WARNING/S: Implied depression, crack-ish

A/N: Classes just started up again so my updates might slow down a bit. But my muse is still here so it'll be good for few more chapters.

Skywolf42: Thank you for that info about archery! My noob-iness is showing. I actually did some research after I read your comment and wow, yeah, those will be some painful bruises. I already edited the last chapter to address it. Thanks again! ^_^

twenty5th_night: Oh! The two dwarves in that chapter is Dwalin and Thorin. Thorin just ordered Dwalin to follow Bilbo and Elrond, and didn't follow them himself. So, it was just Dwalin who eavesdropped. ^_^

Thank you so much for all the comments, favorites (300+!), follows (400+!), kudos (FREAKING 1300) and bookmarks (300+, WTF)! Thank you for all the people that corrected any errors in the last chapter! And for some of the comments, thanks to you, I have an idea on what to do about Smaug (if I ever reach those chapters)!

DISCLAIMER: Is anything ever truly ours? Isn't ownership just an illusion such that we can categorize what we have that others don't and vice versa? *continues spouting philosophical and theological BS for an hour* . . . therefore I conclude that I don't own The Hobbit. No one owns it but the universe itself.

Italicized "Blah" = Khuzdul

Enjoy~

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"He should be showing visible symptoms now had he been afflicted with some mortal sickness."

Dwalin paused in shoveling gruel in his mouth. He followed Balin's gaze to the hobbit practicing his swings meters away. He continued eating even as he replied, "Yeah, 'e should be. The trainin' he's goin' through is not for the faint of heart."

"Oin had deemed him fit and healthy," Thorin said, expertly polishing Orcrist with a worn-out rag. "A bit underweight but that is by dwarvish standards. Unless halfling physiology differs vastly from a dwarf's, I would say that he is not sick at all."

"Then how would ye explain his conversation with the elf?" Dwalin asked.

"Perhaps you've misheard?" Balin offered. "Or missed something of importance?"

Dwalin grunted and shook his head. "I've not misheard anythin'. And why else would the tree-shagger insist on making the burglar stay?"

Thorin made a sound of irritation. "Then we ask Master Baggins ourselves. Elrond had said whatever afflicts the halfling affects our quest."

"And you believe him?" Balin looked doubtful.

"Not fully." The dwarf king lifted his sword, inspecting it for any faults or chips. "But if there's even a possibility that the burglar would hinder our mission, I'm not going to risk it."

Dwalin snorted, swallowing the last of his food. "Go on then. Confront 'im." He swept a hand towards the general direction of the said hobbit.

Thorin cocked an unimpressed brow. "Don't be foolish, Dwalin. He's as tight-lipped as Fili and Kili on one of their pranks. I doubt I'll get anything substantial when his guard is up."

Disbelief colored Balin's and Dwalin's faces. "He is?" Master Baggins had not exactly been chatty at times but he certainly shared a fair amount of stories of his own.

"Aye," Sharp blue eyes glanced at the hobbit. "He can barely lie but he's so good at twisting words that you wouldn't suspect anything amiss. When he doesn't want to talk about something, he evades ever so subtly and gradually changes the subject. He stutters but I think it's more from nerves than actual loss of words. He can certainly be eloquent when he wants to be." Thorin shot Balin a look of amusement mixed with the faintest trace of admiration. "A silver-tongued wordsmith that even you would be proud of."

Dwalin's eyebrows practically flew to his hairline. Balin mirrored the gesture. "And you know this how? I've never even seen you talk to him."

Thorin rolled his eyes, finally sheathing his sword. "I listen. I observe. As a good king would."

Dwalin took a long gulp from his wineskin before muttering, "I think when it comes to the burglar, ye observe too much."

"What was that?" Thorin frowned at his friend.

"Nothin'." Dwalin said with a faux innocent grin. Then, he caught the questioning stare the burglar directed at their group. But when the hobbit saw the dwarf staring back, he turned away and went back to practicing. "Ah, shite. We need to discuss this one later. I forgot that it's my turn to babysit him."

Then, an idea sparked in the dwarf's mind. He elbowed Thorin. "Why don't ye do it?"

"What?" the leader of the Company looked at Dwalin as if he just implied he was an orc.

Dwalin, in turn, merely shrugged. "Yer a good teacher. Fili and Kili can attest to that. Master Baggins can certainly learn a thing or two from ye."

"Do not think I'm unaware of what you're planning," Thorin said, pointing an accusing finger towards the other dwarf. "If you're too lazy to—"

"I ain't planning anything," Dwalin replied with all the innocence of a convicted thief. "It's just, everybody has already lent a hand in his trainin'. Surely as the leader, ye must set an example?" he challenged. "Shouldn't let the subjects do all the work."

Thorin stared blankly at his friend for several moments. Then, he sighed, half-resigned, half-irritated. He stood up and looked down on Dwalin with narrowed eyes. "I'm going because you've probably been teaching him techniques that could get him and the whole Company killed." Which was another way of sulkily saying, "I'm going but not because you told me to."

Dwalin grinned. Just imply and/or mention duty and Thorin would likely comply. "I'm sure that's it," he said in a tone that belied otherwise.

Thorin huffed in one last act of defiance. Then, he set his shoulders and marched towards the hobbit with a determined expression.

Balin sent an inquiring look to his brother. Dwalin merely continued grinning.

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"You make too many unnecessary movements."

Bilbo had been practicing his swings, waiting for Dwalin to finish his meal so they could begin their usual drills. Instead, he found himself blinking nonplussed at Thorin, blade midway through a particularly harsh strike. The leader of the Company crossed his arms, staring expectantly.

The hobbit turned to his sword then to Thorin. Then, back at his sword once more. He waved the weapon like one would wave a flagpole, moving as little limbs as possible. The whole scene probably looked ridiculous. He stared at Thorin with a deadpan expression.

Thorin glowered at Bilbo, knowing the halfling was being difficult. Bilbo shrugged nonchalantly in response. The dwarf blew out a sigh of frustration before he stomped towards the hobbit.

"Show me your swing."

Bilbo sighed but raised his hands to do just that. He cursed Dwalin in his head for passing the responsibility of his training to one dwarven king. If he didn't want to teach the hobbit, he should have just said so! Bilbo was more than happy to take a break.

"Stop," Thorin ordered just as Bilbo started his downward strike.

He pushed Bilbo's elbows in, shifted his shoulders, and twisted his hips. The touches left lingering impressions upon the hobbit's skin, tiny pinpricks running under his flesh. He wasn't used on receiving casual touches from this certain dwarf.

But would you want to? and You weren't nearly this conscious with Mister Dwalin simultaneously sounded in his mind.

Bilbo blinked in bewilderment but before he could ponder further on it, Thorin gruffed out a "Go," and broke him away from his musings.

The hobbit complied and attacked. "Again." Thorin corrected Bilbo's stance once more, hoping to input it in the hobbit's muscle memory. "Don't move your shoulders. Twist your whole torso. Use the momentum as your hips rotate."

Bilbo tried to follow the instructions, he really did.While the words might had meaning separately, they were strung together in a manner that made no sense to him. After repeating the same words several times, Thorin seemed to realize this. The dwarf drew out his own sword and for a moment, Bilbo thought he was going to get killed because of his incompetence. His possible last thought was Fili and Kili are going to be so sad it was their uncle that offed me.

However, Thorin merely took a stance, holding his own elven sword with both hands. "Watch." And the wind whistled sharply as Thorin demonstrated a swift and powerful side-swing attack. His sword actually blurred before Bilbo's eyes.

Impressed, the hobbit tried to imitate the move. Unfortunately, all he could do was a pitiful mimicry. Thorin didn't take the opportunity to insult him, however. He simply commented on Bilbo's bearing. Then, he patiently demonstrated the proper swing again; this time, his movements were slower and exaggerated to let Bilbo catch on.

The hobbit frowned in concentration, repeating the swing over and over until he got the hang of it. After a while, he need not worry about his stance or movements as his body automatically positioned itself without conscious thought.

"Very good." Thorin nodded in approval. "You fight more like a tween than a toddler now."

Bilbo cocked an amused brow and said, "And here I thought you were about to pay me a compliment."

"I'm afraid that you have a long way to go before you earn a higher praise." Thorin lifted an unimpressed brow in return.

"What do I have to do? Defeat Smaug? Eradicate an army of orcs? Or maybe I just have to annoy some elves?" Bilbo found himself teasing as he positioned himself for a jab.

Thorin's lips twisted in a smirk and the hobbit immediately dreaded the next words that would come out of the dwarf's mouth. "I didn't know you seek my approval that badly, Master Baggins."

"I-I do not!" Bilbo spluttered, fighting down a blush. He lifted his chin, huffing as he darted the tip of his sword towards empty air and pretending a certain dwarf king was actually standing there. "You'll find, Master Oakenshield, that I care not a whit for what you think of me."

The statement was quite true so Bilbo didn't know why Thorin, curse him, looked wholly unconvinced. The hobbit would have to add 'egocentric' on his sarcastic list of 'Thorin Oakenshield's Finer Qualities', right under 'condescending arse'.

A large warm hand suddenly grabbed Bilbo's wrist before he could do another stab. Bilbo sent a questioning look to Thorin, ignoring the prickly sensation running through his right hand.

"You're done with the swings." Thorin removed his grip on the hobbit and stepped forward until he was directly facing him. He raised his own elven sword, hefting it with one hand. "Let's see if you can apply them to a moving and defending target."

The hobbit stared at him, puzzled. "Mister Dwalin said it's too risky for me to spar with anyone yet."

"And you'll never learn to properly do so if we don't start," the dwarf said bluntly. "Come on then, Master Baggins."

Bilbo sighed again but held his sword with both hands and took a stance. "This is revenge, isn't it? Just because I made you realize the some people's lives don't actually revolve around you, you plan to kill me and make it look like a sparring accident." Fili and Kili would definitely disapprove if Bilbo died that way.

"Too much work. If I wanted you dead, I would rather throw you down the mountains and onto the rocks. Much easier and cleaner for my sword," Thorin deadpanned.

Bilbo goggled at the dwarf. Did he just . . . The hobbit let out a startled laugh. "Careful, Master Oakenshield. I'm starting to think you have a sense of humor."

"You'll find, Master Baggins," Thorin started, getting into an offensive position. "That I care not a whit for what you think of me," he finished, mouth twitching in what could generously be called a smile.

Of course, to have the last word, the dwarf decided to attack before the hobbit could form a proper reply. Bilbo instinctively raised his sword to parry the strike and their swords clashed, producing a shrill metallic sound.

Never moving from his place, Thorin adjusted the bent angle of Bilbo's elbows with his free hand. The new position decreased the stress on Bilbo's wrists and instead distributed it through both arms.

The dwarf pushed his sword forward to test the hobbit's strength and Bilbo was surprised to find his arms barely moved. Huh. Thorin was probably holding back but the hobbit deluded himself into thinking he was improving. Which . . . was actually quite bad since his chances of survival just increased.

Oh dear, perhaps I should stop this before I—His train of thought halted whenThorin nodded and backed away, only to strike in another direction. Bilbo blocked the attack once more and the dwarf did minimal corrections.

The rest of the training went pretty much the same way. Other times, Bilbo came close to maiming Thorin but the dwarf never seemed to be in danger of harming the hobbit himself. Thorin didn't plan to kill him after all.

At the end of the session, Bilbo's heart was pounding out of his ribcage and his muscles were more tender than usual. But he felt very productive indeed.

He grinned at Thorin, wiping the sweat on his forehead with the sleeve of his tunic. "Thank you, Master Oakenshield. It's been quite interesting." The fact that this was perhaps the first time they had been civil with one another for more than a few minutes contributed to that

Thorin cocked a brow, the corner of his lips twitching. "Of course, Master Baggins. Hopefully with a bit more training, you will be less likely to get any of the Company killed."

Bilbo rolled his eyes, sheathing his sword. He faced Thorin, fists on his hips. "'You're welcome' will do, you know."

Thorin smirked but merely walked away without saying another word.

"Insufferable," Bilbo muttered under his breath.

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They didn't become friends, per se.

Thorin was unofficially assigned to train the hobbit once every week. Bilbo admitted that he enjoyed their sessions more than most because of their banter. He was delightfully astonished to find out that Thorin did indeed have a sense of humor and had quite a witty manner of expressing it.

They didn't seek each other's company outside of that but what little interaction they had was more or less amicable. They no longer glared whenever they lock gazes, never outwardly insulted one another, and never created any more friction between them.

Meanwhile, training with other dwarrows continued on as usual. Nori had even given him two of his precious daggers when Bilbo had proven to be a skilled enough thrower. Bilbo learned a few things about fighting with a hammer, mattock and axe. Eventually, the Company decided that he would be better off focusing on sword and daggers and trained him thus.

Bilbo was quite contented with it. He had friends and he had not-quite-friends.

On the good days, he wished they would be locked away in these precious moments for eternity.

On the bad days, well, he wished that he perish before everything inevitably falls apart.

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A/N: Unbeta'ed so all mistakes are because I'm a lazy bum (and also because English ay hindi ang wikang kinagisnan ko ;)).

P.S.: Do you see how excited I am to write BOTFA?

Next up: Far over the Misty Mountains cold . . .

Constructive criticisms are welcomed! Kindly point out any glaring errors!

Have a love-filled day!

~ Vividpast