The company had left Rivendell in high spirits with full bellies and full packs for the journey ahead. They walked among the trees, the dwarves singing and playing a happy tune, on their way to the mountains when Thorin decided to stop and set up camp so they could rest well before trekking through the range. The sun still hung in the sky, its light slowly burning from a bright yellow to a soft, warm orange. It blanketed the company through the trees, casting shadows of swaying branches on the bowing blades of grass.
The thirteen dwarves, one hobbit, and one wizard each did their part to set up the camp quickly and efficiently. The bedrolls were laid out, a fire was started with the help of Gandalf's magic, and dinner was cooking. Once everything was set up, everyone broke apart into groups or sat on their own. The area was filled with the sounds of good conversation, laughter, and the music of the wind rustling the leaves.
Bilbo found himself sitting on his own with nothing to do but ponder his own thoughts. He thought about the usual, how much he missed his cozy hobbit hole, warm fire, and good meals regularly. He looked around him at all of the dwarves who seemed perfectly happy to be travelling on their quest, most likely with help from their stay at the Last Homely House. He felt a little guilty for missing home so much when the whole goal of their journey was to give the dwarves the home they've lived without for so long.
The guilt was starting to eat away at him a little when the sound of harp strings being skillfully plucked distracted him. It was a soothing sound that rose above the chattering, though none of the dwarves paused in their talk to listen. Bilbo closed his eyes and absorbed the notes as they caressed his ears. He looked for the source and found Thorin, on his own with a small, beautiful harp in his lap.
He watched him for a time, almost in awe, without the dwarf king noticing. Thorin seemed lost in his art, unaware of the world around him. Bilbo stood in a type of trance from the calming tune and walked toward Thorin. He hadn't quite realized how close he was until Thorin stopped playing and looked up at the hobbit. His deep, piercing gaze like the point of a blade driving through flesh snapped Bilbo out of his daze and into an awkward situation.
"Er…" Bilbo fidgeted with his hands under the weight of Thorin's stare.
"Did you need something from me, Mr. Baggins?" Thorin said, not showing much in the way of kindness or displeasure. His face was a hard one to read.
"I, well, you play the harp so beautifully," Bilbo said, trying to talk his way out of being stared down.
Thorin didn't say a word, continuing to look up at Bilbo until he received a better answer.
"How did you learn to play so well?"
Thorin grunted in response, glancing down at the harp in his hands. "I was taught to play as part of my lessons as a prince. Music is very important to us dwarves."
Bilbo, finally feeling free of Thorin's angry stare, felt comfortable enough to sit down a foot or so away from him. "Yes, I've noticed. You all play and sing very well."
Thorin nodded. "We were all taught from a young age."
Bilbo studied Thorin's face. His eyes seemed distant as if remembering something far away from a different place and time. He looked down at the harp in his hands. Thorin was absent-mindedly stroking the golden frame with his thumb as his other hand rested on the unmoving strings. Bilbo couldn't fathom where to begin in playing the instrument.
"How does one learn to play such a thing?" Bilbo said, speaking his thoughts.
"Hm?" Thorin replied, returning to the present. "It's not as hard as it seems." He looked fondly at the little harp, plucking a few strings melodically. He seemed to be thinking something over as he tenderly stroked each string in turn. "I… Well, I could show you. How to play. If you'd like."
Bilbo brightened at the thought, his little hobbit heart swelling with glee. "Oh, I'd like that very much."
A ghost of a smile graced Thorin's face for less than a second before he beckoned Bilbo to move closer. Unsure of how close he should get, Bilbo scooted forward a few inches and paused, waiting to see if Thorin wanted him closer. With an irritated huff, Thorin grabbed a hold of Bilbo's arm and pulled him so that he sat in front of Thorin with his back to him, practically on his lap. Bilbo had enough sense not to blush but he found it difficult to hold back.
Luckily, Thorin could only see the back of his head as he gave Bilbo the harp to hold, adjusting it so that he held it the right way. He wrapped his arms around Bilbo, enveloping him in comfortable warmth. Bilbo could feel his heart start to beat a little faster at the gesture and even more so as Thorin took Bilbo's hands in his so he could place them correctly on the instrument.
He pulled Bilbo a little closer so that his back was touching his chest. Bilbo could feel his body heat radiating off him as well as his steady heartbeat drumming against his spine. It was a soothing feeling. He could almost close his eyes and get lost in the rhythmic beat if Thorin hadn't been forcing his fingers into the proper position for a C note. He guided him through a short series of notes that made up a small part of a song.
"Now play it back for me," he said, removing his arms from around Bilbo, leaving him just a little bit colder.
"What?" he asked incredulously. He stared down at the strings, trying to remember the hand placements through the daze of being held by Thorin.
"I showed you the notes, play them as I showed you," he said a little more gruffly.
Bilbo glanced behind him at Thorin's face that still had an impossibly unreadable expression and nodded. He fought through his confusion and placed his hands on what he thought was the first note and waited a moment before plucking it in case Thorin made any protest. When he heard nothing, he sounded the note which resonated across their little camp. He moved to the next note and the next, playing a broken version of an old Dwarvish song.
When he finished, Thorin grunted in what Bilbo assumed to be approval. "Not bad for a hobbit."
"Well, um, thank you. I think." Bilbo said, muttering the last part to himself.
Thorin held his hands again and showed Bilbo the next sequence. He lost track of time in the warmth, the closeness, and the calm heartbeat at his back. The sun had burned itself out from the orange glow to a deep, dark red with its edges showing the dark blue of night.
Bilbo was able to play three chunks of notes smoothly when his stomach rumbled, reminding him of the time. He glanced over at the fire to see a low, dying flame with no dinner cooking atop it. Bilbo's stomach had been loud enough that even Thorin heard and looked in the same direction.
"How time has flown," Thorin mused to himself. "Worry not, Bilbo, I'm sure there's something left."
Thorin shifted Bilbo so that he could stand and he approached a group of the company closest to the fire. Bilbo still clutched the harp as he looked around at everyone. All the dwarves seemed to avoid looking his way and yet kept stealing fleeting glances. Gandalf, on the other hand, kept looking from Thorin to Bilbo with a knowing smile on his face. Bilbo turned away from the wizard as blood threatened to flush his cheeks.
Bilbo wanted to bury his face in his hands but he didn't get the chance as Thorin returned. He turned himself around so he could face him as he sat down with a small amount of food in his grasp.
"I'm afraid this is all that was left," Thorin said, showing him what would barely be a meal for one.
Bilbo nodded in understanding. The dwarf king was more important and if that small amount was the last of the food for the night, it belonged to him. Bilbo started to stand when Thorin held out a hand, offering him half of the food.
"But—"
"Eat it before I change my mind," Thorin said, holding out his hand further.
Bilbo dropped back down to sit and accepted the offer gratefully. They ate together in silence as the sun sunk below the horizon and they parted in silence when they were done. They made their way to their respective bedrolls to steal some much needed rest before the next day's travel. As Bilbo curled up to sleep, he knew he felt far from full but there was contentment in his heart that felt just as satisfying.