Erebor towered over them as they made their way to the city. The doors opened for Fili, hands clasped behind his back. In the light, Bilbo could see the gnarled, jagged scar over his nose.
"The box will be ready by tomorrow morning, Uncle," Fili said, nodding his head.
"Good," Thorin said, dismounting his steed. "Have the servants prepare rooms for our guests. Bombur, Dori, go to the kitchens and have something hot readied within an hour. Kili—"
Bilbo turned away from Thorin to see Frodo latched to Legolas' leg, bouncing and babbling up at him. He chuckled, praying Frodo's crush would divert sooner rather than later. From the strained smile on Legolas' face, he hoped so too.
"Frodo!" Bilbo called, tearing the lad away from Legolas. "Let's go inside and see what rooms we'll get. Okay?"
"Is Legolas coming too?"
"Yes, he's coming. Whether the Dwarves and Elves get along or not won't stop them from hosting them for a day or two," he sent a glance at Thorin. "After all, it's been a long journey." Thorin's mouth thinned, but he nodded, motioning to guards.
Bilbo lifted Frodo into his arms and entered the mountain. He recalled the darkness and the faint smell of decay within the city. It no longer penetrated the air in the city, lit by torches lining the walls leading up the staircase to the main citadel. Bilbo looked around.
He followed the company up the stairs.
"Are we going any further?" Frodo asked.
"No, Lad," Bilbo assured him, "This is our last place. When it's safe, if you're up for another long journey, we'll go back to the Shire."
Frodo hummed. "I miss the Shire, but I don't want to sleep outside anymore."
Bilbo patted his back. "Good. Neither do I."
Frodo was given a room of his own beside Kili's, who was more than willing to keep an eye on him if need be.
"And don't think I haven't noticed how awkward things got between you and Uncle Thorin since you returned. Talk to him. For real. Please?"
"So long as you keep Frodo with you for a while, I should be able to," Bilbo promised with a smile.
True, they had…to an extent…agreed to let the past remain in the past, but that had left the uncomfortable problem of figuring out where to start over.
Bilbo, honestly, wanted to figure out where to begin again, but merely talking to Thorin made him anxious. He supposed he couldn't be blamed. Thorin had once threatened to kill him and even though Bilbo wanted—how he wanted—to put that behind him, saying so was easier than doing.
It may be easier to start from the beginning, Bilbo decided.
Dwarves stared at him while he passed and he ignored it as best he could. Most of them had never seen a Hobbit before, so their staring was only to be expected.
The guards bowed to him, curiosity in their eyes as they opened the doors to the throne room. Bilbo stepped inside, looking to and fro. He felt out of place, like a badger among cats.
The room was empty save for three: Thorin, Fili, and a woman in a blue silk empress-gown Bilbo guessed was Dwarka. Her belly was beginning to show through the fabric.
Her ebony hair draped over her shoulder in an intricate braid decorated in gold and mithril clasps. Her arms were bare save for the wrists where the slit sleeve joined, showing off the black ink tattoos reminding Bilbo oddly of the tattoos Dwalin sports in design.
Thorin dismissed them at last and Dwarka's dark eyes settled on Bilbo. Fili grinned at him.
"Here so soon?"
Bilbo shrugged. He bowed to Dwarka. "It is an honor to meet you at last, my lady. Fili hasn't written a letter to me yet that does not praise your beauty." Dwarka turned to Fili, fighting down a maiden's blush by smirking instead. Fili refused to meet her gaze, whistling.
"Whatever my husband has told you, Master Baggins, I'm sure is exaggerated," she said.
"I doubt that. Your father was unrestrained in his praise of you as well when I knew Dwalin. The only one in our company who spoke more of his family than him and your uncle was Gloin. However, it must have escaped Fili's mind to tell me you're expecting. Congratulations."
Fili furrowed his brow questioningly. Dwarka's hand rested on her belly. "Most haven't seen or noticed unless they are friends or family. How did you know?"
"Hobbits have keener eyes than Dwarves, my lady. It is not very noticeable yet, but I'm guessing you're at most…two or three months along."
Dwarka grinned. "Keen eyes indeed. Two and a half months along, actually," She linked her arm in Fili's. "We'll see you at dinner tonight, Master Baggins, and as you have a child of your own, I hear, perhaps you can teach me how best to deal with one."
Bilbo bowed, stepping aside to let her pull Fili along.
Thorin slumped on his throne with his eyes closed and covered by a hand, a scowl present on his face. Bilbo wondered if he ought to leave Thorin be and come back later…
"Is there a reason you came now? I thought you would want to sleep?"
"I haven't been able to sleep since…well…last week. At least not decently." Thorin lowered his hand.
"I hope it is not because of me. One insomniac should be enough."
"You're not an insomniac, Thorin."
"Perhaps not, but I'm close enough. What can I do for you, Bilbo?"
"I want to talk about what happens next," Bilbo said, crossing his arms. "We have had words and perhaps we've said everything we wish to say. But we have not quite spoken since and I think we can agree that it has to do with not knowing where to pick up our relationship. I was thinking from the beginning."
Thorin sighed. "I figured as much. After…it's not like we can just…go back to where we were before."
"No. We can't."
Silence.
Bilbo didn't know how silence could choke a person, but surely it can if the quiet and the tightness in his throat had anything to say about it.
Thorin stood and descended the throne, halting in front of Bilbo. "So…"
"So," Bilbo tilted his head to the side. "I braid your hair."
"And I put flowers in yours."
"Just remember I'm not keen on being decked in large jewels. Simpler things, Thorin."
"Of course, but most of my people will expect you to be decorated in jewels."
"Not a Dwarf, Thorin," Bilbo huffed, crossing his arms. "I don't need or want all that whether your people expect it or not."
Thorin sighed, rubbing his neck and muttering about stubborn Hobbits. "May I at least show you something?"
"Of course." Thorin led him out of the throne room, up stairs and down hallways made eerie in torchlight. Thorin stopped in front of a door, producing a key from his pocket. He turned to Bilbo. And if Bilbo didn't know better, he'd guess there was uncertainty in the depths of Thorin's eyes.
"Before I show you what's inside, I need you to know I will never betray you again. I need you to know that no one and nothing compares to you and that what you're about to see is…everything in this room is yours to do with as you wish."
Bilbo frowned. "Well that's…nice and all, but I'm not sure what you're trying to say."
"I'm saying I'm not going to let you go again—that's not a threat!" Thorin assured him, as though he could sense Bilbo's fury at his choice in words. And perhaps he could. "I only mean that I lost you once, that I let you leave once, and I have regretted it since. I never dared hope for a second chance and here it is. I don't want to lose you again, so this time, I'll get it right."
"All right, what is it you want to show me?"
Thorin inserted the key into the lock, which clicked and the door swung inward. Bilbo stepped inside, eyes bugging out of their sockets and jaw dropping.
A gold circlet rimmed with mithril rested on a faceless head. Weapons of every kind, perfect in size for a Hobbit mounted on the walls, made of steel and silver with gold and mithril handles. Belts of gold encrusted with rubies, sapphires, emeralds, and diamonds. Shields of iron and steel and gold also lined the walls. Tables lined with necklaces and bracelets and rings and hair clasps…
"All this is yours," Thorin reiterated, "Ten years worth of gifts only for my One."
"Where did you find the time?"
"Like I said, sleep was hard to come by. I know you'll not dare to wear as much as possible, but…if you'd…even if just a little of it during the day…"
Bilbo picked up a simple silver and mithril clasp, rolling it between his fingers. He turned to Thorin, holding the clasp out to him.
"Braid my hair?"
He mentally kicked himself at how uncertain he felt by the request, despite how unexpected he came to find it.
Thorin stared at him, seeming unable to process what had been requested of him. He jumped out of his stupor, closing distance between them.
He ran his fingers through Bilbo's hair before taking a section of hair at behind Bilbo's ear and weaved the curls into a strand behind his ear. Thorin pinched it closed before closing the clasp around the hair. It felt warm against Bilbo's neck from waiting in his hand.
Thorin's fingers tangled in Bilbo's hair again, his eyes fixed on the braid and the bead he just wove. Bilbo debated moving away, discomfort gnawing at him. Before he dared to execute the move, Thorin pulled away.
"Is there anything you can tell me about the Orcs pursuing you?" Thorin asked. Bilbo wondered if that was really the question he wanted to ask.
"I have said all I know so far already," Bilbo said. "That they are possibly from Mordor and led by a half-Orc named Mog and that they are after the Ring." He sighed, pushing aside his frustration. "Would you like me to braid your hair too? Have you a clasp I can use?"
"I do. But are you sure?"
"I am sure," Bilbo rolled his bead between his fingers. "I wouldn't have asked you to braid mine if I did not intend to repeat the gesture." He dropped his hand. The bead tapped against his neck.
Thorin knelt, allowing Bilbo easier access to his hair and handed him a clasp. Bilbo ran his fingers through Thorin's hair, separating a lock into three.
"Thorin, our relationship is going to be awkward for a while. It is unavoidable. All we can do is try to…make it less awkward, I suppose. And that is going to take time." He clasped the bead around the braid, wondering if there was time enough for them.