A/N- Well. This was supposed to be something entirely different. I set out trying to write something inspired by a thing over on AO3, and it turned out completly different. I guess you could say it was an unexpected journey, eh?
Uh, on an other note, for any readers of the the Rule 63: Winchester edition, I'll try to have an other chapter up later today, and possibly one for Alive as well. No promises on the second on though. Sorry I don't have a set updating schedule on any of my fics, life's just a bit too busy atm to be cranking things out that regularily. Thanks for reading though! And, of course, as always, reviews are very much appreciated.
Dwarves, Bilbo has noticed, in his time adventuring with them, are quite different from the Halfling folk he's used to. For one thing they're gruffer, less used to showing how they feel, but somehow even more fiercely familial for it. They've odd customs, from the interactions with their fellows, to the stories the tell of their homes in the Blue Mountains. He sometimes wishes to be a part of them, not just their tagalong burglar.
At night, when they stop to make camp, they work as one to set up bedrolls, care for the ponies, and pass out rations. More often than not, Bilbo finds himself sitting with Gandalf, as the old wizard watches, for fear of being squashed in the commotion.
When the fire's died down and the bowls've been emptied and scraped clean, the dwarves voices would rise and fall, harmonizing effortlessly in both Khuzdul and Common. They sing stories of dwarf kings of old, and of the home they used to have. Even the youngest of the dwarves have their place around the fire, and their part in the songs, and the hobbit often finds himself longing to be a part of it, though he doesn't know the songs and stories, and has no singing voice to speak of.
After the Defiler's ambush he is welcomed more easily into the group, Bofur and Dwalin moving aside to make room for him at dinner, and Balin making an admirable effort to translate the parts he doesn't understand.
Thorin, despite his apparent regrets about his previous treatment of Bilbo, had made no further attempt to make the Halfling feel welcome, apart from half hearted part smiles when he saw the hobbit looking. This was, however, as Bilbo had discovered, just the king's way of acknowledging every one, his stony silence only there to keep some semblance of royal formality.
He'd even thought he caught the dwarf laughing once, when Kili angered a nest of crows and hid behind his brother to escape their wrath.
All in all, he's decided, despite having a hobbits preference for an easy life, more than two daily meals, and at least a weekly bath, how much is he really different from his friends?