Erebor was won back four months ago to the day.
Four months might seem like a long while, depending on what's at the end—perhaps a visitor, or a move, or the season's change. Or, perhaps, fixing up an entire kingdom under a mountain from dragon ruin to cobwebs to burying the dead and finding enough food to keep the living going.
Bilbo's waited four months before. For the season to change or for his very favorite hard cheese to age adequately. Those were soft things, soft things from a place far to the west that hardly ever sees hardship and where the pantries were always stocked.
Whipping an entire kingdom into shape while the king and his heirs were bedridden, and there was only a handful of them who had any sort of idea what to do, well. Bilbo might have found himself begging for four months from then because surely it would be better.
Four months or a year or possibly five.
He could at least do with the year, but as Bilbo has only reached four months to the day, he's stuck with his lot.
And his lot are dwarves.
The dwarves from Ered Luin arrived a month and a half ago, which significantly eased the burden. Many of them used to call Erebor home, and their knowledge and assistance were vital to getting things moving from quick and hectic to quick and efficient. Only a few from Dain's lot remain, and they'll be gone soon.
Bilbo could kiss Dis for the work she does on the council. He's been sitting on it—against his will, mind you, as he likes to remind everyone—and even though Bilbo knows how to get dwarves to listen and often puts their tails between their legs, he's still not council material.
He's a hobbit, for Yavanna's sake.
Dis won't let him entirely escape the council, but she does take the most arduous tasks from his shoulders, and Bilbo could kiss her again.
Unfortunately, it's her brother Bilbo would rather be kissing.
Fili and Kili weren't bedridden with war injuries quite as long as Thorin was, though considering Thorin was of a sound mind, that hardly mattered. A king he was born to be, Balin said many times while hanging his head and shaking it as they listened to Thorin roar at someone in Khuzdul.
Angry because he couldn't properly help. They understood that, but it was walking a very fine line between delaying his healing and risking spending a night listening to a long, boring lecture if someone chose to hide something pressing from him.
Long, boring, and loud lecture, though Thorin never subjected Bilbo to one. He knew what was good for him, Bilbo supposes, but that hardly means they haven't argued since Thorin got up and around.
Bilbo doesn't know anything about running kingdoms, and four months on, he's only mildly less clueless. Nevertheless, he is glad to be tasked with aiding Lord Althi with residential districts and properties.
His father was a landlord and his father's father before him, and so on, so Bilbo's not entirely ignorant when it comes to that sort of work. He even enjoys it most days when he looks at it as he sees it—a very large map, a puzzle to be solved, and for something good to take shape.
When Bilbo starts thinking of it being thousands of dwarves the districts and properties represent, he begins to sweat.
Four months. Four long and short months, depending on the day and whoever might ask. Mostly short, really, for everything that's gone on, and the strides they've made are rather immense if Bilbo looks back.
His relationship with Thorin, however, is moving at a glacial pace.
Not that it's an actual relationship. Their friendship, which they've mended slowly and carefully, taking turns laying pressure on the wound until it stopped bleeding and they could breathe a sigh of relief.
Still. Glacial pace.
Because Bilbo wants it to be more. He's reasonably sure Thorin wants it to be more. And yet the conversation constantly teeters around the edge of the room, hopping along it like the shadows cast from the oversized hearth in Thorin's chambers, and they can never keep up with it.
If he possessed any bravery, which the company would say he certainly does, Bilbo has lost all of it when it comes to Thorin. How do you tell this great, imposing dwarf king you'd like to stick around and enjoy life with him at his side?
There must be… laws or traditions, or things of that nature. Bilbo has attempted to ask Balin about what's to be expected of Thorin when Erebor is restored to her former glory. Dryly, Balin had told him he'd like to see anyone beyond his kin expect anything of Thorin.
Won't dwarven lords be throwing their daughters at him? He's… well, he's middle-aged, but… virile, isn't he?
Those thoughts kept Bilbo up late one night, so he's abandoned them since, but he still wonders. If he has no chance with Thorin even after he's seen all the ways Thorin looks at him, the way he touches Bilbo and laughs with him more than anyone else… if he has no chance, what shall Bilbo do?
He's moved in, so to speak, and that might have been a rash decision.
But Bilbo wrote home and gave Bag End to the Gamgees. He asked them to meet the dwarves from Ered Luin to provide them with his most precious belongings on their way to Erebor, so he might have some bit of home and the things he truly loves.
His mother's glory box. His father's maps. The highly prized tea set Bilbo's grandparents passed down to his parents on their wedding day. He'd been worried about it getting here in one piece, and he might have cried as he pulled it out of a carefully packed box.
It's good to have these things near. It's not good to think of the teapot and cups as excellent courting material because, well… what if Bilbo's reading Thorin all wrong?
What if Thorin is looking at him through the lens of friendship and nothing more?
Bilbo supposes he should find out now that Thorin is storming around Erebor. They spend a good deal of time together, and if Thorin isn't receptive to any courting, well, Bilbo will know.
It might hurt worse than anything has, but he'll know.
—
After a long council meeting a few days later, Thorin and Bilbo walk together through the halls of Erebor. It's something they do when they've got a moment for it, something that allows them to breathe and relax their shoulders.
"You look pale," Thorin says as he looks at Bilbo.
His hands are clasped behind his back, and he's wearing proper kingly clothing with the long coat he favors, a crown atop his head, and looks far too handsome, in Bilbo's opinion.
"Hmm?" Bilbo hums. "Oh, no. Well, I suppose I must. I was outside for most of my life, even on the quest, and I've been in a mountain for four months. Barely any time to get outside and see the sun."
"Is that all?" Thorin asks.
"I assure you it is," Bilbo says with a smile because Thorin sounds worried. "If it wasn't such a long way, I'd take a jaunt outside to breathe in some fresh air. Smell something green. Enjoy the warmth of the sun."
Thorin peers at Bilbo before he looks down the long hallway. "What if we brought sunlight to you?"
"And how on earth would you do that?"
"You've told me you miss your garden. Your tomatoes," Thorin says. "Many times. Many, many times," he adds and smirks as Bilbo digs his elbow into his ribs, though that hurts Bilbo more than Thorin. "Would you like a garden?"
"In Erebor?" Bilbo asks, his eyebrows raised. Thorin only nods, and Bilbo scoffs. "I'd love to see you try. Does bringing sunlight to me mean carving out bits of the mountain? Windows here and there?"
"An entire alcove if you'd prefer," Thorin says dryly. "With a high wall, so you don't tumble over it."
Bilbo laughs. "Goodness. Wouldn't that be something? It'd bring the entire mountain down on top of us!"
Thorin glances at Bilbo from the corner of his eye. "You must be right. Something of that nature would require architects and developers. Engineers and miners. Ingenuity," he says and pauses for dramatic effect, Bilbo is sure. "None of which we possess."
"Oh, blast it," Bilbo laughs. He shakes his head. "Underestimated you again, haven't I? I appreciate the offer, of course. But ask me again in a year or two. Maybe five. Once Erebor settles a bit and hands aren't needed everywhere else."
"As you wish," Thorin says and chuckles. "You like the idea of it?"
Bilbo sighs wistfully. "I do, actually. It'd be lovely to feel soil underneath my toes. Growing just about anything is one of my many skills, you know. There are a few more herbs I wish I could have, too. They're difficult to grow with the others. Basil and dill," he says. "You'd love them both."
"I'm positive we would," Thorin says, and his smile is warm. "I'll consult with you in a year and see where your thoughts are then."
"Thank you," Bilbo says with a laugh. "Has anyone ever been gifted with something like that? A kingly gift, that's what everyone says about the mithril."
Thorin purses his lips. "Aye, and I wish they wouldn't. A mad king's gift," he says. "I'd give you this with a clear head and enjoy it far more. Especially your enjoyment of it."
Bilbo smiles. "Still saved my life," he says lightly. "A garden would be lovely, Thorin, and it's a nice thought. Tea this evening?"
"I'll be there," Thorin says as they stop at the end of the hall. He takes Bilbo's hand and squeezes it gently. "Send for those scones we had a few nights ago. I've been thinking of them since."
"Oh," Bilbo sighs and smiles, "I will."
Thorin smiles and bows his head before he strides off down another hallway. His guard, who knows full well to linger far behind, hurry forward to follow him. Bilbo watches them go, rubbing his chest, and tells his heart not to get ahead of itself.
Bilbo made those scones himself, and Thorin doesn't know that, but he might tell him tonight. He made them with Thorin in mind, and they're popular all around, so he made another batch around midday yesterday, large enough to feed an army.
It's silly to be so happy that Thorin enjoyed them. But it puts a pep in Bilbo's step as he takes another hall and thinks about serving Thorin tea tonight. He'll explain what the teapot and cups mean, and though Bilbo is dreadfully nervous about it, he thinks Thorin might understand the significance.
That Thorin might understand the significant place he's taken up in Bilbo's heart.
—
"And this teapot here. It's the one I told you I hoped arrived in good condition. Well, the same condition, I suppose. But, anyway," Bilbo says and clears his throat as he gestures grandly at the teapot on the small table between two armchairs. "It's an important teapot. To hobbits, I mean. Well, not just this one. This one is important to my family. The Bagginses!"
Bilbo's aware he's rambling and not making much sense. Thorin's eyebrows are near his hairline, but he looks faintly amused, as he always seems to be whenever Bilbo's flustered.
"What sort of significance does it carry?" Thorin asks politely. "Would you like me to pour it?"
His hands are a bit shaky, and Thorin noticing isn't doing him any favors, but Bilbo swats his attempts away.
"No, no. No, thank you," Bilbo says as he pours Thorin a cup of his favorite chamomile tea with lavender and honey. "My grandparents passed this down to my parents on their wedding day. Fortunately, they had enough teapots between themselves to pass down to all of their children. A lovely wedding gift and quite an honor."
"Indeed," Thorin says as he watches Bilbo pour the second cup. He seems to decide he doesn't need rescuing anymore and picks up his cup. "Teapots are held in high honor in the Shire."
"Mhmm," Bilbo hums as he sits down. His heart is racing, and he watches Thorin sip the tea. "Of course, I'm not married. Confirmed bachelor and all. No heirs to pass it down to."
Thorin looks at Bilbo and smiles. "I'd be grateful if you took Fili and Kili off my hands. Name one of them your heir, so I don't have to anymore," he says with a smirk. "They'd be glad for it."
Bilbo tsks. "They're falling into their roles quite nicely, you know. Or, rather, they do in front of their mother and at the council, but those are arguably the best times to show off their talents," he says. "I'd take Kili, though, just to see his despair over being older than me in years."
"Hmm," Thorin hums. "You're right. He wouldn't like it at all. I'll draft up the paperwork."
"A fine uncle you are," Bilbo laughs. "I wasn't finished, though, about the teapot."
"Oh? Forgive me, then. What other powers does it possess?"
Bilbo coughs. "Well…" he says and trails off. He watches Thorin glance at his tea and grimace before taking a sip. His heart skips a beat, a painful skip, and he clears his throat. "Too bitter?"
"Not at all," Thorin says quickly and looks at Bilbo. "Perfect as always. You were saying?"
"Oh, well…" Bilbo says and sighs. He's rapidly losing confidence—not that he had much—and Thorin grimaces again, which only sends his heart to drift somewhere down near his stomach. "Nothing, nothing. I'm only happy it got here alright. And the… the cups too."
Thorin lifts his cup and squints a little at it. "Ah," he says and looks at Bilbo with a smile. "I remember these red ones. Peonies. Love, passion, honor, and respect." He eyes it for a moment more, and Bilbo holds his breath. "Your mother must've used this one."
Bilbo watches Thorin take another sip of tea and grimace just slightly as if he thinks Bilbo won't notice. He does, very much so, and feels defeated.
"Yes, she did. On their anniversaries, mostly. My father was a stickler about not using this set often," Bilbo says. "You remembered those well."
"Once you remind me a dozen times, I tend to," Thorin says with wry amusement. "Hobbit culture is surprisingly complicated."
"Been in the Shire longer than you've been in Erebor," Bilbo mutters and grabs a scone. "We don't change much. But we've been around a while."
"Aye, that's true," Thorin says. "I do appreciate hearing about it, Bilbo. The intricacies of it only need repeating now and then."
Bilbo glances at Thorin. "Hmm. Yes, I suppose you're right," he says as he watches Thorin set the cup aside in favor of a scone. "If you don't understand or forget something, I'll simply try, try again."
Thorin chuckles. "Better start now, Master Baggins. While so many things are fresh in mind."
"Oh, I think I will."
—
Thorin didn't understand, but that's alright. Bilbo will try again, as he said, though he's still embarrassed about the tea. He must've gotten it wrong because usually, Thorin guzzles any cups of tea Bilbo puts in front of him.
So Bilbo will try again and pay better attention to brewing.
Only Thorin doesn't make it easy. In fact, Thorin, the very next day, can't see Bilbo at all. And the following day, they only walk down the hall together, and Bilbo has the sense that Thorin's mind is far away from there.
He becomes so bogged down with work that Bilbo's confused. He sits on the same blasted council that Thorin does, and there have been no new developments. Not anything that would make Thorin nearly inaccessible. And it's unlike him not to put his foot down and carve out some time with Bilbo.
The first night in nearly a week that Bilbo's able to sit with Thorin in his rooms in front of the roaring fire, Thorin mumbles for so long about work in the business district that Bilbo can't make heads or tails of it.
But it means he can try to serve Thorin his favorite cup of tea. Bilbo's perfected the herbal brew and thinks it tastes absolutely divine.
Thorin briefly seems like he's expecting a horrible, sticky sludge of cough medicine, and Bilbo tries not to take it personally. He does drink it afterward, but it doesn't seem to be his favorite anymore, and Bilbo's at a loss about how to ask him what is.
Bilbo explains more about the teapot, but Thorin's mind is elsewhere. He tries not to feel like his heart is slowly being squeezed out of his chest either, but, well, that's what it feels like.
He goes to bed early that night, and Thorin doesn't stop him.
It doesn't mean Bilbo can't try again, though his confidence has been snuffed out, and his mood has taken quite a plunge.
Still, Bilbo will keep at it.
Thorin doesn't make it easy by being so busy it's nearly two more weeks before they spend an evening together. So Bilbo serves Thorin another cup of tea and attempts to emphasize how very important tea sets like these are, and Thorin is, of course, polite about it, but he's never anything more than that.
And tea seems to be something he doesn't enjoy. Ever since Bilbo served him that first cup in the tea set that means so much to hobbits, representing love and courtship and marriage, things Bilbo wants with Thorin.
It must be a refusal. Thorin must've known what Bilbo was trying to say, and perhaps not accepting being served a beverage or food means something to dwarves after they've refused someone's advances.
That seems hobbitish, though it isn't, and Thorin eats whatever Bilbo sets in front of him with great joy, anyway.
Thorin relishes their evenings together, too, even if he's refused Bilbo's advances. He seeks them out and apologizes for the delay between them. However, whenever Bilbo asks what he's got his hands in, Thorin rants about the business district, which is getting increasingly confusing to Bilbo.
He asks Balin about it one day.
"What on earth is Thorin doing in the business district? What sort of work? Why isn't it discussed at council meetings?" Bilbo asks. "Whenever I ask, he might as well be speaking an unknown language."
Balin's mastered the fed-up look, and Bilbo supposes Thorin must be driving his royal advisor mad. "Thorin," Balin says, "is in over his head."
"Well, that's hardly anything unusual," Bilbo mutters as he fiddles with the buttons on his intricate vest that can't really be called a waistcoat. "Can't you explain it, so I understand it?"
"What makes you think I can explain the matters of a raving man any better than he?"
Bilbo tuts and looks at Balin with amusement. "Isn't that what you do?"
"No," Balin says flatly. "This isn't what I do, laddie. Besides, it's something he's being bullheaded about, so best to leave him to it. You're pale, Bilbo."
"I get no sunlight!" Bilbo says. "Blast it all. I'm tempted to take a holiday just outside and set up camp for a while."
Balin chuckles. "Aye, and none could blame you for it," he says. "Are you so sure it isn't something else?" He looks knowingly at Bilbo. "Pale and tired."
Bilbo sighs and looks at Balin's desk. Neatly organized from inkwell to stacks of paperwork. The last time Bilbo saw Thorin's desk in his chambers, it had looked precisely the opposite, which was also a bit unusual.
"We went from having tea every evening—that right there!" Bilbo declares and points at Balin as he grimaces. "That's the exact face Thorin makes nowadays whenever I serve him tea!"
"What face?"
"Don't you play coy with me, Balin," Bilbo says and shakes his finger. "Is it a crime now to enjoy tea? He used to like it! Drank his cups eagerly."
Balin coughs a little and shrugs. Organizes stacks of parchment that don't need to be organized and looks at Bilbo warily as he sighs loudly. "Dwarves, as a rule," he begins slowly, "don't like tea."
"As a rule?" Bilbo laughs. "What's wrong with tea? Dori and all the dwarves visiting his shop like it just fine."
Balin grimaces. "I am fully aware," he mutters. "We have a strong aversion to the taste."
Bilbo raises his eyebrows before he squints at Balin. "Alright," he says slowly. "Did Thorin develop this aversion recently?"
"Oh," Balin sighs. "Nay. I'm afraid he is not fond of tea at all, laddie. But, if you're keen on serving him beverages every evening," he adds hastily as Bilbo gapes at him, "for whatever reasons you have, you may try ale."
"But I can't serve him ale out of teacups!"
Balin coughs a little, though he seems to be trying not to laugh. "No, you cannot," he says. "But a mug of ale would mean something to him, laddie. You know his favorite."
Bilbo clears his throat and fiddles with his buttons again. "I suppose I do," he says. "If I can ever get him to join me in the evenings."
"The king shouldn't be as busy in another few weeks," Balin says. "Once his plans have been brought to life. Unless he changes them again," he adds with a long-suffering sigh. "You'll be back to evening tea soon. Ale."
"Right," Bilbo says. "Right. Ale. Yes. I'll serve him ale. Hardly any good with scones or cake, of course, but if he'll appreciate it more. Right! Well then. Good to know. Thank you, Balin. I don't think he would have ever told me."
Balin sighs and smiles. "It might surprise you, Bilbo," he says, "but Thorin wishes to see you content and enjoying things that mean something to you."
Bilbo hums, and his cheeks feel warmer. "That goes both ways," he says. "I know he does. He was very worried I planned on leaving for the first month or so. Guzzling tea, so he doesn't have to taste it, apparently. Right! Well. I'll see him soon then, hopefully."
With renewed confidence and vigor, Bilbo strides out of Balin's office and off to the kitchens to have a barrel of ale sent to his rooms.
—
The next time Bilbo gets to share an evening with Thorin—a long week and a half later—he notices with more clarity than he likely had before how he eyes the tea set on the table when he thinks Bilbo's not looking.
Bilbo, however, is prepared.
He extended the invitation to his rooms instead of Thorin's, though they both prefer the more enormous hearth Thorin has. Thorin took him up on his offer, and while he seems far away, mind stuck on whatever is going on in the business district, he notices Bilbo setting a mug of ale next to him just fine.
Bilbo sets a plate of blueberry scones on the table and places one in each teacup before dusting off his hands and sitting in his armchair.
Thorin raises his eyebrows as he looks between the cups and mugs. "Ale tonight?" he asks and picks up the mug, glancing at the foamy top. "You usually don't enjoy a brew this late."
"Well," Bilbo says and shrugs. "I've tortured you with horrid tea for long enough, I think. Ale seems to suit you better."
"You have not tortured me," Thorin says with sudden worry. "Who told you?"
Bilbo laughs, unable to help it, at how he didn't even bother to deny it. And he laughs more after because Thorin looks distressed about it, but eventually Thorin sighs and smiles helplessly.
"Goodness, Thorin!" Bilbo says and wipes his eyes. "I'd have preferred if you told me! Though, honestly, I could've looked at you a bit closer and seen it myself. Why on earth didn't you say anything?"
Thorin opens his mouth and closes it before taking a long drink of ale. He sets the mug aside and sighs as he looks at Bilbo. "You like it. Tea," he says. "And drinking it with me."
"I would enjoy just sitting here with you, you know. Of course, I'd rather you have what you actually like, you dratted dwarf," Bilbo says with a smile. He grabs the scone inside the teacup and turns it in his hand, looking down at it. "Quite kind of you, though, to put yourself through it."
"No true hardship," Thorin says. He grimaces after Bilbo gives him a long look. "Perhaps some. I've faced worse."
"You never once cringed at Smaug."
Thorin sighs and chuckles after Bilbo grins. "I didn't have to taste him," he says. They both grimace. "Thank Mahal. No matter," he adds. "Thank you, Bilbo. These are some of my favorite things in the mountain."
"Ale and scones, yes, I know," Bilbo says with a smile. "I'll only serve you tea when I'm cross with you."
"Weekly tea then," Thorin says and smirks. "It's not only those. I enjoy your company and these evenings. I apologize there have been so few recently. But these evenings make my time here all the brighter."
Bilbo clears his throat and smiles more. He's glad for the fire because his cheeks feel warmer. "Well," he says, rubbing his chest with his free hand, feeling his heart race away. "Mine as well. I'm very glad for your friendship, Thorin."
Thorin gazes at Bilbo and smiles faintly. "Aye. And I'm glad for yours. I know I'm lucky to have it," he says. "You never answered me."
"I… pardon?" Bilbo asks and raises his eyebrows. "Never answered what?"
"Who told you?"
Bilbo sighs, a little in relief and despair before he's laughing again.
—
The cringing stops, thankfully.
That doesn't mean that Bilbo can tempt Thorin into more evenings with the promise of cake or scones and a tankard of ale. He's busy, and Balin did say it would be a few more weeks.
But Bilbo's… well, he wants Thorin's company. He craves it, in fact, and it's starting to make him restless to not have it. So he tries to ask Lord Ganar, usually the one in charge of the goings-on of the business district, what on earth is happening there, but Ganar only looks to the ceiling as if asking Mahal for patience.
Though, he recites a few things Thorin has said a bit more clearly than Thorin himself. Something about other banks and in-fighting between financial institutes and everybody else vying for property. Lord Ganar doesn't seem to have any answer as to why it isn't being discussed at council meetings, excusing himself quickly and leaving Bilbo at a loss.
Fili and Kili are more subdued lately, with less laughter and teasing and fewer arguments on the council.
"Is everything alright?" Bilbo asks as he stands with them after the meeting. They dragged him aside to try and win his favor, but Bilbo's part of the council now, and they'll have to work for it. "You've both been quiet lately."
"Uncle's working us to our stone," Kili mutters. He rubs the back of his neck and stretches as if he's achy.
"To your stone?" Bilbo asks with amusement.
"We're made of stone, Bilbo," Fili says and points at his chest imploringly. "The most precious stone is at our centers. We're near to seeing them."
Bilbo raises his eyebrows as he looks between them. "Alright," he says, not understanding dwarves in the slightest. "With the business district nonsense, I assume?"
"Aye," Kili sighs. "It's not so bad, honestly. Just work we aren't used to," he says pointedly to Fili. "Should be over with soon enough. What about you, Bilbo? You seem a bit pale."
"Yes, yes, I know," Bilbo says impatiently. He waves his hand before pinching the bridge of his nose. "You go out with the guard every other month," he adds and looks at Kili. "To check the perimeters or what have you. I'll tag along next time. Get some sun."
Kili and Fili laugh. "I wish you could," Kili says with a beaming grin. "You'd tell us how to do it better, I'm sure. But it's too dangerous. Uncle would have all of our heads."
"You should know by now I don't give a rat's arse about what your uncle thinks is dangerous. He trusted me with danger for months on end, after all."
"Oh, we know," Fili says with a fond sigh. "We hear you arguing about it halfway across the mountain. Don't worry, Bilbo." He claps Bilbo on the shoulder. "Ask Uncle to take you to Dale. You know he's due there in a couple of months."
"I have already told him I'm going," Bilbo mutters. He shakes his head as they grin and waves his hand. "Alright, off with you. Cheer up soon. We're all in need of a little laughter still if you can spare some."
"Soon," Fili and Kili promise. "You'll breathe easier soon," Kili says with a wink.
Bilbo watches them stride down the hallway and hums. Soon, apparently, Bilbo and Thorin will have time together. The business district will be… well, whatever it'll be, it'll no longer require the king's attention.
Soon, Bilbo can nudge at the idea of courtship. Thorin seemed to think being served scones in teacups was charming, or he was relieved it wasn't tea, at least. Bilbo will keep doing it because he believes that Thorin feels the same.
It was never a rejection, only dwarven stubbornness, and Thorin still looks at Bilbo as he's done for a long while now.
No one but his family, the company, and Bilbo have seen Thorin's soft side. And what a soft side it is! So kind, vulnerable, protective, always worried about everyone getting enough and that they're happy.
Thorin has as many facets as the most precious jewels in the mountain. Most are lovely, intriguing, heartwarming, and some are quite the opposite, but that's true of everyone. Thorin's a good person, most of all, and Bilbo… Bilbo loves him.
Yes, he loves him.
Quite a lot, actually, and Bilbo thinks standing in the hallway outside of the council room being guarded by two dwarves is not the best place to come to terms with that.
He hurries off to wherever his feet lead him, no more pressing duties for the day, and it shouldn't surprise him that his feet lead him straight to Thorin.
Busy, naturally, locked away in his office and running a mountain. But Bilbo only clears his throat a few times, and his guard steps aside to let him open the door. He's been barred from here, or at least told that Thorin's in meetings all blasted day, so it's a bit of a surprise but a welcome one.
Bilbo crosses the room to Thorin's magnificently carved desk and hesitates. Coming to terms with being in love with Thorin in front of Thorin is a worse place, he realizes, but a little too late, as Thorin glances up from the parchment paper he's holding.
"Bilbo," Thorin says. "Are you well?"
"Hm? Oh, yes. Yes, I'm fine, just a thought," Bilbo mutters and takes a seat across from Thorin. "I haven't gotten an audience with you here in what feels like ages."
Thorin sighs. "Aye," he says. "I'm not here often enough. I apologize for it, but some of the most pressing matters are nearly solved."
Bilbo opens his mouth to tell Thorin that his guard outside the door has been telling him Thorin's busy inside with meetings. And, well, they only stand in front of the door versus across the hallway when Thorin's inside.
Not here often enough seems a bit strange to say considering how often Bilbo has come around. Too often, he realizes with some embarrassment, like a lost lover haunting the hallway.
"Oh, erm," Bilbo says and coughs. "Right. No need to apologize, Thorin, for being busy. Comes with the job, I suspect." He smiles after Thorin does, and even if he isn't telling the entire truth, Bilbo isn't blind to how glad Thorin seems to see him. "Are you alright? I think it's my turn to point out you look tired."
Thorin chuckles. "Comes with the job, I suspect," he says with a mischievous gleam in his eyes and a broad smile. "Not much more than usual and nothing to be concerned about. Well worth it, in the end."
"The business district?" Bilbo asks and waves his hand after Thorin opens his mouth. "Don't tell me about it again, for Yavanna's sake. It's far beyond me, and I've given up. But, I know you'll come to me if you actually need a little help."
"As long as you know it," Thorin says as he gazes at Bilbo. His smile is more fond. "Another week and a half, they tell me, but that means two and a half weeks. Then I'm yours."
Bilbo huffs and fiddles with the buttons on his proper waistcoat. Tries not to look into that anymore than he should, but being in love and all, it's a bit difficult. It feels like he's soaring, in fact, far above the snowy peak and into the clouds.
His heart thumps with life and love and all those good, warm things.
Once Thorin is his, not in the way Bilbo wishes it to be, Bilbo thinks he'll stop skirting around the subject. Or chasing it, conversations falling apart before he knows it.
He'll tell Thorin precisely what the tea set means. Not to the Bagginses, his grandparents or his parents, but to Bilbo. What it means to him in regards to how he looks at Thorin, to how Thorin makes him feel, and he can only hope that it'll go well.
"Let me know then," Bilbo says breathlessly. "When you've got the time. I'll be waiting."
That vulnerability. The kind that makes Thorin look at Bilbo as if he's searching for something, perhaps that he means it at all, and it aches. Oh, it aches, right in the center of Bilbo's chest, and he wishes he were brave enough to simply say it.
But Thorin's eyes soften, and he smiles.
Not the broad smile or the faint one, but something in between, with a hint of melancholy and yet, such warmth. One of Bilbo's favorite smiles, and he isn't worried about the melancholy.
He feels it right alongside Thorin, but they'll soon be back to their routines. No passing months with only a few evenings spent together anymore. For now, anyway, Bilbo's sure it's bound to happen again, but… well, perhaps they'll be in a place where their evenings are always spent together, even if it isn't for hours at a time.
Bilbo leaves to let Thorin get back to work and goes to his rooms where he can properly come to terms with being in love.
With a smile and a short laugh and no one around to question it.
—
Thinking it would make the next two and a half weeks go by any faster is a mistake, Bilbo realizes, only a few days later.
A few days have felt like a few weeks, and Bilbo is more restless than ever. He thinks he could climb to Erebor's peak and shout his love for all to hear. He could yell it through the mines, so it echoed through the mountain.
It's a good feeling, being in love. Bilbo's never really felt it before—only the love of his family and friends. There have been sweethearts, but growing up odd made children keep their distance from him, and when he finally became more like his father and a proper hobbit, everyone who tried to court him only wanted Bag End.
It was challenging to trust anyone, and Bilbo had his fair share of being burned. So it wasn't easy letting down his guard even when he had someone in his life, though he tried.
Never tried hard enough in their opinions, and Bilbo always found himself alone in Bag End. He gave up on it thirteen years before Gandalf came to his door and Thorin Oakenshield after.
Now, Bilbo is on a dwarven council in Erebor, one of the greatest kingdoms on Middle Earth. He doesn't think he could explain it to a single other hobbit except perhaps the Gamgees or Aunt Mira. In his opinion, the only ones worth their salt, and it hardly stung at all, giving Bag End to a worthy family.
He drinks ale and eats scones with a dwarven king and listens to him laugh, truly laugh, his shoulders relaxed and his smile carefree.
Not a life Bilbo ever imagined, but goodness, what luck he's been given. He shan't give it away anytime soon.
Bilbo pesters the company here and there when he has free time, though they only seem amused by his inability to relax. It's driving Bilbo a bit mad, but friends are good for the soul or the… inner stone, whatever works best.
He's lying on the settee in his rooms precisely two weeks after he last spoke with Thorin. At least anything meaningful; they've had their passing hellos and goodbyes and bickering at the council, but not what Bilbo's waiting for.
There are no council meetings today, and Lord Althi is off in one of the residential districts, so Bilbo's got the morning free. It gives him time to relax with a cup of tea and a good book, and finally, Bilbo does feel his shoulders loosen. He's able to focus on the words in his book and enjoy some peace.
The knock on the door makes Bilbo glance at it, frowning irritably. Of course, he could ignore it, pretend he isn't at home, but he lives in the royal wing. So it's got to be someone in the company or one of the Durins come to accost him when he finally has a moment's peace.
Bilbo sighs and closes his book, setting it aside. He stands and stretches as he walks to the door and opens it.
Seeing Thorin here in all his glory when he'd usually be stuck in meetings or paperwork behind his desk is a bit of a shock. And Bilbo might worry that Thorin's here at an unexpected time, but he could be right on time if he's finally free.
And it's not Thorin Oakenshield, the mighty dwarven king at his door. Bilbo knows this Thorin, but he hasn't seen him in a while, and he's grinning before he knows it.
Thorin's only wearing a tunic and trousers, still with a fancy belt buckle, and the boots he wears when he's out in the wilderness. No crown atop his head or extra braids with beads or tiny jewels here and there. Only his loose hair and the two braids that are so familiar to Bilbo.
Thorin's smiling just as broadly as Bilbo. "I see you're in a good mood," he says. "I should consider myself lucky."
"Oh, posh. You know I have the morning off, of course I'm in a good mood. What's going on?" Bilbo asks. "Don't tell me you have the morning off too."
Thorin shrugs, carefree and relaxed, and his smile is more than fond. "Perhaps I do," he says. "Perhaps even the entire day. Shuck that waistcoat, Master Baggins, and come with me if you dare."
He holds out his arm, and Bilbo squints suspiciously. But he does get out of his waistcoat and takes Thorin's arm.
"Oh, hello, Dwalin," Bilbo says once he's stepped into the hall. "Good gracious, you've even abandoned your guard. Are we going incognito? Pretending we're common citizens and not a hobbit?"
Dwalin shakes his head, but he looks amused. "Turn his hair blond and put you in boots, aye, maybe," he says. "King's of the opinion he can do whatever he wants today."
"You know what today is, don't you?" Thorin asks Bilbo with a smirk as they stroll down the hallway.
"I do, actually, and thank you very much," Bilbo laughs. "Six months to the day! We've come a long way, haven't we? I was worried we wouldn't last a week, honestly."
Thorin barks a laugh. "Good to know that's what your thoughts were," he says. "And not the promises of a prosperous Erebor before I knew it while I laid on my death bed."
"Death bed is precisely what it was as we weren't sure if you'd make it or not. And if I had to see you go, telling you that Erebor would be prosperous soon would be a good send-off, wouldn't it? It would've been true even if it might've taken more time."
"There would have been a battle between Dain and Dis for the throne, you mean," Thorin says dryly. "If not others. But aye, those might have been good parting words. Would you have stayed?"
"You know," Bilbo sighs and looks up at Thorin with a smile. "I don't think my heart could've handled it. I'd be happy to know that at least the company had Erebor in their hands. I'm rather glad you survived."
"Spat at Mahal's feet is what he calls it," Dwalin says with a chuckle. "I'd believe him if it were less insulting."
Thorin sighs after Bilbo laughs. "What an honor to be alive," he says and smirks at Bilbo. "Perhaps we should be glad for today."
"On the day of," Bilbo agrees. "Where are we off to, by the by?"
They walk down a staircase Bilbo's never really taken. It leads into another wing of the royal halls that haven't been restored yet because there aren't enough royals. The opposite end of the hall puts him closer to where he needs to be on his way to council meetings.
"To brighter things," Thorin says.
"Really?" Bilbo asks skeptically as they wander down the hall that's barely lit. "This doesn't seem any brighter."
"Patience, Master Burglar."
"I've got plenty of patience, Thorin Oakenshield. But, oh, blast, I didn't even know this was here."
Another stairwell at the end of the hall. Thorin's arm tightens on Bilbo's as they take it and thank Yavanna, when they step into another hall Bilbo's never been in, it's brightly lit.
The rich, extensive bronze-colored rug over green stone is different from upstairs, but they're still royal quarters. There are massive paintings on the walls, and the braziers are so intricately designed that Bilbo's only seen them in the royal halls.
It smells a bit musty, so these halls haven't been touched all that much, either, Bilbo suspects. Though there aren't any cobwebs or dust bunnies to be found, so some cleaning has taken place.
"What halls are these?" Bilbo asks curiously as they walk down the left side toward the end.
"Royal studies," Thorin says with a smile. "We took many lessons down here. My brother and my sister and our closest cousins in the mountain. Decorum, table etiquette, dancing, history, lineage, and ways to navigate the council as we grew older. Fili and Kili might have learned to be princes here, but their children and their children's children will."
Bilbo smiles, and if he's leaning a little closer to Thorin, well, neither of them seems to mind. "Really? That's fascinating. I suppose it might take a while before children run around here, but some work has been done. You aren't taking me to an etiquette lesson, are you?" he asks with a laugh. "I'll have things to say."
"Aye. You always do," Thorin chuckles. "No, Bilbo. I think we continue to learn from you every day and perhaps far more than we did in these halls. The truth for me and others."
"Oh, there's simply no comparison to my frustrations versus your beautiful navigation of the council's frustrations. I've mucked it up more than I've helped."
"Far from true, fortunately," Thorin says and smiles as Bilbo looks up at him. "You've taught even the most stubborn member of the council to sit back and listen more than he speaks."
Bilbo's cheeks feel warm, and he'll blame it on the braziers. He smiles at Thorin and looks away, down at the end of the hall, which they've almost reached.
His heart's gone soaring again, and Bilbo's not sure how to catch it, but maybe Thorin knows a way.
"Thorin," Bilbo murmurs but hesitates.
This is partly due to Dwalin being their audience and a familiar scent. It isn't just musty, but earthy, and Bilbo frowns as he looks around. They're walking to the last door on the right, and now that Bilbo's eyes have adjusted, he can see light coming from a slight crack in the door.
A dash of white-green light shines on the stone, but there's dirt there too. Two unusual things because, well, it looks like sunlight and soil, but they're too high up.
Bilbo feels it beneath his toes as they get closer to the door. Soft, tiny bits of soil that flatten beneath his feet and stick to his soles just the way Bilbo's so familiar with it. He gasps and looks at Thorin.
Thorin smiles, a gentle, soft sort, and loosens his grip on Bilbo's arm. "For you, Bilbo," he says. He opens the door and gestures Bilbo inside as sunlight streams through the hall.
He steps into the room, and a soft slope of soil is beneath his feet rather than carpets or rugs or stone. Bilbo covers his mouth as he walks slowly into a massive alcove, sunlight bursting through it, Erebor's rocky mountainside visible beyond it. And the east visible from there, sloping hills lit gold by the mid-morning sun.
Deep soil covers the natural stone, moist but not overly so, and stretches from one end to the other. There are little garden plots, sandstone and matching brick winding around them. Some have sapling trees with enough room to grow, and others are plants waiting to grow fruit or vegetables as they take to the soil and grow taller.
There are higher planters, deep soil in solid brick, perfect for squashes and other such things.
Bilbo recognizes another area of vegetative plants closer to him and laughs tearfully. They're tomato plants, and it'll be a while before they're adorned with fruit, but they're tomatoes.
Higher planters are set in an angular pattern that Bilbo can walk through, thin, but the soil goes deep, and there are thick separations between each herb that grows in them. Basil and dill and thyme and rosemary. They purchase many others, and this garden will never produce enough for the royal halls, but they're plenty for Bilbo and the company.
The sound of water draws Bilbo further into the alcove. On the right side is a natural waterfall, narrow and not overly loud, but just the right amount for sitting and relaxing in the sun. Listening to running water, birds, bees and other things.
To breathe in the scent of soil and all good, green things, to be given life by the sun, and perhaps a bit of color, too.
These are dwarves, however, and there is more to see.
Four massive pillars are carved from the top of the alcove to the bottom and beyond them is where the soil ends. It opens to a balcony with a high wall to protect anyone from tumbling over, and the sunshine is bright against the natural grey stone of Erebor.
There are benches out there and inside too, plenty of them, for Bilbo and friends if he wants for company.
Planters hang from pillars wrapped in vines, ferns spilling over the sides, flowers bright in others. There are many flowers, now that Bilbo sees beyond the rest of it. Most are in decorative pots to keep from taking over the garden's soil, but there are rose bushes planted near the walls of the alcoves.
No roses yet, but by next winter, they'll bloom huge and beautiful and fill this wonderful place with their distinctive floral scent.
A garden. The most perfect garden on Middle Earth, just for Bilbo, and he laughs, brushing away his tears, and turns to Thorin.
Thorin's not far, and Bilbo's tears don't worry him. Instead, his smile broadens into a grin after Bilbo laughs more.
"Oh, you dratted dwarf," Bilbo says. "Business district, my arse! You hardly have the time for this!"
"Already finished, isn't it?" Thorin asks with that mischievous gleam in his eyes Bilbo adores. "Beyond what we could do, we consulted with Dale for the garden. Does it look correct?"
Bilbo laughs. "Correct! Goodness, Thorin, you'll never see me again," he says. "It's beautiful. It's perfect! You didn't have time! Oh, blast it, Thorin. Thank you simply isn't enough."
He walks to Thorin and embraces him, and Thorin's arms close tightly around Bilbo. Bilbo buries his face against Thorin's shoulder and breathes in the familiarity of him. Pipesmoke and steel, clover and oil, and everything Thorin.
His hair is cool and tickles Bilbo's forehead and cheek. Bilbo feels Thorin's smile against his neck and squeezes his eyes shut tighter. He's shaking a bit, overwhelmed and in love, and he might say it's a dream, but it would be a good one, wouldn't it?
"Bilbo," Thorin murmurs. "Bilbo, azyungel. A battle was fought and won, making this for you."
"Oh, goodness," Bilbo mutters and pulls back just a bit to look at Thorin. "What do you mean?"
Thorin smiles and moves his hand to Bilbo's cheek, brushing a tear away. "The war between wishing to spend every evening with you and making this for you even if it kept me away," he says. "But it's been won, and I would like to spend our evenings together again."
Bilbo laughs and sniffles. "Thank you. I hope you don't mind doing so in a garden," he says. "Because I'll be here every evening pruning it."
"I hoped I might be invited in," Thorin chuckles. "I wouldn't mind learning more about gardening if you would be so kind as to teach me."
"Thorin," Bilbo says and closes his eyes. He sighs and looks at Thorin, smiling helplessly. "You know I'd do anything for you. Though it would give me immense joy to teach you how to garden."
"I suspected," Thorin says with a smile. "Perhaps we can enjoy sitting with our pipes and your tea set as well."
Bilbo grins. "Scones in the cups," he says. "Ale in tankards for you, my dear. Sounds perfectly perfect. I was trying to tell you something with that tea set, you know."
"I thought of it," Thorin says sheepishly. "But not until this was nearly finished."
"Are you trying to tell me something with this?"
"I am," Thorin says. "I hope I've remembered the most important flowers."
Bilbo laughs and tightens his hold on Thorin. "I think it matters most that you wanted to," he says. "But I meant what those red peonies said. And if you planted any in here, well, Thorin Oakenshield… I think it's past time you kissed me."
Thorin's grin rivals the beauty of the garden, Bilbo is sure. And his kiss, well.
What a kiss it is.
Their garden will flourish in time with Erebor. Half wild and spectacular in its natural beauty and meticulously pruned and shaped otherwise. So many cups of tea and tankards of ale will be shared, always with scones or cakes sitting in one teacup.
The most kingly gift given in all of Erebor's history, where two of the most unlikely people are bound by trials and love, surrounded by soil and stone.
Stones are the center of dwarves, and soil is the center of hobbits, Bilbo supposes. But you can only dig so far down the earth before you meet the stone that supports it.
Erebor and love will flourish, as timeless as the garden at the center of an alcove.