I know... I should totally be working on my other WIPs instead of starting a new story, but I've been promising this one for a while on my tumblr account and I hope this will kickstart me into writing again. I've not abandoned anything, I swear!

Chapter 1- A Disagreeable Ambassador

When Bilbo had been asked to represent the Shire in Erebor, this wasn't at all what he had in mind. Dreams of being an ambassador in the wealthiest and most influential kingdom in all of Middle Earth was quickly dashed by the reality of the situation. He was presented as a suitor for their prince along with twenty other representatives. Bilbo still didn't know if his grandfather knew ahead of time and didn't tell him, or if he had been deceived the same as Bilbo. That the Shire mattered enough to this eastern dwarf kingdom to encourage trade between their lands. Either way, he had been made the fool.

He stood at attention amongst willowy elves, strong dwarves, and youthful men. Males and females amongst all their races as he remained the lone hobbit. It was a jest. He stood no chance of winning the affections of a prince. He was merely there for the propriety of not excluding a member of the free race. It was a waste of his time, and he was certain, a waste of the prince's time. Yet, he remained in line waiting until his name was called to enter the conference room and present his candidacy. He hoped he would at least have time to tour the mountain before they threw him out.

"Bilbo Baggins, Grandson of Gerontius Took, Thain of the Shire." The herald announced.

Bilbo resisted the urge to sigh as he stepped forward. The white-haired advisor who had been leading the others in one at a time raised an eyebrow at Bilbo.

"A hobbit? How unusual."

Bilbo crossed his arms behind his back as he held his head high.

"I believe there is quite a bit about this situation I would label unusual, but I am not one of them." He answered coolly.

The dwarf's eyes widened in surprise, but there was a twinkle to them showing he was not offended by Bilbo's retort. Which was good news for Bilbo. He had a bad habit of letting his mouth run away from him.

"Right this way, Master Baggins." The dwarf instructed bowing, rather unnecessarily, before him. "The prince may ask you a few questions. Just answer honestly. This is not a game of politics, just a dwarf looking for his match."

"Yes, of course." Bilbo answered brusquely as he tugged at his best receiving jacket.

The burgundy clashed beautifully against the pea green of his waistcoat with its golden embroidered vines. His Grandma Laura used to tell him all the time that it was his best outfit for highlighting the Baggins brown in his hair and eyes. While desirable in the Shire, he knew it made him look a bit plain elsewhere in the world. Perfect for getting an eccentric prince to pass over him as husband material.

It was a mere few paces before Bilbo got his first good look at his potential husband to be, and it was almost enough to stop him in his tracks. The dwarf before him stood regal and proud with his flowing ebony locks flashing with silver beads and crown. His nose was straight and long when compared with other dwarves Bilbo had met. Yet, as he got closer, it was his eyes that struck Bilbo dumb. It was as if Aulë captured the sky above and pinned it into those fathomless depths.

"Bilbo Baggins, grandson of Thain Gerontius Took, may I present Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thrain, son of Thror, Prince of Erebor." The older dwarf introduced.

Bilbo blundered through a bow, almost forgetting it entirely in his stupor. Thorin approached him, an appraising hand on his chin as he circled Bilbo. The hobbit was taken aback by the blunt sizing up, but he held his silence as he awaited the prince's verdict.

"Tell me, Master Baggins, why should I pick you as my husband?"

Sweet Yavanna, his voice was just as sinful as his eyes.

"I'm sorry?" He tried to clarify, his tongue feeling clumsy.

Thorin looked seconds away from rolling his eyes as he retook his place in front of Bilbo with his arms crossed.

"I'm asking, what could the Shire offer Erebor out of this union? Flowers or pipeweed?" He mocked.

Bilbo's eyebrows furrowed as heat rose from his chest to pool in his cheeks. He cleared his throat as he fought to maintain control of his voice. Clearly, his earlier musings at the dwarf's beauty were merely surface deep.

"I did not come prepared to make any negotiations on behalf of my homeland, Your Highness."

The dwarf's eyes narrowed as his chin jutted high. "So, you came merely to take advantage of Ereborian hospitality."

"I came on behalf of my Thain after being summoned by your king!" Bilbo snapped, unable to reign himself in any longer.

"Be careful how you speak, Hobbit!" Thorin growled.

"I do apologize, Your Highness, and I certainly mean no disrespect to your grandfather," Bilbo continued, unable to stop the growing tirade. "But this entire farce has been the epitome of wasted time. What can the Shire do for you? How about bellies full of good food because it is clear to me, there isn't rich farmland for miles! The better question is what can Erebor do for us? You may be rich in gold, but we have no need for it out west. I had hoped to at least get a good story out of this venture, but you have done a decent job of dashing that hope! Now we both have known from the moment I walked in that you weren't going to pick me, so let's end this with our dignities still mostly intact."

Bilbo finished with a nod as he tugged on his jacket hem once with finality. It was only then he was aware of Thorin's raised eyebrow and slack-jawed expression. The advisor looked similarly gob smacked, and Bilbo found himself embarrassed for an entirely new reason now.

"Yes, well, thank you for your time, Your Highness." Bilbo mumbled, fumbling through another bow.

Neither dwarf reacted, and Bilbo awkwardly excused himself from the room. Bilbo kept his head down as he passed the entrance where the rest of Thorin's potential suitors still stood, hurrying back to the guest halls. He's had quite enough of dwarven kingdoms, and he figured he was about to be thrown out on his bum. He only wished Gandalf was still around to escort him back home. Oh well, he would wait for him in Dale if he had to, but by Eru's will, he was leaving Erebor tonight!

Once back in his room, Bilbo had to lean against the stone door to fight the jelly sensation traveling up his legs. Did he really just yell at a prince? It didn't matter how they chose to look at his grandfather's position, he certainly did not hold enough power and influence in the world to be able to get away with that. His need became that much greater, and he swiftly threw his belongings in his pack. A few wrinkles here and there was a sacrifice he was willing to make to stay clear of the dungeons.

He had just finished tying the drawstrings when there was a knock on his door. He froze debating on whether or not he should answer. He could fake his absence, but the guards standing at the end of the corridor would know he had not vacated. Cold sweat dripped down the back of his neck as there was another knock. He twisted his hands around each other as he slowly crossed the room and answered with shaking nerves.

"Master Baggins." The advisor from before greeted with a bow.

"Good evening, Master Dwarf." Bilbo nodded in return. "Before you say anything…"

"Balin." The dwarf interrupted with a wide grin.

"Pardon?" Bilbo sighed.

"Balin, son of Fundin, at your service." He introduced. "Might I borrow a moment of your time?"

Bilbo looked around him, more than a little surprised it was only the older dwarf outside his room.

"I'm afraid our Prince is not with me." He explained, trying to guess Bilbo's thoughts.

"No, no! I didn't think...please, come in." Bilbo stepped aside wondering how many ways he could look like an idiot that day.

"Is the room not to your liking?" Balin questioned upon entering.

"It's quite comfortable." Bilbo reassured.

"I only asked because you packed up as if you were hoping to transfer quarters?"

His nose twitched under the older dwarf's knowing stare.

"Yes, about that…"

"I thought you handled yourself well today."

Bilbo's head gave a light thrum as the conversation continued to twist in circles.

"You...do." Bilbo concluded dryly.

"Yes, the bluntness of a dwarf, but still retaining an air of manners. Fine qualities when looking for a consort."

Bilbo replayed that last line over in his head a few times with a sickening realization.

"Master Dwarf…" Bilbo began once he found his voice.

"Balin." The other reminded him gently.

"Master Balin," Bilbo started again. "Prince Thorin isn't putting serious consideration in the idea of...me? Right?"

The soft smile and the twinkling gaze was far from reassuring.

"Our prince would like to extend the invitation of dinner tonight to make amends for your first meeting."

"Why?" Bilbo asked in morbid curiosity.

"He feels you may have gotten the wrong impression…"

"Master Balin." Bilbo interrupted him this time. "You know clearly what I meant."

Balin nodded his head, his grin still wide as if pleased with Bilbo's wit.

"Ask Thorin. Tonight. We will send a runner when it's time. Please, let us know if there is anything we can do to make your stay more comfortable." Balin declared giving a final nod to Bilbo's packed bag.

With that, Bilbo was left alone, and a thought that hadn't quite occurred to him before seeped into his very being, filling him with dread. That damned, arrogant dwarf was actually about to pick him. And for what reason? Spite? Furthermore, if that was the case, he would be stuck here in Erebor. Never again to see his Shire, his beloved Bag End. What started off as a high-spirited adventure to distant lands was quickly morphing into a bleak, stony prison.

His gaze wandered to his pack. How far could he make it before he was caught? Would they even bother or would Thorin just move onto the next suitor in line? The temptation was only subdued by his duty to the Shire. It would reflect poorly if he left without giving the dwarf a second chance. Besides, surely, there was no law that would force him to marry? He heaved a heavy sigh as he unpacked his next best outfit for dinner.

By the time the runner came for him, Bilbo had smoked two pipefuls of Old Toby, changed his clothing three times, and marked a path in the fireplace rug from his pacing. For once in his life, Bilbo's stomach rejected the mere idea of food, and his desire to run was all but reality. Still, his sensibilities and courage took hold, leading him down the hall after the servant, and into the most gorgeous dining room Bilbo had ever seen.

The table was long and stone, like most dwarven furniture, but there was a solid gold inseam that ran like a stripe straight down the middle. Lavish tapestries and weaponry decorated the walls, and right in the center was a massive chandelier that Bilbo was willing to bet was made with real diamonds. It caught the candles within, and bounced the light a hundred different ways making the room practically sunlit in spite of the hour.

Thorin, himself, was dressed in deep blue and dark furs, contrasting against the fireplace at his back at the head of the table. Even without his crown, there could be no doubt that he was a prince, more a king, in his element. The dwarf rose to meet him, and the palpable tension that he carried earlier was gone. His guard was still up though, and Bilbo found that just made him even more unreadable. The prince nodded his head mere paces from him.

"Master Baggins." He greeted, evenly.

"Your Highness." Bilbo returned with probably his most natural bow of the day.

Thorin reached out his hand, and Bilbo hesitantly gave his expecting a handshake only for his ears to burn when Thorin's lips grazed his knuckles. He was staring at Bilbo now, his eyebrows furrowed just slightly as his mouth opened and closed a few times as if unable to decide on his words.

"Your...vest...thing is very nice. It highlights your...feet."

That was quite easily the strangest compliment Bilbo had ever received. He had to glance down to make sure there wasn't something wrong with his appearance.

"Thank you?" He finally offered.

Thorin nodded again, a little relief bleeding into his countenance. He swept his hand out indicating a place setting next to Thorin's own. Bilbo moved towards his seat, pausing as Thorin pulled out his chair for him. His gaze settled on the empty plate before him as he struggled to make sense of the prince's change in behavior. A silence pressed on them both as Bilbo tried to find a polite way to ask after his purpose in being there.

"So…" They both started at the same time.

"No, please you first." Bilbo insisted.

"Please, go ahead." Thorin offered at the same time.

They gave an awkward chuckle before Thorin decided to speak again.

"How are you finding Erebor?"

"The mountain is very lovely." Bilbo answered stiffly. "I must confess, I haven't had much time to explore."

"That...is a shame. I will have to give you a tour soon." Thorin mumbled in response.

"I would hate to impose, Your Highness." Bilbo politely declined.

"It would be no imposition at all. It would be my pleasure."

The prince's face twitched as if trying to smile, but it came across more as a grimace. Bilbo dropped his gaze immediately to his empty plate wishing he could cover up his uncomfortability with food.

"Yes, um. Thank you for the offer, Your Highness. I'll consider it."

Silence fell over them again, and Bilbo realized this would be the perfect time to ask why he was there if it wasn't for the oppressive atmosphere that seemed to swallow sound before it was even attempted. A door on the other side of the room opened, and a servant arrived with a tray and a bottle of wine. Thank Yavanna! Food!

"Excuse me, Your Highness." The rather large dwarf murmured as he placed the bowls before them.

"Thank you, Bombur." Thorin nodded.

The dwarf took out a small spoon to sample Thorin's food which caused Bilbo to blush before doing the same thing with Thorin's wine. Bilbo was curious at the practice, but refrained from questioning it. Must be a dwarf thing. The servant bowed to him after a couple of minutes and left the two in silence again. Court etiquette indicated that he had to wait for the prince to take a bite before Bilbo could tuck in himself, and he could have strangled the dwarf across from him as he played with his soup clearly lost in thought.

"So do you have interests?" Thorin blurted.

Bilbo narrowed his eyes, prepared to deliver a scathing comment about how he was one of the few beings in Middle Earth without interests other than eating food that had been placed before him. However, it wouldn't do to let his mouth run wild and get him in trouble...again...with the same thick-headed dwarf.

"Yes, um, I suppose most the same as any person. I like to read, study maps...food."

Thorin smirked at this before finally taking an accursed bite of his soup. All Bilbo knew was it better be bloody amazing.

"Food is an interest of yours?"

"I'm a hobbit." Bilbo grumbled. "Food is practically our second language. Well...third if you consider flowers."

Finally, Bilbo was able to eat. It was surprisingly good for potato soup although he personally would have added a few more spices.

"Food and flowers." Thorin growled, shaking his head. "It's no wonder hobbits haven't conquered all of Arda."

Bilbo narrowed his eyes. "Yes, we have the good sense to know when enough is enough and not go digging deeper."

Thorin visibly stiffened as anger contorted his face, and Bilbo could have kicked himself. Clearly he struck a rather large and unpleasant nerve with his careless comment. He would apologize if he wasn't still stinging from Thorin's jab. Silence settled over them again, and Bilbo mourned the loss of eating as an excuse as he took his last bite of the lovely soup. Moving on to wine.

"What do you read?" Thorin snarled.

"Pardon?" Bilbo asked bewildered.

"You said you like to read." Thorin reiterated, his expression still thunderous. "What. Do. You. Read?"

"Um...a great many things." Bilbo answered, looking down in his wine glass. "Fairytales, histories, poetry...actually my favorite is Loth. For a non-hobbit the breakdown of the properties and uses of flowers is really quite astounding…"

"That's an Elvish word." Thorin interrupted.

Bilbo frowned at him. "I-Yes?"

The prince leaned back as if in exasperation.

"Your favorite book is Elvish."

"My favorite book is written in Westron, but yes, there is some Sindarin in it." Bilbo returned tersely.

"And let me guess, you're fluent?" Thorin questioned with an eye roll.

"As a matter of fact, I am. Aren't you? You are a prince after all."

"Of dwarrows."

"With elven neighbors."

"With elven allies. There's a difference."

Bilbo huffed out his nose. This certainly wasn't the most uncomfortable dinner he's ever attended. Aunt Camilla's birthday dinner last year would top the list. However, his opinion on the prince of Erebor being an arrogant, self-centered brute was steadily being cemented in his mind. Anyone who would consider willingly marrying the dwarf was either delusional, interested only in wealth, or both. No wonder they needed to arrange a marriage.

"The main course!" The servant, Bombur, announced.

Bilbo hadn't even seen him come in, and clearly Thorin didn't either if his startled expression was anything to go by. He nodded to the larger dwarf as he busied himself with placing the rack of lamb and fried potatoes before them. Bilbo smiled at him.

"The soup was delicious. Please give your compliments to the chef."

The dwarf paused before blushing. "I'm glad you liked it, Master Hobbit. I was worried it was a little bland."

"Oh well, a healthy dose of basil with just a dash of nutmeg does wonders."

"Nutmeg?" The dwarf paused in awe. "In potato soup? Truly?"

"It is always the surprising flavors that really make a dish 'pop'." Bilbo winked.

"I never would have thought of it." Bombur mused with a grin.

A throat clearing reminded Bilbo and Bombur of the other occupant. The servant quickly did the tasting thing again before gathering their soup dishes and returning to the kitchen. Thorin and Bilbo lapsed back into silence. Bilbo tapped his fork unconsciously against his plate. He had to admit, that was a bit rude. No matter how much of a bore the prince was, Bilbo shouldn't exclude him from a conversation. Come to think of it, Thorin had been providing all the topics for their dinner tonight. Unsuccessfully, but still he had made the effort.

"And what interests you, Your Highness?" Bilbo finally asked quickly, following it with a bite of lamb.

Thorin seemed surprised by the question as he paused in chewing before chasing the bite down with a bit of wine.

"I suppose the same as anyone. Reading, studying maps..." He mocked.

Bilbo may have stabbed his lamb harder than necessary.

"Although…" The prince turned rather pensive. "Most assume I like the battle arts, and I'm good at it, but it's more like a job than a craft. I really enjoy smithing. Though I hardly have time for it anymore."

Bilbo dropped his utensil in surprise. "You? You're a blacksmith?"

Thorin nodded with his first true grin. He reached back for one of his braids and proceeded to untangle one of the beads hanging from it.

"I'm considered amongst my people to be a 'Master Blacksmith' which just means I no longer need to be apprenticed. I'm working towards mastery at silversmithing now."

He handed the bead over to Bilbo, and the hobbit took it reverently as he rolled it between his fingers investigating the carefully etched ruins. Bilbo felt his irritation melt away in the face of Thorin's passion. He returned the bead to its owner with a smile.

"It's beautiful work. Truly."

Thorin nodded at the praise as his deft fingers recreated the braid and attached the bead in seconds. Bilbo hated to admit it, but the prince really was unfairly attractive. The firelight accenting his strong features, and turning his hair into a silken ink that made Bilbo's fingers itch to touch. The moment was so soft, it seemed the perfect time to ask.

"Prince Thorin?"

The dwarf perked up, and Bilbo realized it was the first time he had used his name all evening. He hoped he wasn't committing another faux pas, but from the look on Thorin's face, it seemed he was okay.

"Why did you choose me?" Bilbo asked softly, feeling heat gather in his cheeks.

He was disappointed when Thorin's face did that weird twitchy grimace again.

"I was...impressed by you. You were the strongest candidate that I felt I could have a...relationship with."

Bilbo's fork slipped from his grasp as his hands began to shake trying to get a grip on his emotions. This whole day. This entire bloody day he's been treated to half-truths and condensation.

"You're lying." He whispered.

"What?" Thorin demanded.

Bilbo turned to give him a hard look as he stood up to his full three and a half feet.

"I said you're lying! You've barely been able to stand five minutes alone with me. Other than the lovely conversation just a moment ago where we were talking about you, you've been stilted like you received bad courting advice that you don't know what to do with. And you've made it apparent since the moment we've met that you don't respect me or my kind! So, I'm going to ask one more time for the truth. Why am I here?"

Thorin's face ranged from burgundy to lavender as the blue flames he called eyes attempted to burn straight through Bilbo from where he stood across the table. Bilbo's eyes flickered for a moment down to the tight grip he had on his knife, and Bilbo felt his dinner trying to come back up at the thought of the silverware embedded in his throat.

"Sit. Down. Halfling."

Even though his voice remained even, Bilbo found himself quickly obeying the prince's command. Bile burned the back of his throat causing his eyes to water slightly. Well, it would definitely be the dungeons for him now. Exile would be a kindness Bilbo wouldn't count on Thorin enacting. The prince heaved a sigh, and when Bilbo glanced over his face was in his hands.

"Was I that obvious?" Thorin finally grumbled.

Bilbo raised an eyebrow giving him a wry look. "You complimented my feet."

Thorin snorted, shaking his head. "Balin is so dead."

Bilbo didn't know whether to take the threat at face value or not, but it certainly didn't alleviate his nerves any.

"Fine, here's what you need to know, Master Baggins." Thorin heaved another great sigh as if physically pained. "I'm next in line for the throne, and I need a Consort to...appease my grandfather. You are neither a bearer nor influential, and my advisor seems to find your short temper desirable."

Bilbo blinked. He's never been so insulted so casually before, and yet he couldn't exactly work up the fire to shout Thorin down in another verbal tirade. Perhaps in a childish attempt to prove he doesn't in fact have a short temper. Which was condescending in the worst of ways.

"And those are the qualities you want as a foundation to marriage?"

Clearly, Bilbo's sarcasm was still doing wonders for him.

"Yes, well I don't exactly have time for anything else."

"Why would that be? If His Majesty summoned ambassadors for the purpose of suitors, he clearly wants you to make an amiable choice."

A little smirk pulled at the corner of the prince's mouth as he gave him a hard stare before he stood from his seat with a flourish.

"You know nothing, Halfling, and I believe I've answered you enough for one night."

Bilbo winced at the tone even as he glared back at the prince.

"I would like to give you that tour though. Tomorrow, if we can. At least before you make your decision one way or another."

"Will you accept my decision? Even if it's not to your liking?" Bilbo asked over his shoulder.

"Of course." Thorin shrugged. "I'm not in the act of slavery."

The door slammed shut behind him, and Bilbo murmured a quiet 'good night' in the empty room. He pinched the bridge of his nose. This was quickly turning into the worst trip of his life.

"Oh!"

Bilbo turned his head to see Bombur standing in the doorway with a couple of blackberry tarts covered in custard.

"Shall I...come back later?" He asked hesitantly.

"I'm afraid the prince is not returning." Bilbo responded coolly. "However, I would be remiss to let good dessert go to waste."

"O-Of course Mister Baggins." The servant bowed his head as he placed the dish before Bilbo.

"And seeing as there is an extra, you might as well join me, Master Bombur." Bilbo indicated the other slice in his hand.

Bombur seemed extremely indecisive at the offer as he glanced around every which way as if considering it a great crime. Perhaps it was.

"I have found food always tastes better in company." Bilbo smiled at the portly dwarf. "So, you would greatly be helping me out, and I would be inclined to mention that to your superiors if they came asking."

At this, the ginger dwarf finally graced Bilbo with a small smile before settling in with the prince's slice of dessert and practically inhaling it. They continued their conversation on spices and foods until Bilbo's headache subsided and his feet felt strong enough to carry him back to his apartment. With both dishes scraped clean, Bilbo stood to excuse himself for the night.

"Master Baggins?" Bombur addressed hesitantly.

"Yes?"

Bombur let a small smile free. "It's not my place, but please be patient with our prince. His heart's in the right place."

Bilbo was a little surprised by Bombur's words. Usually, masters weren't given stellar reviews by their servants, especially as rude as Bilbo had observed Thorin to be. The hobbit let a wry grin cross his face.

"Good night, Master Bombur." He nodded.

He received the pleasantry in return as he headed back to his chambers. Bilbo had much to consider, and perhaps a tour while he thought it over wouldn't be remiss.