Disclaimer: I do not own these characters
Why Me?
Upon the company of Thorin Oakenshield's arrival to the halls of their host, Beorn (as Gandalf had called him), most of the company had found sleep early in the evening. Bilbo Baggins, however, lay restless most of the night, eventually drifting off into a fitful sleep.
The hobbit woke to an unfamiliar, but not unpleasant, warmth surrounding him. Perhaps during the night he had shifted closer to the fire.
He started to move, determined to stretch out the kinks in his sore muscles, only to realize that he couldn't.
What...?
With a slight jerk, his eyes popped wide open as the large arm around his waist pulled him flush against a broad, muscular chest. A low rumbling groan sounded just inches from his ear. Gazing down, he spotted a familiar ring on the previously unidentified dwarf's finger.
It couldn't be...he thought to himself.
I know that dwarves tend to sleep huddled to one another for warmth and comfort, but...Bilbo froze.
Thorin Oakenshield is no ordinary dwarf. He's never slept this near the company, let alone a halfling like myself! Surely he's mistaken me for Kili or Fili!
"It's still quite early, you should sleep while you are able." Thorin mumbled, voice still heavy with sleep.
"Ah...umm..." was all Bilbo could supply in his state of insecurity.
So he knows it's me, but why?
Sensing his unease, he felt the need to explain his proximity.
"After the loss of Erebor... my people wandered. My sister, Dis, was still very small, but remembered the great fire storm. During the nights she would often have dreams of dragons and fire. I would hold her as she slept to comfort her. I did the same for my sister's-sons when they were dwarflings."
He paused, as if almost unsure to continue.
"I... had noticed you seemed... troubled... this past night. I apologize if... I have overstepped my boundaries, Master Hobbit" Thorin muttered as he began to pull away from him.
"No!...ah...I mean, you, you can stay if you'd like...?" Bilbo stuttered and grabbed his hand; blushing from the tips of his ears to his toes.
Thorin hesitated a moment before slipping his arm back to its former resting place. He felt Bilbo relax some into his hold.
Why me? He contemplated; still tense with the unsaid question.
"Hmm?" Thorin leaned in closer to him, his nose nuzzling Bilbo's mop of curls.
Perhaps he had said it out loud? Oh dear!
Not wanting to appear cowardly, he gathered his courage.
"Why me? I'm just a burglar...I'm just a halfling from the Shire... I'm not worth anything but a good book and a nice cup of tea. That's not anything of value to a dwarf..."
"Bilbo-" Thorin chided gently.
"No," he cut in more forcefully than intended, "it's the truth... I'll help you take back your home... and then I'll go back to mine. To Bag-End. That's where I belong..."
He tried to not sound too heart-broken at the thought of leaving the company, and the dwarf he cared deeply for.
"Bilbo..." Thorin's hot breath against his neck, "my hobbit..."
He could feel him tighten his grip on his waist.
My hobbit? MY hobbit?!
"Do not think that. You are much more than just a burglar, or a plain hobbit from the Shire. You are so much more than that. You are kind and caring. If more of us valued food and cheer and song above hoarded gold, it would be a merrier world. Do not think you are worth nothing to a dwarf..."
"Do not think you are worth nothing to me," his whisper was almost inaudible.
"You...you care for me? Thorin?"
"I care for you more than all the gold in Erebor, my hobbit. My Ghivashel, Amralime."
Bilbo recognized his use of Khuzdul, the guttural language of the dwarves, sending shivers up his spine and causing goose pimples to rise.
He cares for me! Oh, thank the Valar!
The hobbit turned to look the son of Durin in the eye, hoping to see his heart.
"What does that mean?" he breathed, the anticipation almost unbearable.
"Treasure of all treasures, love of mine," he spoke delicately, sapphire eyes never leaving his hazel ones.
He loves me! Oh my sweet Prince!
"Oh, Thorin!" He brought his hand up to cradle his face, the scruff of his beard much softer than he expected. Slowly and tenderly he pulled his face down to his, Thorin's lips lightly brushing his. They broke apart, Thorin resting his forehead on Bilbo's smaller one.
"Thank you...for helping me, for helping my people, to reclaim our home. You gave up yours for mine..."
"No, Thorin...ours, for our home. My home is wherever you are, my love."
"As is mine, Ghivashel. Now sleep, our adventure has only just begun."
Bilbo rolled over, as Thorin wrapped his arm back around his tiny form, melting into his warm and loving embrace. He thought of Bag-End briefly, of the night these dwarves came barreling through his front door. He thought of how he wanted nothing to do with the company of dwarves, led by a handsome brooding prince. He thought of the love and longing he heard while they sang of their misty mountains. He thought of how lucky he was to have this love for himself.
And just before falling into a peaceful slumber, he thought of how glad he was that he ran out of his front door that morning so long ago.