Needless to say, I do not own anything related to The Hobbit, Lord of The Rings, any of J.R.R. Tolkien's works, or Peter Jackson's versions.

Heartsigns

Bilbo hadn't realized that the dwarf was passing him the contract until Thorin's heavy hand hit his chest. The thudding of his heart and the lingering burn of the dwarf's hand seemed just too real as the hobbit read the contract. Lacerations were one thing. Evisceration could be a threat from any one of a dozen species. But the talk of incineration had been too much. Dragons did not belong in any Shireling's life except as a children's story. He vaguely thought that the floor was a quite good one. Very flat and reassuringly solid.

Morning brought bright sunshine, chirping birds, and a distinct lack of dwarves. Bilbo checked every corner of his house before making sure the door really was closed. He sighed happily and scratched absently at his chest as his eyes fell on the contract laying before the hearth. Seeing Thorin's name written boldly across the parchment made his heart lurch in an unfamiliar way. Suddenly he was sure that he could still dash down the lane after the company of dwarves, but who knew if he would ever return to Bag End again.

Something in his small chest unfurled and demanded that he follow. Soon he found himself sprinting across the Shire as fast as his furry feet would carry him. The halfling rubbed absently at his surging heart as Balin inspected his hasty signature. Once pronounced part of the company, Bilbo smiled at the dwarves. At least until Thorin announced his need of a pony. It took some time but he eventually began to trust the hairy beast enough to drag his eyes from the path to observe the rest of the troop properly.

Thorin continued to glower as the company resumed their leisurely pace. He was glad to be traveling east again, towards the Lonely Mountain, though it would have been better to have a whole legion of dwarves. When Bilbo appeared, shouting for them to wait, something had eased in his chest he hadn't realized had been tight. Grocer or not, the hobbit was meant to accompany them to Erebor. He was satisfied with the company but wished that his hand would stop itching under his bracer.

By the time night fell, Thorin was fed up with the constant complaining from their newest companion. The irritation on the back of his hand only added to his ire and not long after camp was set, the dwarf shouted at the hobbit.

"If we were allowed a little quiet from your constant nattering, perhaps the rest of us could find a little sleep."

The burglar instantly snapped his mouth shut and stared at the ground between his hairy toes. But Bombur took offense at the interruption. "I was only asking 'im how he cured the ham we 'ad last night."

The dwarf lord crossed his arms and stared back for a moment before striding away. He was satisfied when the halfling did not resume his conversation with the rotund dwarf. Perhaps he could make a decent burglar if he was ever silent. Thorin pressed his itching hand and hissed. Checking that no one could see him, the dwarf undid the buckles and removed the piece of tooled leather. Instead of the rash he had expected, a green circle stood out on the back of his hand. In the very middle was a yellow dot. This eyes went wide and he slapped the bracer back into place.

Bilbo didn't have to be told twice to make use of the bath houses in Rivendell. Troll mucus was decidedly unpleasant, fresh or dried and in all the excitement there hadn't been a chance to change. It wasn't until all of the grime and snot had been washed away that the halfling checked himself over for bruises and scrapes. The aches had diminished upon stepping into the hidden valley and the bruises had faded to a mottled yellow despite being only a day old. What surprised the burglar was a blue mark resting over his heart. There had been no blemish on his skin before meeting Gandalf, he was sure. Frowning, the hobbit stared at it. A blue square surrounded an arrow pointing upward.

"Bilbo? Have you finished? Thorin wanted... Excuse me." Bofur came around the corner but paused upon seeing the smaller man shirtless. "Is that your heartsign?"

"My what?" The halfling looked back down at the mark over his heart.

"I didn't know other races had them." The dwarf shuffled his feet nervously.

"I'm afraid I didn't know what you mean. I've never seen this before."

"Mister Bilbo, I'm sorry you left your lass or lad for the likes of us."

"But hobbits don't- This isn't- I only just found it."

Bofur blushed. "Oh, then it must be one of us. I'm sorry it's not me."

The hobbit pulled on his clean shirt and adjusted his braces. "You said Thorin needed something?"

"Aye, he wanted you present when speaking to the elf."

"Me? Why me?"

"Don't know, but you shouldn't be late." Bofur shrugged and began shedding his clothes for his own bath.

Bilbo hurried to find his jacket and left the mostly naked dwarf alone. Thorin had his arms crossed as Balin and Gandalf talked quietly. As soon as the burglar appeared, the dwarf frowned down at him.

"I would thank you not to keep us waiting next time."

The halfling didn't know what to say to such unfounded rudeness. Bofur had only just passed along the message and he had come straight to the leader of their company. If he had been more brave, the Shireling may have confronted the dwarf, but as it was, he did not wish to give him any more reason to dislike him. Bilbo simply lowered his head and followed behind the wizard as they went to Elrond.

The fire burned hot while the halfling and the rest of the company watched with dread as Thorin rose and turned to face his enemy. Sound died away except for the pained shouts of the dwarf and the echoing thud of his body landing on the ground. Something throbbed in the burglar's chest and he longed to defend the prince. And then it snapped as the orc raised his sword to deliver Azog's prize. His feet carried him into attack and his hands rose to block any from approaching Thorin without his permission.

As the eagles flew into the dawn, Bilbo couldn't draw his eyes from the limp form of Thorin dangling from the bird's talons. A sudden realization occurred to the hobbit as he pressed his hand over his heart. He had seen the mark over his chest before, on the silver ring Thorin wore.

The lordly dwarf bore the prodding and tending of Balin with greater dignity than most, eyes never leaving the small form sitting apart from the others. The gray haired dwarf tutted at the blood staining the well worn armor and began to undo the bracer. Thorin realized too late as the leather slipped free and bared his left hand.

"What's this lad?" Balin looked sharply at his friend.

"It's nothing." Thorin hissed, trying to hide his hand.

"How long have you had this?"

"Long enough."

Balin had learned to ignore the prince's glowers long ago. "I know you did not have it before we met at the burglar's home."

Thorin's eyes darted to the hobbit again. "I trust you will keep this to yourself."

"Of course, but does he know?"

"I should think not."

Why not? Do you think he would reject you?"

"Hobbits have no business with dwarves."

"That is hardly what you thought this morning."

"I forgot myself, that is all."

"Why do you deny him?" Balin pressed his old friend.

For a long while the prince was silent until Balin thought the younger dwarf would not answer. "I am not so selfish to claim what is not offered freely. And he would be safer back in the Shire."

"Do you really think his heart would allow him to leave?"

"There is no proof he bears any mark of mine." Thorin got to his feet and strode purposefully away.

Balin waited for the opportunity to talk to the burglar, but he could not seem to get him alone. Bombur was always consulting the halfling regarding their next meal or Bofur was ever by his side. Even his brother Dwalin would give him tips on using his letter opener of a sword. Ori would listen closely to the stories Bilbo told, marking down every word in awe of the quiet folk, Dori and Nori not far behind. When not trying to make sense of Bifur's mutterings in Khuzdul, the halfling was gathering herbs with Oin and trying to avoid Gloin's frowns. The gray haired dwarf was getting fed up with the halfling's unintentional avoidance when a small form settled next to him before Beorn's hearth.

"Mister Balin, might I ask you something?"

"Aye Laddie, I'll answer as best I can."

"Well, Bofur mentioned a strange thing. I believe he called it a heartsign. What are they?"

Balin silently thanked whatever saw to the hobbit's curiosity. "Heartsigns are symbols that appear when two who are meant to be together meet. It appears wherever they touch first and are individual to them." He glanced at the halfling to see he was staring at his feet. "Where is yours?"

Bilbo looked up with wide fearful eyes. "Who said I have one?"

"Come now laddie, you must have one to seek such answers."

The hobbit pressed his hand over his heart. "Is it common for another race to share a mark?"

"Common? No, I would think not as I have never heard of it."

The gentle burglar pulled down the collar of his shirt and bared the blue mark, making Balin smile. "So it's you then."

"He told you?" The halfling looked half ready to bolt from the fireside.

"No, I found it. Back of his left hand, when he handed you the contract no doubt."

His voice became as small as his stature. "And can it be reversed?"

"You would not accept Thorin?" Balin was dismayed by the thought. Refusing one's mate was almost unheard of among the dwarves.

"No! That's not it at all. Its just I couldn't stick him with me. I'm just a hobbit from the Shire, not some brave warrior."

"Then it is not your fighting that makes you a good match to Thorin."

"But is it possible?"

Balin hesitated. "It is, if it is mutual. Otherwise you will be drawn to your other for the rest of your days."

The burglar thanked the old dwarf and made his way back to his blankets, further from the rest as usual. He knew that if the hobbit simply left, Thorin would never go after him and Bilbo would never stay in Erebor on his own if they were successful against Smaug. Wondering just what the Gods intended by matching such an unusual pair, the gray haired dwarf retired to his own bed.

The moment the hobbit entered the hidden passageway, the skin on the back of the dwarf's hand began tingling, demanding he remove his match from such immediate danger. Thorin rubbed his hand as he paced. Most of the company simply waited for the burglar to reappear but Balin watched the prince closely. When the repetitive sound of his footsteps became too much, the old dwarf caught Thorin's elbow and pulled him away from the others.

"Do you still doubt his bearing your mark?"

Instantly Thorin let go of his hand as if burned. "It hardly matters when we are so close to regaining our home."

"And do you think the halfling would also call this home?"

"Why should he? He is not bound to me."

"He is. I have seen his mark."

"Impossible." But Thorin could see no lie in his eye.

"It is the same as your sigul." Balin gestured to the jewel on the dwarf's hand. "Resting over his heart."

The younger dwarf turned away and glanced at his ring, given to him by his father when his beard had first begun to sprout. He had dreamed as a young dwarrow of meeting his match in a great warrior or wise merchant, even in a clever miner, but that dream was ended as Erebor fell to the might of Smaug. Keeping his family safe and his people together took precedence over finding a companion. And now he had his mate within his grasp but his focus must be on securing his mountain first.

A great roar echoed from the depths of the mountain and the dwarves ran back to the door. Bilbo tumbled out of the stone passageway in a plume of smoke, shaking his burning coat from his shoulders. Thorin rushed to the burglar's side and ensured all flames were extinguished before he realized that his hand rested on the halfling's chest as if it belonged there. The dwarf jerked back as if scalded. All conscious thought was wiped from the company as Smaug roared again and crawled from his lair. Flames forced the dwarves into the hidden passage and they were shut in.

Bilbo knew the gold madness had taken Thorin as he waved away any mention of the dragon and looked only for the Arkenstone. The hobbit looked down at the cold stone in his hands. He wondered if he should give the jewel to the dwarf and if Thorin would smile, or if he would turn away with his prize. All the halfling wanted was for the dwarf lord to look on him with pride and smile as much as his stony personality would allow. But he was not so naive to think that would happen if he gave up the Arkenstone, the Heart of the Mountain.

When envoys from the elves and men called Thorin from his gold, the dwarf would hear nothing of repayment or retribution. Bilbo stood by the prince's side until the horses moved away and the dwarf turned back to his treasure. Thorin did not see the burglar leave his side, nor did he notice anything around him as he dug through the mounds of gold. Only when the threat of war was imminent on his doorstep, did the prince look to his company.

Dwarves donned armor and readied themselves for battle and Thorin took a sumptuous mithril shirt for the hobbit. Only the halfling was nowhere to be found. What the dwarf lord found was a dark room, a light gleaming, beckoning from within. The Arkenstone rested in the middle of the room on top of Bilbo's signature on the contract from so many months before. For the first time since entering the Lonely mountain, Thorin felt for more than just gold. His heartsign on his hand ached viciously but he did not cringe away. The king knew he deserved the pain and welcomed it with open arms.

Bilbo stood with Gandalf on the field of battle. Four armies had already descended on the valley and the hobbit forced himself to look away from the dwarves. Thorin shone like a jewel surrounded by the rest of his kin and the skin over his breast burned even as he denied his desire to stand by his side. All he could do was watch as first Thorin fell, and then he was joined by Kili and Fili. It felt as if a fiery brand settled over his heart and could not be avoided as darkness covered him.

Bilbo Baggins returned to the Shire a changed hobbit. He did not come bearing gold or jewels, only a heavy heart and restless feet. Though the burglar did not leave the edges of the Shire, he was drawn to the east, always watching the sun brighten the sky over the Lonely Mountain in the morning and then the fall of night in the evening. Many whispered about the strange halfling, telling stories of how he had been carried away by dwarves. Some even said he never really returned, that it was another in his place and that would bring a wry smile to Bilbo's lips, though it would never reach his eyes. Somewhere to the east he had lost something of himself and he couldn't seem to find it again.

When Durin's Day had come to the green lands of the Shire again, Bilbo followed the well worn path to Bag End, looking fondly on the newly bloomed flowers glowing in the new sunrise. He checked his mailbox out of habit despite never receiving any correspondence and nearly shut it again before he realized that a small leather wrapped package sat in the box. It was surprisingly heavy in his hand as he stared at the neat knot of twine holding the wrappings in place. Something akin to dread filled the hobbit but all he could do was look at it. Suddenly, his courage was found and his nimble fingers pulled apart the knot. In the palm of his small hand sat the Arkenstone of Thrain, the Heart of the Mountain.

It took all the way to the borders of Buckland for the hobbit to realize he had actually decided to return to Erebor. His heart felt lighter with every step east and miles meant nothing to his feet. Sooner than he could have ever hoped, Bilbo Baggins looked upon the Lonely Mountain once more.

The crown felt heavy on his brow as lines of dwarves presented their requests or complaints. Balin acknowledged or dictated as was needed and the king rubbed his left hand absently. He had long accepted the burning sensation in his skin and he longed to let his feet carry him west to see the round green door etched on his skin. It seemed like an age had passed since he managed to lose his way twice in the verdant land of the Shire.

Thorin shook himself out of his thoughts when he realized he had not heard Balin speak in several moments. Before his throne knelt a small figure, cloaked and head bowed as he held out a leather wrapped object. Tithes were common as Erebor was rebuilt but the dwarf king could not bring himself to make any more grand speeches accepting such an offer. He waved his hand impatiently and Balin shuffled the supplicant away again. Thorin rose from the throne and left the hall. He did not wish for company and locked himself in his bedchamber, allowing the silence to wash over him.

The dwarf's eyes turned toward the contract he had kept after the battle and the mountain taken. The paper was meaningless, but Thorin often felt as if the burglar had tried to tell him something with leaving the Arkenstone where he had. In a fit of pique, the king had sent the gem to the hobbit, unwilling to have it on the throne again. Vaguely, he wondered what the burglar would think upon receiving the crown jewel of the dwarf kingdom, but he passed the thought away and studied the contract again.

The ink would never give him any answers, but it soothed his heartsign slightly to be near the only thing he had left of the halfling. But never did he expect to see the gleaming stone resting again among his papers. Thorin whirled to look around the room for anything out of place, not daring to hope the hobbit had returned with the Arkenstone.

Wondering if he had gone mad and never really sent the stone away, Thorin could feel the long seated ache in his hand eased into a pleasant buzz. But he could see no one else in his rooms. Intoxicated by the feeling of his mate so near, the king left his room and searched through the halls of the mountain. Sometimes he felt like he was close to reaching out to the hobbit when he would realize the feeling was fleeting and he had gone the wrong way. Dwarves looked at him strangely as the king walked quickly through the halls, seeming to look for something, but he did not notice. All that mattered was finding his mate and holding him close again. Hours later, Thorin stopped at one of the balconies that overlooked the treasure room.

Bilbo could only stare at the vast room. The last time he saw it, the company had been combing through the gold, lead by Thorin looking for the Arkenstone. The hobbit remembered stories told by Balin and Gloin about the great wealth stacked and sorted neatly into piles and the great bed Smaug had made of the treasure. But what he saw now was polished floors and tasteful displays of artfully crafted pieces. The burglar glanced to his side and found the king also looking at what remained of his wealth. He removed his golden ring and stepped out of the shadow beside the dwarf.

"Where did it go?"

"I gave it away." Thorin was not at all surprised to find the hobbit so near. "When I opened my eyes and you were gone. I realized that if more valued food and cheer above hoarded gold, it would be a merrier world."

Bilbo carefully touched his hand to the king's and let out a breath of relief when their fingers twined together. "I almost lost what I had for something I didn't need."

"Does that mean you want me to stay?"

"Yes, if you would agree to."

The dwarf didn't need to see the hobbit nod to know he would stay. Bilbo remained by the king's side and offered calming words when anger took him or an insight Balin missed. And Thorin became known as a wise and generous king, freely sharing his wealth so all the lands would prosper. For though he was not a great warrior, his wisdom complemented the dwarf's power and there was never any doubt that they bore each other's heartsigns.