Disclaimer: The Hobbit, all characters, places, and related terms are the sole property of J. R. R. Tolkien's estate, and Warner Brothers, New Line Cinema, Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer, and WingNut Films.

Dedicated: To elveriamoir.

Falling Petals

Bilbo looked around the meadow full of wild flowers not far from the company's campsite. The long stems swayed in the gentle breeze, flowers nodding lazily. The lass did not skip among them or gather any for her hair as she had often done. Instead she was still, the delight in her green eyes slipping behind consideration.

Go on, the Took side in her encouraged.

Don't be silly, her Baggins side huffed.

What harm is there? Took huffed in return.

"It is only a game," Bilbo mused out loud, shrugging. Yet when she stretched out to pluck a flower, she hesitated for half a second before picking it. Sitting down on the ground, the hobbit gently ran her finger over the petals for a second.

"He loves me," she said quietly, pulling off a petal from the flower. "He loves me not." A second one was plucked. "He loves me…"

Keep going, Took urged.

As the lass pulled off a fourth one, "He loves me not."

Fool of a Baggins! This is impossible! You will end up heartbroken again, Baggins warned.

Shut up, Baggins! Took snapped.

"…He loves me not," the hobbit's voice wobbled. A sixth petal fell.

Remember the first time you did this? Baggins demanded. Wanting Fatty Proudfoot to let you follow him around like his shadow? He laughed at you.

Heat rose in Bilbo's cheeks. "He loves me, he loves me not."

Took jumped on the defensive. You were only seven! You did not understand the game then.

But then there was your coming of age party, Baggins went on. You were going to confess your three-year fancy to that Smallburrow lad. He didn't leave Ruby Hayward's side all night and shortly after married her. Broke your heart he did.

Gorbadoc was a bad lot, Took conceded. In the end it was good you did not get together with him.

"He—" the Halfling faltered. She swallowed. "He loves me," she continued, tugging off a petal. "He loves me not." Another petal drifted to the ground.

You know what they say, third time's the charm, Took cheered.

Baggins snorted. Like he would actually be in love with you! You are not a dwarf, no fighter, and definitely not a burglar.

"He loves me…"

Took pointed out, You know he watches you—

Aye, glaring is terribly romantic, Baggins interjected.

–And has protected you in times of danger.

"He loves me not."

Ha! He is concerned about the wellbeing of his friends! You just happen to be nearby.

"He loves me."

To be loved by someone like that: loyal, fearless, good, attractive…, Took swooned.

Bofur said dwarves love only once in their lives! Baggins claimed a bit hysterically. Surely he has given his heart to some nice dwarf lass who understands his ways, compliments him, will make him a proper wife.

"He loves me not," Bilbo whispered into the sudden quiet. The last petal spiraled to the ground. A lump formed in her throat. "I knew it," she chuckled weakly, trying to ignore her sinking heart. Sniffing, she brushed a hand over her eyes.

"No… Wait!" a rough voice suddenly spoke above her.

Before the stunned hobbit could look around, an orange flower was thrust under her nose, making her go cross-eyed. Instinctively she moved to take it.

"Try again, burglar," the voice ordered (stammering slightly over the words, lacking its usual confidence).

Head jerking up, Bilbo only caught a blurry glimpse of a beard as the dwarf spun on his heel and left. Mouth open, the lass dazedly looked back at the new flower. Her hands shook as she started the game again. "He loves me…"

Moments later she bound to her feet and took off running. Even with his head start and longer legs, Bilbo caught up to the dwarf and grasped his large hand. Gasping, he stumbled to a halt and fixed her with a surprised, tense frown.

Uncertainty pricked the hobbit's earlier realization and hope. However, the taller creature did not rip his hand away and yell at her for being in his personal space. So, bravely, she pressed his hand and smiled, sweetly, gently, lovingly up at him.

Gradually the lines disappeared from the dwarf's face, his wonder morphing into understanding and then shy tenderness. His cheeks pinked, his eyes softened, and underneath his beard he smiled. Bilbo's smile brightened, her heart soared. When he lifted her hand to his lips, not breaking eye contact, the lass's knees almost buckled.

Hand in hand, she and Dwalin walked back to the campsite.

Third time's the charm, Took whispered.

I love happy endings, Baggins sighed.

THE END