His Treasure

Summary: Whilst the Company is riding on the road, something falls out of Bifur's sack without the dwarf's knowledge, and Bilbo retrieves it. Perplexed, and not quite sure what to make of it, the hobbit shows the item to Óin, forcing the stunned healer to confront the manic dwarf for answers, leading to a surprising revelation that changes their relationship forever. Óin/Bifur.

A/N: My first fanfic for "The Hobbit"! Love the book and movie, and now obsessing over Óin and Bifur, especially the idea of them being a couple (deafness + being misunderstood = match made in Heaven). So please, no flames. Iglishmêk and Khuzdûl are written in italics. Features an overprotective Glóin, an inquisitive Bofur and of course, Bilbo "I'm not a burglar!" Baggins. Enjoy! :)

Disclaimer: I do not own "The Hobbit", which belongs to JRR Tolkien and his estate.

Chapter 1: Lost

If Bilbo Baggins hadn't fallen behind the Company as they rode along on the road, he probably would have continued on his way, and the item that fell out of Bifur's sack would have been lost forever.

The hobbit had fallen into conversation with Bofur and Bombur, both of whom were riding at a leisurely pace on their ponies and bringing up the rear; Bilbo found the dwarf brothers to be easygoing and amicable, but he felt a little intimidated by their cousin, Bifur. Whether it was his wild, rugged appearance – from his long, wild black hair, his flowing black-going-on-white beard to the Orc axe protruding from his forehead - or his communicating through gruff Khuzdûl accompanied by Iglishmêk, or the manic gestures he made whilst he spoke … Bilbo was not sure which factor contributed to his fears, but nevertheless the hobbit felt uneasy around the wild-haired dwarf, afraid to engage him in conversation.

Bifur himself was quiet as he rode along his cousins, gazing ahead with unusual focus. Riding in front of them were the brothers Óin and Glóin, and they were engaged in friendly banter. The fiery-haired dwarf casually passed a ribald remark regarding his brother's hearing, and Óin retorted that he was not above swatting his younger brother with his ear-trumpet. They laughed good-naturedly, unaware that Bifur was practically staring holes into Óin's back. Bofur tried a few times to get his cousin's attention, but Bifur seemed miles away: his focus was on the healer and no one else alone.

Bilbo was struck curious by the dark-haired dwarf's intense concentration on Óin, so much so that he absent-mindedly accepted an offering of a snack from Bombur, and he was surprised when an apple whizzed past his nose and landed on the ground in front of him, startling his pony enough to stop her in her tracks: Bilbo yelped, quickly wrapping his arms around Myrtle's neck to prevent himself from falling in a heap on the ground. His cheeks were a faint red as the two brothers roared with laughter, stopping their ponies to look at the hobbit. Surprisingly, Bifur stopped too, though he looked loath to have stopped at all.

"You better rescue that there apple before your pony scoffs it up!" said Bofur with a grin. "Want us to wait for you, Master Baggins?"

"No, no, there's no need, Mister Bofur," replied Bilbo as he unwrapped his arms from around poor Myrtle's neck. "I'll be quick sticks. Go on ahead!"

"Alright. Come along, Bombur, Bifur," said the hat-wearing dwarf to his rotund brother and his cousin, urging his pony forward.

Bombur followed suit, munching on a bright-red apple. Bifur cast a wary eye on the hobbit, muttered something incomprehensible under his breath and urged his pony to catch up with the rapidly moving Company, riding past his cousins before he took his place behind Óin and Glóin.

Out of the corner of Bilbo's eye, he saw something tumble out of the wild-haired dwarf's open sack as Bifur rushed past Bofur and Bombur, the brothers lost in idle chatter to have even noticed. It fell a little ahead of the apple, which Myrtle contemplated with hungry eyes. Bilbo cupped his mouth and was about to alert Bifur, when he remembered the look the dwarf gave him a few seconds before – something told the hobbit that Bifur didn't want to be bothered again, and Bilbo was not banking on escaping with another dirty look.

Grumbling to himself, Bilbo climbed off the pony and retrieved the apple, which he immediately fed to Myrtle. Turning his back on the grateful pony, Bilbo ventured forward and bent down to pick up the fallen item. As he examined it for damage, the expression on his face transitioned from irritation to surprise, then to utter confusion, and then quickly back to surprise.

What is Bifur doing with this? Did he make this?

"Oy, Master Baggins! Keep up! From here you look like an ant!" came Bofur's voice, interrupting the hobbit's thoughts.

"I'm coming!" answered Bilbo, pocketing the item and, with a small degree of difficulty, climbed back on Myrtle's back and urged her to catch up with the Company. It was getting dark, and everyone was getting tired. The sooner they set up camp, the sooner they could eat and rest before going on with their journey.

Declining another apple from Bombur, Bilbo glanced at Bifur, who again had taken to stare at Óin's back. Bofur passed a humourous comment about the punctuality of Hobbits, and he managed to wheedle a grunt out of his wild-haired cousin and nothing more than that. Óin and Glóin overheard the comment and chuckled. The healer looked over his shoulder and smiled at the brothers and their cousin.

To Bilbo's amazement, Bifur looked away, and his cheeks – Oh my hat, am I really seeing this? thought Bilbo in alarm – were flushing pink. Flushing!

Óin didn't seem to notice this, and was soon talking to his brother again.

Three seconds later, Bifur, once again, had his eyes on the healer.

As he stared at Bifur and then at Óin, Bilbo reached into his pocket and felt the retrieved item, trying to make sense of everything that he had seen so far.

That, and he was working up the courage to approach the manic dwarf to give his possession back.

Whatever courage the hobbit gained was lost again when Bifur made a scene.

No sooner had the Company set up camp in a clearing surrounded by high trees and many bushes, the wild-haired dwarf suddenly began to yell curses in Khuzdûl. Bilbo watched as the screaming dwarf rummaged angrily in his sack, pulling out extra clothing, blocks of wood and various tools, and throwing them to the ground in a bad temper. The sack was then unceremoniously flung to the side. Bifur stood from his seat, looking frantically around him, his flashing eyes searching the ground. He kept crying something in Khuzdûl along the lines of "Ogamat!", and from his tone, Bilbo could tell that Bifur was extremely upset about something.

Moreover, he had a hunch it had something to do with the item in his pocket.

All the dwarves – including Thorin Oakenshield, no less - and Gandalf intervened, trying to calm Bifur down and make sense of his current state. The wild-haired dwarf cried "Ogamat!" several times before he calmed down, allowing his cousins to attend to him. Bofur spoke softly to him, offering kind and comforting words; Bombur offered his cousin an ale to drink. Gandalf and Thorin, however, demanded to know why Bifur had exploded like that, and they wanted to know now.

Bifur did not deign to reply. He silently broke away from the group, trudged to a spot under a tree and sat down with a thump. Back against the tree, he pulled out a knife and a block of wood, and began to whittle. He seemed determined to sit, whittle and sulk for the rest of the evening.

Gandalf and the dwarves sighed to themselves before dispersing. Bofur whispered cheerfully to Bilbo as he passed, "Don't look so worried, Master Baggins. Bifur will come 'round eventually. Give him time!"

"I'll take your word for it," replied Bilbo, not entirely convinced by the hat-wearing dwarf's words.

Looking at Bifur sitting there, a fierce, sulking look dominating his rugged face, the hobbit's mind was made up: there was no way he was going to approach the dwarf now and return the missing item, not while he held a knife in his hand. Bilbo didn't know how Bifur would react after he had searched high and low for his possession now deemed lost, but he was sure that Bifur would not exactly be pleased to know that the hobbit, the Company's official burglar, had his possession all along.

Bilbo inwardly groaned, burying his face in his hands. Sooner or later Bifur will find out, and the later he left the matter unresolved, the more his chances of not coming away unscathed increased.

Unless …

Bilbo lifted his head, looking out at the scene before him. Thorin, Balin and Gandalf were deep in conversation in the top far-right corner of the clearing. To their left, Dori was lecturing Nori about some trivial matter, though it was clear that the star-shaped-haired dwarf was not really listening. Ori sat between his brothers on the ground, writing away in his journal, probably writing about Bifur's tantrum. On the right, Fíli and Kíli were sitting with Dwalin, sharpening their weapons and talking about goodness knows what. Óin and Glóin sat together by the fire, smoking their pipes, and Bombur was adding the finishing touches to their supper. Bofur finished packing his cousin's sack and he, too, busied himself with carving a piece that was nearing completion.

Bilbo looked behind him at the row of rather tall bushes, the plants promising cover and complete privacy ...

Taking a deep breath, Bilbo walked over to the fire and stopped next to Óin, tapping the healer on the shoulder. "Mister Óin?"

The grey-haired dwarf turned around, his pipe now in his left hand and his ear-trumpet now in his right. He was a sophisticated, well-read and intelligent dwarf, who was easy to get on with, provided he could hear what you were saying. He was muscular and strong for his age, and he had fine dark-grey hair and a marvellous beard with two intricate braids curled upwards. His scimitar of a nose was sharp, but he had a friendly, witty mouth and youthful brown eyes. An altogether decent-looking dwarf.

Óin smiled and greeted the hobbit in his usual gruff voice. "Ah, Master Baggins! Do just call me Óin. We can do 'way with "Mister". Now, what can I do for you?"

"I'm terribly sorry to bother you, Óin, but, uh," Bilbo paused, his eyes darting around quickly at his surroundings before he resumed talking, albeit in a soft whisper, "can I talk to you for a minute? It's about a … well, a particularly delicate matter, if you will."

"A delicate matter, eh?" boomed Óin. "Nothing to be ashamed of. Well now, lad, let's hear it!"

To Bilbo's horror, when the partially-deaf Óin spoke, his robust voice rang out, attracting the attention of every bloody dwarf around them. They all turned and looked at the embarrassed hobbit, fast becoming red under their hot gazes. Even Gandalf's amused look made him blush further. Bifur had stopped in his whittling and stared at the hobbit, his head canted to the side. His sulky expression transitioned to curiousity, and slowly changed into what looked like suspicion, making Bilbo gulp in fear.

Óin was oblivious to his companion's discomfort, and was waiting for Bilbo to speak. "Master Baggins? What is it you're wanting to discuss with me?"

"Actually," the hobbit squeaked, clearing his throat, "it's a rather private matter, and I'd prefer it if we took our conversation some place else, say, behind that bush?"

He pointed to the tall bush behind him. The healer shifted his curious gaze to the bush for a few moments, and then he turned his gaze back to Bilbo, frowning. "Behind there?"

"Yes, please. I promise, I'll only keep you for five minutes, just in time for supper," said Bilbo, a pleading look in his eyes.

Óin glanced at his brother, who was equally perplexed as he, and finally he sighed. "Alright then. Let's go."

Bilbo turned on his heels and walked towards the bush, feeling everyone's eyes on his back and not at all loath to escape them. Despite Glóin's protests, Óin got up and followed the hobbit, wondering what was ailing the resident burglar to the point that he could not speak openly about it in front of the Company.

One way to find out, he thought as the two of them disappeared behind the bush.

He did not realise that Bifur stared after him with a doleful look in his eyes.

"Alright, Master Hobbit, what's troublin' you?"

They were behind the bush, out of earshot of, and completely hidden from, the Company. The moonlight illuminated the area behind the undergrowth. Óin stood before Bilbo, a gloved hand on his hip. He looked distinguished in his grey and brown clothing – but then again, the healer was a distinguished dwarf, and he was not one to beat around the bush (so to speak), nor did he have time for waffling. So, Bilbo was determined not to waffle, altogether keen to lift the weight off his back.

Clearing his throat, Bilbo answered, "I have to show you something."

Óin raised an eyebrow in understanding. "Oh, I see. Like I said, laddie, nothing to be ashamed of! We all get sores once in a while. We won't judge you."

"No, nothing like that!" cried Bilbo, trying to keep himself composed (and failing miserably). "This is something else entirely. I honestly don't know what to make of it, so I thought I could show you because ..."

He paused, biting on his bottom lip. Óin urged him on with his eyes.

"... perhaps I should just show you, so you'll see what I mean."

With that being said, the hobbit reached into his pocket and pulled out the item that had been the root of his nerves all evening.

When Óin saw it, a small gasp of surprise escaped from his mouth.

What in Mahal's name …?

It was a wooden toy, beautifully carved. It was quite small, half the size of a dwarf's hand, but it didn't make it any less beautiful. The moonlight reflected off the toy's wooden surface, illuminating the immense and exquisite details of the piece. It was obvious that a lot of care and effort went into making the toy.

But it was the likeness of the toy that stunned Óin, for the toy, a figurine in fact, looked exactly like him.

When Óin held out his left hand, Bilbo gratefully passed the toy over and watched as the grey-haired dwarf examined the figurine of himself.

The miniature version of Óin was extremely elaborate. The healer's brown eyes took in the details of the figurine, wearing its hood over its head and its cloak flying behind it. The texture of the toy's clothing looked realistic – Óin could see that the toy's gloves were reminiscent of woollen material that his own gloves were made of. The figurine, with the same build, clutched a sharp-looking iron staff, its ear-trumpet hanging on its side and the satchel it carried brimmed with medical tools and supplies. The intricate, curled braids stood out from the fine beard and moustache, and the shape of the sharp nose was spot-on. Its mouth was set in a friendly smile. The eyes, lined though they were, seemingly sparkled with life. The figurine's booted feet was set on a small wooden platform, similar to a wooden mannequin on a wooden base.

Carved delicately into the front of the platform was one word: ÓIN.

"Where did you get this?" Óin breathed, too amazed at the toy in his hand to look at Bilbo.

Bilbo shuffled his feet, looking down at the ground as he said, "It fell out of Bifur's sack."

"Fell out of Bifur's sack?" exclaimed Óin, now looking at the hobbit with wide brown eyes. "Did you just say it fell out of Bifur's sack, laddie?"

"Yes," answered Bilbo quietly. "I saw it fall out of his sack when I fell behind the group earlier, and well, I rescued it." The hobbit gestured to the piece in the healer's hands. "I assume that Bifur made it, and I've meant to give it back to him, no question about it, but I couldn't find the right time to, uh, approach him and return it."

Óin stared at the hobbit, unable to believe what he was hearing. So many thoughts were running through the healer's head at that moment: Bifur made this! A toy that looks like me! But why me? Why did he make this in the first place?

"I thought it best to show you," interrupted Bilbo's anxious voice, "because, like I said just now, I don't know what to make of it, and truth be told -" his tone became sheepish, "- after what happened a few minutes ago, I don't think I'm able to give this toy back to him, and I was thinking - well, hoping is the better word, I think - that perhaps maybe you can give it back to him?" Here his tone became obviously desperate. "I don't think he likes me as much as he seems to like you, and he won't be upset with you like I'm sure he'll be with me."

The images of Bifur searching his sack, throwing about its contents and finally flinging the sack away, cursing in Khuzdûl as he seemed to be looking around on the ground for something in desperation, flashed in Óin's mind like lightning, and the reason for the wild-haired dwarf's fit suddenly became clear.

"Mahalu-me turg," murmured the healer in realisation, tugging a braid. "No wonder he was actin' out of sorts. He must have thought that he lost this toy forever."

Then he looked at Bilbo, a frown tugging at his lips. "What do you mean, he doesn't like you as much as he seems to like me? Explain, Master Baggins, if you will be so kind."

Poor Bilbo's cheeks flushed in the moonlight. "Well, it seems to me that Bifur likes you a bit – possibly in the, um ... romantic sense."

His cheeks flushed even deeper, and, to his astonishment, Óin began to blush as well. The dwarf's cheeks glowed pink in the moonlight, and it glowed even brighter as the healer spluttered, "Romantic sense, Master Baggins? What gives you that idea?"

"It's the way he stares at you," blurted out Bilbo. "Staring at you in such an intense way whilst we were riding, as if no one else but you existed. Why, his eyes practically bored into your back! When you smiled at him, did you know that he blushed? I didn't think that was even possible!"

Again, he gestured at the toy. "And if Bifur making a scene all because he lost a toy that looks like you doesn't prove that he has feelings for you, I don't know what will!"

Silence reigned between the two of them. Bilbo saw a thoughtful look pass over Óin's face, his brown eyes looking down at the beautifully crafted toy. He ran his fingers down its wooden surface, captivated by the fine details of the figurine, and the hobbit could tell that the healer greatly admired Bifur's piece of handiwork: not out of vanity, but rather because he was touched that the toy-making dwarf chose him, out of everyone else, to use as a model for the piece.

Bilbo sighed and then spoke, a touch of finality in his voice. "Look, Óin, I'm terribly sorry for bringing up this development on you so suddenly, and there's a lot to take in, I know. But I'm afraid there's nothing I can do about it, as it's not my place to meddle in anyone's affairs. I could be wrong about everything, and you can choose to not listen to me because of that strong possibility. All I ask of you is to return that toy to Bifur, and to tell him that I didn't steal it from him nor did I intend to cause him any anguish whilst it was in my possession. Will you please do that for me, Óin?"

"Aye, laddie, I'll do just that," whispered Óin, though his voice sounded distant. He had eyes only for the toy, as if the hobbit was not there. "I'll do just that."

Before anything more could be said, Bombur's voice suddenly rang out, "SUPPER'S READY!"

"ÓIN! MASTER BAGGINS! Get a bloody move-on 'fore I come and get you m'self!" That was, unmistakably, Glóin.

Bilbo watched the healer pocket the toy. It made the pocket bulge slightly, but otherwise nothing seemed out of the ordinary with the dwarf's appearance. Óin looked at Bilbo and murmured hurriedly, "Not a word is to be said to the others about this, understand?"

"When will you approach Bifur?" Bilbo asked, anxiously.

"Soon," answered Óin gruffly, turning his back on the hobbit, ready to go back.

"When's that?" hissed the hobbit, unsatisfied with the answer.

Óin stopped and looked at him tiredly, his hand resting on the pocket. "Soon."

When Óin and Bilbo finally emerged from behind the bush, they were met with curious looks and a barrage of silly questions like, "Well, Master Baggins, has Óin resolved your delicate matter?" (Bofur) and "Was it something nasty to look at, Óin? OUCH!" (Nori, earning himself a hit from Dori).

Óin only smiled in reply, and Bilbo blushed, mumbling about doctor-patient confidentiality. As they approached the pot of food, the hobbit chanced a glance in Bifur's direction. The dwarf in question still sat against the tree with his whittling, though he was looking in their direction, particularly at Óin. His eyes, Bilbo noted with astonishment, had attained a sadness so uncommonly seen on him.

He mourns for the loss of the toy, thought Bilbo, feeling pangs of pity for Bifur. So does that mean that he really has feelings for Óin? Now now, Bilbo, none of your business. Besides, I could be wrong – which would be a first.

Collecting their bowls, Bilbo sat near Fíli and Kíli, the brothers coming up with suggestions about what Bilbo's mystery ailment, from insect bites to rashes on unmentionable areas, and they and those surrounding them would roar with laughter at the mortified looks on the hobbit's face. Óin took his place next to Glóin, who kept assaulting his older brother with questions and demanding answers regarding the talk behind the bush. The healer was silent and just ate his food, only replying at the meal's conclusion, "We had words, is all, and they are to remain between the Halfling and myself."

Glóin grumbled about this, but Óin was not listening. Instead, Bilbo watched as the healer stared past his younger brother and looked at Bifur, who was being talked to by Bofur. His gloved hand, Bilbo saw, went subconsciously to his pocket, but he pulled it out just as the wild-haired dwarf looked in his direction.

Their eyes locked – youthful brown and saddened grey – and Bifur, momentarily surprised, immediately looked down. His black locks fell over his face before it hid the blush that suddenly crept to his cheeks.

Óin looked, for a moment, stunned. His face turned an impressive shade of red, which alarmed Glóin enough to stop grumbling.

"Óin? Are you alright? Have you come down ill?"

The fiery-haired dwarf pressed a hand to his brother's forehead, but Óin swatted it away. "Nothing is wrong, brother. I'm a bit tired. Rest is all I need, after which I shall be as right as rain."

Glóin looked unsure, but he nodded anyway. The brothers continued to talk. Bilbo bit back a sigh of relief. The way the fiery-haired dwarf looked over his older brother, he thought for sure that he would notice the bulge in Óin's pocket and bring everyone's attention to it.

The sooner Óin speaks to Bifur and gives him back the toy, the better, he thought firmly. This anxiety is killing me! I say, though, I can't imagine what Óin must be feeling right about now. I truly am sorry about throwing him into this mess, but at least Bifur wouldn't dare lay a finger on him. As for me …

Bilbo gulped. He didn't want to think about that.

Óin gazed at the toy, turning it over in his hands. It truly was a stunning piece, made with effort, time, tenderness, maybe even love …

The grey-haired dwarf felt his face become warm, and again he thanked Mahal that, as he laid on his side in his bedroll with his back to the others, no one could see him blush. Everyone was asleep, save for Thorin, who kept watch, but he never noticed the healer's movements. Glóin stirred in his sleep beside him, shivering slightly before shifting closer to his brother. Óin, however, only paid attention to the figurine.

Bifur made this. It's so hard to take in, that he created a figurine in my likeness, he thought, running a finger over the carving of his name on the base. Then, does that mean the hobbit's right? Is Bifur in love with me? Oh, this is frustratin'! It does me nerves no good, dwelling on these thoughts! Curse the Halfling! And damn Bifur for making this blasted thing! And damn him twice over for doing this to me …

Sighing in frustration, he pocketed the toy once more before settling into a more comfortable position in his bedroll. Go to sleep. Rest your head and let your heart do all the work.

Tomorrow, Óin thought tiredly, before sleep took him. Tomorrow, Bifur and I will have words.

A/N: Ogamat! - Not good!

Mahalu-me turg - By Mahal's beard.

Intended for this fanfic to be a oneshot, but it will have to be two chapters instead of one, I suppose. More lovey-dovey goodness with these two! :) Really, these guys need more love - this pairing needs more love, to be precise. What's Óin going to say to Bifur tomorrow?

Reviews are welcome! ;)