Bilba stood on the edge of a swift moving river and did her best to hold onto the final threads of her sanity.
Yavanna, but she was exhausted and they'd barely even started. How was she ever going to make it through to the end?
Her mind drifted back to that first trip. It hadn't been nearly so hard then. There had been no trolls yet, no orcs or any particular hardship outside an unexpected summer rainstorm. She'd been on an adventure, not a quest. Off on holiday.
What a silly little girl she'd been.
What a fool.
But, even so, she envied that girl, sometimes. She'd left on a grand adventure, and fallen in love along the way. No thought given to what lay at the end of the road, no fears or worries.
Just her and the Company, and the one she loved. Nothing, and no one else.
Her eyes lit on the river, water sparkling under the late day sun. She remembered this river, or very like it.
Her eyes drifted shut as she thought back to a time when the sun hadn't felt quite so cold, and the sight of a river in the wild had made her think of nothing more than a refreshing place to cool off her legs.
The icy water rushed over her feet and ankles and she relaxed with a sigh of relief. When she'd taken off on his journey, she'd pictured leisurely walks, quiet picnics in lush meadows and sitting around a campfire to watch deer play in the morning mist.
What she'd gotten so far was around six layers of accumulated dirt and sweat, the everpresent smell of pony, and soreness in places she hadn't realized could be sore.
Boots crunched on fallen leaves behind her and she jumped in surprise. Without thinking, she dropped her skirts from where they'd been hiked up around her thighs, and felt the hem soak through immediately. As the water spread, the fabric became heavy and sodden, dragging against her legs and sending a chill through her skin.
Fili came into view and stopped a few feet away, safely on dry land. "You shouldn't wander off alone like that. It's not safe.." He raised an eyebrow at her waterlogged skirts. "That's not going to be comfortable."
Bilba sighed. "I couldn't help it." She straightened, put her hands on her hip and raised her chin. In a voice that was as imperious as she could make it, she said, "a young woman of good breeding does not allow a man who is not her husband to see her bare legs, it's indecent."
There, she thought mentally, that was a fairly good impression of the old biddies in the Shire if she did say so herself.
Fili's second eyebrow joined his first. "Is that so?"
"It is," Bilba agreed. She lifted her chin higher so she could look down on him, and crossed her arms. "You should thank me. If I hadn't heard you coming you'd have been required to marry me. My reputation would have been perfectly ruined."
The second she said it her face lit up at the audacity of her statement. What in the world was she thinking? The wild must have gone and addled her mind. A young woman of good breeding did not let a young man who was not her husband see her legs, but she also certainly didn't...behave so forward with him either. A slight smile here, a second or two of eye contact and, if very daring, perhaps the slightest brush of a hand against theirs but no further than that.
Fili's eyes narrowed, and Bilba's heart sank. Wonderful, she'd gone and offended him. She'd gone too far even for the fabled dwarves. She'd heard them spoken of plenty of times in the Shire, usually in disparaging terms by the older women and with hushed whispers and giggles by the younger. Dwarves were far less restrictive than hobbits, a fact so scandalous to some that even associating with a dwarf could be enough to entirely ruin one's social standing.
"What's going to happen when you go back?"
"I'm sorry?" Bilba asked in confusion. She'd expected a rebuke, not a random question.
"When you go back home," Fili asked. "You can't even show someone your legs? How are they going to react to you running off with a bunch of male dwarves?"
"Oh." To be honest, she hadn't thought of it in the moment. She'd been too excited about seeing the world, and going off on an adventure. She partly blamed Gandalf. An invitation to insanity always seemed less so when it came from a trusted source and friend.
Regardless, though, it didn't excuse the fact that she was an adult and had made the conscious decision to go.
She'd be shunned upon her return.
She'd like to say it bothered her but, in reality, what, really, would change? She'd had no friends to speak of to begin with, and her relatives rarely ever stopped by. Those who did take an interest had their eyes more toward Bag End and her wealth so, in the end, did it matter if she were shunned?
"I'll be fine." She kicked her foot and watched a small wave form and then be quickly swallowed by the river. Nothing left behind to prove it had ever existed to begin with. "I never had many friends to begin with, and I've always been more comfortable surrounded by my books and garden. Nothing will change."
Nothing would change, except the possibility of something changing. That tiny, flickering bit in the back of her mind that never seemed to go away. A single thought, so faint it was nearly a whisper.
Maybe, that small voice would say, maybe today will be different.
Maybe someone would knock on her door.
Maybe she'd get an invitation to tea.
Perhaps she'd get the courage to make eye contact, smile, and start a conversation with someone in the marketplace.
Maybe she'd finally figure out the answer to the question no one else seemed to have.
How does one fit in?
Making friends, getting along with others, knowing the right things to say and do, and never feeling like she'd somehow made a spectacle of herself. Never having to lie in her bed at night going over every stupid, embarrassing thing she'd said or not said, done or not done, should have done, would have done, could have done...probably would have messed up had she tried.
Maybe today would be the day.
Today.
Today will be different.
She wouldn't have to worry about any of that once she got back. She'd be ignored at best, at worst she might end up having to move to Bree.
Perhaps that was for the best.
No hope was better than false hope.
Right?
"Legs, huh?" Fili knelt suddenly and began unlacing his boots.
"What are you doing?" Bilba asked blankly. His only response was a boyish grin as he pulled his boots off, tugged off his socks and proceeded to roll his trousers up to just above his knees. He waded forward into the water, and stopped just a little closer than one would expect between two casual acquaintances.
"So what now?" he asked, casually. "Is my reputation ruined too?"
"Male hobbits show off their legs all the time," Bilba said distractedly, her eyes going to where the water broke around his calves. She'd seen plenty of male legs in her times, but certainly none like his. Dwarves, men and even elves tended to wear long trousers and boots or shoes so she was most familiar with the slender, tanned legs of male hobbits. His were thick, muscled, and covered in fine, golden hair.
Fili cleared his throat and she snapped her eyes back up to his, her face flaming. "Only the males?" he repeated.
Bilba nodded. "And only above the knees."
"So it's actually your knees then that's the problem," Fili said. "Do female hobbits have particularly seductive knees, then? You have to keep them covered or risk seducing half the male population of Middle Earth?"
Bilba laughed in surprise. "I don't know. I'm not an expert on the knees of Middle Earth."
"Too bad I missed seeing them," Fili said mildly. "I would have liked to have seen knees so alluring they could seduce someone on sight alone."
He moved closer as he spoke, and his voice lowered to a deep baritone.
"Too bad," Bilba agreed softly. Her hand moved almost on its own, hesitated, and then continued on its path until she could curl her fingers into the cuff of his sleeve. She idly rubbed the fabric between her fingers, and felt her body sway just a little closer to him.
Loud voices broke out behind her and she leapt back as if burned. Fili let out a sigh of exasperation and moved a few feet away, back to the edge of the river. A second later they were surrounded by most of the rest of the company, pulling their boots and even shirts off to splash into the water.
Bilba carefully waded out from amongst the rowdy dwarves and made her way out of the water. "I'm going to find a spot to change," she told Fili, keeping her head down to hide how badly she was blushing. She'd been mocked for bringing multiple dresses, but it had clearly served her well as it would ensure she didn't have to travel in a soaked dress for the foreseeable future.
Fili was still standing on the bank, arms folded as he watched the antics with a slight smile on his face.
"Make sure you don't show off your knees," he murmured without looking as she passed him.
Bilba couldn't resist the smile that spread across her face, or the way her step lightened to nearly a skip all the way back to the campsite.
Not even the sight of Thorin and his ever present scowl could dampen her mood.
Not that day.
A shadow fell over her, and the memory faded.
Bilba opened her eyes, and Fili was standing directly in front of her.
The last thread broke.
She'd spent years building walls around the hollow left by Ravenhill. There had always been cracks, even breaches over the years, but she'd endured, fortified them again and continued on.
It wasn't until she'd opened her eyes again in Bag End that the walls had turned brittle, and it wasn't until she'd laid eyes on him once more that they'd started to fall.
And it wasn't until that very moment, when his eyes sliced into her soul, that the final wall fell completely.
And, just like that, the wound was open and the truth she'd tried so hard to ignore was pouring. It had always been there, seeping out through cracks, bleeding into her veins, poisoning her sleep and freezing her days.
The truth, that the hollow inside her wasn't so hollow after all.
It was full, always had been full, always would be full, and with one thing and one thing only.
The knowledge of how deeply and irrevocably in love she was with this son of Durin. As much as that first day. As much as the last. Every breath, every beat of her heart cried out with the depth of her love for someone lost to her forever. All that love falling forever into emptiness, a void deeper than the one opened in her soul the moment she'd watched him die.
And he was still lost to her. This wasn't him. Couldn't be him. He had none of the memories, none of the experiences, none of the connection. He was a pale imitation, a specter wearing someone else's clothes, a wraith taunting her with something just out of reach. She could never betray the one she loved by replacing him with a facsimile.
And yet …
She didn't know what he saw in her eyes, but he slid a hand along her cheek and she pressed into it without intending to. Her eyes were closing before he started moving, but she still wasn't surprised when his lips pressed into hers.
Don't do this , her mind cautioned even as she deepened the kiss and pushed her hands back into his hair. His arms slid around her waist and she willingly pushed up on her toes to get closer to him. Don't.
Bree had been stupid, but at least she could explain it. She'd been getting rid of an itch. Proving to herself that he wasn't him . That it could never be what it had been, that she could never get it back. It had been wild, physical , no emotion attached to it. Not real emotion anyway.
It had been nothing like this.
This wasn't Bree.
She couldn't do this.
It wasn't the same.
She wasn't the same.
He wasn't.
She dug her fingers into his biceps and couldn't tell if she was trying to pull him closer or push him away.
Don't .
She needed to focus. There was so much still to change, so much that had already changed. She couldn't get sidetracked with a...a facade . Pretending... this was something it wasn't, something it could never be.
His hand started to trail under the hem of her shirt and, with a start, she jerked back.
Or she tried to at least. He linked his hands behind her back so that she moved but was still caught in the circle of his arms.
She focused on his collarbone, trying to catch her breath, and rested her hands on his arms where they encircled her waist. "Stop," she ordered, the barest hint of desperation lacing her tone. She struggled to think of something, anything to move them away from the cliff she'd been teetering on the edge of. "I'm not sleeping with you in the middle of the wild."
"Hmmm." Fili pulled her closer, gently, and rested his chin on top of her head. "So what you're implying is you'll sleep with me outside the wilderness."
Bilba shook her head, pushed free of his arms and turned her back on him. "Maybe I'll sleep with your brother once we get out of the wild."
She felt him move, faster than she expected, and then his arm was wrapping around her waist and spinning her back to face him again. To her surprise, he crouched enough to wrap his arms around her hips and thighs and lifted her right off the ground. Bilba instinctively put her hands on his shoulders to brace herself, and looked down into his eyes.
"Look me in the eyes and say that," he demanded.
"Why?" Bilba shot back. Yavanna, but she needed to stop touching him. Touching him was bad. It made her want to touch him more, made her realize just how long it had been since anyone had touched her. She'd thought she hadn't missed it.
"Because you can't lie while looking someone in the eyes," Fili shot back. "So look me in the eye and tell me you want to sleep with my brother."
Bilba gaped at him. She'd been raised by her parents to be honest and, even now lying, even a little, was a struggle. She knew that. Dwalin probably knew that, but how in the world did Fili know that?
Suddenly irritated, she shoved at his chest. He set her down and she jumped away as if he were a live coal. "Don't act like you know me just because we slept together once."
"Twice," he corrected.
"What?" Bilba asked. What was he talking about? She'd have remembered if -
"Twice," he repeated. "Remember? A couple hours after the first time you woke up and-"
"I got it," Bilba cut him off. A cold shiver ran over her and she crossed her arms. "Twice," she whispered. She'd slept with him twice the first time too. They'd married at Beorn's so that had been the first time, and then when they'd stopped in Laketown. After that, there weren't any opportunities.
Twice. She shook her head. Don't be an idiot. It didn't mean anything. So she'd slept with him twice last time and twice this time, so what? It was still different...wasn't it? She'd slept with him later the first time, and in separate locations. This time it had been earlier and both times had been on the same night. So it was different.
Her stomach soured and she tightened her arms.
"Are you all right?" Fili took a step closer and she stepped back, almost frantic.
"Don't touch me." It had been different, she told herself firmly. The first time...the first time she'd been in love with him, and he'd been in love with her. This time it had just been about sex, it had only been physical, that was all. "You don't have some claim on me, no matter how many times it was," she shot at him. "I'll sleep with whoever I want."
It wasn't until after she'd said it that she realized she hadn't been looking at him when she said it. She shook her head. She didn't have time for this. She needed to figure out the trolls, and why Azog had shown up early, and why there had been orcs of all things in the Shire and who, or what else might remember and a million other things and she didn't have time for this .
She left, almost running, and she didn't look back, and did her best not to think about the look she'd seen on his face, tried not to name the emotion she'd seen in his eyes.
Damn it all.
Fili let her go.
She'd been fighting with them, mostly him, all day. She wanted them to go home, and wasn't shy about it. She'd insulted him, Kili, their uncle and various ancestors. Most of the curses and insults she'd used were ones he'd heard from Dwalin which, yet again, raised the question of just what their relationship was. He still didn't believe they were lovers, but it was clear there was some sort of established, strong relationship there and he'd very much like to know what it was and how he hadn't known about it.
Dwalin was like a father to him, and he'd have sworn he knew everyone the other dwarf knew. To not know someone like Bilba, who was clearly important to Dwalin, and to have it also appear that his uncle hadn't known either...
He sighed. Every question just seemed to create five more. He'd sought her out to try and offer a truce, but she'd been standing with her eyes closed when he found her and, when she'd opened them to look at him…
In all his life, he didn't think he'd seen someone in that much pain.
Someone that lost.
"Azog killed someone she loved. In front of her."
He hadn't meant to overhear that. He'd just happened to be walking past Dwalin and his uncle as the words were spoken. The words had felt like a key of sorts, unlocking a bit of the young woman who'd occupied his thoughts from the moment he met her.
He didn't know if the person she'd lost was a friend, family member or lover, but it was clear the loss had deeply traumatized her. She was young so it couldn't have happened that long ago, and he hadn't heard of orcs, and certainly not Azog, killing anyone in the Shire so that meant, what? It had happened outside the Shire?
It would explain why she was so adamant that he and Kili go home, though he questioned why she wasn't as concerned about Ori who was just as young.
In any event, she was right about one thing. He shouldn't care as much as he did. Not this early. Not when he'd barely spoken to her, outside of fighting, and only spent a single night with her. Care and concern certainly, the beginnings of a friendship perhaps, but not this. Not a desire to constantly be around her, not a place where he could sense where she was without looking, not an almost physical need to touch her.
What he felt for her went deeper than anything he'd ever felt before and it was only growing day by day. He wasn't like his brother. He didn't give his heart quickly, didn't do casual, and he certainly didn't fall this deeply over anyone. Not this quick. Not ever.
The fact that he was, the fact he had could only mean one thing.
She was, without a doubt, his One.
And she knew it.
He hadn't realized Hobbits had Ones but there was no mistaking her reaction to him, or how hard she was fighting it.
She knew, and the fact she was resisting it, the fact she was simultaneously reaching for him and pushing him away...
A lover then.
She'd lost a lover to Azog, and recently enough that the last thing she wanted was to be faced with another.
That was fine.
He was patient.
He could wait.
Fili shifted his weight, and started back toward where they'd set up a camp to break before heading back.
He would wait, but there was one thing he wouldn't be doing and that was sitting back and watching his One suffer. He remembered the lost look in her eyes when she'd left, and the haunted tone of her voice.
She was drowning, and he'd be damned if she expected him to stand by and watch.