Disclaimer: I do not own any familiar characters/settings/plot featured in this story. They all belong to (most likely rolling in his grave) J.R.R. Tolkien.

Act II: The Rogue

Chapter Eleven

Bilbo awoke to find Óin at his bedside again.

"Oww," he said in greeting, blinking through his blurry vision until he could see his boss properly. "I'm alive."

Óin didn't look impressed with his declaration. "Amazingly, though Mahâl knows you've been pushing it. At least I know I didn't waste all that time stitching up your head," he said, reaching over to hand him a drink of water from the bedside table.

"My friends?" he croaked, sitting up and taking the water gratefully.

"Safe and unharmed," reassured the healer, making Bilbo relax as he downed the cup of liquid. "We sent them home not too long ago under the protection of the Royal Guards. Thorin promised that no harm will come to them."

Bilbo closed his eyes with a soft groan at that reminder. "Thorin is the king," he stated, wrapping his hands around the silver chalice tightly. The thought of it all—Thorin as the King of Erebor—made his mind boggle. How could Thorin—the high strung guard with the pointy nose who was as dense as stone about the real world—be the wise and fair ruler he kept hearing about? How could Thorin—the guard who followed him around and made stupid but funny remarks—be the most important person in all of Erebor?

Thorin is the King...

"He is. Thorin II Oakenshield, King Under the Mountain," said Óin, announcing the name as if he had never heard of anything so ridiculous in his entire life. "Son of Thráin II, the Crown Prince of Erebor, who was the son of Thrór, King of Durin's Folk."

Bilbo flinched, and tightened his grip as his hands began to tremble. "He lied to me."

"He did," confirmed Óin, not even bothering to try to soften the blow.

"Why?"

"Because he's an idiot?" offered Óin, and he could just picture the old healer shrugging. "I don't know, Rabbit. You'll have to ask him yourself."

"I don't want to see him," he said childishly, opening his eyes to look at Óin. "If I see him again I'm going to end up punching his pretty face in and getting sent to prison."

Óin snorted. "He let you get away with using him as a step stool. I think you'll be fine with the punch."

Bilbo groaned again at that unsubtle reminder. Oh Eru, he had used the King of Erebor as a ladder. Forget going to prison, he was going to be executed. "Did everyone else know this whole time?" he wondered, staring up at the gleaming beige ceiling above him. "Was it just a giant joke amongst you all to mock me about my ignorance?"

"No," Óin barked fiercely, making him jump in surprise. "That's not what happened. I thought that Thorin had told you the truth after I confronted him that day I brought you to meet with Dís and Vílin. The fool told no one that he had continued to lie about his identity."

Hearing that, Bilbo felt a lot better even if he had no real reason to be. "So he lied to you all too? Why? I don't understand."

"I don't think anyone understands how that fool thinks," said the older healer, rolling his eyes. "For now ignore him. You have bigger concerns—namely your little escapade into Motvari's estate."

The Hobbit sunk down into his bed. "Oh. Am I in a lot of trouble?" he asked meekly.

"Hard to say at this point. On one hand you broke into the private residence of a very highly known noble and stole important documents from him," Óin listed, holding up his hands as if they were scales. "But on the other hand, your illegal actions brought Motvari's illegal actions to light, and they are much worse than your little breaking and entering. So as you can see we have quite a dilemma here."

"What about my friends? Are they in trouble?" he pushed, recalling their involvement.

"They were arrested for trespassing but nothing else. Nothing was found on them, and though they knocked those guards out, they didn't kill them. So they were arrested and had to pay a fine that I believe Lord Fundin took care of," the healer said, frowning at the last part.

Bilbo raised his brows. There was a name he wasn't expecting to hear. "Really? Lord Fundin did that?"

"Yes. It was quite a shock to most of us. He's even gone so far as to unsubtly state that your friends are now under his protection, which is quite a feat to hold." Óin's frown deepened as he regarded Bilbo with his bright blue eyes. "You wouldn't happen to know why he's done all of this? Do you, Rabbit?"

He reluctantly nodded. "I do, but I'm afraid it's not my place to say. Sorry."

"Figures." Óin snorted and leaned back into his overly padded brown and gold chair. "Well, either way, your friends are safe for now. No one would dare go against Lord Fundin; not even Motvari when he had power. There's a reason he's survived this long, the old dog."

"That's good. So what will happen to me?"

"Worst case scenario? You are forced to serve a prison sentence before being exiled from the kingdom forever more," said Óin, lips turning down into a scowl that made his face look harsher in the light. "Best case is you pay a fine and face suspension from your job for a time."

Bilbo nodded slowly as he considered his options. Considering the last time he had gotten in trouble with the law nearly ended with him being sold to a brothel in Gondor, serving a prison sentence or losing his job wasn't altogether too bad. "All right. And what about Lord Motvari? What's being done about him?"

"The Office of Investigations has raided his home and businesses and have found evidence after evidence of his crimes. Most of his family and allies have been arrested along the Dwarrow himself, and all of his personal property has been seized by the Ministry of Stone. Proof of Lord Eikar's murder has been found in his possession, and now Eikar's family and allies are out for blood," the Dwarf listed, shaking his head in blatant disgust. "All in all I think it's safe to say that Motvari has been brought down for good."

"What will happen to him? Will he be sent to prison? Or executed?" wondered Bilbo.

"At the moment, he's most likely to go to prison," Óin said slowly, rubbing the bottom of his beard in thought. "But if proof is found connecting him to Kíli's poisoning—and considering how things are going now, I'd say it's very likely to happen— then there will be no stopping Thorin from executing him. Plotting against the Royal Family is treason and is only ever answered in blood."

Bilbo couldn't help but flinch. Though he knew Motvari had brought his fate upon himself with his unethical actions, he still couldn't help but feel bad that the Dwarf was facing a possible death sentence. Seeing people die never sat right with him no matter how many times he faced it in his life "What about his family? Will they be killed?" he asked quietly.

"His wife and youngest son will likely be spared, but his eldest son and Motvari's two brothers will probably end up in prison," Óin admitted reluctantly. "There's just too much evidence against them."

"How sad. A whole family ruined, and for what? Money? Power?" Bilbo shook his head. "How pointless."

"Mmm." Óin reached over and took the cup from Bilbo's hand to refill it. "You know, Kíli told us all that he recruited you to help him in his gardening project. But he says he didn't expect you to go quite so far for him." Óin handed the cup back to the Hobbit with a smirk. "I think you both impressed and scared him."

"I'm not surprised," he admitted, recalling how young Prince Kíli was. "So does this mean you all will help him now with his planting dream?"

"After seeing how serious he is about it? Of course. Fíli has already started recruiting farmers from Dale and Glóin is looking into funding. Even Dís has started ordering pots of soil to be brought over from Mirkwood."

Bilbo nodded and took a sip of his water. "That's good to hear. I know he wanted to do this all on his own, but this is really something that requires multiple people."

"I think he realized that. He grumbled about it at first, but after his father pointed out that he was still in charge of it all, he calmed down," revealed Óin, rolling his eyes.

Bilbo snickered. "By the way, where am I?" he asked, scanning the bare but still richly made room he was in. It was made out a strange beige stone with white streaks running through it and glimmering gold spots. It held only the large bed he was in, a bedside table, a desk, and the chair Óin sat in; all of which were made out of silver and the same brown and gold marble. The only highlight to the boring room was the small balcony across from him that was left open so he could see the neighboring buildings outside.

Óin sighed, and gave him a look that said he was seriously rethinking Bilbo's intelligence. "You're in my home, lad. The guards brought you here after you passed out on Kíli. Where else would you have gone?"

He was thinking prison but knew better than to voice that thought. "Oh. Will I be here long?"

"You will be here for however long it takes for your head wound to heal, brat," said the healer, narrowing his blue eyes.

"But I want to go back to Dori's house!" he whined, reaching out to tug on Óin's sleeve.

"Then you best get better so you can leave," retorted the Dwarf in a mockingly sweet voice.

Bilbo pouted and tried his best not to throw his water at the smirking Dwarf's face. It would be a waste of perfectly good water. "Ugh! Dori is probably so worried and angry right now," he grumbled. "I need to apologize to him as soon as possible."

"I'm sure Dori is just happy that you're safe," pointed out the holder healers.

He disagreed. "I recruited his brother into a conspiracy, got him to break into a noble's house, and then got him arrested," he listed with his free hand, giving Óin a look. "I think he's gonna be pretty angry."

"He works in the guilds. I'm sure he's seen worse," deadpanned Óin, rising to his feet. "Get some more rest for now. I'll come back to check up on you in a few hours."

Bilbo made a face at the orders, but still set down his cut of water, and sunk down into the plush bed beneath him. "Fine. But only because my head still hurts," he said just to keep face.

Óin just arched a brow that told him the old healer saw right through him. "Of course."

Bilbo spent the rest of the day and most of the next in bed being fussed over by Óin and his servants. Apparently he had been unconscious for half a day, and it wasn't until the following evening that Óin even consented to letting him leave. He wasn't allowed to return to work until the investigation with Lord Motvari was over though so he had no choice but to return to the 'Ri home. However, much to his surprise, he wasn't allowed to leave alone.

"Who—Dwalin? What are you doing here?" he asked, staring up at the familiar guard dressed in the blue and gold armor of the Royal Guard. For the first time he noticed that Dwalin's armor was more elaborately made than the normal uniforms, and that he hosted a series of Khuzdûl painted across the shoulder pads and down the lines of his arms to his wrists.

"He's here to escort you home," answered Óin before Dwalin could even open his mouth.

"Why? I know how to get back to the Tin District by myself," he defended, glancing at his boss before looking back at the guard standing straight and proud with his arms crossed behind him.

"I'm not here to keep you from getting lost," replied Dwalin, the corner of his lips twitching as if he was trying to resist the urge to laugh or smile. "I'm here to make sure nothing happens to you until Motvari is handled."

Bilbo wrinkled his nose. "Why would anyone come after me? Has word got out that I'm the one who blew the whistle on his schemes?"

"Not officially, but there were a good deal of Dwarrows around you when you delivered the ledger to Kíli that night. Enough to spread word of your actions through the kingdom," Óin admitted, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Which is why I will be watching over you until this whole shit storm passes," Dwalin added, grinning down at the Hobbit with all his teeth exposed.

Bilbo wasn't feeling very intimidated or impressed. "Fine. But try to behave yourself or Dori might end up breaking your face."

"It would probably be an improvement," commented Óin, smirking up at his cousin.

Dwalin narrowed his dark eyes. "Even missing half my face, I would still be better looking than you any day," he growled before looking back to Bilbo. "If you're ready, we should leave now. I would like to get a scope of the building and your companions."

Bilbo nodded and, after thanking Óin for all he had done, followed Dwalin out of the Emerald District. It was a silent journey between the two of them as they slowly walked down to the lower levels. Bilbo was still feeling a bit fatigued and too sore to bother making small talk and Dwalin seemed content with the silence for the most part. It wasn't until they were nearly to the 'Ri home that Dwalin even attempted to start a conversation.

"It was a very brave thing you did taking on Motvari," he said mildly, staring straight ahead.

Bilbo glanced up at the guard in surprise. "Really? You don't think it was foolish?"

"Of course I do. It was the stupidest fucking thing you could have done," Dwalin said bluntly, making the Hobbit turn red in shame and embarrassment. "However, just because it was dumb doesn't mean it wasn't brave. I was there when your friends told us the story. You wanted to stop Motvari because it wasn't right that he killed Eikar and was getting away with it. You wanted to do the right thing even though it could get you killed. Hence why I said it was brave."

"Oh. Then, thank you, I suppose," he said awkwardly, looking down at his bare feet as he trudged along. "I don't think what I did was very brave though. I mean, I got my friends in a lot of trouble that is probably going to follow them for a good while now. It wasn't very brave of me to drag them into my schemes."

"They had the option of saying no. You didn't force them to help you," pointed out Dwalin, calmly. "So stop with the guilty martyr act. I have no patience for such nonsense."

"My feelings are not nonsense," he grumbled, throwing a glare up at the guard from under his brows. "By the way, why were you chosen to escort me home? Shouldn't such a task be left to one of your minions?"

Dwalin snorted. "I volunteered for the job," he answered, turning to give Bilbo a small smirk. "Plus, Thorin didn't want just anyone for the job. He wanted to be sure you would be safe from all harm. Hence why I came instead of one of my 'minions'."

Bilbo made a face at the Dwarf at the mention of Thorin. "Ugh. I still can't believe he lied to me about being the king. Who does something like that? Was he trying to trick me or something?"

Dwalin hummed and rubbed his jaw in thought. "From what he's told me, he originally did it because he didn't trust leaving Kíli's care in your hands," he said slowly, tilting his head to the side slightly. "You were a stranger at the time, and Thorin is, as you know, very protective of his family and the princes in particular. Hence why he decided to follow you around that day in the palace."

"And after? Why didn't he tell me the truth when he saw me again?" Bilbo pushed, refusing to allow himself to be swayed by Dwalin's logical answer.

The guard shrugged his massive shoulders. "That I can't say. I didn't even know you two had met again let alone a third time," he admitted, giving Bilbo a sympathetic look. "Sorry, lad, but you'll have to ask Thorin yourself."

"As if I want to see him again, the lying little flea," he muttered, scowling down at his feet.

Dwain, wisely, said nothing more.

"Bilbo!"

Bilbo squeaked as he was swept up into a hug the moment he stepped through the door of the 'Ri home. "Dori! You're squeezing me too hard!" he gasped into the rock hard chest of his captor.

"Good. You deserve it for scaring me," Dori said viciously, squeezing him even tighter in response to his complaint. "Honestly, challenging Lord Motvari, are you insane? Who does something like that?!"

"Um, me?" he answered, peering up at the Dwarf with a lopsided smile. "I'm sorry, Dori. I got Nori arrested again and troubled you with my problems. I'm so sorry!"

"Apology accepted. Honestly, I'm just happy to see you're all right," admitted the weaver, giving Bilbo one more squeeze before looking over to Dwalin, who lingered by the door.

"Who are you?" he asked, arching a silver brow.

"Dwalin son of Fundin and Captain of the Royal Guards," the Dwarf introduced with a bow, and Bilbo felt Dori turn to stone around him. "I have been given the duty of seeing to Master Baggin's protection until his trial."

"I see. I am Dori son of Rikka, and while I'm grateful to you for escorting Bilbo home, I'm afraid your services are no longer needed," Dori said, voice on the edge of being icy. "Please leave."

Dwalin nodded and gave another short bow. "As you wish. I will stand guard outside. Good day."

Bilbo scowled up at the weaver. "Dori."

Dori pursued his lips before letting out a loud huff. "Fine. Master Dwalin, please sit down and join us for dinner," he said, finally releasing Bilbo to look over him in one swift glance. "What are you wearing?"

"Huh? Oh, it's from Óin. Some spare clothes he had from when his nephew stayed over," he explained, looking down at himself and holding out his arms. He worse a rather baggy ensemble of a tunic, a red coat, and black trousers that he had to keep pulling up. "Apparently he outgrew it all years ago, but it fits me for the most part."

"I see. I'll be sure to wash them with extra care then," Dori commented before steering Bilbo over to the nearby table. "Sit down now over here and rest. Don't think I didn't notice that bandage around your head."

"It's fine. Óin already saw to it," he protested, reaching up to run his fingers over the bandage. He looked over to Dwalin who was trying to become one with the wall, and rolled his eyes.

"You can sit down too you know," he told the guard, catching Dori's attention as well.

Dwalin sniffed and raised his head higher. "I'm on duty, lad. It wouldn't be right for me to relax as such."

"So you plan to stand there all night like a statue are you?" said Dori, dubiously as he placed a hand on his hip.

Dwalin simply kept staring straight ahead. "If I must."

Dori and Bilbo shared a look before they both acted. Dori marched over to the younger Dwarf and snagged him by his arm and dragged him over to the chair that Bilbo pushed out for him. He forced Dwalin into the chair in a clang of armor, pushed it in properly with a nod, and then marched into the kitchen to continue preparing dinner.

Dwalin stared after him with his mouth open and his dark eyes wide. "How—! How is he so strong?!"

Bilbo shrugged as he tried not to laugh at the guard's pole axed look. "I don't know, but apparently Dori has always had a good grip on him. That's what his brothers say."

"I think he's stronger than me," Dwalin said, looking down at the arm Dori had dragged after him and clenching his hand a few times. "Amazing."

I wonder if this is the first time Dori has ever met his younger half-brother, he wondered as he watched the two, and somehow the thought made him feel a bit sad. Though he had no siblings of his own, he knew that it wasn't right for them to grow up without knowing about one another. It was even worse for Dwalin and Dori because he knew how much Dori dotted and adored his little brothers. There was no way he wouldn't do the same for Dwalin if given the chance.

"Do you like lamb, Master Dwalin?" Dori called suddenly from the kitchen.

Dwalin blinked a few times before slowly nodding. "Yes?"

"Good. Then get over here and help me prepare it for dinner," Dori ordered, dicing carrots up in quick, sharp strokes. "And take off that armor while you are in my house. I do not want to listen to you clang about. This isn't a smithy."

Then again, he could also boss him around like he does with Nori, Bilbo quickly corrected to himself, and then covered his mouth as his restraint broke and the laughter came tumbling out.

Nori and Ori were, naturally, happy to see that Bilbo had returned safe and relatively unharmed. Nori in particular was relieved having worried that he had seriously injured Bilbo when pushing him out of the window even though Óin had reassured him that wasn't the case. They were a bit hesitant about Dwalin staying the night but, once they saw how Dori treated him, eased up enough to start teasing him about his babysitting Bilbo. Bilbo estimated it would only take another day before Dwalin finally broke and started teasing them back.

The night went on without much of a hitch until it was time for bed. That was when Dwalin approached Bilbo and whispered six words he had been secretly dreading since he woke up in Óin's home: Thorin wanted to speak to him.

"I don't suppose you could tell him to go away for me?" he mused, looking up at the Dwarf.

Dwalin snorted. "I could, but then he would probably order me to carry you out to him. Less embarrassing for us all if you just deal with him now. And if it helps, Dís says you have permission to hit him once for lying."

It didn't help, actually, but Bilbo didn't expect it to. With great reluctance he dragged himself out of his seat and away from his evening tea, and stalked off for the front door. Dwalin followed him and stood back a respectable distance while the Hobbit slowly marched up to the hooded figure lurking on the other side of the street. As he grew closer, a pale hand reached out to push back the dark green hood to reveal Thorin.

"Bilbo," he said, face tense and grave as if he was about to march off for war. He had his wild hair pulled back in a tight braid with his two signature braids still framing his face. He didn't look like a king; he just looked like Thorin.

"I'm glad to see you. We have much to speak of."

"No, I think we spent enough time together in this life; we're done now," Bilbo declared calmly, and then pulled back and delivered a solid punch across Thorin's face. His hand immediately erupted in pain and he heard Dwalin give out a choked laugh from somewhere behind him. He ignored both the pain and the noise, and focused solely on Thorin, who had simply received the blow without any reaction.

"I deserved that," the Dwarf acknowledged, reaching up and rubbing his cheek with one hand. "Is it my turn now? Can I explain my reasons?"

Bilbo felt his anger—a boiling pot that he had been doing his best to ignore—finally erupt and overflow. "Explain? What is there to explain? You lied to me!" he accused harshly, narrowing his eyes.

"I did," Thorin admitted calmly, much to his ire.

"Why? Why didn't you tell me who you were?" Bilbo demanded, stalking closer to poke the bastard in the chest.

Thorin endured it with a knowing look. "I didn't tell you because I knew you would get angry and punch me," he said, patting his wounded cheek with one finger. "Which you did. Hard."

Bilbo let out a strangled shriek. "Are you kidding me?!" he hissed, curling his hands into tight fists to keep from smacking the fool again. "That's why you didn't tell me the truth? Because you were afraid I would punch you?!"

"You sound skeptic."

"I am skeptic!"

"Look, does the reason really matter? I am sorry I deceived you about my identity. I'm sorry I pretended to be someone I'm not. Now will you please accept my apology?" Thorin said, sounding as unapologetic as possible.

It made him yearn to punch the bastard in the face again, and it took all his self-control not to lash out. Only the knowledge that a second hit wouldn't be tolerated by Dwalin kept him from acting. "No. Goodbye," he declared rigidly, turning around and beginning to march away.

Thorin stopped him by grabbing his elbow and swinging him around. "Damnit, Bilbo, why are you so angry? It was only one lie!" the Dwarf growled, a hint of temper finally showing.

The Hobbit jerked his arm out of Thorin's hold. "I'm angry because I thought you were my friend!" he shouted, and stopped short as his words registered with him. Thorin went still and silent as well; blue eyes growing wide in his pale face.

"I thought you were my friend," he repeated, and it finally hit him that he really did believe that. Thorin was not as close to him as the 'Ri brothers or the 'Ur family or even Óin, but it had been getting there. He liked Thorin; had enjoyed speaking with him and arguing and smacking him whenever he did something stupid. He had thought of him as a friend, had trusted him with stories of his family—something he didn't even trust Nori with yet. But with Thorin it had been... different. Everything with him was different, and though Bilbo didn't understand it all, he had thought that maybe, just maybe, Thorin felt the same way.

Apparently, he thought wrong.

"I thought you were my friend," he said again for the third time, and this time he sounded tired. "I thought you trusted me. I thought that I had proved myself worthy of your trust after I helped your prince."

Bilbo let out a broken laugh and gave the king a fake smile. "I guess I was wrong, huh?"

Thorin said nothing. He simply stood there with his lips pursued into a straight line and his hands clenched into fists. Bilbo couldn't begin to read what was going on with the Dwarf no matter how hard he stared at his face. But then, he had never been very good at reading Thorin. Perhaps if he was he would've seen the Dwarf was playing him for a fool since the start.

"I'm going back to bed now," he decided, rubbing his face with one hand. He felt so drained and tired of everything. All his problems, all his goals, his entire life just seemed to be a big mess, and he was so tired of it all. "I'm exhausted and my head still hurts. Please return to the palace safely. Goodnight, Your Majesty."

He turned around and began to walk away but only made it five steps before Thorin's voice rang out behind him. "You're the only one who looks me in the eye."

Bilbo paused, turned around, and stared at the Dwarf. "What?"

"I said, you're the only one who looks me in the eye. Outside of my family, I mean," Thorin clarified, a blush beginning to creep up his neck. "No one else has ever done that. No one else stands up to me and speaks their mind. No one else has ever treated me the way that you do. It is... refreshing. I didn't want it to change so I just... didn't say anything."

Bilbo couldn't believe what he was hearing. "You're so stupid. You must know by now that I don't care about your title," he said, bracing his hands on his hips. "For Eru's sake, I lived with Lord Elrond for most of my life. Titles mean nothing to someone like me."

"I know that now," Thorin admitted, the blush starting the stain his cheeks a faint pink that brought out the blue of his eyes. "But in the beginning I didn't, and after I suppose I just... forgot who I was. You have a way of making me feel... relaxed. Comfortable, even, like I've known you my whole life. When I'm around you I never feel the need to act like a king or a guard or anything else. I can just be myself and that's... enough."

"So... you didn't lie to me because you thought it was funny?" the healer said slowly, trying to understand the Dwarf's thinking. "Nor was it out of mistrust. You lied to me because... you like how you feel around me?"

Thorin's blush began to migrate to the tips of his round ears. "You don't have to phrase it quite like that," he mumbled, looking away and awkwardly scratching at his nose. He looked surprisingly younger with his face pink and his actions uncertain. It made Bilbo's stomach twist in on itself to see.

He had never felt so torn before. Was he supposed to laugh or scream? Because Thorin's reasoning—as childish and naive as it was—made sense to him. Bilbo didn't care about titles or social classes and for Thorin—who had spent his whole life being known first as a prince and king and second as Thorin—he probably found this type of philosophy refreshing. So it was no surprise, really, that he would try to cling to this feeling that Bilbo offered. However, that didn't change the fact that Thorin had lied to him, and would have continued to do so for however long he could get away with it. And Bilbo could overlook a lot of things but that? That was not one of them.

"Our relationship started on a lie. Every moment after was built on something that wasn't true. Knowing that you could do that... I don't know if I can trust you now," he admitted quietly, watching the king carefully.

Thorin scowled deeply, and pulled his shoulders back so that he stood tall and straight again. "Then I will simply have to prove to you otherwise," he declared, reaching under his cloak and pulling out a package wrapped in a dark blue cloth.

"What?"

"I'm going to win back your trust, Bilbo Baggins. Because you are my friend and I don't want to lose you," the Dwarf explained as he held out the package to the Hobbit. "Let me start by giving you this. It's a gift I meant to give you on our next visit. Obviously that didn't go as planned so instead I offer it to you now as an apology, and a request for a chance at forgiveness."

Bilbo stared at it for a moment before slowly moving closer and taking it from the king. He untied the blue silk cloth and unwrapped it until he found a thick, leather bound book inside. The leather was dyed a dark red and it looked newly bound. "What is this?" he asked, looking for a title and finding none.

"A book on the history of Erebor," answered the Dwarf, crossing his arms behind his back. "I translated it into Westron for you."

Bilbo raised his brows until they met his hairline. "Why?"

Thorin arched one of his own dark brows. "Don't you remember? You told me that you wanted to know more about Erebor but could not as there are no books in Westron for you to read," he reminded, nodding to the gift in his hands. "So I made you one. Now you can learn the kingdom's history without having to harass the people around you for stories."

Bilbo did remember, actually, but he hadn't expected Thorin to as well. And for him to take the time to actually look for a book and then translate it personally just for Bilbo to read...

It was a gift beyond words.

What am I supposed to say to this? he wondered, staring down at the large tome. He felt... odd in a way he had never felt before. His stomach was twisting up into a giant knot and his heart felt like it was going to leap out of his chest the way it was beating so fast. He felt like smiling and crying at the same time, and what the hell was that about because that made no sense at all—

His contemplation was interrupted by Thorin's awkward cough. "I know it's not much of a gift—" the Dwarf began to say, and Bilbo's head snapped up in alarm.

"It is! It's the best gift I've ever received!" he interrupted, nearly yelling in his haste to reassure the color confused Dwarf. He felt his own cheeks begin to burn as Thorin drew back in surprise, and Dwalin began to cackle again in the background. Ignoring it all, he continued on; tripping over his words like a child learning to walk.

"No one... no one has ever given me a book before. Hell, no one has ever given me a present before," he confessed, hugging the heavy tome to his chest tightly. "I've always... Hobbits don't have a lot when it comes to material things. The only time I ever got something was because I needed it like food and clothes. I never... I have books because I got them for myself. I used to... I still steal them because I'm too poor to buy them. So this... this is my first present and the first book that I never... never had to steal."

Bilbo looked up and gave the wide-eyed Dwarf a half smile. "Thank you for this gift. It is... I have no words to describe how grateful I am right now. I think... I think I might even cry from how happy I feel, and isn't that strange?"

Thorin stared at him and slowly said, "I think... your reaction is normal and understandable in these circumstances. I also think... I will have to find you more books in the future. To discourage this thieving habit of yours."

The healer laughed softly and ducked his head. "I'm still mad at you for lying to me," he admitted. "Don't think that's going to change overnight. It's going to take me some time to get over this."

"As your anger is quite justified, I expected nothing else," admitted the Dwarf with a small grin. "I don't mind you being angry at me, Bilbo, as long as you don't cut me out of your life."

"Even if it takes me months to forget?" he challenged, peeking up at the king through his curls.

"Even if it takes you years," retorted Thorin, his grin growing. "But for now I think I should take my leave. Dwalin is giving me an ugly look and I'm sure my guards are anxiously waiting for my return."

"I still can't believe you're the king," Bilbo admitted, shaking his head in wonder at it all. "I mean, you didn't even know about nickel poisoning. How can someone like that rule an entire kingdom?"

Thorin sniffed and raised his pointy nose high. "I'm not going to argue with you about this because it would only bring me down to your level," he said magnanimously before giving an elegant bow only one with blue blood could pull off so effortlessly. "Goodnight, Bilbo. Sleep well."

Bilbo rolled his eyes and turned on his heel and began to walk back to the 'Ri home. "Goodnight, Corin," he called over his shoulder, and then grinned as Thorin sputtered behind him and Dwalin began to cackle again.

Next up: Motvari's fate is decided, Kíli makes another appearance, Bilbo finally finds the Blue Iron, remembers that nothing in this world is ever free, and meets Bard's mummy. We also FINALLY come to the last main plot for this arc, thank God, because I was driving myself crazy over it. See you all then!

Silver pup