Disclaimer: The Hobbit and its characters do not belong to me.

AN: I hope you are pleased (wink). Thanks for commenting on chapter 2!


The Trouble with Soulmate Marks: a Hobbit fanfic

By Indygodusk


Chapter 3: Artichokes and Mountains

Outside a large kitchen full of industrious elves chopping, mixing, cooking, and cleaning sat an alcove with a small decorative table. Cobwebs curtained the corners and covered ancient mathoms and knickknacks. For some reason it had a dusty cushion sitting underneath it. Perhaps something fragile and valuable had once sat there, but now it was perfect for a little hobbit bum.

Yesterday, Billa had claimed the spot as her dining room and eaten a slice of potato pie she'd filched. Then she'd come back and caught an apple falling off a platter. Although two snacks were still a full handful of meals short of her preferred seven a day, she couldn't fault the taste. Everything had been delicious.

Billa was slowly making her way towards the alcove. She had to periodically flatten herself against the wall as parties of elves made their own way towards the dining hall near the kitchen. Each time she had to stop, her yearning to rest in her little alcove got stronger. A few more cobwebs in her tangled brown hair wouldn't make a difference either. She still hadn't managed to wash out the nasty ones from the forest.

Several elves had mentioned attending special cleansing ceremonies in bathing rooms with natural springs in them. Wide-eyed, Billa had spent over an hour searching for a bathing room off the beaten path, but she'd had no luck. What she wouldn't do for a bath!

Some big weeklong elven festival was due to start soon. That meant the people in the kitchens were keeping a close eye on the food stores to make sure they had enough for the entire week of crazy celebrations. Her first couple of times filching food had been remarked upon very quickly. Too quickly. It had caused her no end of worry. Now she was much more careful.

Once the partying started, food should be more plentiful. Billa wondered what a crazy celebration meant to an elf. Probably not the same as a hobbit, but she looked forward to finding out. There was sure to be lots of food left unattended on tables and chairs for her to sample. She might even find the time to enjoy some good elvish music, if she was lucky.

After sitting for so long on the stone floor talking to Kili, her bum couldn't wait for her cushion. However, after turning the corner she had to pull up short. Two elves were disassembling her alcove! Oh no, they took her cushion too!

One of the elves dipped a cloth into a bucket with a splash and then started scrubbing the walls and floor. "It's just the dwarven stench drifting up through the ventilation shafts," he complained to his companion as he scrubbed. "That's where most of the complaints are coming from, down near the holding cells. I don't know why we have to clean random stuff like this when there is so much to be done for the holiday."

The other elf sighed as he bent over scrubbing at the table. "And I've told you that I agree with you, but multiple people have mentioned a bad smell drifting through the halls this week. Two different people complained to me of smelling something strange over here. We're the cleaning staff. It's our responsibility to find and remove unpleasant messes, especially before the festival starts." Putting down the bucket of dirty water on the tabletop, he stood up and stretched his back.

With dawning horror Billa realized that the stench troubling the immaculate elven city was probably her! Hunching her shoulders up to her ears, she felt a rush of scarlet heat her face. She'd have cleaned off if she could have. It wasn't her fault! She just hoped no one back home ever found out about this. The disgrace would last for years. How mortifying!

A chime sounded, heralding the morning meal interval. An annoyed-looking elf with white-blond hair down to his knees and fancy white leggings came out of the kitchen holding a tray and paused by the duo. "Save some of that soap for me, will you Lifar?" he asked. "I have to take some food to the dwarf King-in-exile and I'm sure to come back smelling rotten."

They snickered like schoolyard bullies. The sound covered up Billa's gasp of outrage. Then the three them began throwing around racist jokes about dwarves. Fisting her hands, she had to resist the urge to give them all a good hard kick. Suddenly she had a Tookish idea. Sneaking forward, Billa reached out with her finger and slowly pushed the dirty bucket of water to the very edge of the table. It wobbled, but held.

A group of guards came walking around the corner. Billa flattened herself back against the wall and barely missed getting her toes stepped on. Legolas, the blond prince everyone deferred to, led the group. He stopped in front of the rude elf.

"Is that the tray for the dwarf King, Asindar? Good, I just need one more thing and then we'll leave." Legolas said.

As if summoned by his words, an elf maid with jewel-red hair and green eyes hurried out of the kitchen and scanned the corridor. Seeing them, she smile with relief and started forward. "Here you are, my lord," she said to Legolas. Then her face became slightly awkward. Holding out a small sack, she asked hesitantly, "You don't need me to come along, do you?

Placing his hand over his heart, he gave a small bow and flicked out his fingers. "That is not necessary, Mírdan. I am sure that Lady Golweneth would be most displeased with me if I stole you away during this busy time. Besides," he added with dry humor, "I do not wish to get on her bad side and face old food, cold rooms, and conversations reminding me to correct my bad behaviors. I have barely recovered from the shame of our last such conversation." Some of the younger elves chuckled at his words.

"Oh, but Golweneth is an amazing leader and a lovely person," Mírdan leaned forward to defend ardently.

A fond smile appeared on Legolas's face. Billa was amazed at how it softened his features. It made him so much more appealing as a person. "That is what made displeasing her so disagreeable and why her words filled me with such shame. I know her worth, do not doubt it." She bowed her head sheepishly.

"Thank you for the supplies, Mírdan." Then he turned and gestured to one of his elves. A female warrior stepped forward and took the sack. Then she strode back into line with her fellow guards.

The red haired elf nodded with a soft, "Good luck, my lord." Then she turned and disappeared back into the bustle of the kitchen.

"Come Asindar, let us deliver your tray. The day is wasting." But then Legolas paused and turned his head back and forth in the air, sniffing. "I can still smell something foul over here. Clean it again," he ordered the two servants cleaning away.

Billa wrinkled her nose at him in displeasure, her soft thoughts of him dying away. She wasn't foul, or at least not any more than she could help it! He may look pretty and move like a dream, but he acted insufferable.

"Yes, my prince," answered Lifar, the elf cleaning the table, with a long-suffering sigh. But as he turned around, his elbow knocked into the bucket Billa had moved. Dirty water splattered onto all three gossiping elves. They shouted and jumped in shock. Legolas leapt back like a bird taking flight and avoided getting even a drop on his immaculate clothing.

Too bad, Billa thought. Then maybe he'd have some sympathy for those of us smelling foul.

Asindar was not so lucky. He managed not to drop the tray of food for Thorin, but his slippers and white leggings were now soaked and spattered with blobs of gray and brown gunk. Even the ends of his long blond locks had darkened with dirty water. His horrified expression made Billa feel positively gleeful. Her Took cousins would be so pleased. He looked helplessly at Prince Legolas, but the other elf seemed more amused than anything else.

"You've grown complacent down here in the caverns, Asindar. You should have dodged that. We don't have time to wait for you. Come and deliver the tray, and then you can go and change." Legolas turned and walked away. His guards all followed in unison, half of them openly smirking at the dirty server.

With no choice, the wet elf followed the guards. A squelch and squeak sounded each time he stepped. It was probably the most noise Billa had ever heard an elf make walking around this place. She fell into step behind them, delighted at the chance to find Thorin so quickly and easily.

As they walked, Billa wondered why Asindar needed so many guards to help him deliver food to Thorin. Besides the elves regularly patrolling around the prison cells, the other dwarrows received their meals from two servers who marched in and out by themselves. No one seemed that worried about meal times down there.

What had Thorin done to warrant this level of caution? Oh dear, Billa winced to herself as her imagination supplied several very graphic and bloody scenarios. Maybe she would have to bring some bandages and medicines for her next visit.

They finally reached a barred opening at the back of a dusty, narrow corridor. From the decaying state of the surrounding rooms, it probably hadn't been used much in decades at least. It looked like the door had recently been removed from the hinges and replaced with metal bars. Billa squeezed herself into another dirty alcove to wait, a common occurrence lately. She couldn't fit by the crowd of elves to get closer. Plus, the hall was so narrow that she feared getting stepped on when they finally left. Pulling a bit of cobweb off her nose with a grimace, she strained to see what was going on in the cell.

"Here's your breakfast, dwarf," Asindar sneered, sliding the tray through a gap underneath the bars with his foot. Nothing moved. "You must be hungry. Your friends certainly seem to be. Aren't you going to come and get it?"

All Billa could see from her distant position was shadows. Then an arm appeared out of the darkness. The hand made a very rude gesture. Seconds later, she heard a Khuzdul phrase questioning the ancestry of Asindar's mother (at least that's what it meant according to Bofur).

"Just leave the tray," Legolas ordered. "You can pick it up when you deliver his next meal. If he tries to hit you with it, it's too fragile to do much damage." Asindar went pale.

"Besides," Legolas added, turning to address Thorin in the cell, "if he does attack you unprovoked, he might just have to miss a few meals until hunger teaches him better manners."

Thorin stepped up to the bars slowly and crossed his arms as if unconcerned. "It hasn't yet," he drawled arrogantly. The shadows and crowd made it difficult to see. It was very frustrating.

"Anything else you'd like to add, Prince Legolas?" Thorin looked up into the taller elf's eyes challengingly. A chime echoed down the hall that Billa hadn't learned yet.

Instead of posturing back, Legolas became impatient. Though no less condescending, for all of that. "Yes, actually. I've brought you some water and a few bandages to tend your wounds," he said unexpectedly. "Use it or not as you see fit, dwarven King." The female guard stepped forward and thrust a skin of water and bundle of cloth through the bars into a surprised Thorin's arms. The empty sack hung looped through her belt. Then she melted back.

After a moment of pause, Thorin inclined his head in begrudging thanks. Legolas nodded back sharply. Nothing more was said. The rest of the guards filed away quickly at some sort of signal Billa must have missed. Legolas followed with a surprised looking Asindar at his heels. He must not have known about the bandages either.

As they walked by Billa, Legolas paused right outside of her alcove and turned to Asindar. "Do not waste my time or that of my guard forces again. You should have gone through Captain Tauriel if you needed an escort assigned. The door is solid and the lock unbreakable. I am trying to deal with orcs and spiders invading our wood and shadows growing that my father the King does not-," he cut himself off abruptly and turned away. Looking back over at Asindar from the corner of his eye, he grimaced and blanked the worry from his face. "Next time, just make sure you have a better reason for taking me away from more important duties." Then he quickened his pace and turned alone into a side passage, melting into the shadows like ice into hot tea.

After seeing and hearing that, Billa felt a little bit more sympathy for Prince Legolas. He still acted cold, but she could see now that it concealed a burdened and not ungenerous heart. It wasn't his fault she smelled bad. She also wouldn't want to be responsible for unruly prisoners or the troubles in this Kingdom. Besides which, having a father like Thranduil couldn't be easy. She would try to think a little more kindly of him in the future.

To give the guards adequate time to get out of hearing distance, she waited a few more minutes before leaving her alcove. An industrious little brown spider had already started repairing the webs in the corners. She looked quite friendly and nothing like the giant monsters in the forest. Thank goodness.

Finally it was time to come out. Not wanting to just appear in front of Thorin in case he shouted out loud like Kili, she took off her ring a few paces away. An unexpected swell of emotion made her feel unaccountably shy. She padded forward to stand in front of his cell. "Thorin?" Billa's eyes had dropped to her hairy feet nervously, but she forced them to rise.

Then she got a good look at him. A very good look. Shocked, Billa swallowed hard and choked on air.

Thorin was shirtless. Bare! From the waist up! He'd twisted sideways to dab at a shallow scrape running down his side, casting all the muscles in his torso into sharp relief. The scrape looked like a recent wound, but minor. She checked that first before letting herself get distracted.

Luxurious chest hair tapered off into chiseled abs mostly concealed by the trailing bandage of undyed linen he used to clean his cut. He had fewer tattoos than what she'd seen on Dwalin, but enough to make her inappropriately curious. Old scars curled here and there around the bulging muscles on his arms, chest, and back, cuddling up and over his tattoos like contented cats.

During the time it took her mind to rattle about in her head from shock, Thorin looked up from tending his side and saw her staring. "Oh," he said on a puff of air. The linen in his hand started to drop, but then his hand clenched and brought it in tight, hiding his exposed middle.

Once upon a time she would have been appalled at herself, but adventure had changed her quite a bit. Thorin had too many muscles and tattoos for a hobbit male, but the perfect amount for a dwarf, perhaps even the perfect amount for a hobbit female like Billa. She liked it. A lot.

Billa could even admit to herself privately that the teasing glimpses of something colorful inked onto his stomach especially intrigued her. It almost seemed to be winking from the shadows, calling to her to pull away the concealing linen and discover its secret image for herself. It took all of her willpower not to pant with her mouth open.

But some of his distracting flesh was now concealed. Part of her sighed in disappointment, but the rest reminded her to get ahold of herself. Maybe she could think more clearly now. Start acting respectable.

Thorin blinked rapidly, "Billa?" he finally said.

"Hi," she squeaked, waving weakly.

One more blink and then Thorin's mind caught up with the situation. He grinned fiercely and glanced up and down the guard-free corridor. Striding up to the bars he exclaimed softly but fervently, "By the Maker, Billa Baggins! I am glad to see you alive, well, and free."

Billa couldn't help but grin up into his blue eyes. They crinkled just slightly at the corners. It made her smile widen even further with happiness.

Thorin reached out with his free hand and clenched it tightly around a bar in front of her. "Tell me you have the keys to my cells, burglar," he commanded.

Her smile fell sharply and she had to look away. "Ah… no, not yet. I'm sorry." She grimaced. "I've tried, but the elf in charge of them hasn't given me an opening yet. I'm just here to visit you."

The awkward silence lasted a moment before Thorin rallied. Billa examined his cell door for weaknesses in lieu of seeing his disappointed face. She couldn't bear that right now. The door looked quite sturdy, unfortunately.

"Well at least you are not behind bars like the rest of us," he said finally. Then he reached out and gently touched the back of her hand. She looked up and over into his face searchingly.

"That is something that I am personally grateful for," he said, looking very intent. Her heart skipped a beat. Some strong emotion moved behind his eyes, but then he blinked and his fingers drifted away from her hand.

"Have you seen the others?" he asked. It seemed like a deflection. She couldn't say from what, but it didn't matter. It was a good reminder of what she was here for.

"Oh, yes. They're doing fine." Billa explained what Kili had told her about their situation. As she spoke, she tried to keep her eyes respectfully on his face and away from his bare expanses of skin. No one else's bare chest had ever affected her this way, and she'd seen quite a lot of them over the last few months (although never his, somehow, and she had surreptitiously looked for it). Although she couldn't quite banish the blush on her cheeks, she could at least pretend it wasn't there and hope he'd go along with the deception.

When she finished her tale, Thorin looked slightly cheered. She tried to think of something else to talk about. His cell consisted of a cot to sleep on and a food tray on the floor. Nothing else. Even the wall hangings had been removed as evidenced by the lighter-colored rectangles on the dingy walls. He must be so bored and lonely. "I'm sorry," Billa unintentionally said out loud.

"What? Why?" he asked with creased brow.

It was hard to hold back her wince of embarrassment. "I was just thinking that it must be lonely down this corridor by yourself. They put you so far away from everyone, even the other elves."

Thorin just shrugged and looked away moodily.

"I'm sorry," she repeated. "I'll try to visit you more often now that I know where you are."

"I'd appreciate that," he said a bit stiffly. Then he added, "But only if it is safe to do so. You don't need to pity me. If you can't figure out how to free us and are in danger of getting caught, you should escape and save yourself. That's more important."

Billa put her hands on her hips. "Don't be silly. After all I've gone through, I'm not about to abandon you now."

Leaning forward, Thorin growled warningly with lowered brows, "Billa, you will save yourself!"

"What I'll do is what I please, you-," suddenly Billa felt lightheaded. "Oh… dear…." Spots swarmed her vision and she couldn't stop herself from falling forward.

However, the pain she expected never came. Before she could hit the ground, Thorin reached through the bars and managed to grab her around the waist. Using his other hand, he swiftly blocked her forehead from hitting the hard metal bars. Then he shifted her limp body until her cheek came to rest on his bare chest. It was surprisingly comfortable, despite all of the hard muscles and curly chest hair. Thank goodness the bars were wide enough.

"I'm sorry," she whispered weakly, trying to regain her equilibrium and not completely pass out. This feeling was a little frightening. She did not like it at all.

"When was the last time you ate?" Thorin asked with unconcealed worry.

"I ate two things yesterday," she mumbled, "Or was it twice? No… yes, two and twice. The apple was good. Crunchy. But they stole my cushion." She clenched her hands onto his hips and tried to push down the anxiety of vertigo. Billa felt herself begin to pant.

"Just relax and concentrate on your breathing," Thorin advised, rubbing a calloused finger up and down her neck soothingly. Although everything else was spinning, Billa concentrated on the steady beat of his heart. It made her feel safe. She breathed in and out more slowly, using him as a guide. Thorin's body was hot against her cool skin. It felt good. Nice.

Spots receded from her vision and things became less fuzzy. Shifting her feet, she took a little bit more of her own weight. Her legs held steady.

A rumble vibrated through Thorin's chest. "You'll have to do better about taking care of yourself from now on. Despite it becoming a habit, I won't always be there to catch you."

"I know, I will," Billa promised softly. A minute later she added, "I am sorry. I had some water from a fountain too, but food has been hard to come by." Finally she felt a bit more like herself. "I've also been concentrating more of trying to find a way out for all of us than on meals and resting."

Then she took stock of where she was, pressed up against Thorin's bare chest through the bars, basically embracing the man. What had seemed fine before now began to seem scandalous. Embarrassed, Billa tensed and tried to lean back, but Thorin just adjusted his grip to slot his hand more firmly into the curve of her waist, not letting her go.

"Two meals is not enough for a hobbit to live on, especially small meals. Lean against me for a little longer until you're more steady," he ordered with a concerned grumble that she could feel vibrating from his chest to her face and down to warm her middle. That soothing rumble, combined with the feel of his fingers delicately carding through the strands of her hair, destroyed her half-hearted objections.

Sighing brokenly, Billa gave in and slotted back into the circle of his body like a puzzle piece returning to its place. "Thank you."

After a while, Thorin began humming softly and slowly untangling her hair with his fingers. When he got stuck on a particularly stubborn knot, Billa spoke up again, "It's getting too long and unruly. I need to cut it soon, maybe something short around my ears."

Thorin's fingers froze, then began picking at the knot again determinedly. "You had better not," he said threateningly. "Half of this mess is vile spider silk and not hair anyways."

Billa opened her mouth to argue, but didn't know where to start. She felt words rising up out of her belly like a soufflé of indignation. But then he spoke, opening the oven of her anger prematurely and causing her soufflé to collapse.

"I like it long. It's beautiful," he said with stark honesty. "No dwarf would ever cut curly hair like yours; it is too rare among us. A blessing like this should be properly cared for." He stopped for a moment, then added, "I can teach you how to braid it out of the way, if that's the problem."

"Oh, um… really?" Billa asked lamely, trying to focus on the braiding part and not his thinking her beautiful and a blessing part.

She'd never picked up the knack for braiding. As a teen she'd left it loose in hopes of attracting a lad. Then as an adult she'd kept it short and no-nonsense to reflect her respectable spinster status. It had grown out on the journey.

"Of course," Thorin confirmed. "Every dwarf has a favorite braid to share with family or friends." Then he rolled her head so that her forehead rested on his chest instead of her cheek. "Stay like this for a moment." He pulled the hair back from the sensitive tips of her ears and began what she assumed to be one of his favorite braids.

"When it falls out, just come back to me. I'll fix it for you," he told her with gravel in his voice. "All you have to do is ask."

With her nose buried in his chest, Billa couldn't help but close her eyes and smell the essence of Thorin's skin. This was not respectable. She shouldn't be letting him do this, but she couldn't help herself. Breathing in deeply, she closed her eyes and felt for the first time in months like she was back home at Bag End. But not the Bag End visited by Gandalf and the company. No, this felt like the home she'd known when her mother and father had still been alive, filling every corner of the home with love and companionship.

Billa breathed in deeply again and the scent changed, became stronger and more spicy. Her feelings of home changed too into something less comfortable and more enticingly dangerous. She was being ridiculous. Yet not only did she like it, but something visceral inside rolled over and purred at his scent in smug pleasure. She wanted to lick his skin with the tip of her tongue and see if it tasted as good as the smell hinted at, wanted to know what sound he'd make if she did.

These were not respectable thoughts at all. Yet she couldn't bring herself to move away. Luckily Thorin couldn't read her mind or see the flames scorching her cheeks.

"There, almost done," he finally said, "I just need to secure it." He reached down into his pocket. From the corner of her eye she could see him fish out a toggle of leather and wood. He tied off her braid, then tipped her cheek to rest against his chest again and looked down at his handiwork with approval. "Very nice."

"Thank you," Billa said, touching the weave of her hair gently. She leaned back to pull the end forward to look at the hair tie. The wood was smooth to the touch and had been masterfully carved to look just like the flower and vine pattern on her mother's prized china. "Oh," she gasped, tears springing to her eyes. "It's perfect. Just like a little piece of home. Thank you, Thorin."

Looking up into his deep blue eyes, she felt an almost uncontrollable urge to lean up and kiss him. Before she could act on it, a chime sounded through the corridor, breaking the moment. Billa looked away.

"I should stop inconveniencing you and go find somewhere to rest," she said softly.

Thorin ran his fingers over her braid and down her spine. Both hands met in the small of her back before swooping out and down to light on the curve of her hips like two parentheses cupping a precious secret. Billa couldn't help but shiver. Thorin's lips quirked in male satisfaction.

"You aren't inconveniencing me. You should stop talking nonsense, stay here, and," he flashed her a mischievous grin she'd seen more than once on Kili, "eat some of this elvish dog food. You are starving so it shouldn't taste too bad."

"But you're all wounded and locked up. I can't take food from you," Billa protested weakly. She didn't really want to leave, which is precisely why she should. "And I'm sure it's not really dog food," she added. Billa felt the sigh move through his chest, swaying her body back and forth like a ship bobbing on a wave.

"I'm not the one who almost fainted," he scolded quietly. "Besides, it's only a little scratch, not a wound. I merely objected quite strongly to being put in here and the tree-shaggers objected to my breaking one of their noses and trying to choke the other one with his own hair. Or was it a her? Whatever the case, I got scratched when the rest of them tackled me and tripped me through the door. It happens."

She leaned back against his hands to give him an incredulous eyebrow, which he ignored.

"I get food delivered. You don't." He squeezed her waist once. "You are already too thin for a hobbit. So eat," he commanded. "Please," he softened his demand.

Billa looked up into his face. "You don't even know any other hobbits," she protested lightly. He just stared at her with an imperiously raised brow. She couldn't help but capitulate. "Fine, I'll eat, but only if you join me."

"Deal," he said, sliding his fingers off her waist and turning to grab the tray from the floor. Phantom warmth lingered beneath her skin, even though a foot of air now separated them. Billa shivered again and told herself to stop being foolish.

She sat down against the bars and tucked her skirts around her legs. Thorin sat down across from her with one leg bent up to support his arm. He broke off some seedcake and handed it to her before taking some for himself.

Billa bit into it and paused, looking down in disbelief. She chewed… and chewed and chewed some more. Finally she loudly swallowed with a grimace. "That is awful. It is dog food!"

Thorin looked at the betrayed expression on her face and burst into guffaws, spewing food out onto the floor.

"Yuck, now it looks even worse," Billa said sadly before breaking into giggles of her own.

"Sorry," Thorin apologized. "But I did warn you."

"You did," Billa conceded. "The stuff I stole tasted way better, just to let you know. Even if it was a very small quantity. I'll try to steal you some too if I get better at thievery." She put the rest of the seedcake down in her lap.

Thorin sobered. "You still need more if you aren't to faint again. Please Billa, eat it. It could be worse."

It was almost impossible to say no to him when he said 'please.' Squaring her shoulders, Billa gamely took another bite with a disgusted shiver. Forcing the rest of the bar down, she made grabby hands at the water skin. Thorin passed it over and she took a large drink to swish out her mouth.

"It's hard to imagine anything tasting worse than that, even if my body does appreciate the extra energy," Billa finally said.

"Sadly enough, I don't have to imagine," Thorin said musingly as he took back the water skin and downed a sip. "I've eaten it… and been desperate enough to wish for a second helping. Few offered succor to the dwarves of Erebor in our wanderings and food was often scarce," he finished in a low, dark voice. Seeing her frozen expression, Thorin looked away, breaking the dark spell of his words as he took another sip from the water bottle.

Desperate to change the subject, Billa searched around for a topic. Her eyes lit upon the now exposed tattoo on his stomach. Dwarven symbols in black ranged around a center tattoo colored in with greens, yellows, and reds. Billa tilted her head to study the picture, then couldn't help but giggle.

Thorin looked at her in sharp question.

"Sorry," Billa said, trying to stifle her smile. "I was just trying to figure out why you have an artichoke tattooed on your stomach. It doesn't seem very dwarfish."

Thorin's eyes widened. "A what?"

"An artichoke," she repeated with a gesture. "You know, the green vegetable with the thorns and overlapping leaves and inedible bits covering the delicious heart…"she trailed off at his horribly offended look.

Red stained the tips of his cheeks, something she'd never seen before. "It is not a vegetable," he bit out with a strange combination of anger, embarrassment, and shock. "It is Erebor, the lonely mountain, lit from within by dragon fire." He glared fiercely.

After their closeness, it stung. "Well sorry," Billa said in defensive irritation, "but I've never seen Erebor except for that one far off glimpse. However, I have seen a lot of vegetables, and if it is the lonely mountain, then your lonely mountain looks a lot like an artichoke!" She glared back.

Thorin looked away with a face of stone. Billa realized very quickly that she was not going to out-stubborn a dwarf with the silent treatment. She didn't want silence anyways. She had lots of that. Billa wanted conversation. All too soon she'd be invisible and on her own again.

Blowing out a breath, Billa rolled her shoulders to throw off her agitation. "I didn't mean to anger you," she said. "As a hobbit, I am merely more familiar with vegetables than with mountains. Please pardon my offence."

He turned to face her. "This is very important to me," he said, waving his hand over the tattoo of the mountain and then tracing a finger over the dwarven text above it.

"What does it say," Billa asked in conciliation.

His finger paused, and then went to the small words directly above the mountain. "This is a riddle in an ancient dwarven dialect. It does not translate well to common. You wouldn't be able to understand it without the cultural context."

"Oh," she said with some disappointment. Billa considered herself to be quite good with riddles, especially after her encounter with Gollum underneath the goblin city. But if she couldn't understand the imagery, the solution would certainly be beyond her cleverness.

"May I ask you a question?" He dropped his hand to his side tensely.

Billa tilted her head. "Okay," she said slowly. "Though my answering or not will depend on the question."

He acknowledged that with a tip of his head. Then he asked, "What will you choose as your fourteenth share of the treasure after the quest?"

Surprised at the change of topic, Billa blinked and looked down. "I don't know. I haven't thought about it. I don't even know what kind of treasures there will be besides lots of shiny mathoms." She sighed. "Does it matter right now?"

Thorin looked down to trace his finger over the glyphs arching along beneath his ribs at regular intervals. "Each of these symbols represents a different dwarven treasure," he said. "I earned them during my second century of life." Starting with the glyph beneath his heart, he traced across his flesh and translated them into common for her: "Gold, silver, mithril, iron, emerald, diamond, sapphire, ruby, and opal." He lifted up his hand and looked at her sideways. "There are many more types of gems and minerals than that, of course, but those are the most commonly worked with and valued."

"Why is the symbol for gold so much larger than the others?" Billa asked curiously.

A look of shame crossed his face. "I don't know for certain, but…" he paused to draw in a deep breath. "You've heard Balin speak of my grandfather, Thror?"

Furrowing her brow, Billa cast her mind back to the first time she heart Balin speak of the rulers of the lonely mountain. "He was a great ruler, but became ill in the mind," she answered cautiously.

Thorin's lips twisted bitterly. "You word it kindly. He became obsessed with gold above all else, hoarding it and loving it to the exclusion of the safety of his kingdom. That gold lust brought the calamity of the dragon down upon us." His nostrils flared with the emotion restrained beneath his words. "That predilection for gold lurks in all of his line. I have never succumbed, but I suspect that is the message behind the size of the symbol."

"Why didn't you make the person tattooing you explain it then, if you are unsure?" Billa asked what felt like the obvious question.

A bark of laughter met her words. Meeting her eyes squarely, Thorin replied, "You do not make Mahal do anything, much less explain his blessings."

"Wait, what?" Billa leaned back and thrust her hands into her pockets. "Now I am really confused. How did you get this tattoo then?"

Thorin smiled mysteriously. "Come Burglar, you answer my question and I'll answer yours. Which treasure would you choose from amongst these tattoos?" He gestured at the symbols arching across his flesh.

Billa shook her head with uncertainty. Examining the symbols didn't help. They were lovely tattoos, and represented pretty things, but none of them drew her. Raising her hand in the air, she let it drop helplessly. "I don't know, Thorin. I'm tired and missing good food and cheer and song. If I had to choose a treasure to take from your tattoos then I'd probably take the heart of the artichoke, or, you know, the heart of the mountain."

At her answer, Thorin's face went completely dumbstruck. He opened and closed his mouth mutely. Billa feared if she didn't do something to knock him out of it, he'd just sit there blinking until the next guard change.

"Forget what I just said," she finally burst out. "It was obviously ridiculous." His gaze started to sharpen at her words until he finally focused again on her face. Billa sighed, "Why don't you tell me how you got the tattoo before I have to leave? Or you can tell me the stories about your scars if it will make you feel better. I know you dwarves all love to do that."

Raising an eyebrow, Thorin noted, "And yet, I've never seen you enjoy any of those war stories."

Billa blushed. "Well, they are usually very graphic and violent and bloody. Not really my cup of tea, or that of any hobbit, but if it will make you feel better I will listen to them." She folded her hands together on her lap and assumed an attitude of attention.

Fondly smiling down at her, Thorin demurred. "I won't make you suffer through just now. Instead I will answer your other question. However," he became serious, "you must promise to keep what I tell you secret. It is not something I share openly."

Utterly grave, Billa replied, "I promise not to share what you tell me, Thorin. You know you can trust me."

"I do trust you," he confirmed steadfastly. It gave her a little zip of happiness.

"When I started into my second century of life," he began, "I still wandered the land as a travelling smith. By that point we had been exiled from our home in Erebor for over 75 years. We'd only barely begun to establish a more comfortable life for ourselves. I worked ceaselessly to gather more dwarrows to our settlements in Eriador and the Blue Mountains and to ensure that my people were not only treated well, but that they thrived." His voice thrummed with passion.

At first meeting Thorin Oakenshield, Billa had thought him cold and lacking in feeling. Months of observing his behavior, gossiping about him with the others, and talking with him during their travels had thoroughly disabused her of that notion. Thorin's problem wasn't that he cared too little. He cared too much. He loved his family, his people, and his lost homeland with the utmost ferocity.

Perhaps his grandfather had once been the same. Maybe that passion got twisted into a love of gold. Billa hoped Thorin would be spared a similar temptation. Surely he was too good for that?

Thorin continued his story, unaware of her musings as he looked off into the fog of memory. "For a time, I felt very alone in the world. My grandfather had died and my father had disappeared. The Battle of Azanulbizar had not gone well, and many of the dwarves from other clans remained angry and resentful of those of us from Erebor. My sister, Dis, had married a good man and no longer had much time or need for her big brother." His brief smile of self-deprecation flitted across his mouth before it faded back to sadness.

"For years I had been forced to humble myself in every way possible, begging for work and scraps to feed, clothe, and shelter my people." He paused to swallow a sip of water, checking Billa's face to make sure she was attending to his story. Putting down the water skin, he leaned forward.

"One morning I woke up alone in a cave high in the mountains. I looked out at the most gorgeous sunrise I had ever seen in all my years of living and I realized something. A King has no use for the beauty of a sunrise. That sunrise could not be used to help my people. But the dwarf inside the king burned with the desire to share its beauty with someone, someone who would value the eye of the dwarf over the arm of the king." He paused and Billa waited with baited breath for him to continue.

"After the sunrise had faded to cerulean, I went back into the cave and fashioned an altar out of the loose stones I found there. I prostrated myself to Mahal, The Maker of all dwarves, He who others call Aulë." Thorin looked away from her, his face a complex blend of emotions she couldn't decipher. "I petitioned him for a soulmate, someone to keep close to my heart that did not need to be shared or given away. Someone and something just for me. It was a selfish wish, but for some reason The Maker granted my petition. He put me into a trance, and when I woke I bore the markings you now see: the mountain, the riddle, and the treasures. They are the clues to lead me to my one, to my soulmate."

Billa's mouth hung open in surprise, but she couldn't find the energy to close it. Shock held her motionless. She had not expected a soulmate mark to be the explanation for his tattoo. Nor for it to be the third type Kili had described.

Thorin continued, "No one has ever been able to solve Mahal's riddle correctly, although admittedly I very rarely give anyone a chance. Thus I still walk my path alone." He sent her a warning look, "This type of soulmate mark can carry a stigma that would not serve my people or my cause well. That is why I conceal it and why I asked you to keep it secret."

Almost as an afterthought he added, "Perhaps it was youthful folly to want such a thing. It is a temptation to think that the burden would be a very light one. For certain it would distract me from what I may have to do for our current quest now, perhaps dangerously dividing my focus. Nevertheless, Mahal answered my plea and so I must bear the consequences of my actions as they come."

Silence fell when he finished. Billa's hands were now cupped over her mouth and she couldn't quite bring herself to remove them. Something inside mourned deeply after hearing his tale, as if she'd been gutted, but she didn't want him to see it. That pain was hers, not his. Billa was not a dwarf. She could not be the one shaped by Aulë to become his other half. Forcing her almost crippling disappointment down deep with a shove of a mental foot, she forced her hands to drop to her sides.

Billa was a Baggins. She would carry on, no matter what. Hobbits don't want or need soulmates, remember? she told herself sternly. Maybe saying it out loud would help. So Billa told Thorin what she'd told Kili about how hobbits viewed Soulmates.

Thorin seemed shocked and slightly disheartened. "You really mean to tell me that hobbits don't want to be soulmates?" Thorin asked for clarification.

Billa forced herself to offer a carefree shrug. "It's cultural. I remember hearing of one lad who'd been too ignorant to know what his soulmate mark was, and gotten tricked into bonding by the enterprising lass who'd finally tracked him down using her own soulmate mark and the extensive gossip network of Hobbiton. They didn't break the news that they were soulmates to their families until she was in labor with their first babe so it would be too late to stage an intervention. People gossiped about that for years and it still gets brought up when a couple starts acting too besotted for polite society."

Thorin got a strangely calculating look on his face after hearing her story. "So she tricked him into bonding and it worked?"

Nonplussed, Billa answered, "Well, yes, I suppose so, but that's not the point of the story."

Thorin's eyes narrowed deviously.

"What are you thinking about," Billa asked suspiciously.

His face smoothed out, "Oh nothing, just that Hobbits are such a strange and interesting race of people."

"Really," Billa asked suspiciously. But then another chime echoed through the halls.

Thorin tensed. "The next guard will be by soon. You should go."

Dusting herself off by habit, Billa stood up and squared her shoulders. "I'll be back," she promised. "Be careful and don't get into any more fights with the guards."

Picking up an embroidered length of cloth, Thorin quickly wound it around his waist until the entire soulmate tattoo was concealed. Then he slid his shirt back on over his head. He looked up. "Why haven't you left yet? You will be seen for sure." He couldn't hide the scolding worry in his voice.

"No I won't," Billa assured him confidently. Then she slipped on her ring and disappeared.

"What sorcery is this?" he whispered, reaching through the bars searchingly until his fingers found her arm.

She checked to make sure the corridor was still empty. Then she slipped the ring off and showed it to him. "I found a ring in the Goblin City. It's how I escaped. I wouldn't be able to avoid the elves here otherwise."

His mouth parted in surprise.

"I have to go now though or I really will be caught. Stay safe, Thorin." Billa stepped back out of his reach and slipped the ring back onto her finger. Then she turned and padded off down the hall. She had a lot of thinking to do and even more forgetting. And if she shed a few tears as she walked, her ring made it impossible for anyone to see them, even herself.

TO BE CONTINUED


AN: I've decided to cast the people in my fic with actors and actresses. Because I can! I have pictures of them on my new tumblr. Just search for indygodusk on tumblr or follow the link on my profile. I just set it up this morning, so if it isn't working let me know, because I probably did something wrong.

Thorin = Richard Armitage (of course)

Billa = Minnie Driver

Golweneth = Mira Furlan

Mírdan = Jewel Staite

Asindar = Tom Felton

Dis = Lucy Lawless

I also found some random mentions of me on other websites saying you like my fic. SQUEE of JOY! Because I totally get off on that stuff and on you saying nice things. Thank you for playing with me!

Finally, if any artists are out there, this fic is dying to get some fanart (wink wink, nudge nudge).