I just couldn't resist this newest take on a childhood favorite.

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.


An Unexpected Journey

After running clear across Hobbiton to catch up with the company of dwarves, Bilbo Baggins found himself perched on a pony, his racing heart slowing, surrounded by rambunctious dwarves and a very amused wizard. It quickly became apparent that the short equine was not going to hurl him to the ground and the hobbit relaxed slightly in the saddle, letting his mind wander. However, the trees and flowers soon lost their luster as boredom began to creep in on the halfling's mind.

His companions did not seem overly interested in talking to him, even to answer his questions, so he gave up asking. Instead, Bilbo took to his usual traveling pastime, writing songs. But every time he got a good set of lines, one of the dwarves would let out a sharp bark of laughter or something would go whizzing over his head. The interruptions wiped the tune from the halfling's mind and he would have to start all over. Eventually he gave up making his own music and remembered the song the dwarves sang the night before.

Thorin's voice had been deep and somber as he told the tale of the lonely mountain, sending goose pimples across Bilbo's arms and a shiver down his spine. That night as he fell asleep listening to the ragtag band of dwarves and their prince, he had dreamed of joining their adventure and seeing Erebor. Now he was seated precariously on his pony and studied the royal dwarf's back.

With nothing better to do during the long days than listen to the dwarves tell bawdy stories and insult each other playfully, Bilbo compiled a list of things the dwarves considered normal that were completely outrageous for Hobbits. At the top of the list was their feisty attitudes. It seemed breed into the hardy race to always be spoiling for a fight, be it with elves, each other, or a tree root that tripped them. They also bragged about everything. And then there was the stubbornness. Once they decided on a course of action, nothing could dissuade them.

Before many days into their journey, Bilbo decided that Thorin Oakenshield did not like him one bit. This troubled the hobbit because his only experience with disliking someone was because they had paid him insult first. As far as he knew, he hadn't done anything to insult the dwarf and yet the prince wouldn't even look at him. The halfling decided it was simply one of an increasing list of differences between himself and the sturdy people.


After the troll incident, Bilbo felt both elated and crestfallen. On one hand, he hadn't lost his head when Fili and Kili shoved him towards the camp and the stolen ponies. But on the other, he had gotten all 13 of the dwarves caught and nearly eaten. It had proved that Thorin did have some care for his well being when he laid down his sword, but the sharp words regarding his carelessness hurt worse than being manhandled by the trolls. Though, in the end, they found a good supply of mutton and the elvish swords in the hoard.

Gandalf apparently had words with the prince because Thorin began acknowledging the burglar's presence without insult. Bilbo just wished it wasn't by staring at him across the camp every night. The hard dwarf's gaze made the hobbit uncomfortable. He felt almost naked as the rest of the company slept and the older man kept watch. To distract himself from the intense scrutiny, he quietly observed the other dwarves as they slept.

After only a few nights, Bilbo had come to recognize that there was a silent agreement as to sleeping arrangements and it was easier to wait for everyone else to settle down before laying out his own roll on the edge of camp. Fili and Kili were always pressed close to the fire and would often shove each other before pulling the other close again as they slept. Bifur always settled between his cousins, Bofur and Bombur, held tight between their mass to ensure he didn't start hitting any of the other dwarves. Ori, Nori, and Dori were such a mass of limbs and leather the hobbit wondered just how close the brothers were. Gloin would often speak of the beautiful dwarf maiden that had consented to be his wife and his young son, but was often pressed close to his brother Oin in the night. Though younger, Dwalin would curl protectively around his brother, always adjusting their blankets closer around the older man as Balin pushed them away. Only Thorin kept his bedding away from the others and slept alone.


The last thing he expected from the injured dwarf was to be pulled into a tight embrace and relabeled as friend. The hobbit hadn't anticipated anything more than a few cold words and being relegated to being ignored at the back of the company again. Instead, Thorin had specifically requested the burglar tend his wounds and sat quietly as Bilbo dabbed at the blood and grime smeared across his back. The muscles under his small hands felt like stone and even in pain, the prince's shoulders were straight and head held high. As doubtful as he was regarding the plausibility of success of this venture, the hobbit knew if anyone was able to defeat Smaug the Golden, it would be Thorin Oakenshield, Son of Thrain, Son of Thror.

Bilbo was ready to take his place at the back of the line of dwarves when Thorin appeared at his side. The hobbit startled, but didn't say anything as they began the long trek down from the eagle's aerie. When at last they reached the bottom, the prince still traveled next to the burglar. Thorin's continued presence confused the young hobbit and amused several of the company but a glare from the royal dwarf silenced their whispers.

That night when they set up camp, the hobbit moved to his usual place near Fili and Kili, laying out his bedroll for the night. As he pulled the blanket up to his chin, the diminutive man glanced across the fire expecting to see blue-gray eyes studying him through the flames. Bilbo startled when he realized the prince was nowhere in sight and a heavy pack landed next to him. There stood Thorin, face unreadable for a moment before he lowered himself to the ground beside the hobbit.

Cold and confusion kept the Shireling from sleep for long hours and he couldn't silence the squeal of surprise when a heavy arm settled around his waist and pulled him firmly against the broad chest of a dwarf. Bilbo tensed and tried to pull away but Thorin tightened his hold on the burglar.

"Relax, little one." The prince whispered into the tapered ear of the hobbit.

The hot puff of air against his sensitive ear sent a shiver down Bilbo's spine and he did not relax under the heavy arm. Thoughts whirled around his head faster than he could think them. He was quite sure he was dreaming but when the situation didn't change after pinching himself, the halfling tried again to squirm away.

"Lay quietly, Baggins so we can sleep." The dwarf settled more comfortably into the blanket and gently pressed his cheek to the hobbit's hair. "Unless you find me distasteful?"

"N-no, not at all."

"Good." Thorin grunted and Bilbo knew it was the end of the conversation.

He willed each muscle to relax and tried to ignore the dwarf behind him but the prince's presence flooded his senses. Thorin's breath stirred his hair and the heavy arm weighed down every breath, but what stood out in his mind the most was the great wall of hard flesh radiating heat through leather and linen. Eventually, the comfortable warmth lulled him to sleep and he dreamed of a cloud shrouded mountain and the tunnels through its roots.