A/N: Thank you so very much for all of the comments and kudos! This chapter shows once again how dwarves and hobbits make moves towards a courtship aka glacially and with way too much practicality and talk of pie.

Bilbo gave up on avoiding touching the trees of Mirkwood after a few hours in the forest as the path was too close. But every time she brushed up against a vine or her foot stepped in something moist, she cringed.

"What's wrong, lass?" Dori asked her when they settled down for the night. "You've a sour look on your face."

"It's this forest," she said, breathing shallowly due to the humidity and something else in the air that felt too close and too heavy. "There's something very wrong with it."

"Well, it's not on my list of places to build a summer home in, that's for sure," Bofur said eyeing a tree that appeared to be oozing with something.

"I thought elves were more in tune with the world," Bilbo said looking around. "Rivendell was a wonder. This…well, calling it a swamp would be too complimentary."

"The Mirkwood elves have shown themselves to be without compassion," Thorin said darkly. "It follows that they would let their own lands fall into ruin."

Bilbo frowned at the tone of his voice. It often deepened into something approaching a snarl when he spoke of things long past.

Long past, but not ever forgotten, Bilbo thought to herself. That's what this forest feels like. Long, forgotten memories that have degraded over time and have bled into the ground itself.

She shook her head to try and dislodge the black thoughts that swirled in her mind, but they persisted. Without knowing it, her hand slipped into her pocket and the comforting smoothness of the little ring muted the mutterings in her mind.

"We'll start a nice wee fire," Dori said taking some branches from Ori. "That'll set us to rights. I hope."

Thus began the nightly ritual of Dori, Ori and Gloin 'discussing' the proper fire-building techniques. Before long, Bofur had offered his, slightly dodgy, suggestions, which Nori refuted and Oin yelled at them all to speak up. Fili and Kili started to juggle the kindling while Dwalin yelled at Dori to just 'light the bloody thing so that Bombur can cook up whatever gruel he can manage in this bloody forest!'

Bombur then took offence (quite rightly so, as he had been doing a remarkable job with what they had), Bofur and Bifur took offence right along with him and then whole company fell into their usual evening chaos.

But something else lurked in their words and their gestures and Bilbo shrank from it, taking a step back from them.

Nights fell quickly in Mirkwood and the light had just left as they lit the fire. As soon as the first flames licked at the branches, Bilbo felt a fluttering of wings by her face.

"Oh," she said startled. "I think we should put the fire out." The bickering continued. "Gentlemen! The fire!"

The flutterings got faster and stronger and increased in number. Something plucked at her hair. She swatted at the furry body attached to the large grey wings. She could have sworn the things screeched at her and another moth attached itself to her arm, while smaller ones darted and swooped about the campsite.

"Put out the fire!" Thorin called out and there was a rush of feet towards the fire to stomp it out.

There was a vicious tug to Bilbo's hair and she cried out. "Stop that! Get off!"

"Bilbo!" Bofur called. "Lads, she's covered in them!"

"Get them off," she said, her voice tight as she tried to maintain her composure and swatted at the moths. "Get them off, please."

She closed her eyes and strong hands pulled the creatures from her hair and her face and she sat down when the last had been pulled and thrown from her. The last of the fire was stomped out by Bombur and full dark settled over the campsite.

"Oh, heavens," she said panting, her face in her hands. "Oh, oh, that... I'm a ridiculous hobbit."

A chorus of voices refuted her claim while a strong, warm hand settled on her neck.

"How so?" Thorin asked, his voice beside her was steady and she grasped for it.

"Because they're just moths," she said dropping her hands from her face. "Just bloody great moths. But there's something…"

Something they wanted from me, she thought. They were searching me for something.

Her hand went into her pocket.

"What is it, lass?" Balin asked.

"Nothing, nothing," Bilbo said shaking her head a bit too quickly. "But there's something ill here. In this forest. Do you not feel it?"

There was silence and Bilbo could tell the company simply couldn't bring themselves to voice what they felt.

"I can't taste the food anymore," Bombur said quietly at long last.

"My arms and my feet feel like lead," Bofur added.

Bifur said something in Khuzdul and the company murmured in agreement.

"I feel like I'm forgetting things," Ori said breaking the silence. "Things I shouldn't forget."

Thorin muttered something that Bilbo couldn't quite make out and she winced when his hand tightened on her neck.

"Tell me of Erebor," she said frantically. "Tell me of your favourite room."

"What?" Thorin asked harshly, his hand relaxing.

"Tell me about your favourite room in the mountain," she said. "All of you, tell me a story of Erebor." She paused. "Unless it shouldn't be spoken of in this place."

"This forest cannot touch Erebor," Thorin said uncertainly. Then, haltingly, he spoke, "There was a room, near the library, where the light shines in from above." He paused and his voice softened. "Someone, a scribe from years past, etched verses from our most beloved stories onto the wall and the words would be illuminated as the sun rose and fell and as the moon waxed and waned."

"The Verse Room," Balin whispered. "Oh, aye. I remember it well, laddie."

"It sounds beautiful," Bilbo said softly. "You'll show it to me? When we arrive?"

Thorin looked down at her and nodded. "I'll show it to you. But you won't be able to understand it. It's written in our language."

"Remember the armoury?" Dwalin asked, his voice harsh in the dark. "How the forge never stopped and the grinders never faltered to keep our weapons sharp and strong?"

"Mother used to tell us stories of the guilds," Fili said. "How the masters used to hold competitions and fairs and how there was never an idle moment."

"It never slept, our kingdom," Balin said. "Not once. The mountain was alive, once upon a time."

"And it will be again," Thorin said, his voice low and fierce causing a shiver to travel up Bilbo's spine. His hand gently rubbed the back of her neck. "I swear to you all, it will thrive again."

A few hours later, after Bilbo gave up on actually falling asleep, she sat up and curled her arms around her knees and stared into the dark forest. She could almost make out the shape of Gloin keeping watch on the path, but perhaps it was only a large shrub. She squinted in the dark.

"Cannot sleep?" came Thorin's voice from beside her.

"No," she said. "Too uneasy for sleep."

"Yes," he said. She felt something touch her shoulder as he said softly, "Come here."

If I was a respectable hobbit, I wouldn't move, she thought. I'd politely decline and stay here in the cold damp and suffer in silence as opposed to curling up next to a lovely dwarf who radiates heat like a furnace.

She blinked in the dark, then she quickly scooted to sit beside Thorin and he wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

"Oh, that's better," she said with a sigh when his warmth seeped through her coat to her skin.

"I noticed you hesitated before coming over," he said.

"It occurred to me that I should probably be demure and coy and not actually accept your offer of warmth," she said. "But then I remembered that I haven't been demure or coy a day in my life, and that I was hardly likely to start any time soon."

"For which I am very grateful," he said. "Not only because I don't suppose a successful burglar is ever demure, but because it means I get an armful of a lovely-smelling hobbit."

"I've been tramping through a diseased forest, Thorin," she said. "I highly doubt I smell like a fresh meadow at present."

"Hmm," he turned his face so that his nose brushed against her hair and the edge of her ear (and oh, there went a full-body shiver) and said, "You smell of sunshine."

"Really?" she asked drily.

"And of a diseased forest," he admitted.

"That's what I thought," she said smiling. She curled her hands around his arm and he pulled her closer. "Your attempt at romance has been duly noted, by the way."

"Excellent," he said. "And thank you. You handled things extremely well, earlier."

"What? Me swatting at moths like an idiot?" she asked.

"When you brought everyone out of their misery by asking them of happier times," he clarified. "It was…kind of you."

She snorted. "I did it for myself as well as for the company. I'm having a hard time remembering certain things myself."

"Such as?" he asked.

"Oh, silly things," she said. "The expression my mother used to make when I'd track mud through the house. Or the taste of a good blackberry pie straight from the oven."

"I can't remember the last time I had a blackberry pie," Thorin said. "In fact, I don't know that I've ever had one."

"Then you are truly deprived," she said. She yawned. "I'll make you one as soon as I'm able."

He made what honestly sounded like a pleased rumble. "I've made some progress in my suit, then? If you're offering to cook for me."

"I cook for everyone," she said practically. "But yes, I would cook for you. No one should go without tasting a blackberry pie. With warm custard."

"Do not talk to me of custard," he warned. "It's been an age since I had the means to indulge in custard."

"Then I won't tell you that my blackberry pie won in last year's baking competition," she said. "And the thing that tipped me into first place was my custard."

"Vixen," he said his voice lowering. "I do believe you're teasing me."

"Of course I am; who else is going to?" she pointed out.

"Fair point, very well made," he said chuckling and nudging his nose against her ear once again.

She sighed and closed her eyes, this time just going with it and delighting in the shiver his touch produced.

"Have you told the others of your persuasion attempts?" she asked.

"Not widely, no," he said. "Although, Balin and Dwalin suspect something. My nephews on the other hand…"

"Would rather see who can balance best on one foot whilst carrying an enormous amount of firewood?" she offered.

"My sister, Dis, their mother, is an incredible woman," Thorin said casually. "A truly excellent mother and has a streak of practicality and fortitude that cannot be matched, except perhaps by your own."

"I truly value the comparison," Bilbo said slowly unsure as to where he was going with his train of thought.

"Therefore, with my knowledge of Dis' numerous capabilities, I am disinclined to believe that my nephews had, in fact, been dropped on their heads as babes," he continued.

Bilbo turned her face into Thorin's arm and chuckled. "I sincerely hope you have never said that to her."

"Did I mention that her sword-fighting skills rival Dwalin's?" Thorin replied.

"Your nephews are young," she said. "They're on a quest to reclaim their homeland with their uncle that they love more than anything in this world. They're about to burst with energy and, well, youth, I suppose." She leant her head fully against his shoulder. "Not to mention, they come by their attitudes honestly."

She felt him tilt his head down to look at her. "What are you implying?"

"That you and your nephews share many similar characteristics, but yours are firmly couched in that majestic mien of yours," she said.

"I thought the term was 'presence'?" he replied.

"Well remembered," Bilbo said, trying to determine if closing her eyes was better than staring out into the dark. It was a toss-up.

"I suppose I don't wish to announce anything until you give me something to announce," he continued. "And if I fail in my persuasion, I don't wish the company to know that their leader and future king cannot change the mind of a stubborn hobbit lass when I offer her the world."

"Ah, yes," she said drily. "I see your point, and I commiserate with you whilst feeling mildly offended."

He chuckled and pulled her closer. "I told you I have no practice with this."

"As if I do," she said. "The blind are truly leading the blind here." She blinked at the darkness. "Rather literally at this point."

"It cannot persist," he said. "Things are bound to improve."

"Was that optimism?" she asked. "From you?"

"I'm optimistic," he countered.

She snickered and shook her head. "No, you're not."

"I beg your pardon?"

"You're not an optimist," she explained. "You don't accept failure as an option. That's not optimism, that's sheer pig-headedness."

"Yes, well," he said. "I stand by my statement that things will improve. We shall be rid of this forest eventually."

"It can't happen quickly enough," she said curling closer to him.

"I'm sorry," he said after a few moments. "That you feel so affected. I'd…ease your mind, if I could."

"This is helping," she said squeezing his arm. "You being nearby is helping."

"I'm glad," he said and she could hear the smile in his voice. He cleared his throat. "Earlier, though. When you brought the company back together; I'd like to point out that it was something that their queen would do."

Bilbo forgot to breathe for a moment. Then she said, "I thought you were still in the persuading stage?"

"I am."

"So, you coming to the conclusion that I'd make a good queen is a bit of a leap, wouldn't you say?" she said. "I mean, nothing is certain."

"No, nothing is certain," he said as he did that thing again with his nose against her ear and she had to bite down on her lip to stop from sighing.

"I'm also not entirely convinced that we shouldn't wait to even do anything until this whole business is over and done with," Bilbo said feeling a bit dazed, but more from Thorin's attention than the darkness of the forest.

"I know," he said. "But…I cannot wait, Bilbo. Don't ask me to put this on hold. Please allow me to try to change your mind."

"Pride?"

"Affection."

"Oh."

"I like these moments with you," he said, his face pressed close to her head, his lips beside her ear. "These quiet moments when we speak of the company and the quest and blackberry pies. Do not ask me to relinquish them."

"We'd still talk," she said turning so that her forehead rested against his chin. He tipped his head so that his lips pressed to the crown of her head. "It's what friends do, after all."

"Could you simply be my friend, Bilbo?" he asked, his lips moved against her skin and she forgot where she was and just clutched at his arm. "Just my friend and nothing more?"

The thought of never being this close to him made her heart jolt oddly in her chest.

"No," she whispered. "I don't imagine that could just be your friend."

"You sound sad," he said.

"I suppose I am," she said. "But, I also suppose it was inevitable. Gandalf did warn me."

"About?" Thorin prompted.

"How if I walked out my door and joined you on this adventure," she took a deep breath, "I wouldn't return the same hobbit. And I'm coming to realise that he was right. I'm not the same hobbit I was."

"This saddens you," Thorin stated.

"Yes," Bilbo whispered. "And no."

"Such a contrary little thing, you are," he said, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "But I do believe I take your meaning. I am not the same dwarf who ran into Gandalf in Bree all those months ago. I am no longer a wandering soul, wondering where my next meal will come from."

"You may need to start wondering again," Bilbo pointed out. "I don't think we have all that many rations left."

Thorin sighed. "I'm attempting to speak philosophically and you are being practical."

"It's a terrible habit of mine, I do apologise," Bilbo said.

"You are incredibly good for me, you realise," he said. "You keep me from taking myself too seriously."

"Goodness," she said smiling. "I hadn't realised I'd done the impossible."

A sharp screech sounded in the forest, followed by a loud rustle. Bilbo quickly let go of Thorin as he jumped to his feet, his sword rasping as he pulled it free. The rest of the company got to their feet with mumbles and held their weapons at the ready.

Bilbo checked her own sword, and not seeing the tell-tale shine of blue, sighed in relief.

"Not orcs," she whispered. "Or goblins."

"Not this time," he murmured. He raised his voice to address the company. "I want three of you on watch at a time. On both sides of the path."

Bilbo stayed where she was, huddled in the dark, and kept her eyes open and fixed on the dark. She only allowed herself the briefest of moments to regret that her conversation with Thorin had been cut short.

Ah, well, she thought. Perhaps tomorrow evening. Perhaps I'll be able to ask him about whether or not Erebor has room for gardens.

Bombur fell into the river the very next day.