Author's Notes: Hello there! This is a fanfiction begged of me by two of my friends. It's Bagginshield/Thilbo, and I guess you can classify it as slow burning. I'm not sure of the ending quite yet (I have several options) so the rating might get altered accordingly. As usual, if you're uncomfortable with male on male (m/m) pairings, then this isn't for you. This is set post Battle of Five Armies but because my heart can't handle a canon Hobbit story right now, I have them all alive and well. Also, I did my best with the time lapses, but I don't know if they would be entirely correct. Bear with me. And with that, we're off!

Deep within the halls of The Lonely Mountain, within a room of stone sat a being quite out of place in the darkness; a hobbit. He sat in an overly ornate chair that offered little lumbar support, hunched over a large oak desk. The room that surrounded him wasn't home, but what about his journey out of the Shire had been pleasant or comfortable let alone homely? He was quite content trading in walking all day for a job behind a desk. His back was to the doorway, a bed covered with fur pelts sat behind him to his left, and to his right was a wardrobe in which hung the remainder of his clothes from the journey including the mithril armor Thorin had bestowed upon him.

Dipping his quill into the jar of ink, Bilbo returned the feather to the parchment before him. The night had nearly spent itself, dawn quickly approaching, but he couldn't find a good stopping point. Before him was a several pages account detailing the dealings between the dwarves and the elves after The Battle of Five armies nearly a year prior along with the tale of The Company's quest to reclaim Erebor from Smaug. His handwriting ran across the page evenly as if there were lines they were resting on, but that came from good practice. The dwarves, unused to having to write down much of anything-let alone business negotiations and the like with elves- had entrusted the halfing with the task. Bilbo sat at the desk, hunched over, writing by candle light that seemed at the point of burning out. Darkness surrounded him except for the bubble of light he crowded close to. His quill scratched across the pages rhythmically.

'A small portion of gold was given to the elves for their part in the battle against the orcs, but they seem unmoved by monetary trinkets. To appease them and in an attempt to repair the relation between the races, few of the remaining books containing first-hand accounts of long ago dealings of the dwarves were given to the elves for safe keeping in their library.'

"I wish I could have hung onto those books," Bilbo grumbled.

'They left approximately two weeks after the battle, having had their dead buried by the river and their wounded patched up as much as they could. Thorin seems relieved at their departure.'

"Departure…"

Bilbo sat back in his chair, staring ahead into space while twirling the quill between his fingers. He gave a tired sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. Lately he had been feeling his age; the energy that he has shown during The Adventure had surely been a ruse for now he couldn't imagine doing it again.

"But…"

"You should rest now, Master Bilbo," came a familiar voice from the doorway.

This situation had happened nearly every night for a year, so Bilbo was able to resist jumping in alarm. He didn't have to turn to know who it was, but he did so anyway. Thorin stood in the doorway, his normal attire traded for a dark blue robe lined with grey furs from the wargs slayed during the battle. His salt and peppered hair was tied up in a ponytail at the base of his skull and like usual he wore a grumpy look on his face, albeit a lot softer than their first encounter.

Bilbo offered a small smile. "I will, as soon as I finish up."

The returning king raised a brow and advanced into the room. He stood behind the large chair, peering around Bilbo to the words etched across the page. "So soon?"

The hobbit laughed. " 'So soon' he says! King Thorin, surely you jest? I've been working on the account of our quest and The Battle of the Five Armies for nearly a year! I should have and would have been done much sooner if not for certain dwarves requiring my attention!"

Thorin averted his eyes. "Perhaps you should have told my nephews not to disturb you? If you wished, I could have-"

At this Bilbo erupted into rapturous laughter. Thorin was a bit surprised at the volume of the hobbit, but could only smile at the scene. After going through such hardships as The Company had, it was nice to see laughter and merriment not only return to the dwarven halls, but also to the dwarves themselves and especially the hobbit. But even more than that, Thorin Oakenshield enjoyed watching Bilbo laugh with lightheartedness.

"You, Thorin Oakenshield, were the most in need of my attention!" Bilbo exclaimed, a grin pulling his mouth ear to ear. "Why, I can't think of a time where I was able to sit more than an hour without being summoned to do something of 'utmost importance'!"

The dwarf gave a chuckle, more than Bilbo had ever hoped to get from the typically stoic King at the beginning of their journey to defeat Smaug.

"I will not deny that perhaps I required you more than I should have," he said. "But in all fairness, my other option was typically my nephews. Could you blame me?"

Bilbo gave a small snort. "Both are adults just as much as I."

The two both began to chuckle at the thought.

"In all seriousness," Bilbo began again, "I've almost completed it. Only a bit more and-"

As he went to dip his quill in the ink pool he found that the ink had been depleted. He immediately frowned.

"Looks as though you must stop now, halfing," Thorin said, still smilingly slightly from the image of his nephews acting their age. "I shall have more ink delivered to your quarters tomorrow morning."

"Before second breakfast I hope."

Another chuckle. "Yes…by second breakfast."

A happy grin appeared once more on the hobbit's face. "I'm so happy to be getting back into more of my hobbit-esque routine. I've lost so much weight since leaving," he said, almost as if he were complaining. "I don't look my same hobbit-y self. Not that I can be blamed for that. Walking for hours upon hours with only perhaps a meal in the morning and at night will do that to any hobbit I suppose."

Thorin who had been heading towards the door stopped. Without turning he said, "Bilbo, you look fine. Don't worry your head over it."

Bilbo, who had been starting to put away his writing implements stopped, Thorin's words finally registering.

"E-Excuse me?" he squeaked nervously.

The dwarf however was already gone out the door by the time Bilbo turned around. With a sigh Bilbo went back to packing his supplies up.

" 'You look fine' he says," Bilbo muttered under his breath. "Overthinking things you are you silly hobbit!"

As he went to move the nearly completed book into one of the drawers of the desk he paused, staring at the leather cover which bore the name 'DURIN' in the middle. He allowed himself to run a finger over the calligraphy.

"You're a fool you are," he continued in a softer voice. Sadder. "He'll never be interested in a boring Halfling who still can barely grasp a sword without impaling himself!"

He slid the book into the drawer, blew out the small flame that had remained burning and headed over to the bed. Moving some of the furs aside, he cocooned himself within the warm hides that Dwalin had skinned for him.

"There's no reason for me here now that they've reclaimed their home," he whispered to himself, half-afraid that within the darkness some spy lurked, waiting to obtain his secret feelings for the King Under the Mountain, feelings that had been slowly building since the middle of their journey. "I had best return soon."