Let me just tell you that I am absolutely overwhelmed by the kind response you have given me so far! I have never received such nice feedback for writing just one chapter. Thank you so much to everyone who gave me a review! It really meant a lot to me that you took the time to do that. It also made me write like a madman, because I wanted to give you an update as soon as possible. I hope that you like this chapter as well, even though it's a bit shorter than the first one.
For the next few hours, Thorin pretended he wasn't running around his palace looking for a hiding hobbit, while the said hobbit trailed silently after him the whole time. As they trod along the stairs and hallways – the dwarf first, the hobbit right behind the dwarf's cape – Bilbo could see his friend clenching and unclenching his fists, as if the king was only barely managing to hold his fury. Thorin's shoulders were tense, his strides becoming stiffer and more controlled by every passing moment. At times, Bilbo had to break into a run to keep up with the angry king.
Thorin's cape was actually of a beautiful shade of blue, Bilbo knew, but as he was wearing the Ring, everything looked grey and shadowy to him. It was the one drawback of his magic ring: the world seemed to loose colour, when the Ring was put on. Still, Bilbo didn't worry about that too much, as his sight always came back as soon as he took the Ring off. Besides, even though wearing the Ring made his eyesight worse, it actually appeared to sharpen his other senses. He could hear, for instance, Thorin muttering under his breath, even though the king was now walking several steps ahead of him.
"Foolish hobbit," Thorin was grumbling. "Such childish games..."
Bilbo smirked to himself and hurried his steps.
By the time they reached the "two upper levels", as the huge, circular market hall and the guarding level above it were called, Bilbo was panting from the exertion. If he hadn't been a hobbit and, thus, a master of being silent, even Oin with his poor hearing could have been able to locate him just by following the sound of his heavy breathing. Fortunately, Bilbo was, indeed, a hobbit. Had he so wished, he could have moved to stand right under Thorin's nose and the king still wouldn't have been able to hear – or see – him. Bilbo might have done that, too, if he hadn't been afraid that the smell of his sweat would have given his whereabouts away.
According to Kili, the circular market hall was used for relaxing. Now, studying the hall more closely by himself, Bilbo could easily observe that Kili hadn't been joking: Further away, a young dwarf could be seen reciting elvish poetry to his dozing audience (a method dwarves used whenever they had trouble sleeping; Bilbo had often read elvish poetry to Thorin, when the king couldn't sleep), while behind them many were singing and dancing and drinking and making an awful lot of noise. Near the entrance, there were many stands where one could get their beard and hair washed, cut and braided; some stands even had their own specialities, such as "untangling" and "balding prevention".
"Might I interest our brave, honourable king in flea removal?" asked a grey-haired dwarf boldly, blocking Thorin's way, as she suddenly appeared from behind her stand.
"If you'll do it to a hobbit," Thorin said with no humour in his voice.
"Certainly, my lord," the dwarf said, giving Thorin a deep bow. "And where might I find this... hobbit?"
"I'll bring him to you," Thorin promised gruffly, stepping by the dwarf, completely oblivious to the dark glare sent at his way by one certain hobbit who absolutely did not have any fleas, thank you very much.
Next to the "beard and hair care" stands, welcoming stalls offered pipes, axes, snuff, lovely sweets, potholders, sharpening stones, beard ribbons and many other things a dwarf might need or desire. To the great disappointment of the stalls' owners, Thorin passed by most of them without a second glance, invisible Bilbo right on his heels.
To Bilbo's surprise, Thorin came to a sudden halt in front of a stall that was, apparently, specialized in parchments, quills, ink, books and maps.
Now, if there was one thing Bilbo was very much interested in, it had to be books and maps. Keeping that in mind, it was no wonder that he stared at the goods in awe, almost forgetting he was supposed to be invisible and hiding and not asking questions like, "Why didn't you tell me there is such a lovely stall in Erebor?" or "Is that Eleonor Ruthberry's Weeping Hymns With Humming Trees?" and "Can I loan some gold from you, Thorin?"
Bilbo managed to snap his mouth shut just as the questions were beginning to form on his lips. Even though he covered his mouth with both of his hands not to make any noise, an odd swallowing sound still managed to escape his throat, causing Thorin to cast an annoyed look at his direction. For a moment Bilbo froze, feeling certain that Thorin now knew he was there, but soon the king's attention was on the stall yet again and Bilbo could release the breath he had been holding.
"King Thorin," said the book stall's owner, a tiny dwarf with wide watery eyes and a long, shaggy beard. "It is truly an honour to be able to bow to you!"
True to his words, the dwarf proceeded to give Thorin such a deep bow his long nose actually seemed to touch the floor.
"Master Hudarf," Thorin greeted the dwarf, eyeing the bookcases warily; Bilbo thought he looked uncharacteristically awkward and uncomfortable in his own skin.
"I am in need of a book."
"Ah, of course," Hudarf said, licking his lips in a nervous fashion. "Might I inquire whether the book is needed for hitting someone in the head with or for falling asleep to?"
"For reading, actually," Thorin grumbled, sounding a bit embarrassed, and Hudarf turned abruptly away from the shelf full of elvish literature he had already been browsing through.
"Reading..." Hudarf repeated, appearing a bit lost. "Um, certainly, my lord. I must have books for that purpose somewhere, as well. What kind of a book Your Highness would like to... read?"
If Bilbo had thought Thorin had looked uncharacteristically awkward before, now the king looked nothing but awkward – Hudarf didn't seem to notice, occupied as he was with his own nervousness.
"Something rare," Thorin said eventually. "Something I don't already have in my possession. Something about... halflings, perhaps. A book about... hobbits."
Bilbo gaped at his friend. A book about hobbits? What would Thorin possibly need a book about hobbits for? If Thorin wanted to know something about hobbits – anything at all about hobbits, really – he could have just asked Bilbo. Thorin knew he could have just asked Bilbo, didn't he.
Didn't he?
Bilbo wrung his hands and looked worriedly at the available books. He had once read a book about hobbits by someone who wasn't a hobbit. It had been full of misconceptions and outright lies – the author had even claimed that hobbits ate each other! – not to mention that the lack of grammar had been very troubling, indeed. By reading such a book, Thorin would learn nothing but falsehood about hobbits.
"A book about hobbits," Hudarf repeated, looking puzzled. "I have never heard of hobbit stones before – what does a hobbit look like?"
"The appearance of the halfling does not concern you," Thorin snapped, straightening to his full height, looking suddenly powerful and most majestic and so, so beyond reach it made Bilbo's heart clench. "If you'll find the book I am looking for – a book about halflings, hobbits, the dwellers of a place called 'the Shire' – send it to my chambers and you shall be reasonably rewarded."
"Yes, my king," Hudarf hurried to say, even as Thorin was already turning away. "If a book about 'hobbits' exists in Erebor, I shall find it and bring it to you myself."
Thorin gave Hudarf a curt nod and began moving so quickly and abruptly that Bilbo didn't quite manage to step aside. Who knows, Thorin might have collided with Bilbo, possibly knocking the poor hobbit off his feet, hadn't the dwarf king suddenly frozen, mere inches away from his friend.
The fur of Thorin's cape tickled Bilbo's face and Bilbo didn't dare breath.
Thorin narrowed his eyes, his gaze sweeping the market hall. Then, to Bilbo's horror, Thorin actually sniffed the air! As fast as he possibly could, Bilbo took a clumsy step backwards, then another and yet another, his eyes never leaving Thorin.
A slow, predatory smile formed on the king's lips.
"I can smell your presence, halfling," Thorin said in a low voice and Bilbo shivered, cursing sweating and Thorin's sense of smell.
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