Matchmaker
Chapter 1: Dwalin & Ori
The Plot
"Master Baggins, you're a Hobbit."
"Uh, yes, I am, if I remember correctly."
Dwalin narrowed his eyes, and Bilbo gulped. If he could, he would move out the tattooed warrior's way. He would rather be sitting with, say, Bofur and Bombur, or sitting alone in contented silence by the light of the camp-fire. The one problem was that the two brothers were in conversation with the brothers Ri. The other problem? Dwalin had sat down next to him – intentionally, by the looks of it – and suddenly engaged him in conversation with that very curious (and rather obvious) statement. It would be rude to get up and leave, even if he was inwardly cowering in fright.
After a small pause, Dwalin continued, albeit in a quiet voice. "As a Hobbit, you would know a great deal about the matters of the heart. Aye?"
"I'm sorry, matters of the what? The heart?"
"Not so loud," growled Dwalin, casting a worried glance behind him. Nori's laughter and Dori's disapproving sigh at hearing Bofur's inappropriate joke nearly drowned out the tall Dwarf's next words. "I don't want the others to hear."
"I'm sorry," said Bilbo, lowering his voice, "but what do you mean, matters of the heart?"
"You know, emotional matters," Dwalin replied, his cheeks suddenly darkening. "Romantic matters. Love. That sort of thing."
He looked down at his lap, unsuccessfully trying to hide his blush.
The tips of Bilbo's ears glowed red. It was quite unsettling to see the tall, tough-as-nails Dwarf blushing; it was even more so to see him so uncomfortable whilst talking about the subject of love (of all things!).
Clearing his throat, the Hobbit spoke. "Um, well, I suppose I consider myself fairly knowledgeable regarding … that … love, I mean ... but I don't see why being a Hobbit has got anything to do with –"
"So then you're the right person to speak to," cut in Dwalin, looking up at Bilbo.
His eyes were suddenly shining with what seemed like … excitement?
"You mean about love?" asked Bilbo, getting a funny feeling in the pit of his stomach as Dwalin moved closer.
"Aye," replied the warrior, "and about … courting."
"Courting?!"
Now Bilbo was totally surprised. Honest to goodness, he didn't expect to be talking about courting with Dwalin, of all Dwarves. Please tell me Dwalin wasn't smoking on Gandalf's pipe-weed, for all that is good and sacred.
"Aye, courting," Dwalin replied. He noticed the shocked look on Bilbo's face and chuckled under his breath. "You needn't fret, Master Baggins. I know what I'm talkin' about – I haven't touched Gandalf's pipe-weed."
"I wasn't thinking that at all."
"Anyway, about courting," went on Dwalin. Here, his gruff voice became even lower, and the Hobbit strained his ears to hear his next (very unexpected) words:
"There is someone here whom I desire to court, Master Baggins. I have been wantin' to approach this person for some weeks now, though I haven't had the courage to do so."
A pause.
"It's not me, is it?"
Dwalin nearly had a choking fit as he tried to contain his laughter. "No offence, Master Baggins, but you! ..."
He couldn't even finish the excuse; he doubled over in his seat, red in the face as he tried to breathe.
"Er, none taken?" was all poor Bilbo could say. Well, that certainly does wonders for my self-esteem.
Not too far away from them, Thorin turned to look in their direction. He raised an eyebrow at the sight of his lieutenant losing his self-control, then he narrowed his ice-blue eyes at Bilbo, who was thumping the Dwarf on the back. Flustered, the Hobbit could only smile awkwardly at the black-haired Dwarf, who just shook his head and turned away.
When Dwalin recovered, wiping away a mirthful tear, he continued softly, "The Dwarf whom I desire to court is young Ori, Master Baggins."
Ori! Bilbo glanced discreetly behind Dwalin. Sitting at his brothers' feet, paying no mind to Bofur's inappropriate jokes, was little Ori. The young scribe had his journal open, no doubt writing away in his elegant script or sketching some delightful portraits to pass the time. A contented smile graced his features.
Bilbo looked back at Dwalin, who looked at him expectantly, as if to say, "What do you think?"
Dear me, they weren't lying when they said opposites attract. Dwalin and Ori, Dwalin and Ori, Dwalin and Ori – an odd combination! To think, little Ori is the object of such a tough, battle-ready Dwarf's affections. And to be courting at a time like this – then again, when will they ever have the chance? But Ori! Dwalin wants Ori!
"Uh, he's a good choice," he finally managed. "But what does this have to do with me?"
Again, Dwalin blushed (I'll never get used to that, thought Bilbo fervently).
"As a Hobbit," (Bilbo tried to interrupt at this point and failed) "you know how the heart works. As I said before, I haven't had the courage to approach Ori, because I just don't know how to go about it. You would be doin' me a great service, Master Baggins, if you were to help me court Ori."
Bilbo gaped at him. "Me? Help you? Court Ori?"
"Aye."
"I … I don't know what to say ..."
"Say that you'll help me … please?" said Dwalin, pouting (oh my happy hat, now he's pouting? Will wonders never cease?) at the stunned Hobbit.
Finally, Bilbo conceded with a sigh. "Alright. I'll help you, but don't expect miracles."
"That's alright – one miracle is enough for me," replied Dwalin with a grateful smile – he would have hugged the Hobbit there and then, but he resisted the urge (he had a reputation to uphold, lest he forget). "So, Master Baggins, what do you propose I do?"
Bilbo raised his eyebrows at Dwalin's exuberance, but did not dare to comment. Instead, putting his thoughts together in his head, he whispered, "Well, to court someone like Ori, you need to know what his interests are."
"Okay," said Dwalin, nodding.
Then he frowned. "Why's that, then?"
Bilbo stared at the tall Dwarf. "Because, Dwalin, what his interests are can tell you a lot about himself."
"Ah." Another blush.
"And as we both know," (Hopefully) "Ori's interests lies in writing and art. He has a passion for books and has the gift of creativity. That tells us that he's sensitive, smart and, uh, creative. Possibly romantic, too.
"So, what you need to do is to appeal to those senses," the Hobbit continued under his breath. "And to do that, you've got to show him your sensitive, romantic side, the side he hasn't seen before. Show him that you're capable of being someone other than a rough, tough warrior. At the same time, you'll also be showing him how much you admire his talents. Do you understand?"
Dwalin nodded impatiently. "Aye. This is all very helpful. But now, how do I go about doin' all of this?
"Uh …"
Bilbo glanced behind Dwalin again as he racked his brains. He watched as Ori's pen moved swiftly across the pages in his journal. He remembered the one time when the scribe wrote a rather lovely poem about meeting him, and the Dwarf blushed with pleasure when the Hobbit praised his work …
That's it!
"Dwalin," murmured Bilbo, his eyes shining brightly. "How neat is your handwriting?"
The Results
"Dori, have you seen my journal? I can't find it anywhere."
"No, I haven't, Ori. Where did you last put it?"
"In my pack. I put it in there last night before I slept. Now it's gone."
Dori sighed, patting his youngest brother's shoulder in a comforting manner. "Don't worry, laddie. We'll find it. It can't have just disappeared."
"Ori."
Ori and Dori swivelled around to find Dwalin standing there. In his hands, to Ori's utter delight and Dori's amazement, was a leather-bound journal. Ori's journal, to be precise.
The warrior held it out with a smile. "I believe this is yours."
"My journal!" Ori breathed, taking it. His eyes shone brightly as he asked, "Where did you find it?"
"Found it whilst we were ridin' on the road. Must've fallen out of your pack."
"Thank you, Mister Dwalin," said Ori, bowing slightly. Dori did the same, though he looked bemused.
Dwalin watched the beaming young scribe retreat to the corner of the camp-site, and with a thudding heart he sat down next to Balin, watching.
Waiting.
When Ori opened his journal, a page suddenly dropped out onto the grass. He immediately noticed that the handwriting on the page did not belong to him. Surprised, and struck curious, the Dwarf reached down, picked it up and read the contents.
What he read made him turn a dark shade of pink:
Dearest Ori
Each thought of you fills me with sweet emotion.
I give to you my deep, complete devotion.
To love me, my fondest wish you'll fulfil,
Because I love you, and I always will.
Ori looked up, his heart beating furiously, and his brown eyes met that of Dwalin's. The scribe blushed harder, but he couldn't help but smile widely at the tattooed Dwarf, who smiled right back.
Getting up, Ori made his way to Dwalin, who also stood up, to Balin's bemusement.
"Mister Dwalin?"
"Aye, Ori?"
"Could you lean down a bit?"
"Why?"
"So that I may kiss you." Another blush. "If you'll let me."
"Another wish come true, then."
Bilbo felt proud of himself that he managed to pilfer Ori's journal out of his pack when he was asleep. He felt even more proud as he helped Dwalin to compose the love poem. But he felt the proudest of himself as he watched Ori kiss Dwalin's cheek as a sign of accepting the tall Dwarf's desire to court him. Once the young Dwarf pulled away, the couple found themselves surrounded by the other Dwarves, congratulating them on their courtship. Dori, however, looked ready to have an apoplectic fit.
Smiling to himself and praising himself on his matchmaking success, the Hobbit turned away, when he noticed a pair of ice-blue eyes staring at him.
Before the Hobbit could even react, Thorin turned away.
A/N: Next, dear hearts, Balin/Dori. If only Bilbo was getting paid for this (darn you, plot-bunny).
Reviews are welcome!
*~AI07~* :)