Author's Note: Hi everyone.
Anyway, strap in, this is a long chapter, ten pages in fact of basically Bilbo and Thorin yet again meeting in weird places, in the middle of the night and trying to get their act together.
The beginning of this chapter is a tad more, um, mature than I have previously written for this fic, but as people have been begging me for about two years now to actually write about what happen in Laketown between Bilbo and Thorin, I caved and wrote a little something. It's not smut and not overly explicit, but you know that sexy times have been had between these two. It's more of showing the sweetness that these two had before everything turned sour.
Anyway, I hope you all enjoy. Only one more chapter and then we're on to the trial... which is causing me endless grief at the moment.
Chapter Sixty-Eight
Return of a Memory, Possessions and Hope
Eleven years ago – Laketown
She stirred from a restful slumber, her mind momentarily disorientated as she stared blankly at the dark room she was currently lying in, her head resting upon a very unusual pillow. It was solid where a pillow was soft, but it was good deal softer than earth, rock or wooden panels. It also appeared to be moving, or rather breathing.
She lifted her head slowly and waited for her eyes to adjust to the dimness. As she waited she became aware of other things, for one her nakedness, another the heavy but reassuring arm wrapped around her naked back and the fact that where she put her hands she was touching furnace hot flesh.
Her cheeks burned as she remembered slowly but with perfect clarity the activities she had engaged in earlier that night with the dwarf still slumbering soundly beside her. Now that her eyes had grown accustom to the dimness she could make him out, and never before, and she was certain of this, had she seen him looking so relaxed and at peace with the world. For even in slumber, he had always appeared to be fighting demons, past and present. But now, now he slept soundly without a frown decorating his features. He looked younger, less world-weary and wary. He was beautiful, this dwarf, though she doubt she would ever gain the courage to tell him.
She pulled herself up, so that she sat beside him, ignoring the slight pinch and ache between her legs as she did this, and how her legs protested a little as they drew together. She ignored all of these things, for what was a little discomfort compared to all the pleasure this dwarf had given her in the process. And he had been gentle, so very gentle and tender almost to the point where she thought she might just explode from his sheer tender touch. It had almost been a relief when they had finally coupled, for finally she was able to release all those emotions and feelings that he had built and built until she had almost been sobbing for he had desired for her to be absolutely ready for him, in every way possible. She had wanted to smack him but all thoughts were obliterated from her mind once he had built them both to the point of no return.
She pressed a hand to her burning cheek as she continued to stare down at the dwarf lying beside her. How could something, someone so breathtaking be even the least bit taken with her? She ran her other hand over the hand still clutching to her waist, holding her fast to his side, refusing even in his deep sleep to release her from his side.
She smiled tentatively; maybe this could work out… somehow. Do not ask her how, but maybe… maybe his god, Mahal would be kind and allow for them to be together in one way or another.
She stared at him for a while longer before easing herself from his grip to go and relieve herself in the adjoining bathing room. As she came back, she found his tunic which she pulled over her head, sliding her hands through the large sleeves. It was far too cold to be without clothing for too long and she did not know where her sleeping shift had ended up in the room.
She clambered back onto the bed, though not before lighting a candle on the bedside table, if for no other reason than not to strain her eyes as she admired her dwarf. Her lips quirked into a smile at the thought. Her dwarf.
Well, all thirteen dwarves were her dwarrows, but this dwarf, this dwarf was entirely hers, just as she was entirely his. For better or for worse that was how it was.
She once more knelt over him, her fingers lightly tracing the scars, some old, some new (she shuddered as she traced the teeth marks scattered over his torso from when he was a chew-toy to Azog the Defiler's warg) along with marks, runes she had not known he had. Of course not, for they were, unlike Dwalin's, covered by his clothing and she was a well-brought up lass and she had been taught not to peek on people as they changed clothing or when they went swimming, so of course, she had never seen him without his shirt before or after a bathe.
She huffed as the sleeves of his shirt repeatedly hindered her exploration by sliding over her hands, rolled the blasted thing up her arms multiple times so they bulged awkwardly outwards from above her elbows. But at least they stayed put, which had been her main desire, she cared little that they poked into her ribs. She had completely given up on trying to get the damn clothing to sit straight upon her much narrow shoulders, so off one shoulder it hung.
"What are you doing?" she did not jump as his soft baritone voice spoke suddenly into the night, a slight chuckle behind it.
"Creating stories to all this." She replied as she waved her hand at his torso, looking away to meet his amused gaze, which did not hold even the slightest hint of tiredness making her wonder just how long he had been awake and watching her admire and explore his very impressive chest.
"Come up with anything good?" he asked teasingly, lifting a hand from his side and gently twisted a few of her curls around his fingers.
"Hmmm," she blushed slightly, "several plausible stories, maybe, but I doubt greatly that I am even close to being right." She admitted shyly. She was a storyteller, a good one even, but even her storyteller mind could not come up with scenarios for even half the marks or scars on his chest.
"Oh?" His mouth twitched into a fond smile as his hand moved from her curls to run down the side of her face. She leant into his hand, before and feeling quite bold as she did so, she kissed the centre of his palm.
The reaction she received from him was quite unexpected, for he was suddenly upright in front of her, cupping her face with both hands and kissing her with passion that rivalled the ones that had gotten her into bed with him earlier that evening.
Gasping and heart-pounding, she clutched at him, her barely existent fingernails digging into his shoulders.
"Thorin." She whined when they pulled away for air, or rather while she gasped for air as he attacked her neck, finding the little point at her throat that made her go weak at the knees and if she were standing… well she wouldn't be standing for much longer.
"Thorin." He was kissing her shoulder now, the one that his tunic had slid off of, his soft beard tickling her shoulder blade just so and had her giggling, causing her shoulder and neck to scrunch together.
"That tickles." She gasped out breathlessly as he returned his lips attention to her own. He kissed her mouth lightly, repeatedly.
"Did it?" he teased as he kissed her nose fondly.
"Oh yes." She reached out and gently touched his beard, loving the feel of it beneath her fingers. His own fingers flexed from where they now rested upon her waist. He rested his forehead against her own as she continued to pet his beard, tracing his side burns and twisting her hands within his long locks.
"One would almost think you liked beards and long hair, Master Baggins." He teased her in his rich voice causing her snort.
"Careful Master Oakenshield, your sense of humour is starting to show. Keep it up and you may just lose your reputation as a serious, no-nonsense, war-harden soldier and blacksmith, soon to be coming into his crown."
He chuckled and kissed her nose once again.
"I don't mind losing that part of my reputation, at least," and she swore he almost looked shy as he toyed with her mother's wedding band that hung, as always from a black cord around her throat, "not around you. Or rather, to you. I would rather you did not see me that way, at least not completely. I'm afraid being serious and mostly no-nonsense is very much a part of my character, just as my being a war-harden soldier and blacksmith is."
"And king," she reminded him gently, "and I would not change any of these things." She added primly, "not for a second, not for anything, they make you who you are. And if you hadn't notice, I am very fond of who you are, warts and all."
"Warts?" he asked smirking causing her to blush and roll her eyes.
"You of course know the saying. Don't tease Thorin, honestly. And even," she ducked her head, her blush intensifying, "even if you had warts all over your body, it would not change my feelings for you a wit. As my mother always said, it's what inside that counts, always and with you… there is so much good and wonderful things inside of you, so much that make you a great dwarf that…" she was broken off by Thorin once more kissing her, catching her chin so that she looked at him before kissing her with such emotions that if she had been new to his kisses it would have frighten her. Now, now it fuelled her with emotions that she had never thought she would have in regards to anyone, ever and yet here she was, feeling them, for a dwarf no less.
When her mother had told her, as a wee lass running all over the Shire in search of Elves and fairies, to follow her heart and love who she wished to love, she wasn't entirely certain that this was what her mother had meant. Or who.
But oh well, it was done now and there was certainly no going back. This dwarf was inside her heart now and there was no getting him out, not unless you shattered her heart into a thousand pieces and even then, he would still reside in the shards.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed herself against his bare chest, gasping as his hands started fighting with the bottom of his tunic, trying to and unsuccessfully, pull it from her body. Giggling and not feeling nearly as shy as she had earlier in the night she pulled the tunic from her body and let it drop beside her, quite enjoying the looks of lust that crossed his face as her naked body became visible to his eyes. Then he tackled her to the bed and showed her, all over again, everything that her books and late-night talks in Brandyhall with girl cousins had left out when it came to love-making.
TMPoT
Bilbo stirred with hot cheeks and a longing ache in her heart. It had been a long time since she had remembered those most private and intimate moments she had shared with Thorin in Laketown, willing that is and with such detail.
She lay quietly in the bed she was in, not quite ready to open her eyes, not quite ready to let go of her dream, of that memory of closeness and intimacy with Thorin. But as all dreams do, the good, the bad and the in-between, they all fade just the same and the world closes in once more, drawing you back to the waking reality.
She stared up at the stone ceiling of the infirmary (it had taken her quite a bit of time, more than she was actually happy to admit, to figure out where exactly she was. It was only when she had moved her hands and a stab of pain went through her fingers and palms that she remembered the events of the previous night) before rolling her head and stared around her in the dimness of the empty chamber.
She had thought she had… no, not felt, that was the wrong word, but so was 'heard' because she had been in such a deep slumber having such a nice… anyway, something had stirred her from her sleep though she didn't know what and there was nothing, no one moving around the infirmary or outside it to suggested that… her eyes caught sight of an unusual package resting upon the bedside table by her bed.
Careful as she could be, she pushed herself into a sitting position taking even greater care as she turned the knob on the lamp beside her bed up so that it shone a gentle glow around her. The package, wrapped in soft blue cloth, was light and oddly familiar even though she had not a clue why, not that it mattered, she decided as the packaged dropped into her lap, not when it didn't hurt her hands when she lifted it.
Hesitating for a moment, she started to pull away the cloth, a slower process than it normally would be with her currently useless fingers, but after a few frustrating minutes the cloth fell away. And when it did and what was within was revealed, those minutes? Those frustrating minutes and throbbing fingers? Meant nothing now, not a wit, as tears rolled down her cheeks.
"Oh," she sobbed, pressing a bandaged hand to her mouth.
Her coat. Her mithril coat.
She had feared the worse for the coat, that it had been lost or stolen when Frodo had returned to her without it, breaking her heart more than a little at its loss. She never thought to bring it up, not wanting to remind the others of unhappy memories, though for her, the receiving of her mithril coat had been a happy memory, one of her last happy memories of the company as a whole before the mess of Arkenstone business took place.
She had pushed the coat from her mind after that, deciding that if it was gone than there was nothing to be done about it and there was no use crying over spilt milk. Though she had cried for at least one night, not over spilt milk of course, but over the loss of the mithril coat.
It had saved her life after all, and Frodo's too, during the Battle of the Five Armies and kept them both safe during the return trip home. Not to mention it had also kept Frodo from harm during the trip here. And though these things were most definitely enough for her to see the value and the importance of keeping such a coat around, they were not what made the coat so precious to her. Wearing it or simply having it near her, had… it had felt almost as if Thorin was still there, by her side, protecting both her and their son, loving them both, keeping them safe from all harm.
She had lost count of just how many times, during those early days of being home again, when she had taken the coat out from her closet and slept with it stuffed under her pillow when she was feeling particularly… Thorin-sick. When she had missed him so badly she had felt as if her heart were breaking all over again. Those had been truly horrid nights and only Frodo and her coat had truly helped her through them.
And now she had it back. How…
She petted the familiar silver rings, ran one of her less hurt fingers over the jewelled collar. Who? Thorin? No he wouldn't, would he? Or…
No, it had been him; it had most definitely been him. For there, tied with great care at the bottom of the collar was something she hadn't given even the slightest thought to in such a long time. Not for years. And yet, once it had been her most precious of possessions. Her mother's wedding band that had been left to her hours before her mother's death. She had worn that ring around her neck as a good luck charm and as a constant reminder of the mother she had lost far too young, of the love that her parents had shared before her mother's death and her father's illness. And maybe, also, she had worn it in the fervent and secret hope deep within her heart that she might love someone as dearly and as much as her parents had loved each other. And just maybe, that someone would return that love too.
Why had he given it back? And… he kept it? Her mother's ring, for all these years! He kept it? And now was giving it back? Why? And her mithril coat as well?
Without thought, she swung herself out of the bed, her gifts (if that was what they were meant to be) clutched tightly to her chest. She found a coat, soft and layered, near her bed and tug it on, cursing bitterly under her breath as she did so as her hands screamed in pain before stomping her way out of the infirmary (which was locked. She kicked a small piece of rock, so that while the door looked closed, the latch wouldn't click leaving her unable to re-enter the infirmary.).
The bastard, how… what was he playing at? What was he doing? She growled furiously under her breath as she stomped her way… actually she had very little idea as to where she was actually heading and…
"Excuse me." She walked politely up to a guard who did a double-take of her, his eyes widening beneath his helmet. "Sorry to bother you so late in the night." She was guessing it was night, or early morning if only for how few people were currently walking around the city.
"But I was wondering if you've seen the king around."
"King-King Thorin?" The guard stuttered and Bilbo fought to keep her face calm and neutral.
"Yes, King Thorin." She nodded politely.
"He, um, he was heading for his private forge Mistress Baggins," She smiled widely. Finally a dwarf who got her name right on the first try.
"Excellent. Now could you, if it's not too much bother my good fellow, direct me as to where that is? He and I have some business to discuss and it simply cannot wait another moment." She hoped she put enough steeliness and venom into her voice to make it utterly clear to the guard that this was far from a pleasure call. She almost smiled with she saw the guard gulp and wince in sympathy for his king.
"I… it might be easier if I show you Mistress Baggins. It's not exactly easy to find our majesties forge. He likes his privacy you see, and…" he trailed off blushing beneath his dark chestnut beard.
She continued smiling kindly back at him.
"That would be greatly appreciated. Please lead the way, um…"
"Belfast, Mistress. Belfast son of Kelfest, at your service." He bowed deeply.
"Pleasure. Bilbo Baggins, at yours." She curtsied the best she was able to. He smiled, though she could tell, from beneath his helmet, his eyes were still wide with awe.
"Come, this way." He gesture for her to follow him which she did as quickly as she was able to, trying not to stare with too much awe at the city around her. When her trial was over she hoped she could receive a full tour of the beautiful mountain realm around her.
"How are your hands, Mistress?" She was surprised by how genuinely concerned the dwarf guard sounded.
"Um, well, I suppose as best as hands can feel after being slashed at with a blunt knife."
She listened to the guard curse underneath his breath in Khuzdul, picking up words such as 'coward' and 'vermin' from his rant before he cut himself short.
"Ah, apologizes Mistress, I did not…"
"Its fine," she smiled back at him, as they turned away from the city (sadly. She didn't even like heights but she would have loved to have been able to check out some of the massive caverns that they had passed), "Truly, I heard much worse during the quest."
"Oh aye," Belfast chuckled, "I can well believe. Lord Dwalin was my instructor in Eren Luid, he used to curse at us until he was near blue in the face."
"Yes," Bilbo agreed, "many a times I caused Dwalin to be in a similar state, blue in the face, cursing my inability to hold my sword correctly. Oh, I beg your pardon, my letter-opener as my little blade's oh-so-affectionately named by my companions." Belfast laughed and they turned down several more tunnels, pulling them deeper into the mountain, the air growing ever increasingly colder. But it wasn't long before she heard the beating of a hammer against… iron? Steel? What did it matter, her heart was starting to race and some of her nerve was starting to fade. Actually most of her determination had all but disappeared the moment she started to speaking and walking with Belfast.
"We're nearly there." Belfast said looking a tad nervous himself.
"Oh," she said as a thought suddenly occurred to her, "I have made you leave your post? Please tell me that I haven't now put you into a great spot of trouble."
Belfast laughed.
"Hardly, Mistress. I wasn't actually on duty." Seeing her confused look he continued, "Not technically, that is. It is my night off, but Lord Dwalin requested that any dwarf guard who was able to, to put in a few more shifts."
"Why?"
"Because of the murders and…" he looked down at her, his face serious, "because of the threat against yourself and Durin." His eyes suddenly became fierce, "I swear, Mistress, never will what happen two nights back happen again. It was a low and despicable act and those behind it, will be brought to justice."
"Well… thank you. Thank you very much." She placed a hand over her heart as she spoke and stared up at him, the guard nodding his head in return.
"Of course, Mistress. This mountain is my home now. I would have it safe for all, not just dwarves and not just for dwarves of certain lines and breeding. That is what King Thorin wishes also and for that I will stand by him til my last breath."
"Well hopefully it will not come to that and your last breath is spent in your bed, surrounded by love ones." She replied softly.
"Aye, Mistress." They walked in silence for a two more corridors before they come to a corridor that leads only one way, a red light burning from the entrance and the sounds hammering and a large fire cracking. She was surprise there was no smoke filling the corridor but remembered vaguely of Balin telling her of how Erebor ventilation system was something renown times over.
"I will leave you here Mistress," Belfast bowed and Bilbo couldn't help but chuckle.
"No wish to be chided by your king?" she asked teasingly.
"Aye, Mistress, or see him being chewed out by yourself, though I am certain the sight would be spectacular."
Bilbo let out a small laugh.
"Go then, Belfast son of Kelfest, I thank you from the bottom of my heart for all your help this night." Belfast bowed to her again and left, leaving her to wonder who he would report this interesting meeting to, Dwalin and Balin or Nori. Her bet was on Dwalin but one never knew, she had strong feeling that Nori was probably fairly in-the-know with most of Erebor's guards.
Swallowing thickly and raising her head up high she stalked down the rest of the corridor, peering around the doorframe into the hotly lit chamber, licking her lips nervously when she saw him bent over an… what was it called again? Anvil, that's right. In his hand he held a hammer that was so different from all the wooden and few metal ones she had seen in the Shire. He wield it like he did Orcrist with precision and ease, each hit meeting its mark. Despite the noise of ringing metal, it was almost hypnotising to watch him work. She had never seen the blacksmith side of him, though she never doubted for a second that it was not there, tuck beneath his warrior armour.
She smiled a little as she leant against the doorframe. It suited him, she thought, the wielding of hammer, creating things. Just like being a king and warrior suited him.
She knew this side of him, of course, carried a great deal of his emotional baggage and scaring, for the time spent as a blacksmith were the days he wandered without a true home, without food and little money, being forced to constantly move in search of new work that he was paid poorly for. But obviously he must have found some joy in being a blacksmith or else, why would he now, in his mountain that he was king of, have a private forge of his very own.
She watched him silently, trying to figure out as he work what exactly he was creating, something small and that glinted in the light from the fire burning behind him. She wanted to go and ask him, but had no wish to disturb him from his work. It was only from sheer chance of Thorin looking up and in the direction of the doorway that he even saw her at all. She snorted at the double-take he did before his mouth dropped.
"Very kingly." She teased.
"What…" Thorin choked, "what are you… Billanna?" her previous anger or was it annoyance? No it was confusion. Her previous confusion was now forgotten as she moved forward and all but tackled him. Her presents, gift, return of possession still hugged tightly to her chest, her other arm wrapping itself the best it could around his neck.
Thorin let out another choking noise before, very hesitantly, returning her embrace.
"Billanna?" He spoke into her hair, "what, pray tell, are you doing here? How did you get here?"
"Hmm, I was angry with you so I came looking for you." She retorted into his chest not quite ready to end their awkward embrace.
"Um?"
"Or annoyed with you… or maybe confused would be the better word." She rattled off to his chest which she was feeling a lot more of than she usually would have due to him dressed at the moment in a light tunic and trousers.
"Yes," she continued, so as to get her thoughts away from thinking of Thorin and his well-developed chest. Already her dream from earlier was starting to creep back into her head causing her blush heavier, "confused would be the better word to use."
Thorin, annoyingly, released his arms from around her waist and instead laid his large hands upon her shoulder, pushing her back a little so that he could peer down at her. Thinking it might be easier for all, she simply showed him what she was holding and bit back a grin as his ears turned an interesting shade of red.
She fought back the desperate desire to tease him if only because his embarrassed look quickly morphed into one of annoyed confusion.
"And you are angry with me…"
"No," she interrupted him, "I said I'm confused. Don't you go putting words in my mouth, I got enough of them to dig myself into hole without you helping, thank you very much." If her hands and fingers weren't bandaged she would have shook her finger at him like dear Grandma Took used to when she was a girl child playing with her cousins and stealing apples and mushrooms.
"Why are you confused?" he sighed running a hand through his heavy hair which was much more curly than it usually was.
"Because…" she frowned at him, "I thought this," she motion at the coat, "was lost. I wasn't expecting to be see it again, ever… and yet, here it is."
"It is yours," he replied, his tone calm but had a very clear 'this isn't up for discussion' undertone to it. "I am returning what is rightfully yours."
She would refuse to admit, til her dying days, that at his words, she was grinning like a fool.
"So, I can keep it?" She asked looking down at her coat, trying to hide just how badly she was smiling.
"Yes," Thorin said sounding very uncertain and unsure of himself as he spoke, "if that is what you wish."
"I thought it was lost." And now she was crying; smiling like a fool one moment and crying like one the next. "I thought I was never going to see it again."
"And here was me believing hobbits didn't much care for pretty things." Thorin muttered under his breath.
"We like pretty things just fine." Bilbo sniffed irritably, "but we like sentimental things much more, as they are far dearer to us."
"And the coat has sentimental value? To you?" Thorin asked very quietly.
"You daft old dwarf," she growled, "of course it does. Not only is it the reason that Frodo and I survived the Battle of the Five Armies and kept us safe returning to the Shire." She ignored the panic look that crossed Thorin's face at the mention of 'survived' and 'Battle of the Five Armies' and pressed on, "You gave it to me. You could have given me jewels or gold, but no, you gave me something practical (at that time), that has kept myself and Frodo safe countless times. Of course it's sentimental. It's one of my most prized possessions and you've given it back to me!"
Thorin swallowed, his face torn between looking almost smug and utterly confused. It was quite an adorable look really though she would never say that to his face.
"Then…" Thorin swallowed again, "then why have you come here confused then?"
"Because," with awkward, painful fingers she hunted for her mother's ring still tied to the front of the mithril coat, "of this." She held up the coat, her mother's ring now clearly visible.
Thorin didn't even blink.
"It is yours, your mother's; I know how dearly she meant to you. I thought you might wish for the return of it." He replied simply causing her to stamp her foot quite childishly.
"It was a gift." She growled in frustration.
"A gift you gave me when I gave you the coat. The coat I gave freely without any thought of anything in return…"
"That's not how hobbits work." She retorted hotly, "nor dwarves if I'm remembering correctly," her face twisted as she tried to remember exactly what she had read in Rivendell in regards to dwarven gift exchange all those years ago. Not an easy feat, given that the book had been written in Sindarin and while she was quite proud of her fluency in the spoken language, her ability to read Sindarin had not been particularly strong in those days. "It's equivalent exchange or something like that yes? And I know, like I knew then, that while my mother's ring value compared to the value of the coat is less than nothing, the sentimental value is more than, making it..."
"Billanna, you don't…" she would have laughed, in another situation other than this one, at just how weak and hopeless he sounded.
"Just take the ring, you majestic idiot. I gave it to you, and despite how often it does happen in the Shire with all our birthday parties and recycled gifts, I do not want this back after a number years of not having it. Understood? Now, you'll need to untie because I don't have the fingers." He stared at her for a long, long moment before letting out a small sigh and untied the cord that her mother's wedding band hung from. She watched as his lips twitched into a tiny smile as the ring fell back into his hand.
"Thank you." he replied simply and she watched as he slipped the cord over his neck and the ring settled just beneath his tunic collar.
"There," She nodded with satisfaction, "all good. Now we're even." She didn't understand why he groaned as she said that or why he buried his face in his hands.
"You know," She said quite dryly, arms crossed the best she could across her chest, hugging her coat as she did so. "If you all just told me more about dwarven culture, these sorts of misunderstanding would happen with far less frequency. Come on now; tell me what I've done now to put you in such a state."
"It's nothing." Thorin rumpled, pulling his face from his hands and looking away from her.
"Uh huh. And you're sense of direction is just fine and dandy." She retorted sarcastically.
"My sense of direction is just fine." Thorin grunted as he turned back to his anvil thing.
"Says the dwarf who got lost on the way to my home – which, I might add, is at top of hill that all can see from miles around – twice." She held up two bandaged fingers. "not to mention all the other times."
"What other times?" Bilbo simply raised her eyebrows back at him.
"Mirkwood."
"That doesn't… that…. It wasn't…" He finished with simply glaring back at her as she smiled serenely at him.
"You're not going to tell me what I did wrong, are you?" She asked returning to their original conversation.
"You haven't done anything wrong." Thorin replied much more calmly than before, "it's me."
"Oh?" She asked with an amused grin, "and what have you done wrong, oh King under the Mountain." She finished with a wince but was grateful Thorin let it slide and stayed thankfully on topic.
"In regards to this?" he gestured at her mother's ring around his neck and her mithril coat hugged close to her chest, "everything."
"Oh?" she waited for a moment or two before letting out an exasperated huff, "Thorin I'm going to be old and grey by the time you finally make sense."
"Backwards." He grumbled.
"Grey hair." Bilbo pointed at her head of golden brown locks.
Thorin shook his head.
"Giving me this," he gave the cord around his neck a light tug, "is giving me more than you should have to…"
Bilbo rolled her eyes.
"If that's your excuse, than you should never have given me my mithril coat in the first place."
"No," Thorin groaned, rubbing his temple, "what I mean to say is and as I said before, I gave you the coat as a gift, with no desire for anything in return, not expecting anything in return. You're giving me your mother's ring, made the whole gifting of the coat a bit more complicated. If my brain hadn't been so addled with the dragon-sickness I would have said no." he wavered off the start of her hurt protests, "because by giving me the ring in return, it made us, ah, it meant…"
Bilbo huffed. "Don't go hurting your brain." She grumbled, "Honestly you're making it sound as if by my giving you the ring made us married or something." Something in brain clicked, "HUH?"
"Not quite." Thorin actually looked somewhat relieved. She smacked him, then smacked him again for good measure.
"WE'RE MARRIED?" She all but screamed.
"No." Thorin snorted and she smacked him a third before remembering about her hands and their current sad, useless state and start crying all over again.
"Come here." Thorin said surprisingly patient as he pulled her over to a chair by a workbench covered in… frying pans?
"No," Thorin said once again, all very patiently as he crouched down in front of her, "but it did mean that we were betrothed of a sort."
"Of a sort?"
"Dwarven courting is a long and complicated process…"
"And we skip a lot of it."
"Quite a lot." Thorin agreed, "But you need not worry about any of that, no one would consider us as being betrothed or courting…. Not anymore." Bilbo sagged in the chair before feeling confused.
"Huh?"
"Well, what happened between us…"
"Ah, right, alrighty. Um, that's good." She paused thinking for a moment before deciding, "My head hurts."
"And your hands too I imagine." Thorin replied a little dryly.
"Oh yes… ow."
"That's what I thought."
"I can still kick you, you know." she warned him with a growl. "So wait, you gave me back my coat and I gave you back my mother's ring, does that mean…"
"No." Thorin shook his head, "no, I gave back what would now be considered your rightful propriety, your mother's ring, however, would be considered a gift, from you to me."
"Which you've accepted?"
"Yes."
"Good." She sagged in the chair once more, feeling quite exhausted now.
"Why so many frying pans?" She asked randomly, eying the workbench and now that she had noticed the surrounding walls and shelves.
Thorin gave a small chuckle.
"Old habits are hard to kill." He replied sounding a tad sheepish.
"I can think of several hobbits who would pay good money or an armful of vegetables for those." Bilbo offered.
Thorin looked surprisingly pleased by this news.
"You should set up a trade agreement with the Shire. It'd be easy enough to do what with your trading route between here and Ered Luin."
"And hobbits would amicable to trade with dwarves?" Thorin asked dryly.
"Hmmm, it might take a while to build the trust, but I'm sure if I talk to my uncle, my Took relatives would trade with you willing, and then the Brandybucks. Then the rest of the Shire will follow suit, though they won't admit it. We don't have much, beside from food to trade with though." She warned him sleepily causing him to chuckle softly.
"Come," he took her wrists gently in his, "let us return you to the infirmary or else Oin will have my head. You still haven't told me how you came to get here."
"A burglar never reveals her secrets." Bilbo yawned, "or her sources."
"Fine." Thorin snorted as he pulled on a heavy coat over his work clothes, transforming him to a look Bilbo was more familiar with, warrior Thorin, the Thorin she had seen and known during the days of the quest.
She let him guide her back to the infirmary, trying to pay attention to all the corridors they walked through, so as to maybe memorize her way back to Thorin's forge. Her mind wasn't cooperating though and she knew she wouldn't have a hope of finding the forge again, not without help.
"Am I going to have to lock you in to make sure you don't wander off, as I do with Frodo." Thorin almost teased as they returned the infirmary Bilbo was currently staying in.
"Oh hush. Though speaking of which where is our wandering, snuffling lad?" She asked as Thorin opened the infirmary door and she kicked away the rock that had kept it from locking into place into a empty corner of the room.
"With Fili and Kili. Running them ragged, last I saw." Thorin looked quite pleased while Bilbo smiled, "serves them right." He added with a smirk and Bilbo choked out a laugh.
Quite willingly she pulled off her coat and crawled back into her bed at the end of the room. She was glad Thorin did not speak a word in regards to her shoving her newly returned mithril coat under her pillow.
"How much longer do you think Oin will have me trapped here?" She asked as she snuggled down into the bedding.
"Trapped," Thorin snorted, "Hardly. But I should think not too much longer."
"Good." She yawned, "I honestly do not need to be in here."
"Hmm," was all Thorin said in reply to that as he turned down the lamp and settled himself down in the chair beside her bed.
"Are you going to stay?" She asked sleepily.
"Someone needs to make sure you don't wander off." His face turned to a frown, "someone should have stayed here with you…"
"Oh hush, I'm a grown woman."
"To keep you safe from any further attacks." Thorin continued completely ignoring her. Bilbo simply let out a huff and snuggled further into her bed.
"Sleep." Thorin ordered softly.
"Was doing that already, but thanks for giving me permission." She grumbled from behind closed eyelids. She heard Thorin snort but didn't bother opening her eyes.
It was just as she was drifting off into a deep slumber that she felt tiniest pressure upon her mouth though it was gone before she could response and she was too deep in the land of sleep to try and open her eyes again.
Inside her head though, she smiled.
Sneaky bastard she thought hazily before allowing herself be drawn further into the realm of dreams.
Author's Note: I think this is one of my favourite chapters because it came really out of thin air. Bilbo's memory was meant to be in another, earlier chapter but it didn't work there and then became the start of this chapter and I just... I couldn't stop writing with this chapter, Thorin and Bilbo just wouldn't shut up. But whatever, I love them and they're becoming easier to write the further this thing goes on, which of course makes me so happy.
Anyway, hope you all enjoyed this chapter. Hopefully I will get my head around Bilbo's trial soon. I've only been thinking over the damn thing for two years, and writing tidbits for it everywhere but now having to put it all together and write it all up, chaos and endless headaches.