally overwhelm her and frighten her away. And he wants to be chosen for himself, not title or status.

Billa tilts her head as she looks up at him, joy and humor in every line of her body. “Well, you’re right. You are completely right. We need some time, I need time to figure out this whole…” She gestures up and down his body and then her own. “How that, this might work, I mean, I like you very much, but, mer. man.”

She huffs out a little laughing, rattled breath. “When I decided I’d never find anyone in the whole of Arda that felt right, I never expected a big romantic bloke from the sea. With a tail. Plus, I'll probably have a billion questions.”

Thorin gives her an affectionate, laughing hum, then reaches out to stroke her cheek. “And I will answer as fully as I can. Billa, I didn’t mean to dive so deeply this first evening together, truly, or speak so seriously. I meant just to show you a beautiful….”

Billa presses his hand against her cheek, “A beautiful place and a beautiful time, and now, a load of beautiful possibilities. No take backs, no apologies. I am having a wonderful night. An amazing night, in every sense of the word.”

Bowing his head, Thorin murmurs. ”As am I.”

"So. Is it too soon to kiss fully?"

"No. I realized I should tell you this is no trifle for me."

"I understand. We are a harmonizing, trifle-free zone, you and me."

Thorin strokes his hands up and down her arms, unable for the moment to do anything but smile.

Billa leans in, brushes her nose against his, and speaks softly. “Tomorrow, Thorin Oakenshield,” she nuzzles the line of his jaw, and sighs approvingly when he sets his hands around her waist.

“Or the day after,” she nips lightly, and wanting more, he lifts her slightly to give her better access, bring their faces even.

“Oh my, liking the strength thing,” she murmurs, a small quiver in her tone. “Really liking the strength thing.” Thorin kisses her cheek slowly, and is rewarded with a long, gasping tremble. He can’t help but make an approving noise and hold her more tightly.

“Are you cold?”

“Hmm? My back a little, but you’re so lovely and warm.”

Thorin brushes his mouth against her cheekbone and continues upward, toward her brow, while Billa wraps her arms around his neck, and with that dear, sexy, snuggling movement, closes any remaining gap between them. He rests his mouth against her temple, needing a moment to adjust to the feel of her curvy, sweet body pressed so closely. There's a difference between holding her close to talk, and holding her close to touch.

She nudges at him until he lowers his face to hers. “I was talking about something,” Billa says hazily, as she drives him slowly mad by caressing his nose with hers, allowing tiny, fleeting brushes of her lips as she nuzzles one side or the other.

Thorin can no longer remain still and joins the slow dance of soft, glancing touches. Billa’s breath grows ragged and her cloth-bound breasts rub against his chest with each breath. He struggles to answer her. “Tomorrow or the day after?”

“Right,” her breath puffs against his lips. “Tomorrow. Or the day after...” She breaks off, humming with approval as Thorin ducks his head and draws his nose up the long line of her throat to press his mouth to that little place under her jaw that makes her gasp. She gasps in a most satisfying way and he smiles against her skin.

“Come back up here, mister,” she whispers, and takes his face in her hands. He feels her shiver and wraps as much of himself around her as he can, keeping her warm.

“Tomorrow or the day after or the day after that,” she says in the soft strong voice he began to understand was the voice of her being very candid, very resolved, very brave, or all at once. “We will talk about courting and questions and hearts and tails and merfolk,how and music and things and stuff and be all mature and practical, and do some more singing, but now," her voice slows into aching softness. "Right now…...”

Billa brushes her lips across his, so light, back and forth until anticipation has his muscles corded tight, until fire races under his skin, begging to be free.

He tilts his head slightly and the feather brush glance of their lips becomes a glide, then a soft, clinging drag. Billa's lips part beneath his, and Thorin takes her mouth softly as a breeze, as easy as breathing, as right as the ever-rocking embrace of the sea.

She inhales sharply, trembling once more, and with a tiny mewl, melts in his arms. Dimly, he hears himself groan, and moved by her desire, her trust, his hands rush to shift her, cradle her in his arms, one hand low on her back as the other cups the back of her head. He bends her like a supple reed, pressing her into the curve of his body the better to savor her, cherish her, learn how to love her.

Such rich kisses and the curl of her tongue under his, and nearly lightheaded, he breaks the kiss to nuzzle her cheek, to press tender, soft bites down her throat, and take a needed, calming breath. His heart is nearly half hers already, and she is so, oh she is so.....Billa arches her back and hums low, a soft sweet song just for him.

When he raises his head, she tilts her chin, and offering her mouth, whispers his name. Thorin brushes his mouth against hers, takes a deep breath and answers her song, diving deep.