Legolas wasn't sure why he was doing this. For one thing, he hasn't actually, really spoken to the man save for those awkward meals they were forced to attend, and those were only every once in a blue moon. But still, no idea why he was doing this. This was a bad idea in and of itself, and it was sure to explode in his face before they even exchanged hello's. He doesn't know why he let Bard talk him into this, and he's seriously regretting taking the assistant's advice/not advice right now.

Today, much to the dread of Legolas, was his very first day on babysitting duty, and he still can't bring himself to get out of his car. He had actually arrived early, and then realizing he was far too early (an hour early to be specific) he drove around for a bit and was now back at Gloin's house, still just 20 minutes too early. Before that, he was slightly panicking because how the fuck is he supposed to watch a child? Most would be quite surprised, as Legolas basically taught children for a living so this really shouldn't be a problem. But unbeknownst to most, Legolas had to make the transition from teaching twenty-something year old's to sixteen year old's, so he's still only just getting used to the job. It took him a while to actually find one, taking him almost one whole year after he quit Greenwood—and he had quit quite a long time ago, before even Bard decided to officially work there full-time rather than just come in at odd hours of the day (something to do with his kids?). And then through some miracle that he still can't quite explain, Mr. Oakenshield had contacted both him and Tauriel about a new job opening at Erebor Academy. To this day, Legolas still suspects Thranduil played some sort of role despite his deep-rooted hatred for Mr. Oakenshield and his family. The story's an old one of course, the kind where no one knows what exactly happened and who started what or whose fault it actually was. It's a tedious thing, really.

So Legolas, in his haste to get rid of these un-needed nerves, was about to call Tauriel, then realized he couldn't because he hadn't actually told her. Part of it is because everything happened so fast and before he knew it the day was here and he had no time to really consult her. Another reason might be that as he was about to tell her, he had found a note on the fridge written in her sloppy handwriting, saying she was going out with Kili for a while and not to wait up. So… Tauriel was out. He could call Elrond, who was an old friend of the family but the man would just drone on and on about Eru knows what, so Elrond was also out. And then he called Bard, the only the other person who might be able to give Legolas some sound advice.

And oh how wrong he was, because their conversation hadn't even started when Bard asked, "Wait, why are you calling me?"

"Because you have kids?"

"Well, yes, that is true but isn't this something you should really be asking your father?"

Legolas narrowed his eyes at that. "And why would I even think to consult his advice?" He sneered into the phone.

"Because… he's your dad?" Bard answered, like he almost wasn't sure about the notion of Thranduil being Legolas' father.

"Still doesn't mean I should go and consult his advice."

"I still think he'd be better suited to this than me."

"You have three kids!"

"And yet I'm still learning, everyday, how to figure them out. Honestly go talk to your dad, he probably has more words of wisdom to impart than me."

So that basically left Legolas with no other option than to call his father, the one man he couldn't actually talk to without the both of them growing terribly awkward. Oh, this was such a terrible idea.

"Hello?" Came the normally neutral yet icy tone of his father.

"Um, Ada? It's me…"

A short pause, and then, "Legolas?" The astonished way he breathes out Legolas' name implies he's just as surprised.

"Hi, er, yes it's me. I just… I…." Legolas rubs at his forehead, feeling the urge to bang it against his car's window, maybe even honk the horn obnoxiously a couples times. God, when did talking become so difficult? "You know what, just—nevermind. I don't… I don't know why.. I—"

"Legolas," comes Thranduil's voice, this time firmer, making him sit up straighter in his seat like he was being called to attention. Thranduil waits a bit before quietly asking, "What is it?"

"I…." Legolas blinks, still a little shocked by the force of his father's voice just now. He hadn't used that tone with Legolas in a long time, not since he announced his resignation at Greenwood and Thranduil had just stared at him, this quiet anger hovering about his frame and a sharp pain in his eyes.

("Legolas.")

He swallows around the sudden lump in his throat and tries again. "I… I'm officially a babysitter now, did you know that?"

"A babysitter?" Thranduil echoes back in disbelief.

"Yeah… I, well, one of my coworkers has a six year old son. Apparently he's… quite the handful."

"And you're… a babysitter," Thranduil says slowly, still trying to grasp the meaning of Legolas' words. If their relationship wasn't so broken, they'd probably be quietly laughing about how ridiculous this whole situation was. Contrary to popular belief, Thranduil wasn't always the man he is now. There was a time when he laughed, not long ago, but that slowly deteriorated with the death of Legolas' mother, and then Legolas choosing Tauriel over his father. Thranduil only grew more bitter and closed off, not even cracking a smile or his eyes lighting up to signify he was happy. And Legolas would be lying if he said most of that hadn't come from his resignation. Well, some things you just couldn't take back, no matter how hard you try.

"Yeah, I'm—I'm a babysitter," Legolas laughs, maybe a bit hysterically if he listens to himself hard enough. God, how had he even found himself in this situation? Oh, right. He was guilted into it.

"You do realize you have up to zero experience with children under the age of 10, correct?" If he isn't mistaken, that is definitely amusement in his father's voice, even if it is faint.

"Yeah, well, we're about to find out aren't we?" Legolas snorts.

"Is this… a part of your paycheck?"

"It'll be part of a paycheck. Which one, I'm not exactly sure."

"You'd better be compensated for this fully," his father mutters.

"Ada, please. It's not like I'm dirt poor."

"You've taken to watching over a child! I'm not sure whether to fear for his life or yours."

They both… laugh. Well, more like chuckled or a soft gasp in Thranduil's case, but they… they laughed together. At a joke. That Thranduil made. It's like they both realized what just happened, because all too soon the laughter dies on both their lips and it's back to silence once more. Well.

Thranduil clears his throat loudly. "Well… then, make sure not to… kill your coworker's child."

"Ah, I won't. I'll… I'll be careful. I mean I teach teenagers, so how hard can a six year old be?"

"Oh you have no idea," Thranduil says, almost reverting back to that lighter tone from earlier but then he catches himself. He clears his throat again with a soft, "I'm sure you'll… do fine. You're a very social person, if that's one thing you got from your mother."

Legolas almost stops all breathing at that. In the past, he'd always been careful to avoid bringing up his mother, for fear of that sad look crossing his father's eyes whenever she was mentioned. So for him to even bring her up, and on his own, was a first for even Legolas. He has to take a few minutes to actually breathe, finally replying, "Um… thank you. I… think?"

"…You're welcome."

"Um, hey—" Legolas makes a quick glance towards his watch "—I do actually have to… go. You know, babysitting duties."

"Ah, of course."

"So um… I'm gonna go. But uh… thanks. I think."

"You're welcome. Again."

There's not much else to say beyond that, so before the conversation gets more awkward (or emotional) Legolas ends the call. He stares down at his phone for a while, shakes his head, and then heaves himself out of his car. Well, time to face the music. Or the six year old demon with ginger hair, but hey, take your pick.

Even though the call ended five minutes ago, Thranduil's still staring at his phone screen, this little bit of surprise and maybe even wonder present in his eyes. Bard hadn't meant to stay for the whole thing, but they were in the middle of setting up Thranduil's schedule for next week (and on a Saturday of all days. Did he not know Bard had a life of his own, complete with three rowdy children?) when his cell phone rang and it turned out to be his son on the other end. He was probably just as surprised as Thranduil was, because he hadn't expected Legolas to actually take his advice. And then the unexpected happened: Thranduil laughed. Like, okay, it wasn't a full on laugh but it was a laugh, make no mistake about that. And Bard just couldn't help staring, because he had never seen an emotion like that cross the president's face. Of course he went back to his usual icy and monotone demeanor, but that was… that was progress! Man, if Bard knew something like this would happen he would have prompted Legolas to call his father ages ago.

Bard, while not all that keen to interrupt this moment, still has a job to do, and he clears his throat to get Thranduil's attention. "Um, sir?"

Thranduil blinks a couple times and then slowly looks up, as if just registering Bard for the first time even though they've been talking for about an hour already. "My… my apologies," he says a bit unsteadily. "What were you saying?"

"Nothing, just… I mean, do you still want to go over the details of your schedule or…?"

He blinks.

"You know your… schedule? We were talking earlier and—"

"Ah, right." Thranduil closes his eyes, and when he re-opens them they're filled with that razor-sharp focus that's always present. He's now back to the usual Thranduil, the one who barely smiles and doesn't let these moments of wonder faze him easily. Damn, and Bard really did enjoy that almost vulnerable expression. You really don't get to see the president like that everyday. "Yes, yes let's—let's do that." He tucks his phone away and picks up the papers scattered about his desk. "Now, where were we?"

As they continue the menial task of setting up Thranduil's schedule, Bard finds himself growing more and more distracted. It's not like he keeps checking his phone or is expecting a message from someone. It's because of what's currently sitting in front of him, long flowing locks and those damn cheek bones and that milky skin and everything else. As usual, Bard can't help obsessing a little over Thranduil's hair, but it's a different feeling somehow, because now he can't help feeling more aware and self-conscious of the man's presence. And Bard has…. tried, not to you know… think too much about his boss. After all, as Legolas said things were awkward enough, no need to go screwing things up because they happened to share a rather intimate and… strange—yes that's the word—moment. As Bard made sure to point out to Legolas: nothing happened. All they did was fall asleep on Bard's couch after a couple sips of wine, shared breakfast (which was a very awkward affair), and then it was over. It wasn't like they slept together and had a one night stand or anything. So then why does he feel himself grow more fidgety whenever they're together? Or checking out Thranduil more than usual? Or better yet…

Why did he constantly feel Thranduil's eyes on him, yet whenever he turned to look at the man he was already focused on something else?

Bard just doesn't understand anything anymore. And then he just saw Thranduil laughing and it's like… what. He can't even put this thing into words because he has no idea how to comprehend it! After three years of checking his boss out and feeling only slightly attracted to him (damn personality got in the way of it all), suddenly everything's changing and happening too quickly for Bard to even make sense of anything. He doesn't have time to figure out what in Eru's name is going on because he has no idea how to, well, identify any of it. Is this like… a crush? Some kind of pining for a man who's totally way out of his league? Or is this just some kind of 'I wanna fuck you so bad and get rid of this sexual frustration and then let's never discuss this again'? Or maybe it's all three?

And then there was the dead wife he was still clearly in love with…

"Bard."

"Huh?" He blinks at the very man currently destroying his whole well-being.

This man is also staring at him with annoyance written all over his face. "Were you even listening?" He asks irritatedly.

Bard sighs. "Yes sir, I was."

"Well then…" He makes an exasperated shooing motion with his hand. "Get to it then."

Bard bristles at that (tries not to show it, but he still bristles) before rising from his seat and slamming the door shut behind him.

Yeah, okay. Maybe this isn't a crush, pining, or a sexual frustration of any kind, because Thranduil Greenleaf is still a fucking douchebag.

Oh, wait. Douchebag. Now that might be a better contact name. He pulls out his phone and starts texting Legolas excitedly with his new discovery.

Douchebag King it is.

"Thorin for the last time yes, I am still visiting my grandmother who, yes, does currently reside in a nursing home, for Thanksgiving."

"I'm just asking!" Thorin's voice echoes back from the other end.

Bilbo rolls his eyes, taking special care to keep his phone tucked in between his ear and shoulder as he unlocked his classroom door. He steps inside, flicks on all the lights and sighs at the vast emptiness of it. Yes, Bilbo is aware of the fact that it is a Saturday morning, and he is aware that he's at school, which is currently empty and devoid of all students. But this isn't anything new for Bilbo, as this was something he often did even when working at Greenwood and Hobbiton: coming in on a weekend morning to get his work done. There were some other teachers roaming about Erebor's hall with the same goal in mind. Gloin and Dwalin were here to scrub up the gym floors (something about a few nasty falls gone wrong this week?), Bofur was coming in later, Nori had his hands full with cleaning up the science labs, Dis has apparently been in since six am doing Yavanna knows what, and of course Thorin and Balin were up in their office doing their own work. Turns out it wasn't a rare occurrence to see at least some of the teachers milling about on a Saturday morning.

"And anyways, don't you have your own work to do?" Bilbo asks. He places his belongings on one of the student's desk and makes his way to his own. It's a bit more cluttered compared to its usual messiness. Not to say that Bilbo is a messy person, but when things get hectic he tends to be a messier person than usual. This was the last weekend before Thanksgiving, and while it isn't a exactly considered a holiday by most Englanders, Erebor was one of the few schools that did recognize it and was generous enough to at least give the students three days of break before returning the day after. Bilbo had quickly learned during his time here that Erebor took advantage of every holiday, whether it was recognized as a national holiday in the UK or not. Although Bilbo thinks it's just an excuse for the teachers to party, get drunk and then come in hungover the next day. Then again, Bilbo's whole family isn't that much different. If you knew Bilbo's family, you knew they always liked a good party with good food and good alcohol, so they weren't all that reluctant to take advantage of something like Thanksgiving either.

The Halloween decorations were still up, but instead spiders were replaced with turkeys and pilgrims, more pumpkins were added, even some hand-drawn leaves were thrown in. Of course this meant teachers were in a bit of crunch (no pun intended) to get their lessons done and sort of cram everything in, and while it was pure torture for the students it was even more torture for the teachers too. Students often forget that. Not to mention report cards would be coming out soon and oh dear there really is so much Bilbo needs to do. Although he gathers Thorin and Balin have an even bigger load. He can just imagine Balin's messy office now, and Thorin's is probably becoming a tornado-wrecked scene as well.

"I am doing my work Mr. Baggins," Thorin insists.

"Well then get to it Mr. Headmaster," Bilbo orders. He takes off his scarf and drapes it over his chair. "We've all got things to do, and I'm sure you can ask me about my Thanksgiving plans for the umpteenth time later."

"Fine, fine," Thorin finally decides. "I will pay you a visit later though."

"Yes, now please go, finish your work."

"Such a responsible boyfriend," Thorin huffs good-naturedly, and then hangs up.

Bilbo smiles at his phone before placing it on his desk and getting himself situated. He had a long day ahead of him if he actually wanted to get his work done. He takes out his red marking pen, cracks his fingers a bit and looks down at the first pile of papers that needed grading.

"Alright Bilbo, let's see how fast you can work."

"Feeeeeeeee."

Fili blinks once, twice, and then slowly turns his head to where he thinks the source of the sound is coming from. A familiar head of dark hair peaks out from under Fili's desk and waves. Most people would probably scream at the sight of someone just chilling under their desk, maybe even hit the perpetrator over the head and run away as fast they could. Fili's just more concerned over how Kili managed to get under there without him noticing. It goes to show he needs to get his priorities straight.

"How long have you been there?"

"Not long," Kili shrugs. He crawls his way out and settles his back against Fili's desk. "I've been hiding from mum, if you must know."

Ah, well. That makes sense. Since Fili and Kili were technically the next in line for Thorin's 'throne' (inside joke, don't ask), their mum made it a point to bring them to school at least once or twice a month on the weekends, just to get them used to the workload a headmaster has to deal with at times. Before, they had dreaded it, preferring to sleep in and then wake up eons later in the later afternoon, still in their sleep clothes and figuring out how to spend their next late night out. Now that they're slightly older and slightly more mature, they've learned to just go with it and stop complaining. Well, at least Fili has. Kili still finds room to complain and will do anything to get out of these monthly weekend endeavors, but mum has stopped falling for Kili's tricks ages ago. He may still be the 'baby' of the family, but he's lost claim to a lot of those privileges, something Fili can't help laughing at whenever he sees his brother pouting and muttering, "My puppy face worked on you before."

"So?" Fili reaches out to ruffle Kili's hair. "What happened this time?"

Kili makes a face at that. "Science experiment gone wrong, let's just leave it at that."

Fili also makes a face. That didn't sound good. "With Nori?"

"Nori managed to escape. I on the other hand got caught in the cross fire." Kili leans forward and whispers, "Maybe it's from all that MI-6 training he did back in the days."

Fili rolls his eyes. There's this widely circulating rumor that Nori was this infamous criminal back in the day. No one knows what exactly he's done; some thinks he stole from the rich, others think he was some kind of terrorist against the British government. And then somewhere along the way of this vastly fabricated story, he was supposedly recruited by MI-6 or some sort of secret agency for his skills, later escaped because he was tired of living a double life, and was now currently in hiding by pretending to be a science teacher at a prestigious academy, where he would have the protection of the Durin family's good fortune. At least that's what all his students think. And Kili, but Kili's always been a bit of a conspiracy theorist. Many of the students often seek out Ori and Dori for their input, but they just smile away and tell them to get to class before they're late.

"You still actually believe that?" Fili asks.

"Think about it!" Kili starts bobbing up and down excitedly. "That would explain how stealthy he is, and how he seems to just know whenever his students don't do their homework! It's like he's got a.. a…"

"Sixth sense?" Fili supplies amusedly.

"Yeah! I mean come on, you have to admit it's a little curious how he's able to do that."

Okay, Fili can admit to that. It is rather curious, how Nori's past remains this deep secret and no one, not even his own brothers, seem apt enough to bring it up. Fili knows almost everything about each faculty member, like how Oin used to be an army doctor, Dori was some kind of body builder back in the day which Fili still can't quite believe, Bombur used to be head chef at a five star restaurant, and Nori… well, he's a man of mystery. But it's not Fili's place to pry, no matter how curious he is.

"So lemme get this straight: you and Nori created a 'science experiment' whatever that means, you got caught, and now you're hiding under my desk before mum or Uncle catches you. Am I hitting the nail here?"

"Basically," Kili replies with a flippant shrug. He even has the audacity to give a cheeky smile.

Fili sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. "I'm not going to get in trouble either, am I?"

"Maybe for letting me hide out here, but I doubt it."

"Kili, I don't want our xbox— wait, hold on." Fili digs around in his back pocket to find his phone buzzing like crazy. He puts the phone on his desk and presses the speaker button. "Hello?"

"Fili, this is your dear mother calling," Dis' voice rings out in the room.

Fili freezes up. Kili mouths the word shit and dives back under the desk.

"H-Hey mum. What's up?" Fili tries to clear the stuttering out of his voice.

"Oh, nothing much," she says, dangerously sweet and maybe borderline crazy. "Just searching for your idiot younger brother. You haven't seen him, have you?" The way her voice dips low at that last part makes Fili shiver. He hears a small squeak from underneath.

"Last I heard, he was with Nori. Why?"

"Mhmm, just wondering," Dis hums. "I'll talk to you later, okay? If you see him, give me a call."

"Sure mum."

It's not until Fili ends the call that both men release a huge sigh of relief. Kili peaks his head out again and gives a thumbs up, to which Fili scowls and smacks the back of his brother's head.

"Ow."

"You better go and apologize to mum before I get the brunt of it all!" Fili hisses, like Dis might be standing outside the classroom listening in on the whole conversation. His mother knows things, okay?

"Oh come oooon," Kili begs with wide eyes. "Please, come on just do this for me brother."

"Go hide out in your girlfriend's classroom or something!"

"Tauriel's not in today," he pouts.

"Then sorry, I can't help you." Fili swivels his chair around and goes back to grading.

"You suck," Kili mutters. He grunts as he stands up and brushes himself off. "Now where am I supposed to go?"

"I don't know, cafeteria?" Fili asks with a flick of his pen.

Kili groans and scratches his head. "Do you think Oin would kill me if I broke into his infirmary?"

"As long as you leave it the way it is."

"Don't tell mum. Or Oin."

"Got it." Fili gives a wave limp as his brother slips out the door. He only hopes he can make it out there alive.

Dwalin sits back on his knees to observe his handiwork. So far? The gym floor still looks like utter crap and it's not even the afternoon yet. He groans loudly, the sound echoing throughout the spacious gym and reverberating against the walls. This sucked ass.

"More cleaning, less groaning," Gloin grunts from a few feet over. He's desperately trying to get rid of the scuff marks by the bleachers, but to no avail. No amount of bleach and chemicals could get those marks out, for they were there long before Dwalin and Gloin became the new gym teachers.

Oh, and did Dwalin mention the machine they were using had broken down while in the middle of cleaning? And how they had no idea how to fix it, meaning it would stay broken until Monday morning when the repairman came? They obviously wouldn't be on their hands and knees performing such laborious work if it hadn't, but here they were. Again, Dwalin repeats: this sucked ass.

"I think you missed a mark," Dwalin points out.

'Shut the fuck up' is written all over Gloin's face. He throws the wet rag he was using at Dwalin, who manages to dodge it but still gets sprayed with some droplets.

"Fuck off," Gloin says darkly.

"Ooohh, do you speak that way around your wife and child?" Dwalin taunts.

Gloin ignores the comment and holds his hand out. "Rag."

Dwalin rolls his eyes and shoves it into his hands. He makes sure to get Gloin's hand as soaked as possible, but the ginger-haired gym teacher doesn't seem to care, as he goes right back to scrubbing like there's no tomorrow. Dwalin just sighs and leans back on his hands, his legs still folded up and probably cramping by this point. To be honest, they're both a little irritated, especially with the machine broken and their joints aching from long hours of kneeling and bending over. Dwalin may be younger than Gloin, but he's also getting up there in his years. And really, who wants to go to school on a Saturday morning when they spend eight hours a day, five days a week coming to this place? That's right, no one.

"Where's blondie? Shouldn't he be helping us?" Dwalin asks.

"Galea had a last minute change with her classes, so he's watching over Gimli," Gloin huffs out.

Dwalin raises a curious eyebrow. "Oh? So it's his first day huh?"

Gloin grunts in response.

"Think he'll be able to handle it?"

"Who knows. I'm just thankful we found someone, even if he is temporary."

Dwalin snorts, then stretches out his legs from underneath and wiggles his feet a bit. He starts whistling a tune, one that Dis often claims is just another one of his dirty French songs that he picked up during his time abroad in Paris. Dwalin's always considered himself a simple man, never really asking or seeking much. His parents always complained about his low aspirations for life, how he didn't have 'big dreams' compared to Balin. But like he said, he doesn't need much. He studied abroad for a bit, had a few odd jobs here and there, opened a repair shop with Thorin for a while, and now he's working as a gym teacher. Maybe he's not the richest or most successful man alive, but honestly, he could give a rat's ass about that. As long as he's making enough money to survive, he's pretty okay.

"D-Dwalin?"

And maybe a significant other who will love him for he is. Other than that, he's good.

Dwalin turns his head and grins a little. He beckons the skittish art teacher over with a jerk of his head. "Hey, I didn't know you were coming in today," he says when Ori gets closer.

Ori shakes his head. "I wasn't, not originally but…"

Dwalin tilts his head at him. "But…?" He prompts.

Ori suddenly blushes and twists his scarf nervously around his hands. Not that Dwalin's complaining, it's an endearing sight and Ori looks absolutely adorable like that, but he is a little confused as to why he's suddenly grown all embarrassed.

"Ori?" He jumps at the sound of his name. "You okay there?"

"Are you serious?" Comes Gloin's incredulous voice. He stares right at Dwalin like he's grown another head or something.

"What?" Dwalin asks.

Gloin rolls his eyes. "Don't you get it you lumphead? The lad's obviously here to see you."

Dwalin blinks at him, then faces Ori to see the lad has only grown more red in the past three minutes. He starts scuffing his toes against the floor, and his eyes keep darting between Dwalin and the ground nervously. For the record, Dwalin would just like to repeat that he is a simple man. And simple means… he might also be a little simple-minded, if you get his drift.

He pushes himself off the ground with a grunt and walks over to Ori. When he gets closer, the art teacher squeaks and lowers his head before Dwalin can even get a chance to say something. He snorts at that, then places his tattooed hand on Ori's head, making the younger man jump slightly at the contact.

"You could have just said you were here to see me." He ruffles Ori's hair and smiles at how easily it gets messed up.

"I-I was getting to that," Ori mumbles embarrassedly to the ground.

"Uh-huh, sure you were," Dwalin smirks.

This finally gets Ori to look up with an indignant huff. He puffs out his cheeks, insisting, "I was! Honest!"

"Alright, alright, no need to get yer panties in a twist. Now what'd you want to talk to me about, huh?" He ruffles Ori's hair again, not really caring if he's making it more messy. Ori obviously cares by the way he pouts and blushes even more. Has he mentioned how endearing Ori looks right now?

"Aaah, Dwalin." Gloin stands up and holds up a hand to halt the conversation. "I uh, I gotta go. Dis just texted me, wanted me to help her out with something. So uh…" He gestures awkwardly to the door.

"Um, okay? Sure, just… go then, if you need to go?" He's confused by Gloin's sudden weirdness. Come to think of it, how did Gloin even know Ori was only here to see him? They weren't… they weren't that obvious, were they? It's not like Dwalin's informed anyone of his interest in Ori, save for Thorin and Nori and he's pretty sure Ori said he wasn't comfortable telling other people yet. He stares suspiciously at Gloin's retreating figure. It couldn't be… could it? He hasn't really figured it all out from a bit of blushing and hair ruffling, has he?

He shakes his head and returns his attention to Ori. No point getting all worked up over something, whatever that something was. He clears his throat. "So?"

Ori's face scrunches up in confusion, then flattens out when he remembers. "Oh! Yes, I wanted to tell you: so I spoke to Thorin about our, you know… our thing…" He flaps his hands about, which is his way of letting Dwalin fill in the word for himself without Ori actually having to say it aloud. Dwalin doesn't really mind, because he's not sure what to call their new relationship either. "And he advised me that I should just break the news gently, yet sternly, to Dori so that he'll get the message and there won't be any misunderstandings." Ori bites his lip anxiously. "You think that's… okay?"

"Sure, that sounds good to me," Dwalin shrugs. He might be a little too relaxed compared to Ori, but words were never really his strong point. He kind of just grunts and make noises when he wants something. At least that's what Balin says and continues saying, every time Dwalin clams up whenever the subject of the day after Halloween is brought up. He does feel a pang of guilt that he hasn't even told his own brother yet, but technically he and Ori aren't official, they haven't really 'declared' anything and they're still just taking baby steps, compared to Thorin and Bilbo's more daring steps. So, technically, Balin isn't totally out of the loop. "I'll be with you the whole time, so if you get the jitters half way through I'll be there," Dwalin reassures. He makes sure to grin, but it comes out more lopsided than he's hoping.

Ori just chuckles and reaches up to peck Dwalin's cheek. He chuckles even more when Dwalin's face goes all splotchy and red with embarrassment. He still isn't used to this type of affection, but like he said: baby steps.

Thorin stares at paper in his hands. He closes his eyes, re-opens them, and then glances over the words again. Still the same, no matter which way he turns the paper or how many times he reads through that same sentence, over and over again until it makes his head spin and his chest ache with anxiety.

"This… isn't possible." He looks up at Balin with wide eyes. "This isn't possible," he states again, as if saying it a second time will erase whatever words are currently taking up the space of the paper. Because this isn't possible.

Balin sighs and takes the seat in front of Thorin's desk. He almost breaks his reading glasses with how hard he tugs them off. It's clear he's just as confused, just as stressed and certainly just as anxious as Thorin's feeling right now. "I don't know laddie," he finally sighs out. He rubs the corners of his eyes. "I don't know. When I got this fax today, I…." He's at a loss for words, something Thorin doesn't see too often when it comes to the advisor.

Thorin grips the paper tighter, tight enough that it'll probably have indents and creases and maybe it'll be torn right down the middle if Thorin manages to control himself for a couple minutes longer. He takes a cautious breath in, holds it, and then lets it slowly. He needs to compose himself, get himself in order and not lose his cool, not until he can figure out all the details and how in the hell this happened. Because it's not possible.

"Balin," Thorin begins in a dangerously low voice, "Call Dale's office. Get someone, anyone, on the line. I need to speak to whoever was in charge of this, and then get that damn slug on the line as soon as possible." He nearly does rip the paper in half when he says that last part. Get it together Durin, get it together.

Balin looks him over for a minute, only moving when Thorin growls, "Now Balin!" The advisor springs into action, taking out his cell phone and pressing buttons and making calls at lightning speed. He hears Balin's office door shut, signaling he'll need absolute, total concentration if he's to get his job done.

Thorin sags back in his seat. He counts to ten in his head. He starts pacing his office. He looks at that damn piece of paper again. Finally, he returns to his chair and just sits there, staring into space as those words get thrown around in his head, mixing and jumbling together like someone put all his thoughts in a blender and mashed it up into one big giant mess.

And boy was this one big giant mess, a mess he certainly didn't need, not when the holidays were near and he was just starting to get his life together. Not when he'd finally found that happiness he needed. Just… not now, of all the times. Why did it have to be now?

From: Dale Tax Firm

To: Mr. Thorin Oakenshield

…..We regret to inform you that the past payments you've made to Dale's office has not been received, and are now long overdue. If you do not forward these payments immediately, we will have to send someone to your office to….

….If you do not comply with our requests, please call your lawyer…