I tried as hard as I could to keep Bilbo close as we started preparing for war, and I looked as hard as I could to find armor that would fit him, but there was nothing. He was too small for even the smallest mail shirts we could find, and my worry mounted with every moment. I didn't want to fight, not with so few of us against an army of them, and even though Thorin had implied that we might have help on the horizon, I still didn't like our odds. Still, I knew we didn't have a choice—I just wanted to keep Bilbo from the crossfire.
What was worse was how distracted he seemed, constantly feeling for something in his pocket, eyes whipping fearfully around every room he entered. He was hiding something. I wasn't brave enough to ask him what, even though it hurt a little that he would keep it from even me. Not to mention how easily he was able to slip away from me no matter how hard I tried to stay beside him. A million potential causes flashed through my mind every single time I couldn't find him; maybe he'd climbed the gate and an elvish arrow had pierced his heart, or maybe he'd gone exploring the mountain and found an unstable tunnel or bridge. Fili, desperate to try and keep me calm and himself sane, joked that I was certain to wear a new path through the mountain with my pacing. Despite that, I was normally only able to sit down when my thigh started to hurt enough that I could hardly move it.
Honestly it got to the point that I was contemplating tying my arm to his so I'd be sure to know where he was, but then again he'd probably slip the rope as easy as breathing. I sighed; at least he was with me for the moment, settled at my side while my brother pawed through armor, looking for something he could wear and still have mobility. Obviously there weren't many options, given how few dwarves fought like he and I did, relying on speed rather than strength alone, but eventually he came across something made mostly of thick leather that would function well enough.
"Have you found anything, Kili? Archer or not, I'd rather you not try to fight an army in your shirtsleeves," he called to me, and I nodded. I'd happened upon a very long, golden mail coat that fit me well the evening before. Bilbo frowned, eyes cast down to one side.
"I am yet hoping that I might be able to convince Thorin to treat and stop this madness," he said, voice soft, and I felt myself frown.
"Is that what you've been doing all those times I couldn't find you?" I asked, and he offered me a pale, gentle smile. He looked tired. My heart clenched.
"I suppose. More I expect I've just been trying to get him to leave the treasury and sleep, but I imagine I may as well be trying to get him to move to Mirkwood." I couldn't respond to that. Fili and I had talked, a bit, about Uncle's… condition, and though it hurt both of us to admit it, neither of us saw much chance of recovery. The gold-sickness, after all, was not something that often let its victims go free. Even he and I, despite being aware of it and our own susceptibility to it, felt pangs of it every now and then, a deep, gnawing desire to go to the treasury and never leave again.
"We need something for Bilbo too," I said instead, not willing to tell Bilbo that when I could see how worried he already was.
"I know. I've kept an eye out for anything in his size, but not even one of the leather doublets would fit."
"Why in the world do I need armor?" he asked, laughing a little, and I can admit that I gaped at him, a little.
"I know you're not fighting, but that doesn't mean someone won't try to bring the fight to you. You're fast and your smart, but I don't doubt the elves or men could get in a lucky shot before you outwitted them, and I don't want that lucky shot to be a fatal one."
"My thoughts exactly," Uncle said, voice low and gold-harsh, blue eyes as sharp as ice shards. He had something draped over his arm and he was coming towards us with purpose. Awful as it made me feel, I couldn't help the spark of fear that shot up my spine, and I held Bilbo a little closer in response. I guessed one thing that I could be glad of was that Balin and Dwalin were far too busy to play chaperone anymore. My grip didn't stop him from hauling Bilbo to his feet by his arm, though, his own hand strong and firm. I swallowed; images of dwarf nobles danced in my mind, and I knew that even if the courtship between he and I had been entirely by the book, plenty would still disapprove. I was the spare prince, after all, the one who'd never have a crown and the one who'd never taken anything seriously; why, they would say, should I deserve the hand of the beautiful, exotic outsider who'd faced down the dragon and allowed us to regain our mountain? Such a spouse was worthy only of the king himself.
"Thorin?" he asked, and he smiled thinly, almost like himself but still too tight around the edges.
"Here; an early wedding gift. It should serve you well," he said, releasing Bilbo's arm and unfolding what he held over his arm, revealing it to be some sort of mail coat far too small for any of the rest of us to wear. The links were astoundingly thin and fine, and it didn't look particularly strong, but it did shimmer strangely, almost enticingly, in the hall's low, reddish light. I didn't have any idea what it was, but Fili looked enthralled, his eyes following the almost fabric-like sway of the coat.
"I don't-," Bilbo tried, but Uncle cut him off with a shake of his head.
"Hush; call it part of your share if you must, but I am like my nephew in that I would rather you not die in the coming days, both for the sake of his heart and for my own. It is silver-steel, or mithril as it was once called. No blade can pierce it." The name jogged my memory, and I found myself just as amazed as Fili with hardly a thought. Mithril was… well, it was rare, to be sure, and I'd heard the legends of how strong it was. To see so much of it in one place, when all I'd seen before was a thin line of it inset into the pommel of my mother's favorite dagger, was… honestly a little overwhelming. I think that was what told me how extensive the wealth here really was; no one would even dream of being able to make something like that now, when the mithril mines of Moria were lost.
"Bilbo, please take it," I heard myself say, quick and maybe a little sharper than I intended, but Uncle was right about no blade being able to pierce it, and I desperately wanted Bilbo to have its protection.
"I… alright, I suppose," he said, picking up the bottom edge of the coat with ease and shimmying into it, Uncle helping where he could. It still hung a little large on him, the neck more generous than I would've liked, but it surely offered more protection for him than anything else we could've found, and that was enough for me. "I look absurd. I'm a hobbit, not a warrior," he grumbled, edging back over to me, and leaning easily into my side again. Uncle chuckled.
"Indeed. I hope that you will not have to fight, but should it come to that, I say again that I too wish for you to have protection. Fili, Kili, I suggest that you both continue preparing; I expect we've precious little time before they attempt to attack." With that, he turned and swept away, every inch a king instead of my Uncle. I missed the man who'd helped raise me, who'd been the nearest thing to a father I knew, who'd given me advice in all things, suddenly and fiercely.
"Bilbo?" I asked, not really knowing what I wanted only that I wanted.
"Yes?"
"Tonight… Fili, do you mind if Bilbo and I leave? I just… I want to talk to him tonight," I said, and he rolled his eyes like he had so many weeks before, when I had been too foolish to see that Bilbo was my One.
"Go," he said, waving us off, "If anyone comes, I'll tell them you're off looking for armor and giving Bilbo a few last minute sword fighting tips. I'm sick of watching you cuddle anyway." My brother. I laughed, louder than I had in a long time, and it felt good. He laughed along with me, and Bilbo soon joined in as well, shaking his head as I led him away.
I led him to a small room I'd found, one with a bed, even if it was ancient and dusty. He looked pleased even still; we'd gone a pretty long time without a bed, after all. I pulled the dusty blankets off to reveal that they'd kept the bed itself pretty clean, then shook out the pillows until they were at least mostly usable, and plopped onto it, swinging my legs up. Bilbo joined me quickly, settling his head on my chest, and I didn't speak for a while, enjoying the closeness. Finally, though, I had to speak.
"Hey, Bilbo?"
"Hm?"
"How do… will you tell me how hobbits court, now? I know you said it would probably scandalize me and all, but I want to know." I felt him laugh, a little, and heard him hum before he spoke.
"It starts simply enough, I suppose. Official courtships can only begin at a party, though unofficial ones start often through kisses and long walks and such. In any case, to make it official, a couple shares three dances, never parting for another offer, and share a table all night, though others are able to share in that. Then, at the end of the party, they share a kiss and they say that Yavanna then smiles upon the courtship in the hopes that it will be fruitful." I tilted my head.
"That's all?"
"That's all that's officially written. What comes next is mostly up to the couple, and I can speak only to my own experience."
"I still want to hear," I said, and he tilted his head up to look at me, brows raised a little.
"Are you certain? It'd be a poor time for you to be jealous, love," he said, and I could admit to being a little nervous at that.
"I won't. I know you love me; how could you not?" I said, grinning and donning a confidence that wasn't completely honest.
"Quite true. You're difficult not to love, admittedly. Alright. Well, in the public eye, I was always quite chaste, as befitted a Baggins, you understand. The most I and any of my partners ever did in public was exchange a peck or two and hold hands. We would often go out for picnics and such as well, and take walks through the woods, sometimes play with some of the children there looking for elves. Other times we'd garden, or cook; simple things, you know, but made more pleasant for being done with someone I cared for. We'd spend our nights in one house or the other, sometimes between them, learning one another's bodies as we chose. Most courtships would last about three or four months, or thereabouts, and then one would decide whether or not a marriage ought to occur. In my case, it was never appropriate." I grinned.
"I'm glad of that. I don't think I could've stood it if some stupid hobbit lad had ended up with you before I had the chance to sweep you off your feet with my dashing good looks and devilish charm," I said, and he laughed again, nodding his head.
"I expect I couldn't have stood it either; I imagine having a hobbit for a husband would be terribly boring. I'm afraid you've likely got the short end of the stick in this relationship," he said, teasingly consoling, and I rolled my eyes.
"As if, amralime," I mumbled, kissing the top of his head, "I'm the luckiest dwarf alive. Why did you never marry one of them, anyway? I know you said the one found someone else, but the others… there had to have been a reason."
"To be entirely honest, I don't think I'd have even married the one who married someone else," he sighed, soft. "I was always looking for something… different, I suppose. I wanted someone adventurous, someone with a bit of wildness yet in them, someone who didn't want to just settle into Bag End and never bother to have a bit of fun again. There aren't really many hobbits that way, you know; I'd resigned myself to bachelorhood when you came tripping into my life." I pulled him up, a little, so that I could kiss him, and he followed easily, amber eyes slipping shut in a moment. He tangled his hands in my hair, easy, like we'd been doing this our whole lives, and I clutched at his waist.
I liked the way he fit against me, and couldn't help the sharply pleasant thought that any other dwarf would be just a little too big or a little too small for him to tuck into their side just so. He nipped my lower lip as he pulled away, playful and skilled, and his eyes opened slowly, amusement glistening within them.
"I want to go back to the Shire with you, once all this is over," I said, surprising even myself a little. I'd thought about doing that before, of course, about leaving mountains for rolling hills and fierce battles for afternoon tea, but… well, Fili did always say that my heart often decided a path before my head caught up with it. He actually jolted, surprise bright and obvious across his soft features.
"Really?" he asked, and I nodded.
"Yes. I think I'm… tired of this. I don't want to be Prince Kili anymore—it never fit me anyway. I just want to be Kili, for the rest of my life. With you," I said, keeping my expression soft instead of playful so he'd know how serious I was, and I saw him smile.
"You've always only been Kili to me, you know. If you're needed here, you know I'll stay; I'll be happy wherever you are."
"It's the same for me, but I just… the way it was there, so simple, quiet. No one there needed gold, or swords. I think I like the idea of that. I'll keep my bow, obviously, and I couldn't live if I didn't see Fili sometimes, but… I want to go back there with you. That's your home, and I think it could be mine too," I murmured, and he stroked my cheek lightly.
"Alright. Consider it a promise, alright? We'll try for a while and see if you like it there," he said, gentle, and I smiled.
"Okay; you know I'll come back. Tonight, though… can I court you like a hobbit tonight?" He grinned, vibrant and beautiful and wild.
"Of course, though I fear our guardians have a sixth sense for intimacy and will bash down the door the moment they catch wind of it." I laughed again, freer than I'd felt in a while.
"Let them. I don't care anymore what the nobles will say; I'm not going to let the threat of them stop me from taking my happiness where I can get it anymore." And with that, I felt his lips fall on mine one more time.