Bilbo found that arranging the coronation ceremony of a Dwarf king was nothing like putting together a Hobbit party, even if that Hobbit party had been as splendid as the Shire had seen in many years. He had been the only one making decisions then, since it had been his party after all. In this case, however, he was not really making any decisions at all, which he found liberating in fact. All he had to do was to be around the place where decisions were being made and at the right time so he could put them into practice, at least those that had to do with the guest list and with writing out invitations nicely. Even so, it had taken up most of his time in the past two weeks, which was not a bad thing at all. It certainly kept his mind off things.

But right now, his mind was right back on things, as he made his way to the Forge, in search of Thorin. He had asked around a bit before finally finding out that Thorin had been seen around the Forge, and so, that was where he was going. Balin had asked to speak to Thorin and realised that he had no idea where he was. Bilbo had witnessed such moments of wondering where Thorin was many times during the past two weeks. Usually, the matter that Thorin was needed for was put to the side until he showed up on his own, but there had been times when somebody had simply been sent out to find him. This was one such time, and Bilbo had been tasked with the job. He wondered now why he had never thought to ask the person who had been sent before where he had found Thorin.

Either way, he had learned from reliable sources that Thorin had been seen making his way to the Forge, so he was going there now, not without a slight knot in his throat. He had not seen much of Thorin lately, which had allowed a certain comfortable distance to set in between himself and the knowledge that he did have a decision to make, and that he was the only one who could make it. Seeing Thorin now would inevitably bring that up again, and it wasn't necessarily comfortable to think about, especially with Thorin present. He still didn't know how he would be able to make a decision like that.

At least for the moment, however all Bilbo had to do was to find Thorin and tell him that he was needed, and he intended to acquit himself of that duty admirably.

He finally walked into the great Hall of the Forges, for the first time since they had entered the Mountain. The dragon had destroyed most of it, unfortunately, but the debris had been cleared in the meantime. Only one of the furnaces had been left intact and still had a moderate fire burning underneath, while the others had been brought down to stony stumps rising jagged from the ground.

Thorin was nowhere to be seen, however. There were a few dwarves working around the live furnace, but Thorin was not there.

Bilbo looked around until his gaze fell on an alcove carved into the side of the mountain, with firelight glowing behind its latticed window. He noticed then that there were a few more like it, but only one seemed to be occupied, at least by a fire pit.

He walked towards it carefully and listened in as he got closer to the window. From a distance, he had not been able to hear any sounds of smithing activity from the inside, although he was quite sure that was the purpose of these chambers. However, now that he was close by, he could distinguish the noise of a hammer pounding on metal in a steady rhythm. It must have been a small hammer, since the noise was light and high.

"Thorin?" he called in a mild voice near the window, without looking in. "Are you in there?"

The pounding stopped and Bilbo could instantly picture the hammer halt in mid-air. "Uh… yes," came Thorin's voice from inside, sounding a little breathless.

"What are you doing?"

"Working." Now the dwarf sounded a little gruff, which Bilbo found completely understandable since he had asked a really stupid question.

"Right," said Bilbo. "Well, I came to tell you that Balin is looking for you. He has a few things he needs to run by you as soon as you can."

The hammer was put down. "Of course. I'm coming."

Bilbo took a few steps back and gathered his hands at his back, ready to face Thorin in as proper of a way as he could.

Thorin soon came out, wiping his hands with a cloth. He smiled to Bilbo, quite obviously not displeased with his presence, although he still looked a little taken by surprise. Bilbo could very well say that he shared in the slightly jolting feeling of being taken by surprise, although not for the same reasons. It was Thorin's appearance that gave him pause. It was not what he would have called proper, and certainly not what he was prepared for.

Thorin's hair was pulled back in a thick single braid, with only a few wet strands coming down over his ears. His eyes gleamed like pools of pure mountain water in that realm of smouldering fire and molten metal. His face and arms glistened with small golden beads of sweat clinging to his skin, as if he had been standing in a rain of gold, and Bilbo could see his arms because he was not wearing a shirt under the leather smithy apron that he had on. Bilbo could also see the fresh scar on his left arm, made darker by the shadows of that great cavern, lit only by the fire under the one remaining furnace and a few torches spread widely throughout the hall.

"Give me a minute here," said Thorin with a little smirk and proceeded to remove his apron and hang it on the wall near the doorway to the forging chamber.

Bilbo felt like he should have looked away, but he couldn't really move his head, or his mouth. He felt happy enough that he could blink. The one other movement he could perceive in his body was a new, much more sizable knot growing in his throat.

Thorin turned to a small fountain carved into the wall of the mountain, gathered some fresh water in the palms of his hands and let it run over his face slowly, as if that was all he wanted to do at that moment. He dipped his hands into the fountain again and this time he allowed the water to run through his fingers a few times, wanting, Bilbo was sure, to cool down his hands from the hot work of forging things out of metal. He straightened his back finally and wiped his face dry with a clean towel hanging above the fountain. Now Bilbo could see the long scar on his back very clearly, another dark path cutting straight through the exquisite curves that rose and fell under his skin.

Thorin ended his routine of making himself presentable to the world outside of the Forge by wetting the towel he had used to wipe his face and cleaning his chest and arms of the sweat and a few smudges of soot here and there, wincing slightly whenever he had to raise his left arm above a certain height. He said nothing to Bilbo throughout all this, and there wasn't much to say, after all. He was simply cleaning up after having worked in the Forge, nothing unusual, but it didn't feel simple at all to Bilbo. And he no longer really felt that he should have looked away. He felt, rather, that it was for him to see, and he had to admit to himself that it was quite a sight. It was also somewhat sad to see all the scars on Thorin's body. He knew those scars very well. He had helped tend to the wounds that had left them there. But they were a reminder, to remain etched into Thorin's skin for as long as he would live, of everything that he had suffered to be where he was now, and Bilbo would have had it rather that he had not suffered at all. Yet, that was the way of the world, it seemed, and there was nothing he could do to change it. All he could do was to witness the beauty that still blazed in Thorin, tempered into a warmer and steadier flame by his suffering.

Thorin was now putting his shirt back on. He stood with his side to Bilbo, and he looked at him smiling again, as he buttoned up.

"Shall we go?" he said.

The sound of his voice came as a bright ray of sunshine that woke Bilbo from his dream. "Certainly, yes," he managed to say after clearing his throat.

Thorin gave a short little laugh as he redirected his attention to the last buttons of his shirt. Bilbo did not have to ask the reason for that laughter, nor did he want to. He was glad they were in the Forge, where the light of the fire made everything look red. That way he could blush in peace and not have anyone know about it, other than Thorin, of course, who didn't have to see it to know that it was happening.

He gestured for Thorin to lead the way, then he walked up to his side. "What were you working on in there?" he asked with casual interest.

"Oh, nothing of your concern at this time," replied Thorin, looking down at him in a way that really made Bilbo think twice about his answer.

"So… it's a secret."

"For now."

"Right… You manage to intrigue me yet again."

"I do what I can," said Thorin, a satisfied smirk making an appearance on his face again.

Bilbo fought hard against the urge to glare at him, but he could at least retain his own satisfaction in having solved the mystery of where Thorin had been hiding all of the times somebody had wanted to know where he was. Still, he couldn't deny that his curiosity had been piqued in many ways, and part of him was strangely furious at himself. He didn't quite know why exactly. Perhaps it was simply because he had been startled by it all, and he realised that he had chosen to ignore his own heart for some time, ever since Thorin had made his request and had assured him that he was willing to wait for as long as Bilbo needed to think. Only he had not been thinking, not about Thorin's request, at any rate, or about what he wanted to say, and he really should have, because it was important to both of them.

They soon reached Balin, and Bilbo's thoughts were redirected again to his duties related to Thorin's coronation. But that was only on the surface. In the deep of his mind, an understanding had awoken of having to give serious thought to the idea of remaining by Thorin's side for many years to come, of sharing his life with him in that closest and most private of ways that anyone could share themselves with somebody else. He could forgive himself for having ignored the matter thus far, but from then on, it simply would not do. He owed as much to Thorin, and to himself.

The rest of Bilbo's day was in fact remarkably unremarkable, completely lacking in further intrigue. Thorin had been swept off to deal with all the royal business he had not been dealing with while hiding in the Forge, and Bilbo had been free to go back to arranging books and papers in the Hall of Records.

He really had had a quiet afternoon, the likes of which he had not enjoyed in a while, only it had not been as quiet in his head as it would have appeared on the outside. It was no surprise then that his day was ending with a right headache.

He was back in his room, lying in bed, exhausted on all fronts. Still, his gaze pierced the ceiling and the whole mountainside above it, sailing out into the black sky, full of twinkles as cold as the darkest winter.

Yet, he didn't see a cold sky in his mind. He saw Thorin in the fiery play of light and shadow that had filled the dark cavern that was now the Forge. It was an image that appeared before his eyes without conjuring. It was simply there, beyond the loose confines of his tired mind, and it was hard to turn away from it. Not that he wanted to. Only it was also hard to allow himself to face it.

He turned on his side and closed his eyes, but the image of Thorin only gained in substance. It was so real that Bilbo could have reached out to it and found Thorin standing there in the flesh. He had no strength left to fight it. Eventually, Bilbo drifted to sleep, and his dreams that night were full of sweetness.