Disclaimer: The Hobbit, all characters, places, and related terms are the sole property of J. R. R. Tolkien's estate, and Warner Brothers, New Line Cinema, Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer, and WingNut Films.

Author's Note: Fill for a prompt on AO3.

Priorities

In the very beginning it was his hat that most concerned Bofur. His hat had inexplicably vanished four days ago. He'd gone to bed with it resting snuggly on his head as always and had woken up the next morning to discover it was no longer there. A frantic, thorough search of his room revealed it nowhere to be found. The next four days saw the miner hunting high and low for his beloved furry hat, making a nuisance of himself as he searched. He pestered every dwarf he saw, asking whether they had seen his hat, only to receive negative responses. The dwarf was starting to become desperate. He felt exposed without his hat. It could be anywhere. So he pressed on in his search.

Then today things became even odder.

"Have you seen Bilbo?" Nori asked, catching his friend on his way to luncheon.

It was first the rare hint of genuine concern in the thief's voice that shattered Bofur's silent moping and drew the miner up short; then followed the belated realization that Nori had mentioned the word Bilbo.

"Bilbo?" he repeated, the ends of his moustache twitching.

"Aye. I can usually tell the time for afternoon tea by you going off to enjoy a cup and a muffin with our burglar. Only you've been tearing Erebor apart lately. And no one can account for seeing the Halfling in any of her usual haunts. She has not turned up for meals the last few days either," the star-haired dwarf explained.

"Perhaps she is ill," Bofur suggested.

"Oin checked her room this morning. Bilbo wasn't there. Except for her pillow and blankets being gone, everything seemed to be in order."

"Gone…"

"Thorin has ordered numerous search parties to comb through the mountain, the surrounding wood, and Dale. Quite frantic he is about our burglar, understandably so." For an instant Nori's eyes glinted with amusement and he winked. (It was no secret his immense enjoyment of placing bets with the company on when their king would finally declare his intentions to Bilbo Baggins.)

"As we all should be. She's part of the company, our family," Bofur said, his brows furrowing with worry. For once he easily squashed down the well-known, uncomfortable, unidentifiable feeling that twisted his stomach whenever the subject of Thorin and Bilbo in that regard came up. "I will help look."

Find his hat. Find the hobbit and make sure that she was well. Those were Bofur's priorities as he continued to search the mountain, now with an added sense of urgency and guilt.

He had taken the lass under his wing early on during the quest, been one of the first to befriend her. He had looked out for her, helped her, and cheered her up with stories and songs. "Where's Bilbo?" became a frequent question he asked, making sure she was accounted for.

And now, back here in his home, so obsessed with the loss of his hat, he had failed the hobbit. With it now a common thing for him to share afternoon tea with Bilbo, and they spending part of the evening with the rest of the company, Bofur felt he should have picked up on her disappearance, raised the alarm. But he hadn't. In fact, he had barely thought of her at all during those first days he spent seeking his hat. What kind of friend did that make him, forgetting her so easily?

His guilt and desire to apologize for his failure weighed more heavily on Bofur as the days blurred into one another. Each day passed with reports coming in from various search parties all claiming to find no trace of the company's burglar (always to be ordered to look again), and he and the others failed in their own personal searches. The miner's worry changed to full-fledged dread and panic. Perhaps Bilbo had gotten hurt and had no way of seeking help…maybe she had been kidnapped…or worse. (Find the hobbit and ensure she was safe. Find his hat.)

With the ever-rising pandemonium and Thorin acting increasingly more like a bear – his concern veiled by impatience, dark frowns, and growls – it was harder for Bofur to ignore the way his stomach tended to coil more frequently; particularly when he noticed the king fiddling with something in his pocket the toymaker much preferred not to muse on. (Judging by the various purses that swapped hands out of Thorin's sight, others had no such qualms.)

Two weeks after Bofur first learned of Bilbo's disappearance, Bifur and Bombur put their feet down. Bofur was running himself ragged, barely eating, having trouble sleeping, constantly searching for their burglar (and his hat, too). So ignoring his combination of pleads, protests, and threats, the two ordered him to eat a hearty breakfast and then go outside for a spell. He would not do himself or Bilbo any good by pushing himself to exhaustion. Dozens of dwarves would continue the search today. With his kin's reassurances and orders ringing in his ears, Bofur grumbled under his breath as he marched to his quarters.

It was now winter and bitterly cold outside Erebor. So the dwarf rummaged through his clothes for his favorite woolly tunic, scarf, and gloves. Only they were not in their usual place. Nor were they in any of the dresser drawers for that matter. Or anywhere in his room for that matter, it turned out!

For a long minute Bofur stood in the middle of his room, hands on his hips, eyes darting about, mouth opening and closing soundlessly, at a loss. No woolly tunic, no scarf, no gloves, and no hat. Narrowing his eyes and growling, the toymaker went through all his things.

Several minutes later found the normally cheerful dwarf striding briskly through the halls with a fierce scowl on his face. Eventually reaching the doors of the large common room in which the company gathered, Bofur threw them open, grimly satisfied to see it appeared all were congregated.

"I demand to know which of ye have made off with my things!" he exclaimed loudly, his braids bristling. "If this is supposed to be a joke—"

"Bofur!"

The dwarf fell silent and looked towards Thorin who frowned at him. Bofur swallowed the urge to issue a hot retort. He nodded jerkily.

"Not now, Bofur. Gandalf has information concerning Bilbo."

That quickly caused the toymaker to forget his distress regarding his things. The king looked expectedly at the wizard seated nearby.

Catching Bofur's eye for a moment, the wizard nodded to Thorin. "You were saying the only things missing from Bilbo's room were her pillow and blankets. Ah! That makes sense, a natural thing to do."

"What is?" Balin asked.

"To have a comfortable place to sleep, Master Balin. Your burglar has found a place to hibernate for the winter."

"Hibernate?" Ori repeated.

"Indeed. There is not much food available during this time of year. That is why hobbits eat so many times a day, to store up energy while they sleep during the long wintry months. Somewhere in your mountain Miss Baggins has made a den for herself and shall not awake until spring arrives."

"You are certain of this?" Thorin pressed, folding his arms in front of his chest.

"Of course!" Gandalf huffed before his expression grew thoughtful. "Although…" The grey wizard's eyes twinkled at Bofur, "You claimed to be missing some items, Master Bofur."

"Oh, aye!" he grumbled. "My hat has been gone nearly three weeks. And just now I discovered my wool tunic, gloves, scarf, three pairs of socks, a winter cloak, two undershirts, and my pipe to be missing as well! Can't imagine what became of them."

"Is anyone else missing anything?" Gandalf asked the group, instantly receiving nays and shakes of the head. "Well, then!" the wizard murmured with something akin to amusement in his tone. (Bofur frowned at that.) "Sometimes when hobbits prepare for hibernation, they will include in their den various items that belong to family or friends. I suspect that if you find Miss Baggins, you will then find your hat, and vice versa," he proclaimed with a satisfied nod, lips tugging upward in a smile behind his beard.

"What do ye—How, why me?" the dwarf stammered, terribly confused.

"In addition to home, kin and friends mean a great deal to hobbits. For one to keep an item that's very dear to someone, such as a hat, during their hibernation indicates that person…is important to the hobbit."

Mahal save me from wizards and their baffling riddles! Bofur thought, greatly annoyed as Gandalf's explanation did nothing to clear up the matter in his opinion – other than to assure that Bilbo was not in danger – and the wizard evaded further questioning.

There was nothing to do but for Bofur to keep looking, it seemed. And he did, day after day, week after week, swinging between frustration and confusion over the whole muddle.

Vaguely he noted the search parties were called off by Thorin; the king often cast a strange look at Bofur, neither friendly nor detesting. Bifur and Bombur observed him with fond exasperation. Nori snickered at him. Gloin sighed deeply. Dori and Oin huffed in disapproval. Fili and Kili gaped at him with wide eyes. Dwalin inquired daily about the search. Balin's eyes twinkled merrily. Ori, most confounding of them all, whispered excitedly in his ear, "I always hoped it was you, Bofur!" (And purses continued to be traded back and forth.)

It all was nearly enough to make the dwarf want to bash his head against a wall. And he missed Bilbo terribly, reminiscing about their afternoon teas and conversations. The only bright side of things was that he no longer was bothered by his stomach as that subject was not brought up anymore.

A month passed.

(Find the lass, find the hat. Find the hat, find the lass. Get an explanation.)

What in Middle-Earth had Gandalf meant?! Why should Bilbo have taken his hat? How did such an act indicate she valued their friendship? What was the need for it when he knew they were good friends in the first place? The hobbit was close with all members of the company, viewed them as family and they did her. Why had she not taken any possessions of theirs? Why just him? It might make some sense had they had been courting or—

Choking on air, Bofur stumbled over his own feet. Freezing, he stared blankly ahead. Oh…oh.

Memories came rushing back. How he often walked side by side with the lass. How easily she blushed. How it was rarer to receive a genuine, sweet smile from her. How she'd clung to him during the thunder storm and his grip had been just as tight and protective. How she had offered to mend the rip in his hat and he'd let her. How she grew unexpectedly shy around him, having trouble meeting his gaze, the tips of her ears turning red. How her face had lit up when he gave her the buttons he'd craved to replace the brass ones she lost. How during their stays at Beorn's and Lake-town she had always refilled his plate, drizzling seasonings and spices over the food before handing back his plate. How each time after she was summoned away by Thorin, she wandered back to his side. How an unidentifiable softness shone in her eyes when she gazed at him. How she looked as though she would burst into tears when he, Oin, and the princes reached the mountain. How she collapsed into his arms when he found her after the battle, holding on like she would never let him go.

Bofur's eyes widened. Was that how things were? He had not known, never suspected. Not when his leader had strived to express his interest to Bilbo. The miner had never dreamed— He was nothing compared to a king. What an oblivious old dwarf he was!

The next few days Bofur was deep in thought while he searched. What to do about Bilbo and this new awkward situation? What would he say to her once he found her and she woke up? It was flattering to think he had caught her attention. The thought of disappointing her, possibly destroying their friendship, filled him with anxiety.

How could he explain he had not known? Did not like her? Immediately the dwarf forcibly shook his head. That was not entirely true. He liked her very much, just not that way. Even if he thought her the most beautiful lass he had ever seen, clever, brave, kind, and faithful. And, yes, he may have grown overprotective of her during the quest. He was always smiling brightly, so of course he did so whenever she'd approached. There had been Nori's consistent teasing ("You two remind me of an old married couple"). Aye, he been overwhelmingly grateful she survived the battle, agreed to stay in Erebor. And, all right, he secretly considered having teatime with Bilbo to be the best part of his day, visiting and talking and listening. Then, yes, he wished for those times back. He admitted he had hated these endless weeks without her company, for it felt wrong – more than even his dear hat missing from her head. He did not want to go back to a life where she was not a part of it. He was not sure he would be able to bear it. Likely his stomach would start hurting again as it had when he'd feared she and Thorin—

"Oh!" Bofur gasped, halting abruptly in the middle of the passageway, stunned. Unconsciously his hand rose to rest against his racing heart. Was it possible? He squeezed his eyes shut, thinking hard.

It was…possible and to not recognize it at first; to become so focused on Thorin's obvious (to the miner, at least) fascination with their hobbit that he did not think to closely examine his own feelings; for Bilbo to somehow find a place in his heart and he reasoning the growing fondness he felt towards her as nothing more than familial, than friendship. Why such denial? Fear of rejection? If he had paid just a little more notice to what was going on under his nose…

"Fool of a Broadbeam!" he scolded himself, then sighed deeply, longingly.

(Find their burglar. Find the hobbit. Find his Bilbo.)

It was the fifth day after Bofur finally understood everything that he found her. The unused sitting room was sparsely furnished, musky and dusty. Yet the dwarf focused on the unusual den set up in the corner by the fireplace, an assortment of pillows, blankets, clothes, and other odds and ends. His searching look gradually softened, a tender smile tugging on the corners of his lips, warmth spreading through him. Swaddled up in a blanket like a babe was Bilbo. Eyes shut, breath steady and slow, her expression was peaceful with hints of a small smile. Her head was pillowed by Bofur's woolly tunic. And resting atop her brown curls was his furry hat, appearing as though it were where it was meant to be.

Slowly, cautiously he walked over to the sleeping lass and knelt by her. For a long time he simply watched her, gaze flickering to his hat at times, and his heart swelled while his eyes brightened. Carefully, he freed one of her hands from the blanket and held it in both of his, then lay down beside her.

"I am here, Bilbo," he spoke in a low voice. "I found ye. I'm sorry for taking so long, for not understanding before. It is okay now, lass." He cleared his throat. His dark eyes studied their joined hands for a moment. "Tell me I'm not too late. My heart is in yer hands to do with as ye will. Please… I will wait for ye," he swore solemnly.

He kept his promise.

Loud welcoming cheers broke out at the breakfast table on the second day of spring when Bofur appeared, bareheaded and beaming, fingers laced through Bilbo's; wearing his furry hat, she blinked the lingering sleep from her eyes and blushed shyly. To be sure there were no misunderstandings, the dwarf turned the lass to him and brought their foreheads together in a long, gentle dwarven kiss. She responded by giving him a hobbit-kiss on the lips.

(Ori, Dori, Bombur, Gloin, and Balin won the bet.)

THE END