A/N: Sorry for the long wait, my beloved readers. For the curious, please refer to my tumblr to read about the reasons behind the delay. For everyone else, enjoy the chapter
Chapter Warning: Some smexiness
Far From Home
"There is nothing like looking if you want to find something. You certainly usually find something, if you look, but it is not always quite the something you were after."
- J.R.R. Tolkien, The Hobbit
Chapter 10
The Princess's Garden
"What did you do to pass the time?"
Bilbo blinked up at the dwarf king, his body covered in sweat and still tingling in post coital pleasure.
"Pardon?"
King Thorin lay at his side, propped up on one elbow looking down, his hair wild and braids frayed. Bilbo had taken a liking to burying his hands into the thick dark locks during their intimacies, quietly reveling in how his kingly spouse always seemed to come out so unraveled.
"You had no occupation, no job to work towards," Thorin continued, "no familial obligations after the death of your parents. So I wonder about what you did with your time."
"My relatives were occupation enough," he grumbled. "Never had a day go by without one of them knocking at my door asking for something or other, sticking their noses where it did not belong." He rolled his eyes at the disbelieving look. "You never met Lobeila Sackville-Baggins. She could argue all your advisors and nobles till they were blue in the faces and still come out with the last word."
Thorin snorted, raising one hand and trailing the back of his knuckles over the softness of Bilbo's belly. "Sounds more like a dwarf maiden than hobbit lass."
Bilbo grunted in agreement, shutting his eyes and letting himself sink into a semi doze with Thorin stroking him.
They rarely spoke after sex. This was different, talking after, when pleasure still over-riding common sense and memory of hurt. Bilbo could look the strong prominence of the dwarf king's forehead, shiny with perspiration, the fine hairs at his temples black and moist. He could admire the sharp length of his nose, and the deep blue of his eyes, brooding, burning and passionate, so filled with hidden words and shrouded with heavy secrets.
King Thorin was handsome, Bilbo allowed himself to think.
"I used to garden, you know," he said quietly. "The best kept garden in Hobbiton. Had to bring in Hamfast Gamgee to help maintain when it was getting too big for me to handle on my own." He used to wear the straw hat his mother had weaved for his father to keep the sun rays from toasting his head. Young Hamfast had made numerous comments on the hat until Bilbo had contracted one of similar design for him.
Hamfast Gamgee was a simple as a hobbit could be, but he was honest and hardworking, and paid little heed to the nary say of wagging tongues.
"What else?" came another quiet question.
Bilbo shifted, pushing down onto Thorin's shoulders so that the dwarf lay on his back with Bilbo now hovering over him. He liked this position the best, looking down felt better on his neck that constantly craning up.
"What are you after?" Bilbo asked.
Dark brows came together in a fierce scowl. "I cannot ask my spouse about his likes and dislikes?"
"Did it matter before?" Bilbo ran his fingers through coarse chest hair, letting his lids droop over his eyes and tilted his head slightly as he observed his lord husband. When he was answered with silence he asked, "Does it matter now?"
Thorin replied, "You have been with me nearly two months' time. I'm..." there was great hesitance in his voice when he continued. "It is easier to be beside you, to talk, to touch. I know Dori takes you to Dale often, yet you bring nothing back from your expeditions. During our breakfasts together you sit in silence and allow me to speak, yet reveal nothing of yourself."
Bilbo's hands stilled, chilled. "What more do you wish to take from me, my lord?" The immediate stiffness of the muscles and joints beneath his palms was satisfying. The barely concealed hurt in those eyes, though, was unexpected. Feeling suffocated, Bilbo pushed away and turned his back to the king. "You are becoming deluded by sentiment," he said, sharply pulling the quilts over his shoulders. "I have followed every obligation drafted by our contract. Do not expect anything more of me."
"So I cannot ask about you?" King Thorin's voice was as stiff where lay, unmoving in the face of Bilbo's ire.
"I reserve the right to answer if I wish to or not. Send your spies out to seek what they will about it. Your answers need not come from me."
The silence was cold and biting. Bilbo turned into his face into the pillow and bore it.
"I have been ordered to show you something, Master Bilbo."
Dori was in black and silver today, his braids seemed to be braided extra tightly, and his cheeks slightly flushed. He had been drinking before coming to meet up with him, Bilbo observed with sick pride. He was driving a dwarf to drink.
Bilbo had been planning to stay in today. Seeing dwarves day in and day out was grating, and having to talk up to the humans in Dale City, bearing with their blatant staring and loud whispers (as if he didn't get enough in Erebor) was beginning to fray his nerves. He enjoyed Dale very much, loud and boisterous with so many sights to see, but his eyes always darted to eye-level hoping to find the slight frame of a fellow hobbit.
As if a hobbit would be found do far East.
And the humans called him 'Halfling', more so than the dwarves. Half of what? Bilbo could not guess. Why he was a half of something, yet a dwarf was just a dwarf and a human just a human, and an elf simply an elf...why did these races seem to view him as deficient in something? He was merely a hobbit. How difficult was that?
Bilbo glared at his caretaker. "Why ordered? Where to?" he demanded. "I wish to stay in today."
Dori's nostrils flared - an indication of shortened nerves. "Once I've shown you, you may do as you like, whether it be here or there or anywhere you wish in Erebor. I promise it is not far." He paused. "We are actually not leaving the Royal Wing."
Making sure it was obvious how put upon he was, Bilbo allowed Dori to lead him out of his chamber and into the corridors. They merely walked a couple of feet to a locked door encrusted in gold.
Bilbo blinked as Dori produced a golden key and set to unlocking the door. "Is this not Lady Dis' rooms?" he asked.
"King Thrain's daughter, sister to King Thorin, mother to the princes Fili and Kili." Dori recited, pushing the door open and waving Bilbo forward.
Itching with a long forgotten curiosity, Bilbo stepped forward. It was dark, no candles or lanterns lit the walls. Furniture was covered with sheets and there was the smell of layered dust unclean. Like his rooms with the king, there was a double door to a balcony shrouded with curtains that allowed murky sunlight into the forgotten rooms of a princess.
"It has been about five years since Princess Dis stayed visited," explained Dori. "At first Lord Thorin had the rooms cleaned every week, but after the second year with no inclination of her return he dismissed the servants."
"She prefers the Iron Hills," Bilbo remembered being told. The princess did not even show for her brother's marriage. He could remember standing in Bag End at the passing of his mother, seeing her shadow in every corner as the dust built up to echo her absence. Standing in Lady Dis' room, Bilbo had something within him to clench in grief.
He startled from his thoughts when Dori went to the balcony doors, and with a slight shift of rusty metal pushed them open, blinding the room with warm sunlight. "Come, Master Bilbo. See for yourself."
Turning towards the light, Bilbo walked through the doors.
And gasped.
It was a garden, or what had once been garden but now cluttered with tangles of shrubs and weeds. There were little trees, leafless and skeletal but his trained eyes knew immediately that they had some life. The floor had designed slabs of stone to make a pathway through, but was barely noticeable with how much shrubby had invaded the space.
A garden, lonely and forgotten, but reaching out for life despite being surrounded and bound by neglect.
Bilbo walked through the mess of greenery, feeling the prickles of grass and stone beneath his feet. A thin branch of what he suspected was a pear tree brushed his shoulder, and when he dug his nail into it he felt moisture push into his nail-bed. Alive.
Speechless, Bilbo turned wide eyes to Dori.
So bewildered he could not muster any anger at the smug smile on the dwarf's face. "My lord said you might enjoy this. Gave me the key this morning and ordered me to show you this place. Said that if you wish to work on it that I am to hand over the key to you and leave you to your project."
Bilbo did not hesitate to snatch the key from the dwarf's hand when he offered it, pocketing it in his jacket and trying to will the blush from his cheeks. "Leave. Go, unless you wish to get on your hands and knees and start digging out weeds."
The dwarf had the audacity to laugh, but Bilbo was already crouching down next to a bushel of shrubs, gently pushing them away and searching for what lay beneath.
"Thorin will be pleased."
Bilbo swallowed his breath when he found a baby bud surrounded by thorns.
He did not look up when Dori left him.
"I am told you took to my sister's garden quite well," was the first thing King Thorin said when he returned to their rooms that evening.
Bilbo had been weeding the whole day, only leaving when the sun had set and his visibility was becoming limited. He had torn both knees of his trousers and shirt, his hands cut from thorns and sharp brambles. They stung, yet Bilbo relished in the hurt of his hard work.
More than walking through the streets of Dale City or through the cavernous halls of Erebor, out there in that garden Bilbo had felt the first inklings of content.
Only by the graces of his lord husband.
"You could have told me about it last night," Bilbo said. He was in his dressing gown, freshly washed and wishing to go to bed early so that he could go to the garden right after breakfast. "The few moments that Dori was present ruined the atmosphere completely. I could have sworn I saw him hovering at the doors as if he expected me to get eaten by the green."
This made Thorin chuckle. "You are unfair to Dori."
True. "He is impertinent," he said instead.
"That's what he says of you."
"I'm allowed my impertinence," argued Bilbo. "We have an understanding to dislike each other. It would take the gates of Mordor's opening to have us get along."
Thorin changed into his bedclothes and joined Bilbo in the bed. "You enjoy riling him," he admonished gently.
Bilbo refused to feel guilty. "His put upon face is one of my main sources of amusement. Just as I am sure he enjoys being able to shackle my movements at your orders."
Thorin rolled closer so that Bilbo could feel his heat at his side. "Your anger is misdirected."
He turned his head to look at the Thorin. The king's face was relaxed, eyes deep and searching. There was desire, always desire, but it was calm this night. Bilbo asked again, "Why did you not tell me about the garden last night?"
Thorin blinked, "We argued. You were angry. I was unsure you would accept such an offer directly from me."
"I am always angry," Bilbo said, giving the king a scathing look. "Always."
Thorin dropped his eyes in acknowledgment, accepting it with no fault. He licked his lips, hesitant like last night. "Will your anger accept a gift from me?" he asked quietly.
"The garden belongs to your sister!" Bilbo protested, suddenly riled. "It isn't yours to give away!"
"She will not return!" Thorin's voice rose, startling Bilbo, even though his gaze remained down. "I have begged her for years to come back to Erebor, to visit her sons, to at least acknowledge our father, but she will not come. So the garden she once cared for is neglected, her rooms remain empty. And you..." He shook his head, dark hair shifting on his shoulders and then raised his eyes to meet Bilbo's. "It is only a small garden. Such a simple kindess."
"It is not mine."
"Then make it yours."
"I have my own!" Bilbo shouted his voice cracking and arresting King Thorin's eyes with his own. "It is back at Bag End, my home! You wish to be kind, then let me go back to where I belong. I-" He stopped himself, feeling his eyes well and willing them dry with cold iron. Taking a shuddering breath, he said with more calm, "But that is the one thing you will never grant. I know. I have accepted that this shall be my lot."
He startled when he felt a cold hand encase one of his own. Both of them were cold, frigid ice rubbing against each other. Looking at his spouse he saw a pale face, incomprehensibly tormented mirroring his own despair.
"Then try to accept the kindness that I am allowed to give you. You do not need to be so unhappy." King Thorin entreated.
"I am unhappy," Bilbo explained.
Yet he squeezed Thorin's hand in his.
"It's coming along quite nicely!"
Bilbo rolled his eyes, looking over his shoulder at Ori. The young scribe stood with a book open, a quill at hand and scribbling into it. His fingers were ink stained, even so early in the morning, his eyes bright and a shy smile on his face as he looked about him.
"I remember Princess Dis used to spend so many hours here," he said with fondness. "She used to allow me some jammed cakes as she dictated the horticulture to me to be documented. A lot of the plants were gifts, you see. From the humans and the elves."
Bilbo stood up from where he was tending what was once a rose bush. He took off gardening gloves he had found in a small chest beside the balcony doors (a bit embarrassed that Princess Dis obviously had much larger hands than he) and looked at his young guest. "There are a lot of plants that I do not recognize," he admitted.
Ori nodded knowingly. "The land is different here, the air dryer than in the Shire. I am excited to see what you make of what is here, what more you will add to the garden."
"First I have to figure out what I am looking at. I hesitate in pulling too much out, because what might look like a weed could be something else completely."
The smile was bright and brilliant from the young dwarf's lips. "I can translate what I had written for you," he offered excitedly. "There are even drawings of each plant species. Princess Dis drew them herself."
"It's a shame she left it for so long." Bilbo lamented, stroking and errant leaf from a high bush that had the promise of budding flowers.
"She never recovered," Ori said sadly, smile gone and shoulders dropping. "In the battle to reclaim Moria, Princess Dis lost her grandfather, brother and husband. She could not stand the shades of those she loved, the departed and living alike."
"Even the living?" Bilbo prodded.
Ori nodded. "King Thrain and King Thorin returned in conflict. King Thrain's mind was shattered and King Thorin named Fili and Kili his heirs. They were now under the kings' tutelage, and the princess had little to say in their rearing after that."
How did King Thrain feel, knowing his daughter could not stand to be around him?
How did Thorin feel, knowing his sister would not support him?
How did Fili and Kili feel, abandoned by their mother as they took up the burdens of rule?
Bilbo pondered this, wondering if he would ever understand the complexity of this mad race.
"I hope one day you meet her, Master Bilbo," Ori said. "I'm sure you two would get along. You at least have something in common."
Bilbo snorted at this, shaking his head. "I'm not sure how much we would get along if I kill all her plants with my ignorance." He then allowed a small smile at the young dwarf, who seemed to preen at the attention. "Go get me those drawings so that at least I can start making sense of this mess. It will make due until you translate everything, yes?"
He almost laughed with how quickly Ori scrambled out.
That night Bilbo helped Thorin out of his heavy clothes, peeling the king layer by layer until he stood bare before him. He then undressed himself slowly, never breaking eye contact from heat of his spouse's eyes. He led him to bed, pushing him down onto his back and climbing on top, rubbing and stroking. He shivered as strong hands ran over his heated skin, down his back, over his hips and gripping at the globes of his buttocks.
He did not protest the intruding slicked fingers that breached him, grinding down deeper into the burn.
"Alright," he whispered, leaning down until he could feel Thorin's gasping breaths on his lips, tangling his hands into the long hairs at his temple.
At his capitulation he allowed himself to be flipped on his back, a dwarf king between his splayed legs, hard and shaking with ill-contained want.
Yet there was still hesitancy holding Thorin in place over him. Disbelief and question that made Bilbo swallow thickly.
Firmly, he pulled Thorin's head down to his, pressing them together, eyes held in understanding. Captor to captive. King to consort. Bound in shackles together like a noose around the neck of the condemned.
"Alright."
End Notes: I don't remember where I read this (most likely on tumblr), but there should be a different category added called "Universe Altered" or UA. I wouldn't place this story as an AU, because it isn't an alternative universe. It is the same Tolkein universe, except altered to fit the twisted plot in my head. And when I say twisted, I mean everything is twisted.
I am interested to see how everyone interprets this chapter. What do they think of Thorin? How do they make sense of Bilbo's actions? Does it change things, does it not change things? What does it mean, or does it mean anything?
Let me know!