CHAPTER 3
Bad News
Thorin sat back in his throne and groaned. "Are you quite sure about this?"
The raven perched on the armrest held his beak high and gave the King what could have only been the equivalent of a haughty look. "I am not in the habit of disclosing false messages, Your Highness. I shall tell you again: the Blue Mountains are missing most of their dwarven warriors. Last winter was particularly harsh and food was very rare. Added to the presence of scattered orcs and goblins in Eriador, most of those who had any fighting abilities left to make a living as mercenaries. Thorin's Halls are hardly protected anymore, or at least wouldn't be should orcs try and claim the Mountains as their own."
"Could it happen?" Thorin growled, the mere idea of his people being slaughtered by those foul beasts enough for a fist to clench with rage.
"The odds of orcs and goblins coming together for such an attack are very low, Majesty. Small groups have been sighted in the Lone-Lands, from ten to fifteen individuals, and those are no threat to your people in the Blue Mountains. But were they to encounter them on the road…"
"I see your point." Thorin hoisted himself up and walked down the few steps at the foot of his throne, reaching the floor where he began pacing restlessly. He couldn't think properly while sitting still. "Why wasn't I informed of this last week? A raven came from Ered Luin and only told me that they would be ready to travel in a month's time. There was no mention of this."
"Liräk is young and has yet to master patience, Your Highness. If you wish to seek compensation for my son's recklessness, I shall endorse whatever punishment you see fit." The bird stood proud, his chest puffed out and gazing over at the dwarf with determination.
Thorin's scowl softened and he shook his head. "No, Toräk, this won't be necessary." He had seen enough pain and discomfort to last him a lifetime, and he wasn't very fond of dealing it around when it wasn't absolutely needed. "I am glad you came to me in the end. These are very bad news."
Extremely bad news, indeed. A convoy the size of the one that was going to leave the Blue Mountains would never cross the Lone-Lands unseen, but avoiding those plains either by travelling through Evendim or Eregion would lengthen the journey considerably – impossibly so. Still, leaving so many females, dwarflings and elders wander into Orc territory without proper protection…
"How many fighters do they have?" Thorin asked the raven.
"Only three guards remain, and of course there is your sister, Lady Dís," Toräk replied, a little more relaxed now that he was sure he was not going to end up on a spit. "Others are blacksmiths, tanners or tinkers. They are not trained for battle, but claim that they would be able to handle their own should the need arise."
Thorin groaned again. He would have been satisfied with eight, maybe ten combat-trained guards, for more wasn't required to deal with a group of fifteen orcs. But things were grimmer than even his pessimistic mind thought. "Can those who left be called back?"
"We have no knowledge of their whereabouts. News reached Eriador that Smaug was defeated, but most refuse to believe it and don't want to near the Misty Mountains. We can always hope for some of them to have returned to the Blue Mountains by the time the convoy leaves, but that is a risk."
"A risk that I am most unwilling to take." Thorin sighed. "Thank you, Toräk, you did well. Go and rest, I might need your services in a day or two."
"As you command, Your Highness." The great raven bowed low and took flight, leaving the throne room almost noiselessly in a flutter of wind and a ruffle of dark feathers.
Thorin resumed pacing when the bird flew out of his sight. This was infuriating. He could always send word to his sister to wait until those warriors-turned-mercenaries returned to Ered Luin, but he had no idea when, or even if, it was going to happen. He was conscious that such a large convoy shouldn't depart in winter, when days were short and nights were dangerous. But it was June already, and spring was slowly receding; his people couldn't afford to wait all summer for dwarves who had left them to fend for themselves.
What options did that leave him with? Send an escort? He couldn't very well order a pack of dwarves from the Iron Hills to go and take blows for his people, he had done that already; and for all Thorin was a good king, he was still a dwarf. And Dwarves hated to be indebted. Besides, he wasn't sure he could ask such a thing of Dáin after… well, after rejecting his niece.
Not that he had done so in public, or even directly for that matter.
Fili had been the first to notice the courting braids in Bilbo's hair and link them to Thorin's. After a stream of congratulations, the golden-haired prince had run to tell his brother, of course. And thanks to Kili, by the end of the day, everyone in Erebor knew. Bilbo had been a bit annoyed, but Thorin was rather glad; his days were relatively free of female attention ever since, and he was relieved to have no more impromptu dancing or endless talking thrown upon him.
Dáin had, understandably, been caught unawares. He hadn't expected his cousin to court someone who was not a dwarf, let alone a hobbit. But the Lord of the Iron Hills was very fond of Bilbo and to learn that the small burglar was Thorin's One had brought a smile to the dwarf's features. He admitted that Dihla would be disappointed, but promised that he would chastise her were she to try and bother the couple.
So it was safe to assume that Dáin would come to his help if needed, but Thorin was reluctant to burden his cousin any more.
"A copper for your thoughts?"
Thorin stilled at the voice and smiled even before he turned to face Bilbo. A week had passed, and it still brought joy to the King's heart to see the short courting braids in his One's hair, the silver beads dangling from their ends.
He watched as Bilbo neared him. "I think you look magnificent today," he answered.
The hobbit scoffed with a warm smile as he came to stand before Thorin. "Flatter away, Your Highness, but it stills doesn't explain why you weren't there at dinner. Bombur made a special dessert, lemon pie, which according to Fili is your favorite."
Thorin's eyebrows rose in bewilderment. "Is it that late?"
"Almost everyone has gone to bed, and when I didn't find you in your study I thought you had too. And then I thought: would Thorin really retire for bed without wishing me a good night?"
Bilbo's grin was both adorable and enticing. Thorin chuckled and reached out to pull the hobbit close for a warm hug. "I would not dare," he whispered against Bilbo's hair. "I have seen enough bloodshed in my life."
"Thought as much." The hobbit tiptoed to kiss Thorin's bearded cheek.
"As penitence for my actions, I would be honored to accompany you back to your chambers," Thorin offered as he pasted a fake sheepish look on his features.
"I suppose this is reasonable," Bilbo nodded, slipping his hand into Thorin's and already leading the dwarf down the length of the throne room.
The halls were quiet and empty, and only then did Thorin realize that it had to be very late indeed. As they walked, he allowed his shoulder to brush Bilbo's and didn't resist when small fingers were weaved through his own, larger ones and squeezed. They were alone, there was no harm in enjoying a little warmth.
On the way, Thorin told Bilbo about the raven, and the worries that plagued his mind.
"You could send a small group of dwarves and have them wait for the convoy in Bree or something," Bilbo said when Thorin was done talking. "They could see them through the Lone-Lands unscathed."
"I thought about it, but this is my people we are talking about, not Dáin's," Thorin sighed, one hand coming up to scratch at his nape. "Their safety is nobody's responsibility but mine.
"Send a few lads from the company then," the hobbit shrugged, his gaze staring right ahead. "I am sure Gloin and Bombur wouldn't mind joining their families a bit earlier."
Thorin considered the words for a moment and gave a noncommittal nod. "I will think about it and talk to them tomorrow," he promised as they reached Bilbo's chambers. Gently, he unwound his fingers from his One's to clasp smaller shoulders. "Until then, I wish you a restful night, âzyungel."
Thorin's head dipped for a chaste kiss. Bilbo's lips were soft and warm, tasting faintly of ale and apple, which he had probably had for dinner. The dwarf bit back a low growl of appreciation and settled for nuzzling his nose into Bilbo's instead.
He was about to pull back when he felt small hands tangle themselves in the front of his tunic and yank him forwards none too subtly. Almost immediately his lips crashed onto Bilbo's and his mind went blank for a moment as he was pulled into an insistent yet gentle kiss. Thorin almost didn't notice as the hobbit stepped back until he was trapped between the door to his rooms and the dwarf's sturdy chest, and he had to brace himself against the large wooden panel to avoid crushing the smaller body.
Thorin was only made aware of Bilbo's hands creeping up his front when fingers buried themselves in the hair at the back of his head, tugging him even closer. Wary at first – anyone could come down the hall and see them, after all – Thorin kissed back timidly then with more ease. His hands came down to rest on Bilbo's hips, his thumbs rubbing circles into the hobbit's sides as he relaxed into the kiss and let it slowly turn his mind to molten jelly.
When they had to part for air, Thorin gathered Bilbo in his arms and held him close, lowering his head so it rested on his intended's shoulder to take in the scent of grass and fire smoke. He would be content to stay like this forever, with his One's warmth in his arms and his steady breathing against his chest.
"Stay with me tonight?" Bilbo whispered in his ear then, giving the lobe a slight nip.
Thorin involuntarily jerked back, tugging out of Bilbo's arms with a look on his face that he knew bordered on dumbstruck. He shook it off quickly, but not swiftly enough that it went by unnoticed.
"How charming." Thorin's heart dropped at the frown on Bilbo's face.
"Bilbo," he began quickly before the hobbit thought he was being rejected, though it might already be too late. "This is much too soon. Such intimacy is reserved for a later stage of the courtship, when I have proven myself worthy of you."
Bilbo crossed his arms and raised one dubious eyebrow. "Really, proven yourself worthy of me? Does the past year count for nothing then?" He shook his head. "Besides, I wasn't going to suggest that, you stubborn dwarf. I was just wondering if you'd like to sleep with me. Just sleep, nothing else."
"I am afraid that won't be acceptable either, Bilbo," Thorin said softly, if only to soothe his intended. He hadn't wanted to ruffle the hobbit's feathers, but as a King he couldn't afford to overlook dwarven customs. He hoped that Bilbo understood.
But it didn't look like it. "We have slept next to one another for countless nights on the quest! How is this different?"
"Circumstances were not the same. We were not courting back then, I wasn't even aware that you were my One yet." Thorin reached out and tenderly stroked Bilbo's cheek with the back of his fingers. "You are something that I wish to cherish, a treasure that I would give my life to defend. I will not have people think that I am merely using you, that I think of you so lowly that I would be unwilling to court you properly."
"Well, you may be a little too late," Bilbo mumbled, looking at the floor over his still-crossed arms.
"What do you mean?"
"Your good friend Yóna. I don't know what kind of tales she has been spreading this week but I met Bifur today. You will be pleased to know that I go by the name of Bilbo 'Bed-Warmer' Baggins amongst most dwarves of the Iron Hills."
Bilbo's shoulders were slumped and his eyes refused to meet Thorin's even though the dwarf's hand was still on his cheek. The slightly dejected behavior was quite puzzling to the King, who pushed his anger at hearing such a title tied to his beloved's name away in benefit of a few moments to study Bilbo.
Suddenly, it dawned on him. The hobbit had been upset by the name-calling and had sought him out to receive some sort of comfort. Which he had failed to provide, quite obviously, as he had certainly misread Bilbo's body language from the moment he had entered the throne room. Thorin had been so preoccupied by Toräk's ill news that he had turned a blind eye on his One's mood, choosing instead to dump his worries on the hobbit's small shoulders.
Being the only member of his kin in a dwarven kingdom must be hard, but Thorin figured it wouldn't be too difficult as long as people held Bilbo in high regards and were grateful for the deeds he had accomplished. For the past six months, he had been right: Men and Dwarves alike – even Elves, on rare visits – bowed down to Bilbo and were nothing if not deeply respectful of the shireling. But this was before Yóna's babbling mouth…
"I had no idea," he whispered, rubbing a pointed ear with the rough pad of his thumb.
Bilbo snorted. He had yet to uncross his arms, but the caress upon his ear seemed to ease the tension in his shoulders on some level. "Well, this is not something you would hear from the Council, I expect."
"Indeed." Thorin took a step forward to engulf Bilbo in a tender hug, his arms just holding the smaller frame and barely squeezing. He was relieved when the hobbit nestled into his chest and, as he ran battle-hardened fingers in the short blond locks, an idea struck him. "I may be able to secure one hour or two of free time tomorrow, if I send Fili on mine patrol in my stead," he said softly.
"What of it?" Bilbo mumbled, his voice muffled by the white fur on Thorin's coat.
"Why don't you pack us some food and I join you for lunch outside the gates, mhm?" The dwarf lowered his head to press a kiss to Bilbo's forehead. "It has been some time since our last private meal, and I would enjoy some sunlight."
Well, last time had been in a tent and Thorin had had trouble sitting without busting stitches.
When Bilbo looked up, Thorin was pleased by the enticed glint in his hazelnut eyes. "Just the two of us?" he asked, and if the King didn't know better, he could have sworn the tone was shy.
"Just the two of us," the dwarf nodded.
Bilbo leaned against his suitor fully as all tension seemed to flee his body. "Won't Fili mind?"
"He has accompanied me several times on those patrols, I wish to see how well he fares on his own. He will be King one day, I want him to be familiar with his future responsibilities." When that didn't quite convince Bilbo, Thorin sighed. "I will allow Kili to go with him."
He knew it was the right thing to say when his hobbit finally smiled and returned his hug. "Then I would be very happy to have lunch with you tomorrow. I'll wait for you near the fountain, you know the one with the bear?"
"I had it made, of course I know where it is, halfling," Thorin snorted, softly bumping his forehead against Bilbo's, making the hobbit chuckle. "I shall see you tomorrow then?"
"Tomorrow." Bilbo leaned up to capture Thorin's lips in a last, longing kiss. "Good night, dear."
It was a fine June morning, Bilbo thought as he sat on the edge of the white fountain, his furry feet dangling back and forth as he hummed a tune softly to himself. There wasn't a single cloud in the sky, not the faintest whiff of breeze to unsettle his hair as glorious sunlight bathed his face and lifted his spirits.
It was early, he knew. Thorin wouldn't show up for at least half an hour, but it was just as well. A little time alone out of Erebor was always enjoyable, he considered it an opportunity to relax and sort his thoughts. And he had a lot to think about, lately.
Courting Thorin was… well, it was not what he had expected it to be. He loved Thorin, of that he had no doubt, and if there was such a thing as the concept of 'Ones' in the Shire, Bilbo was sure Thorin would be his. But he hadn't counted on Dwarven courting to be so… peculiar.
In the Shire, open displays of affection were fairly common, and gestures such as hand-holding and kissing could only bring a smile on the on-watchers' faces. Hobbit couples were often found hugging, or cuddled together for a nap under a tree. There was no shame in that. But here, in Erebor, Bilbo felt like he wasn't even allowed to look at Thorin in public for more than ten seconds without it being considered a breach of social etiquette.
One evening at dinner, he had sat with Fili and Kili for a much-needed conversation about the subtleties of dwarven courting. Apparently, public displays of affection were heavily frowned upon, unless you were married or had been courting for a long time. The brothers explained that love was something to be treasured, shared only by the suitor and the intended, and openly showing your love was bound to stir jealousy and envy in other dwarves' hearts. Besides, there was no need to lay claim on someone like this; the courting braids were there to remind everyone that one's heart was taken.
Bilbo learnt that light touches, as long as they were brief and discreet, were tolerated as well as the odd hug. But it was far too early in their courting for kissing; he had learnt it the hard way when he had tried to peck Thorin's cheek – his cheek, for Eru's sake, his cheek! – at dinner after a nice compliment on his choice of clothing, and the dwarf had jerked away from his lips. They had been eating with some members of the Company but dwarves from the Iron Hills as well, hence Thorin's reaction, but thankfully nobody had seemed to notice the exchange.
This whole business was a bit ridiculous, as far as Bilbo was concerned. It wasn't as if, as if he was stripping Thorin naked in front of everyone! Was it so bad to show your appreciation to a loved one? A plague on Dwarves and their need for secrecy!
If Bilbo was completely honest with himself, he had to admit he was a bit frustrated. Stolen kisses in a corner and fleeting touches under the table while nobody was looking had his blood running hot, of course, but they were good for young lads in the throes of puppy love. What he felt for Thorin could not be compared to such a fragile fancy; it ran deeper than anything he had ever known, it gave his simple hobbit life a meaning, a purpose.
Thorin was the reason Bilbo was ready to spend the remainder of his days in Erebor, surrounded by Dwarves. As long as he was allowed to tie up some loose ends, of course. He had had all morning to think about the upcoming trip to the Blue Mountains, and how it would conveniently go through the Shire…
"A copper for your thoughts?"
Bilbo's head snapped up at the familiar voice and smiled when he saw blue eyes gazing at him. "What was it? Ah yes, I think you look very handsome today," he replied, trying to remember what had been Thorin's words the night before.
And it was no lie, too. Thorin had abandoned his heavy, fur-lined coat in favor of a blue linen tunic that hugged his upper body quite nicely, if anyone were to ask Bilbo. Black and golden thread weaved intricate patterns into the light fabric that shined when they caught the sunlight. The tunic was tucked inside dark grey trousers and held together by a large, relatively ornament-free black belt.
"I believe the exact word was 'magnificent' but I won't complain." Thorin came to stand directly in front of Bilbo and lightly touched their foreheads together. "Have you been waiting for long?"
"Not at all. Shall we?"
Thorin nodded and picked up the basket with the food, unheeding Bilbo's protest that he could do it and walking away from Erebor's massive gates.
The desolation of Smaug was slowly recovering from decades of ruin by dragon fire. Under the combined efforts of Dwarves and Men, who spent months digging small water channels across the entire plain from the Running River, and thanks to the melting glacier on top of the Lonely Mountain, the vegetation of old was gradually coming back to life. On trees that hadn't been burnt down to their roots, timid green buds were peeking at the world from tortured branches. Some even had tiny leaves to show off as a testimony to their sturdiness. Grass was growing fast and aplenty, much to the ponies' delight, and crops were being actively tended to along the water channels by Men and a few dwarves who seemed to enjoy sunlight more than the rest of their kind.
Bilbo chose a spot on the grass next to a large boulder overlooking the whole plain from the gates of Erebor to Dale, and sat down. He filled his nostrils with the scent of dirt and fresh air, smiling when Thorin sat down next to him close enough for their legs to brush against one another. "Dale is looking very good, have you seen those new roofs?" Bilbo asked, pointing to the bright red tiles that were visible even from afar.
"Yes, I had those tiles made last week, from the clay pit behind Ravenhill," Thorin nodded, already digging in the basket to pull out the food.
"Really? I had no idea."
"Well, if I start telling you about every single decision I make, where is the mystery?" the dwarf smiled as he pulled out a knife from his boot and started slicing bread.
"No, I mean I had no idea you could be so nice."
That comment earned Bilbo a shoulder bump and a snort. "I may not like Men very much, Master Hobbit, but Lord Bard was the one to slay Smaug. And in spite of what I said and did six months ago before we were attacked by orcs, I do not intend to seem ungrateful. He has my recognition, and if I can express my thanks with a few clay tiles, what is keeping me?"
"Don't get all riled up, it was kind of you, just unexpected is all," Bilbo chuckled, accepting a slice of bread and some cheese from Thorin's hands with a nod of thanks. The dwarf had taken to doing small things for Bilbo, from carrying things in his stead to cutting bread for him as he just did. At first, the hobbit had protested that he was not helpless and could take care of himself just fine, thank you. But Thorin had looked so rejected, so hurt that Bilbo just let him take care of things as he saw fit and chose to enjoy the small attentions.
"So, have you spoken with the Company, about that trip to Ered Luin?" Bilbo asked around a mouthful of delicious goat cheese.
Thorin reclined against the boulder, bread in hand, and nodded. "I met some of them this morning. As can be expected, Bombur and Gloin volunteered before I even asked them. Bifur is uncertain, but Bofur is willing to go. Ori was there as well, but I didn't ask him."
"Why? Ori is a fine warrior," Bilbo pointed out.
"Ori is missing a hand. Besides, he is the only decent scribe we have here. If I have to send fighters to defend our people against orcs and goblins, Ori won't be my choice." Thorin took a bite and chewed for a while before he resumed talking. "Balin and Oin are too old for such a long trip, after our quest I do not wish to burden their shoulders further. The others I shall see in the afternoon."
"That leaves you with Dwalin, Dori, Nori, Fili and Kili," Bilbo counted as he swallowed the last of his cheese. "What are your thoughts?"
"I didn't want to include my nephews, but leaving Fili in charge for the journey could be a good exercise. And there is a good chance of his brother accompanying him, so that makes two more. Dwalin will say no, I am afraid. As Captain of the Guard he won't go where I do not, yet I will try to convince him by appointing him as Fili's bodyguard. Maybe that will sway him."
Bilbo smiled; months after being crowned King, Thorin still refused to give orders to his friends. He wouldn't go against somebody's will and wouldn't command things without asking first. To the hobbit, it was nothing short of adorable.
"Dori and Nori?"
"I don't know, both are quite busy as Spymaster and Master of Coin," Thorin mused, brushing bread crumbs from his beard with a scowl. "I will ask them but I don't expect them to agree to this trip."
"So that makes at least six dwarves, and nine at most," Bilbo summed up. He sucked in a breath and willed himself to stay still. It wouldn't do if he started squirming as he breached the topic of what had been plaguing his mind all morning. "All great warriors. That's quite the decent escort."
"It would be acceptable, sufficient to protect a convoy such as the one leaving from the Blue Mountains."
"Even more so a single person, I take it?"
Thorin, who had been about to take another bite, halted his movements and his blue eyes closed in on Bilbo, puzzled and a bit wary. "I suppose," he drawled, never looking away from the hobbit. Bilbo fought his urge to gulp and look away. "Why would you ask?"
The son of Belladonna Took felt every inch the Baggins he was as he sat worrying at his lower lip, racking his brain for a good way to start. When he found none, he just sighed. "Listen, Thorin, I-I would like to be part of the journey as well."
Thorin's eyebrows shot up so high that Bilbo feared they would actually disappear in his dark mane. He had never seen the dwarf look so flabbergasted, nor did it ever make him feel so stupid. "You?" the King asked. "But… do not take offense, Bilbo, but you are not really fit to defend my people."
The hobbit couldn't help but snort. "I have half a mind to remind you that I saved your ungrateful backside on a few occasions, but I will concede that I am hardly bodyguard material. No, if I wish to take part in this trip, it is so I can stop in the Shire and take care of some business that I left unattended when I joined you on your quest."
There, it was out. Hadn't been that hard, in fact.
What was hard, on the other hand, was Thorin's glare. Hard and unwavering.
"What could you possibly have left to do in the Shire?" the dwarf asked, his voice neutral.
"It may have escaped your memory, but my rushing after you last year was completely unplanned," Bilbo replied, admittedly a bit harshly. "Why, I'm sure the kettle is still on the fire back home! I have to inform my relatives that I am leaving, maybe sell Bag End or hand it over to family…"
"All these things you can do by sending a raven," Thorin pointed out, putting down his slice of bread. Apparently, his appetite was failing him.
Bilbo looked down and began plucking pebbles from the ground to flick them away. If the brewing volcano in Thorin's tone was any indication, this conversation was taking a turn for the worse. "Ravens won't be able to bring me my books and family heirlooms."
"I won't risk your life on the road for a few scrolls and stupid doilies," Thorin snarled.
The words took Bilbo off guard and he froze mid-thought, his eyes involuntarily wide and dumbstruck as he stared at the dwarf. His mouth was open, he knew, but he was unable to produce a single sound, much less form a complete sentence. He was just too shocked.
How could Thorin say this, after everything Bilbo had done to help him win back his own family belongings – for Erebor, as grand and wonderful as it was, was little more than Thorin's inheritance. And was he just that to Thorin, a token that belonged to the dwarf to do as he wished? The mere thought of it filled Bilbo with anger and an edge of betrayal as well.
Thorin probably noticed the change in his intended's features, for his own visibly softened and he reached out to grab a hand that Bilbo was not fast enough to snatch away. "I am sorry, it was not my intention to hurt you," he said gently, cradling the hand that was trying to squirm away. "You have to understand… I came close to losing you too many times already, I would not have us torn apart if I can help it."
"You said the escort will be sufficient to protect the remainder of your people," Bilbo mumbled, refusing to meet Thorin's eyes. "Surely, I wouldn't be in any danger."
"You are far too precious for me to risk it."
"Far too pre… For Eru's sake, Thorin, I am not made of glass!" Bilbo lashed out, tugging his hand free from the dwarf's grasp in one swift movement. "Nor am I a pretty jewel to be locked up and looked at from time to time! Is this how Dwarves court? Am I to never set foot farther than one yard from Erebor's gates in my whole life?"
The small outburst unsettled Thorin, but the dwarf chose not to respond in kind and retained a calm front. "I do not wish to 'lock' you up, beloved," the King said softly, and the unusual endearment sent a pleasant shiver down Bilbo's spine in spite of the situation, "but if I were to lose you… my heart could not bear it."
Anger and resentment instantly melted away in Bilbo's chest at the confession, replaced by fondness and empathy. Of course, Thorin had known nothing but loss in his life; first Erebor, then his grandfather, his brother, and his father. He never talked about his mother, but Bilbo knew she was deceased as well. The King Under the Mountain had come close to losing his only nephews, and himself, in the Battle of Five Armies. Of course he would try to protect Bilbo with all his might.
The hobbit reached out and tangled a hand in Thorin's dark hair, tugging him close – dwarven sense of propriety be damned – to lay a kiss on his brow. "You won't lose me," he whispered, his breath making a few black strands quiver. "I won't be leaving your side. But I need to leave my life in Hobbiton behind, and I want to do it properly."
"I have only just got you," Thorin mumbled, "and you are running away."
"I am not, silly dwarf," Bilbo scoffed, scooting closer to wrap an arm around Thorin's broad shoulders – or at least, attempt to do so. "With ponies and no need to keep our journey a secret this time, it should not take long to make it there and back again."
"We are still talking about months." Thorin's blue eyes travelled up to Bilbo's, anxious and doubtful. "I am not certain I could withstand being parted from you for that long."
The hobbit resisted the urge to coo. Despite their burly appearance and ill tempers, Dwarves could be very endearing when they put a mind to it. "You could always come along too, you are a warrior after all."
"And leave Erebor without a King once more?" Thorin snorted, shaking his head. "Dwarven ale has affected your wits, my hobbit, if you start having ideas like these."
"Dáin would make a good Steward, he already proved it," Bilbo shrugged, running his fingers through thick blades of grass absentmindedly. "Most dwarves in Erebor are from the Iron Hills, I'm sure they wouldn't mind. And with Balin at the head of the Council, you would have nothing to fear. I know most of your decisions are actually his, and don't try to deny it," he said firmly when Thorin opened his mouth to protest.
"Be that as it may," the dwarf growled lowly, "I cannot afford it. Erebor is still healing."
"Have it your way. I am sure Dwalin won't mind if I cuddle up to him at night if it's cold, anyway." Bilbo's chuckles turned into full blown laughter at Thorin's horrified face. He took pity on the dwarf and patted a thick forearm. "Peace, Thorin, I was joking. But still, promise to think about including me in your plans for the journey?"
Thorin sighed heavily and thought for a few moments. "On the condition," he said eventually, "that you swear to be as quick as possible, to stay safe and to return to me unscathed." At Bilbo's frantic nod, the dwarf gave a half-hearted hum. "Then I promise to think about it, you have my word."
"Thank you, dear! You are the best!" Throwing caution and dwarven etiquette to the winds, Bilbo flung his arms around Thorin's sturdy frame and leaned in his suitor's lap for a kiss. Caught a bit off guard, Thorin leaned back against the boulder for support as, instinctively, his arms shot up to steady Bilbo and his eyes darted around for possible onlookers.
And unfortunately, there were. Of the most unpleasant kind, too.
Gently, Thorin pulled back and lingered near Bilbo's ear long enough to whisper: "Stay here, I will be right back." The hobbit sat back down on the ground and watched on quizzically as his dwarf got to his feet, dusted himself off and started walking. Had he done something wrong? Well, aside from kissing, which was apparently a very sinful thing to do in broad daylight on dwarven territory. He had expected Thorin to scowl, not walk away.
But when Bilbo's eyes settled on the dwarf's destination, it suddenly became very clear. With a grin that was probably far too smug and snarky for a respectable hobbit, Bilbo settled comfortably against the boulder at his back and grabbed himself an apple. It was a beautiful, sunny day in the great dwarven kingdom of Erebor, he had good food within reaching range, and he wouldn't mind a bit of a show to go with it.
And if the dark storm brewing in Thorin's eyes as he marched over to where Yóna was standing – with a few other ladies and a disdainful sneer on her face that reminded Bilbo of a certain cousin of his – was any hint, this particular show was going to be spectacular indeed.
