It's an itch he just can't scratch. It seems the burglar always escapes him, running away and leaving behind everything. The Arkenstone King's tied so many marriage braids into his hair, stuck so many rings onto his fingers, and kidnapped him so many times. Somehow Bilbo, the burglar, the lustrous little thief, always escapes, no matter how much Thorin uses his gold powers.
He reminds him of something, though he can't identify it. He only sees glimpses, quick images, and if he's lucky, he'll hear a few words.
"Please . . . Thorin . . . Take . . . That . . . Awful . . . Thing . . .Off..."
He doesn't know what that thing is, though. It couldn't be his prized Arkenstone, of course not. It's too precious. And who is this Thorin? Funny, the name gave him a strange feeling, almost as though he'd heard it somewhere before. But he was sure he hadn't.
But whenever he's with that burglar, he is reminded of that itch. No other burglar can do that for him.
"I have you again," he says, throwing the burglar into one of his gold cells.
The burglar scowls, his red brown curls shimmering in the light. Yes, The Arkenstone King needs this burglar. He needs him! "Arkenstone King, stop this! You know I'm not going to marry you!"
The Arkenstone King walked in himself, ready to start braiding again. His hair feels so precious. "You'll do it, and you won't get away this time!"
He'd said that many times before, but this time it'd be true.
It was.
He'd narrowly stopped the burglar's escape before the ceremony, but now it was done. The Arkenstone King's small dragon army had been the only guests, but that was alright.
When the burglar's lips meets his, he gets another glimpse. There's someone else, yet so similar to the burglar.
"If . . . You . . . Don't . . . Get . . . Rid . . . Of . . . That . . . Thing . . . Then . . . I'll . . . Leave . . . You..."
And then he's clutching the burglar for dear life, barely able to keep his eyes off of him and his glittering jacket. His hair is filled with tiny jewels, his arms covered in bracelets, his ankles in anklets, his neck in necklaces. He should be happy, he has all the gold now that his heart desires.
"I told you that I could do it!" he says. "I did it! You can't steal from me anymore because you're married to me!"
The thief frowns, and he looks so much like the person from his vision. If only he could get more than a glimpse...
No, the itch has gotten a little harder to notice. Now he has better and more important things to worry about, like getting his consort settled into his new home.
"Smaug!" he calls to his favorite dragon. "Clean everything up!"
And then he's pulling the thief along with him through his castle of gems and gold. At least now it will be a little less lonely.