A/N: Wow! I'm kind of overwhelmed by the response to this story! Thank you so much every one of you who has read, reviewed, favourited and followed this story! It means so much to me :)
I hope you enjoy the next chapter!
The long procession of dwarves and excitedly chattering dwarflings snaked its way through the large halls of Erebor, the stone now polished and the gems embedded in the walls glinting in the light of the torches. Dís remembered; recognised the grand chambers and stone structures of her youth, and she could only grip her brother's arm in silence as she walked through halls shrouded in memories.
Finally they reached the royal dining room, which was laid and ready but with a noticeable lack of food. Thorin apologised to the newest members of their party, explaining that their early arrival meant the meal wasn't quite ready. Still, they sat and made themselves comfortable, and Bilbo finally met his friends' families.
Glóin introduced his wife, Golma, who had a fine downy beard gracing her chin which was intricately braided and a warm smile as she greeted Bilbo. Gimli was a fine lad, the very image of his father, and he stood just taller than Bilbo. He had the beginnings of a fine beard lining his lower face - which was a rather sore point for Kíli, Bilbo suspected, judging by the glares he was sending in the younger dwarf's direction.
Bombur then took over, introducing his family. His wife, Bím, was as large as her husband but just as jolly, with a deep hearty laugh. She instantly made Bilbo feel at ease, her eyes filled with merry warmth. The pride was clear to see on her and Bombur's faces as they introduced their children. There were twelve altogether, seven lasses and five lads, and Bilbo got lost after the first six. But he smiled a lot to make up for the fact he couldn't remember their names and let them play with his curls for a while. Bilbo could see Thorin's eyes dancing in mirth at the sight. He began to blush then, and Bombur gently chivvied his children back to their seats, relinquishing Bilbo from his youngest daughter's iron grip around his middle, and Bilbo resumed his seat with Balin on one side and Dís on the other.
Very soon the first course was brought out, a light appetiser to keep them going until the main meal was ready. Slices of fluffy white bread and slivers of ham so thin they almost seemed to dissolve on the tongue. Large tankards of ale were also brought out, and Bilbo enjoyed this particularly fine brand (he judged it was made by Men, seeing as it was sweeter than most dwarves preferred). He drank a whole mug with his starter and soon found his head buzzing rather pleasantly. He declined another mug, though, opting to wait until he had something more substantial in him, before "pleasantly tipsy" became "outright drunk"; dwarf mugs weren't small, but he was.
As he ate, Dís drew him into conversation, asking about his life in the Shire, the customs and traditions there and his family. She told him about her husband, who had died in the same battle as her brother, at Azanulbizar, and who Fíli favoured in looks.
'How has Thorin been?' she asked suddenly, but Bilbo was prevented from answering or asking for clarification as dinner was being served - great hunks of succulent roast beef and golden potatoes, on a bed of creamy mash and great jugs of rich, thick gravy ready to be poured. Bilbo was quite distracted from everything other than the matter at hand, and he said nothing until his plate was filled.
Thorin stood then, and gazed around the room. His eyes stopped on Dís, and he smiled.
'It is good to have my kith and kin here with us once more, in the halls of our ancestral home.' He continued, saying something in Khuzdûl which Bilbo couldn't understand, before he sat and began to eat – the cue for all the others to begin in earnest.
'What did he say, at the end?' he asked Dís.
'"Be welcome here and eat of our shared food",' she explained. 'It's an ancient Dwarvish gesture of welcome to visitors. But you never answered my question,' she complained, suddenly frowning, and Bilbo was reminded of his female Took cousins back when they were tweens. 'My brother seems different. He still looks the same – except for the grey hairs – but there's something else there too.'
She was looking at him expectantly and Bilbo didn't know what to say. How was he supposed to know what Thorin was thinking? He had only known the dwarf a year, and Thorin was her brother. If anyone should know, it was her…
'I – He's just happy to see you, I expect,' Bilbo said uncertainly, glancing at Thorin, who was looking particularly fine with his braids and new cloak and he was looking in Bilbo and Dís' direction. Bilbo flushed and poured himself another mug of ale to distract himself. Dís noticed, and her frown turned thoughtful.
'Yes,' she said. 'That must be it,' and she glanced slyly at Thorin, whose features darkened for a moment before he turned to talk to Fíli, sitting beside him.
The food was good, and Bilbo found himself eating more than he normally would and indulging in more ale than he had done in a long time. His mind became slightly fuzzy but he felt so content, sitting in the warm chamber surrounded by friends and listening to their boisterous laughs as they caught up with their families after the long separation. He could hear Gimli shouting something to Óin and teasing his uncle about something or other, and Bím gently chiding her eldest boy – Belin, was it? Borin? He couldn't remember now.
He laughed along with the others as a rather unsteady Bofur got up - evidently he'd made a bet with Nori, as he was doubled up with laughter and looking very smug - and began to dance a jig, pretending he was playing on a violin. Óin joined in, putting his ear trumpet to his lips and blowing on it as if it were an actual trumpet. Even Thorin laughed at that, his whole face brightening. Bofur's words were a bit too slurred for Bilbo to make out and interspersed with a few words in Khuzdûl which he couldn't understand, but none of that mattered because Bofur tried to jump up on to his seat but missed spectacularly, falling facefirst on the table and half in Nori's lap. The two were red-faced and giggling like a pair of dwarflings, but then so were many of the dwarves.
In his slightly drunken stupor Bilbo simply observed the others. He could hear them all talking – Dís talking with Kíli on her other side and Balin next to him was talking to Dwalin. Dwalin's usually monosyllabic answers were even curter and came less often than normal, although Balin didn't seem perturbed. Interested, Bilbo's innate curiosity got the better of him and he twisted his head ever so slightly in order to hear better.
'…Sometimes, Dwalin, you've just got to do what you have to. Maybe not just yet, but at some point you'll have to tell the lad…'
'Hm.' Dwalin gave a non-committal snort at his brother's words.
'…And you know that his brothers will eventually come around. You're not such a bad sort, brother!' Balin's laugh was louder than usual and he began talking about friends back in the Blue Mountains, and Bilbo stopped listening after that.
Thorin, in contrast to Dwalin's stubborn silence, was almost jolly; brief smiles flashing out across his face as he spoke with his nephews and sister before it returned to its habitual expression – albeit slightly less stony.
Bofur and Bifur were chatting with Bombur, Bím and the children, and Bofur's hat having once more found its way onto the heads of his many nephews and nieces. Dori, Nori and Ori were chatting amicably between themselves, and occasionally with Óin, but Ori looked decidedly unhappy. He was already a quiet, solitary dwarf, Bilbo had found, but he was usually quite cheerful. He wondered what it had was that had caused him to look so melancholy, staring down into the dregs of his mug.
Bilbo sipped a little more of his ale, and felt his eyes begin to droop slightly. He settled down a little deeper in his chair and, lulled by the sound of happy laughter and chatter, he drifted off, resting his head on his forearms and nearly upsetting his mug.
Chuckles from Dís' direction alerted Thorin and he looked up, to see his sister and Balin smiling down at the sleeping form of the hobbit in between them. Dis was giggling rather drunkenly – Thorin couldn't remember when he'd last seen her that happy.
'Oh Thorin, your hobbit really is sweet!' Dis called to him. 'He reminds me of Fíli as a dwarfling, all golden and soft.'
Balin chuckled at her words, but Thorin felt only a little surge of protectiveness rise up.
'Don't tease him, Dis. He's not a child, even if to you he looks like one.' His words came out perhaps slightly sharper than he had intended, but any regret he might have felt disappeared at the sly look that appeared on Dis' face.
He stood and moved over to where Bilbo sat sleeping, and put a hand to his shoulder, causing the hobbit to wake and blink blearily.
'Come on, Bilbo,' Thorin said softly, helping him to his feet. 'I think someone's had too much ale. Let's get you to bed.'
He resolutely ignored Dis' raised eyebrow in his direction.
'I'll be back soon,' he said to her, and gently led Bilbo out of the room, leaving the warm stuffy air for the mercifully cooler corridor. Bilbo leant against him, still sleepy, and Thorin wrapped an arm around him to hold him steady when the hobbit wobbled. He was just the right height, and Thorin felt content walking the silent corridors with the hobbit in his arms.
Bilbo let out a little chuckle, and Thorin made to loosen his grip but Bilbo only leaned in closer so Thorin closed his arm tighter around Bilbo's waist.
'You'll never guess what I found out,' Bilbo murmured into Thorin's shoulder.
'What did you find out?' Thorin asked, humouring him.
'Dwalin,' Bilbo gave a little hiccup, 'likes Ori. And Ori likes him!'
'Oh really? ' Thorin asked skeptically. Dwalin was his close friend; he thought he'd know if the warrior had designs on anyone.
'Heard Balin talking to him about it. And Ori was looking anywhere except at Dwalin.'
'That doesn't mean they like each other,' Thorin said uncertainly. Did it? Was Bilbo just a bit drunk?
'Doesn't it? Well. I think they'd be a perfect couple - Ori could knit Dwalin mittens in winter and maybe even make him smile once in a while,' Bilbo said with a high-pitched giggle, swaying a little. Thorin was torn between huffing in indignation for his friend and chuckling at Bilbo's laugh. 'They're not an obvious couple though, are they? Dwalin a grizzled fighter and Ori all sweet and soft,' Bilbo mused, and Thorin's grip tightened ever so slightly around the hobbit just for a moment.
'No,' he agreed.
Bilbo gave a yawn and nuzzled closer to Thorin, resting his head on Thorin's shoulder and closing his eyes. If it weren't for the fact he was still on his feet, he might as well have been asleep. Eventually they reached Bilbo's rooms and Thorin helped him inside, lifting the hobbit onto his bed and making sure he was warm enough before he left.
'G'night,' he heard Bilbo mutter softly.
'Goodnight, Bilbo,' he replied quietly before shutting the door. He stood outside the hobbit's rooms for a few moments more. Perhaps the whole thing was all just the ale going to Bilbo's head; just the result of a tipsy hobbit's wild imaginings.
But maybe it was true. Maybe a grizzled old warrior and a quiet, bookish type could be together.
Maybe Thorin had a chance.
A/N: Thank you all for reading! I hope you enjoyed :) *does a happy dance* Aaaaaaand it begins! Thorin is pining, Bilbo continues to be painfully oblivious, Dis is being her awesome self... and the Dwori starts in the next chapter! Haha :D Thank you again for reading! :3
