It took Dwalin the longest to feel comfortable calling the hobbit their own, but when he finally gave in to the feeling it was with a deep and terrible fear he had grown to dread over the years. Was it not exhausting enough to feel protective over Thorin, over all the dwarves of the Company? But a hobbit as well? A soft, excitable, tiny little thing that had never held anything more dangerous than a kitchen knife?
But he had witnessed everything at the Carrock. He saw the halfling's unruly curls shining golden in the firelight. He saw him flailing about with that pathetic letter opener of his, fierce and afraid and eerily magnificent in the eye of impending death. And after that, Dwalin could no longer deny that he had grown to respect and, yes, even to care about, Bilbo Baggins. So he decided, that following morning as the Eagles carried them safely to the eyrie, that he would instruct him in proper fighting techniques.
To his dying breath, the look on the hobbit's face when Dwalin strode up to him a day later and said, "Get up, Master Burglar, it's time you learned to risk your life properly," was one of the most comical things he'd ever witnessed.
"M-me?" the hobbit squeaked. He jumped to his feet and looked back and forth for help, but the rest of the Company seemed just as astonished with this turn of events.
"Aye, laddie," Dwalin said and shifted into a fighting stance. "Draw your weapon."
Bilbo obeyed immediately though he kept up a steady stream of protests. "I really don't think this is necessary, you know, it's not as if you called upon me as the fourteenth warrior," he blustered, fumbling at the hilt of his Elven dagger with trembling fingers.
By my beard! He's looking at me as though I am the Pale Orc himself! Dwalin thought and snorted with exasperation.
"Fourteenth warrior, no, but any who've agreed to this quest know that they will be called upon to fight if need arises," he said out loud. Bilbo opened his mouth but the dwarf did not allow him to speak. "At the Carrock you were brave, aye, but your swordsmanship was pathetic at best. You'll be dead if you keep that up."
Bilbo swelled with indignation, rising to the challenge in Dwalin's voice. "I killed an orc the other night, didn't I?" he said, eyes flashing with the need to prove himself.
"Aye, but you'll listen to me all the same if you know what your life's worth."
The hobbit was silent for a moment, obviously put out but not quite confident enough to do more than glare at the intimidating dwarf. But after a moment he seemed to deflate, and a curious look crossed his face. Looking back now, Dwalin knew it to be guilt.
"Alright," he conceded.
Everyone watched wordlessly as the hobbit faced off against the hulking dwarf, looking comically small in comparison. Dwalin, however, was distressed. It was painfully obvious the halfling had never been in a fight, least not a real fight, before this venture. He held his body awkwardly, self-conscious of their audience or nervous in Dwalin's presence, he couldn't quite tell. His fingers were wrapped so tightly around the hilt of his dagger that his knuckles had gone white.
Dwalin sighed. "Loosen your grip, lad," he said.
Bilbo blinked and looked quizzically down at his hand, but loosened it all the same.
Dwalin nodded. "You must grip it firmly, but not too firmly. You're not trying to choke it."
Bilbo let out a nervous laugh.
"And your stance is terrible. Here."
Dwalin reached out to the hobbit, who tried (and failed) not to flinch away from the looming figure. The dwarf rolled his eyes and muttered, "Mahal, you're jumpier than a spring hare."
To his credit, Bilbo did flash the warrior dwarf an irritated glare.
"Right, now, don't lean forward like that. You should be ready to shift your weight in any given direction, but if you stay on your toes you'll lose your balance. And keep your elbows in. You need to protect your heart so you must try to keep your arms close whenever possible."
The Company watched, fascinated, as Dwalin taught Bilbo how to hold his weapon, how to block an attack, and how to hold his ground. But as the dwarf prepared to move from defensive positioning to offensive, he frowned and shook his head.
"No. No, no, this is all wrong," he said.
Bilbo, winded and sweating, shot the dwarf a confused look. "What's wrong? What did I do?"
"It's not something you did, laddie, it's…you."
"Me?" the hobbit squeaked. "What about me?"
"Well, you look about as fierce as a wee kitten," Dwalin replied.
"Excuse me? A kitten?" Bilbo said and shot a glare in the direction of their audience, all of whom had started snickering. "I am not a kitten!"
"A mouse, then!" Kili hollered and the whole group howled with laughter.
Bilbo huffed. "Well, I'm sorry I don't look the part of a deranged psychopath like some people," he said, eyeing Dwalin, "but I fail to see why I should need to!"
Of course, Dwalin could see the logic in the hobbit's protests. An enemy sizing Bilbo up would see only a meek, unassuming victim, easily dispatched and vulnerable. They would never guess at the great store of courage in the little beast, no matter his insignificant stature.
But another part of him wanted to see something in the hobbit's face, as familiar as Dwalin's own reflection. Because Bilbo was truly a part of the Company now, he had fought for and earned a rightful place in it, and therefore was practically a dwarf himself. And dwarves were, well, fierce.
"I want to show me your war face," Dwalin growled.
Bilbo looked ridiculously flabbergasted. "My-my war face? Mister Dwalin, you've forgotten who you're talking to, haven't you?"
"C'mon, halfling, I know you've got in you. Show me something formidable."
"Okay, this is absolutely absurd, this has nothing to do with fighting-"
"C'mon, Bilbo!" Fili hollered. "Show us!" And then everyone was taking up the cry.
"You can do it!"
"Burglars need to look menacing!"
"Show us how frightful halflings can be!"
"Oh…alright!" Bilbo said. "By my life, I have never been surrounded by such pushy, mulish…"
He let his words drift to incoherent grumbling before looking Dwalin straight in the eyes and setting his jaw. He waited several moments for the hobbit's fearsome expression before realizing that this was the hobbit's fearsome expression.
"That's it?" Dwalin said scornfully.
"You look like you just ate a bad clam," Bofur said.
"You look like you've a stick lodged up your nethers," Kili said.
Bilbo ground his teeth and growled under his breath. "How about this then?" he said and shot a dangerous look in Kili's direction.
Kili grinned. "Like an angry kitten."
They tried for nearly an hour to arrange Bilbo's expression into something ferocious, and while the Company started out trying to offer advice it inevitably turned into a game at Mister Baggins' expense. Whenever he tried fixing his face into a truly bloodthirsty expression, someone would say or do something to make him laugh. Some of them even took wagers on how long it would take for the hobbit to break. It wasn't often long.
And though Dwalin thought it just as amusing as the rest of the dwarves, he knew he'd have to admit defeat. With a sigh, he laid his hands on the halfling's shoulders and shook his head.
"Laddie, you're hopeless," he said, but the warmth in his tone was obvious.
Bilbo said, "Or maybe I'm just a lion disguised as a kitten." Then he scrunched up his nose and squinted his eyes in a glare that was marred by his smile.
Dwalin smiled and pressed his forehead to the Bilbo's. "Aye, lad," he said, and thought perhaps the hobbit had hit the nail right on the head. "And none of us are fooled."
A/N: Dude, can't you just picture Bilbo as a kitten trying to look all fierce? Okay, okay, sorry, that thought just gets my heart every time. Anyway. Next chapter should be up soon. It's been a few years since I posted anything on FFnet and I'm trying to re-figure everything out.