Bilbo was left alone with the Dwarves for the first time since the start of the quest, minus the shopping trips that did not count for much. It was frankly unnerving, as he had yet to really get to know most of them farther than name, and even then, he had some trouble telling the matching names apart. On the average day, he'd have a polite conversation with a Dwarf or two but would always gravitate back towards Glírae.

Now, Glírae had been taken away by the Wizard and there was no telling when he would return him. It wasn't that he was worried. It was quite the opposite, in fact. Glírae was far safer with the Wizard than the Company's sour and angry mood. Especially Thorin, who had been in such a wretched mood since his fight with Gandalf and had been cursing everything elvish. Bilbo would have argued that, but Thorin had been angry enough that Bilbo feared he might retaliate physically if he didn't hold his tongue.

Glírae wasn't here to hear it anyways, so it wouldn't hurt him.

He ignored Thorin's angry rabble to Balin and continued to set up with bedroll. He left Glírae's bedroll in his bag. Something told him that he wasn't coming back that night, so there was no point in dirtying his bedroll even more, especially after it had just been washed.

"Mister Baggins."

Bilbo looked up at his name, only to see Kili standing near him, nervous and fidgeting on his feet. He was tapping his hands on the plain and worn book of gemstones, the one he had bought in the last village that they visited. Why a Dwarf would need such a book was surprising, but he figured that it was only natural for them to learn a craft rather than be born with the full knowledge of it.

He himself had to learn to prune his own garden, even if he instinctively knew which plants would best grow there.

"Yes, Kili. Did you need something from me?" He asked, standing to face the young Dwarf.

Kili took a deep breath, though a small bit of red was rising to his cheeks, and he had yet to grow enough of a beard to fully hide it. He straightened up, clearing his throat and holding out the book of gems to him.

"You know Glírae far more than I do at the moment..." He started out, and then withered under Bilbo's hardening gaze. "I would ask for you to help me choose gems that would look good on a present for him. I don't know what type of jewelry he prefers. Only what I would like to see him in."

Bilbo sucked in a breath of annoyance, the familiar feeling of protective anger bubbling closer to the surface. Kili seemed to notice as well, since he quickly pulled his hand back and shrunk away.

"Not for an engagement present or courting gift!" He cried. "I want to gift him something as an apology for my actions towards him. I haven't been the greatest of suitors and was hoping that I could salvage what I broke before anything happens."

If Kili thought that his speech made it better, he was more oblivious than Bilbo originally thought. That, or he was just too self-centered to fully realize what he was admitting to anyone but himself.

"Kili, do not get him a gift." Bilbo said as calmly as he could. "Gifts are not a good way to earn the forgiveness of someone. They're shallow and quite frankly, are manipulative for the person receiving them, especially Glírae."

Kili blinked a few times, with a dumbfounded look upon his face. A bit of offense was starting to show in his brow, and Bilbo braced himself for another difficult conversation. It was never easy to argue with tweens when they got defensive, and Kili was as close to the Dwarf equivalent of that.

"If you want to earn his forgiveness, work up the courage and speak to him yourself." Bilbo interrupted before Kili could say anything. "You're only making this harder on yourself by avoiding the issue and you are not sorry in the least about it."

"I am sorry!" Kili cried, dropping the book on the ground like a child throwing a tantrum. "It's why I need help finding out what he likes!"

"No, you are not sorry." Bilbo said. "If you were sorry, you would admit your wrongdoings and apologize to him, without the expectation of forgiveness just because you think you deserve it. You are not sorry because you are trying to apologize while still looking for ways to further yourself into his heart while doing it. You cannot tell me that you wouldn't use the information that I would give you to try to win him over afterwards. You cannot tell me that the gift isn't meant for him to develop positive feelings for you to make him more compliant. None of that is part of an apology, because those reasons are inherently selfish."

Kili said nothing but looked around to see that they had garnered the attention of the other members of the Company, including Thorin. Thorin's glare had died down substantially after his vent with Balin and after he had removed all his heavy gear, but he still had the stiff air of lingering annoyance. Luckily for Bilbo, it was directed at Kili, who withered.

"I thought I ordered you to apologize to the sprite." He said, and Kili looked down in shame.

Bilbo held his tongue over the obvious insult.

"I was going to, but he walked away before I could, and I wanted to make him something to pay him back. He seemed uncomfortable with the idea of owing someone a boon, so I figured..."

Thorin took a few steps towards his nephew and Kili's words died, along with any excuse he was going to give.

"Not only did you not comply, but you have disgraced yourself by allowing a misdeed against another go unfixed. I will have none of your excuses. They are unbecoming of a prince. You will apologize once the wizard returns with him. Do you understand?"

"Yes uncle." Kili replied, though his voice wavered.

"Good." Thorin nodded. "And you will forget about any gift that you intend to make him on this journey. We have no resources to spare for you to waste on pursuing a marriage that neither I nor the elf with approve of."

"What?!" Kili cried, his obedient posture gone and replaced by one of hostility. "How could you ask that of me? I know you care not for elves-"

"I do not." Thorin cut him off, his voice like steel once again. "But that is-"

"But you cannot forbid me from pursuing a relationship with him! I am not you, and I do not hate him simply for being born an elf! I love him more than anything!"

Bilbo felt another spark of anger and annoyance. He took a few deep breaths, clenching his fists and teeth to keep the particularly nasty speech he had from spilling out. Kili had obviously not been listening to his last speech where he had forbidden the courting of Glírae, or had ignored it entirely.

"Whether you love him has nothing to do with this." Bilbo said, and Kili turned back at him. "I've said to before and I'll say it again. Glírae has no interest in courting or marriage. You will not pursue a romantic relationship with him. You don't even know him!"

Kili looked positively offended at that comment. He would have retaliated further had he not been pulled back by Fili.

"They are right, Kili. You cannot keep pursuing a marriage when you have yet to even earn a friendship. We don't know anything about Glírae, and you have yet to ask him anything about himself."

"But I have-"

"You have not. One conversation about what his favorite jewels are to make him a ring is not a real conversation. You don't know anything about his personality nor his likes and dislikes when in the home nor his life." Fili said, though Bilbo heard something strange in his voice. "You need to give him up. At least until you get to know him."

Bilbo nodded and was about to continue that he shouldn't even bother getting to know Glírae if all he wanted was to sweeten him up for a relationship but was stunned silent when Kili suddenly pushed Fili to the ground. Gasps rang out throughout the camp, even more when Kili kicked his brother across the side, not even to hurt but enough to keep him down.

Bilbo felt a shudder of dread hit him and he took a step back from the angry Dwarf. Kili had an enraged look on his face, cheeks red and eyes brimming, like a scolded child who had just been told no to dessert.

"I do know him! And I want to get to know him more, but none of you will let me! You say I'm rushing into this, but I know well enough what I want, and it won't just fade over time! It's been a month and my heart has never known this passion!" Kili cried, and Bilbo's breath hitched as his eyes glazed over.

Something wasn't right here.

"Kili, enough!" Thorin scolded, pulling Fili up from the ground. "You will stop this madness and apologize to your brother. This is beyond foolish, even for you."

"No! I won't apologize for this! He and the rest of you are trying to keep me away from him!" Kili turned to Bilbo, a pleading look on his face as he desperately grabbed his hands. "What must I do to convince you that I would be good for him? I will do anything to make him happy! You don't have to worry about me hurting him, for I would rather cast myself off the highest mountain than even dream of making him cry. Please, I beg you."

Bilbo tried to pull his hands back but found the Dwarf's grip like solid steel. His anger was beginning to topple over, which only made him more glad that Glírae wasn't here to witness this madness. He would have to warn him when he came back.

"You do not know him!" Bilbo cried.

"You can help me know him!" Kili cried back, pulling even as Dwalin had come to pull him off. "You can tell me about him, and I can be there to be what he needs! You said so yourself that Glírae was not alright and that he is broken! I can be the help he needs to heal him and love him!"

Bilbo finally yanked himself back, stumbling over and nearly falling. Kili attempted to reach out again, only for Dwalin and Thorin to yank him back. Kili didn't even register it, his eyes still locked on Bilbo.

"Please, Mister Baggins! You cannot keep me away from my true love!"

"He is not your true love!" Bilbo cried, rubbing his sore wrists. "Glírae will never want to pursue a relationship with you. He will not be with anyone. You've heard the way he's spoken about marriage."

"He is wrong! Everything he said is wrong! But I can show him how marriage is supposed to be! I can show him what love is like. I would worship him and cherish him and gift him everything that he desires if you would just let me!"

Something was not right.

"ENOUGH!" Thorin screamed.

"NO!" Kili cried, and he was shoved to the ground by Dwalin. "I won't let you ruin this for me!"

Bilbo had enough. He didn't stay to hear Thorin argue with his nephew, nor to witness Kili burst into frustrated tears. He packed his things and went into the trees, just far enough away for them not to hear his screams of rage.

He needed to speak with Gandalf soon.

Thorin was beyond enraged.

He had been avoiding the thoughts that had plagued him the last month, ever since the cursed nightmare he had while staying at the halfling's home.

He had been the mind-numbing fantasies that had been appearing, slowly and throughout the day, weren't there but it hadn't been helping as much as he wished it did. During the last week, the loathsome fantasies had reached an all-time high. It took all he had in him, every shred of hatred and dignity, to keep his eyes off the nuisance that invaded his Company.

It had worked for the first few weeks, when he had to focus on navigating the terrain and keeping the spirits of his Company high as they went through the motions of travel. The elf was mostly silent, staying out of his sight unless he was awaiting his orders, which he carried out without complaint. He only spoke to the halfling and sometimes to the wizard, but never to him so he was safe from being charmed by that musical voice.

Then he began to speak and even sing, and the wave of desires had begun to make themselves known again. Assigning him more tasks to keep him out of sight had done nothing now that he was more aware of how present he was, and it became easier and easier to remember those vile dreams that had started to bleed into the real world again.

He could barely even give him his daily tasks without clenching his fists, lest his hands wander and managed to tangle themselves in his hair. It wasn't long enough to weave intricate beads into yet, but his treacherous mind would whisper about how he could always wait until it was.

He almost stuck himself with the pins of his clothes the one time he had seen him shed his outer clothes to wash, then felt sick when he was disappointed that he had not removed the rest. After he bathed and allowed the halfling to brush his hair once it was dry enough had almost caused him to blush. He almost didn't admit to himself that he wanted to be the one holding that brush.

Something about this was not right.

No matter how beautiful or charming that elf may be, it should not have been enough to induce these feelings in him. He was old, very old, and yet had never felt anything like this before. This overpowering, mind-numbing, disturbing combination of lust and admiration should not have been possible this late, especially towards an elf of all things.

Now if only his nephew wasn't infatuated with that elf as well. Kili was only making the situation worse.

Kili had stormed off afterwards, once he had calmed enough to only spit scathing remarks about how he was free to make his own choices as he wasn't tied down by the rules of royalty. Fili had followed in an attempt to talk some sense into his brother. Neither of them had returned from watching the ponies, so Thorin could only assume that Fili managed to break through that thick skull of his enough to speak without screaming.

Thorin didn't know how Fili did it with someone that frustrating.

He loved Kili with everything that he had, practically raising the boy as his own after their father's tragic death when they were young, but the boy had a sharp mouth on him and the stubbornness that could rival even a craft-master. He was also passionate to the point of obsession with everything he did, from the month's long fascination with a single type of metal to the point of refusing all others down to the months of losing sleep and not eating because he was enraptured by a game he had purchased from a local vendor. Now, he had attached himself to a person rather than a trinket.

This argument would not be solved so long as he continued to act out of line and Thorin did not have the patience to deal with it anytime soon.

Something told him this wasn't going to be the last time they fought over that blasted, beautiful elf.

"What witchcraft is this?" He had asked Balin an hour or two after Mister Bagins had run off to go rage in the trees. "What dark enchantment is at foot here to make us break like this?"

Balin looked up in surprise. He had not said anything really, but his old friend's eyes widened in realization and horror. Thorin looked away, bowing his head in shame and disgust.

"How long?" Balin asked, his voice low so no one could hear.

Thorin was grateful for that. The last thing he wanted was his Company to lose respect for him if they learned that he was lusting after the elf. The elf that his nephew was pining after to the point of obsession. The elf that was broken and meek and spineless like a fawn abandoned by its mother, who was as soft as the hair on his head.

"Weeks. Since we met him in the Hobbit hole in the Shire." Thorin muttered back, sighing deeply. "I've been having dreams almost nightly. Dreams I would never say out loud for they are vile to think about."

Balin shook his head in disbelief and gestured to him to continue.

"I've been thinking about him. I've been thinking about things I would do to him if I was given the chance. It makes me sick just to think about how low I have fallen to dream about touching an elf."

Balin said nothing to this confession, only looking down at the dirt and relaxing. He sighed deeply, then placed a hand on Thorin's arm in silent comfort. Thorin was about to lean into the familiar touch, but Balin gripped his arm tight.

"Oh Thorin," He chuckled, though it was empty. "It seems you are not the only one with a confession tonight."

Thorin felt his stomach drop.

He had no time to process any of this, however. His response was interrupted by his nephews running towards them, screaming about how they had just sent their burglar to investigate a mysterious red fire that they had seen in the distance and had gotten his caught by a group of trolls.

Thorin screamed in outrage.

Being with Gandalf was a lot weirder this time than the other times we were left together. He wasn't in a happy mood this time around. He didn't tell me any weird stories that always had at least one crime that he committed without once getting caught. He didn't even ask me questions about myself to pass the time.

He was silent and angry this time, pulling me along ever so slightly through the uneven terrain of the forest while fuming. His grip on my arm wasn't tight, but it was firm and unyielding, similar to my mother's when I made her mad. When he did speak, it was to give slight commands like "be careful" or "watch your step over here".

Not going to lie. It terrified me.

I didn't protest as he pulled me along. I didn't complain when I tripped over roots and rocks, nor when I was hit across the face by wayward tree branches. I didn't make a sound when we kept walking and walking, even though I was damn sure we were far enough away for them not to hear or come look for us. The only noise I made was when I had almost stepped on a poor little mantis and almost tripped us both to avoid hurting her, which he ignored once I got my balance back.

Finally, after like a half hour of walking, he stopped as we reached a small lake. He let me go and took a seat on one of the rocks by the back. I massaged feeling back into my arm and joined him, swallowing hard to ignore the buzz of anxiety in my stomach. Gandalf had a strange expression on his face as he stared at the water.

He said nothing for quite a while.

"Glírae." He said, and I flinched by accident.

"Yes sir?" I asked, folding my hands together and straightening up.

"I hope you understand why I had to separate you from the others today and not just because I didn't want Thorin Oakenshield to take his unjust anger out on you. I wanted to speak with you and it's best to talk away from prying eyes and ears."

"Yes sir." I nodded, even though my stomach coiled.

Gandalf nodded and looked back out into the water. He looked to be contemplating what to say first, and that was already a bad sign. That's the same look my former therapist would give me before our sessions, like she was wondering what to crack into first.

Fuck. What did I agree to?

"Before I begin, I would like to mention that it is alright if you choose not to answer what I ask. You may stop me at any time if anything gets too uncomfortable."

I nodded, the pressure in my stomach rising to my chest like bile. Something caused the back of my spine to shiver when he met my eyes directly.

"Good." He said. "First, I am very much curious. I haven't seen many elves with their hair shorn down and I was wondering why and who cut it. Did you do it yourself."

Oh, that's it? If you wanted to know more about me, bro, you could have just asked while we were left alone during the trips to the towns or when we were walking. Well, I guess it might be improper to talk about hair in from of Dwarves, since they take it too seriously.

That, or we're starting with easy questions.

"Oh, this?" I said, taking one of my white strands and twisting it with my fingers. "My father cut my hair. It was far too long, and he hated seeing how I wasn't taking care of it like I should, so he cut it. It's been easier to manage ever since, so he just kept cutting it for me. My mother hated it and nearly slapped me for it the first time, but she's gotten used to it." I chuckled at the memory of my mother's expression.

I swear I nearly put her in cardiac arrest that day.

"Your father cut you hair?" Gandalf said, a little surprised. "Against your wishes? Instead of teaching you how to care for your hair?"

"Not really? I mean, I did cry for a few hours when he first cut it off since I was attached to my hair, but he was right about it. I knew how to care for it and I just...wasn't. I didn't have the motivation nor the energy to keep braiding it every morning or even brushing it every day, so we just took the next best option. It's easier for me when it's this short, but I wouldn't mind growing it out again." I shrugged. "I didn't ask for it verbally, but I basically did since they warned me about it a few times before he cut it. Cutting my hair was just a necessity rather than a way to reclaim myself like it is for a lot of people."

"I see." Gandalf hummed, but in the way where you knew he was secretly judging.

Rude as hell, my dude. I don't say anything about that rat's nest you call a beard, even though I should since I know for a fact that you didn't own a brush until I bought you one in Bree. My hair may be unconventional right now for this time period, but that's my issue not yours. The hobbits never said anything about it.

"You mentioned your parents. How are they like?" He asked.

Ah, so we're doing interview styled questions now. I can live with that. I already know all your history and your future, so I guess it wouldn't hurt to tell you mine. Just as long as I don't paralyze myself in the process.

This is a topic I can talk about.

"They were normal, I guess. My father was a carpenter and later built houses and buildings for a living while my mother was a housekeeper for rich families, so I rarely saw them during the day. They were really nice though. Even when we were struggling with money, my mother always made sure to attend all our events and even paid extra so that we could each pursue whatever we wanted."

I relaxed as I got lost in those wonderful childhood memories. I really missed my parents sometimes and it was nice to be able to talk about them. Bilbo hated them for some reason, even if he's only heard one or two stories about them.

"My mother was the bravest woman I know. She once worked a month straight to be able to afford to get me singing lessons, even if it meant working herself into exhaustion. She did the same for my sister Mercedes when she wanted to pursue embroidery and when my brother Luis wanted to go into dance."

"Do you have many siblings?" Gandalf asked.

I nodded, grabbing a stick to draw a small family tree in the dirt. Two people at the top followed by six little people underneath them.

"I do. I have three brothers and two sisters. I'm the oldest right here, followed by my sister Mercedes, then my brother Luis, and then Milagros, followed by the twins Juana and Miguel. My father had a thing for names that started with M since his name is Martin. I was going to be named Maria, but my father was so nervous when he was telling the nurse my name that he forgot the first letter."

I laughed, and then froze at the slip of the tongue at that last sentence. I looked over to Gandalf, praying he didn't register that, but he just nodded along without any indication that he did. I sighed in relief and then started a brief explanation on who each of my siblings were as people to cover up that slip.

We were still talking about my childhood and family by the time the sun went down and throughout the night. We went from everything to how my education (he seemed to be pleased that I was an avid reader in my youth) to how I had dealt with certain situations as a child (Food insecurity didn't scare him much, but he was absolutely appalled by how my siblings used to play as various ways they could die with each other). He even convinced me to teach him a few words in Spanish with a promise to teach him the full thing later down the line when he found out he could not roll his Rs and was now fueled by pure spite.

We would have talked for longer, had Gandalf not shot up, grabbed my hand and took off running back the way we came from.

I also ran when I realized we had talked all night and dawn was approaching.