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Bilbo had too much time to think now. Dwalin had been in the Shire for the phases of two moons and at first his presence had been a mix of comfort for all of the dwarves he lost and a reminder of the aching place inside where he missed Thorin. It had been better at the beginning when Bilbo could still fill his days, and his mind, with thoughts of cooking, his garden – anything really to stop him thinking about how badly he missed Thorin and the other dwarves of the company. If Bilbo were honest with himself, and he was forced to be honest more than he wanted now that he could not move around as much, he missed Thorin more than all of the other members of the company combined.

Bilbo had woken from another fevered dream, cold with sweat and aching in a way that he had not known before he had met Thorin Oakenshield. He dreamed of the soft press of Thorin's fingers to the skin of his neck, the firm way that Thorin had held him as though he would never let the hobbit go. Bilbo had been lulled with every soft touch, fevered caress, barely muttered word into thinking that he would leave behind the life he had known here in the Shire and remain with Thorin under a dwarf mountain bathed in gold and jewels.

I would adorn you in emeralds the colour of your front door. I will mould your body in gold. I shall spend my mornings affixing diamonds to every braid you would wear. Bilbo shook the memory of Thorin's words out of his head. He must stop pining after the dwarf. He must remember the Dwarf King's true nature, twisted with greed and distrust and hating Bilbo for his every attempt to stave off war. He must remember that Thorin was not the dwarf he had believed for his own sake even though he knew he would need to remember him as his subjects saw him – fierce, brave, uncompromising in his protection of them – for his children because it was not their fault that one of their fathers was selfish in his ambitions. Bilbo also knew that he would have to travel to Erebor again one day, his children in tow, to introduce them to their father, their king, and their heritage.

Bilbo soothed a hand over his ever expanding middle and sighed. He needed to go to the bathroom – he constantly needed to go to the bathroom and almost wanted to give up drinking if it would help. He slowly got out of bed, wishing that his movement would not wake his children but they woke up when he moved and he knew by the time he was back in bed from the bathroom he would be being kicked by both of his children. A few minutes later his prediction came true and his hip was being bruised from the inside.

"You are definitely Thorin's children," he said, rubbing at the skin that was moving with his children to try and soothe them. "It is too early to be awake even if we could go out into our garden. I will take you when you are born though. I will teach you to tell a blueberry from every other berry and how to nurture tomatoes until they are the sweetest thing to go into a salad. We will plant potatoes and carrots to eat when you grow older and eat gooseberries warm off the bush. Our garden will be your favourite place. It is the best place to run and play. The very best thing will be that you will both have someone to be with and play games with. You must not steal apples from the Gamgee's garden though. Steal them from Fredin Cadrin's garden instead for he is not nearly as nice as the Gamgees. Being dwarves as well I may even let Drogo teach you how to swim – it is not something hobbits like to do but you may as the dwarves did seem to enjoy it on our journey. Then one day, one day in the future when I am sure that everything will be okay we will take a long journey to the East to a lonely mountain. There you will meet your other father and I can only hope that he will love you both as much as I already do."

Slowly the dwobbits settled again, allowing Bilbo to drift – never quite falling asleep even though he could use the rest. He could not stop thinking about Thorin. The way the dwarf had been so judgemental and doubtful when he had been presented with his 'burglar'. The disbelief when they had been travelling. The scorn when he disappeared in the goblin caves. The change in Thorin's attitude after Bilbo had saved his life had been enough to steal Bilbo's breath away and by the time they had made it to Beorn's halls and Thorin had recovered Bilbo had exposed his own feelings. He still did not understand it – what had attracted him to Thorin from that first moment when he had seen the dwarf on the other side of his doorway. In the midst of the chaos that the dwarves had brought with them to his hobbit-hole he had still found their king the most interesting one of all. He had not even realised that he loved Thorin until later. Bilbo could not be sure if it was when he thought Thorin was about to die or if it was before that. Perhaps he had simply been unable to watch someone die in such a horrible way and he had not fallen in love with Thorin until later – until nights where they kept warm together under shared blankets. The company had not had an easy journey but the moments Bilbo had stolen with Thorin were the few happy memories that Bilbo had from the hard journey to meet Smaug. At least they had been happy – now those moments were tainted by the knowledge that they had meant so little to Thorin.

The part that Bilbo hated above knowing that he had been so wrong to trust in Thorin was the knowledge that it had not hardened his heart to the dwarf. He still loved him, still missed Thorin even after months away and more heartache than he thought he would have been able to handle. He was too proud to ever tell anyone but he had been hoping that Thorin would try to stop him from leaving Erebor, that he would send word to Bilbo or, in his most unrealistic fantasies – come for Bilbo. He had given up on those fantasies by the time Dwalin arrived, at least he told himself he had – though there had been a fleeting moment where he had wondered if Dwalin had come on Thorin's behalf. That last hope had died with Dwalin's explanation of his motives.

Bilbo now wished for nothing more than to be able to let go of his feelings for Thorin which felt just as strong as they ever had.

Eventually Bilbo was pulled from his thoughts by the sound of Dwalin moving around as quietly as he could. Bilbo could completely understand now why he had such abdominal pain when he heard how loud Dwalin was while attempting to creep out of his room every morning.

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