A/n:

Hey all!

I know, I know, it's been basically nine months... sorry about that! Covid, university, and life has been keeping me busy, but I am here and I do not intend to abandon this. I'm in it for the long haul (and long haul it will likely be).

ALSO, today is the 1 year anniversary of TaBaTA! A year ago today, on June 30th 2020, I posted chapter one!

Thanks for your patience. Hope you enjoy this chapter!

"I can't believe I've forgotten," Dori all but wailed, burying his face in his hands. "My own brother's eighth decennial, and I missed it!"

"It's fine, Dori," said Ori, rolling his eyes, aiming a discreet punch at a laughing Kíli behind his back.

"It is far from fine," Dori said. "I've never missed one before."

"Lay off him, Dori," Nori said. "You'll have plenty of other opportunities to mother him once we're all safe in the mountain." At these words, Nori shot a pointed look at Dwalin, who turned away with a grunt.

"We missed your birthday?" Bilbo asked. "When was it?"

"I can't be sure," Ori said. "Somewhere in the Misty Mountains. Towards the end, I think."

"Not his birthday, his decennial," Dori interrupted miserably.

"I fear I may be a bit lost," Bilbo said. "Is that quite different from a birthday?"

"Different from a birthday," Dori scoffed. Nori, seeming to be quite done with his brother's antics, rolled his eyes and walked away. Ori, too, did his best to sneak away, but withered under Dori's watchful eye and stayed put, nudging a patch of dirt with his foot. "We dwarves don't celebrate birthdays. If we did, we would never get anything done," Dori said with an important smirk. "But we do celebrate every decade. It simply makes more sense that way."

"So Ori, you're eighty?" Bilbo asked.

"I suppose so," Ori said with a sheepish smile.

"Dori's right. We should celebrate," Bilbo said, to Ori's apparent dismay.

"Well of course I am," Dori said. "I had it all planned out, but I suppose I'll have to reevaluate some things. Maybe I'll have a word with Master Beorn…" he said, trailing off thoughtfully.

"Why didn't we do this last ti-?" Bilbo froze. "Earlier." he corrected with an uneasy smile. "Why didn't we do this earlier?"

"Because I forgot," Dori said with a reproachful look. "Must you remind me?"

"Right, sorry," Bilbo said, feeling a trickle of sweat trickle down his back. What a stupid mistake he had almost made. "Well, is there anything I can do to help?"

"Yes, actually. Come along with me and I'll find something for you to do," Dori said with a purposeful nod.

"What do we do first?" Bilbo asked, speed walking to keep up with Dori, who had set off towards Beorn's house.

"It would only be polite to ask Beorn if we might use his home to celebrate," Dori said. Bilbo's first reaction was to be impressed at Dori's thoughtfulness. His second reaction was to wonder why they hadn't had the decency to ask his permission when they had all raided his home. Dwarves.

"Quite right," Bilbo said, trying to keep the sarcasm from his voice. "And then what? What goes into a dwarven decennial?"

"Well after that, we should warn the others, of course. They'll need enough time to craft. It'll have to be something simple, mind you, but nevertheless…"

"Craft what?"

"A token for Ori, of course," Dori said, as though it should be obvious. "Each dwarf will use his craft to make a gift for him."

"Their crafts?"

"Honestly Master Baggins, do keep up," Dori said, although he looked quite pleased to be explaining these seemingly basic concepts to Bilbo. "We all have a specialty. Most dwarrow declare theirs around their tenth decennial, but some do so earlier. And, some rather exceptional dwarrow can claim multiple crafts, but that in itself is rare."

"What's yours?" Bilbo asked. Dori looked affronted.

"I'm a tailor, of course."

"Of course," Bilbo said hastily. "And… everyone else?" he asked, eyes falling on Thorin, who was having a hushed conversation with Balin on the outskirts of Beorn's property.

"Fíli, Kíli, and Ori have yet to declare theirs. I would wager that Fíli will be a warrior. Or, knowing the princes, Fíli will end up being a minstrel," Dori let out a haughty laugh, then barrelled on. "Ori has been training with Balin for the position of advisor for years now. It's young Kíli that's the true mystery," Dori said with a tense smile. "I imagine he'll have to start taking his duties seriously before he'll consider taking up a craft."

"I see," Bilbo said, furrowing his brows in concentration. "And everyone else?"

"Don't give it to him too easily, brother," called Nori from around his pipe. He was perched on Beorn's front steps next to a tense looking Dwalin. "Let him figure it out himself."

"Very well," Dori said with a huff. "Well, why don't you at least help me spread the word, and then you can get started on your gift."

"But I don't have a craft," Bilbo said, palms starting to sweat. He swallowed thickly and fiddled with his hands, suddenly acutely aware of his complete ineptitude. He shoved a hand into his pocket and was met with emptiness. Dori paused, looking back at Bilbo, whose face had suddenly drained of colour.

"Don't fret, Bilbo," Dori said. "Why don't you sit down and rest up? It looks like your injuries might be bothering you. Ori will appreciate anything you can do for him."

"Are you sure?" Bilbo managed to choke out, not wanting to abandon Dori, whom he had offered to help, but also feeling suddenly very aware of the empty space where the ring should be. A chill ran down his spine.

"Quite," Dori replied. "I've planned celebrations in worse conditions. I will manage just fine."

"Right, well, good luck," Bilbo said, only just succeeding in keeping the tremor out of his voice. He could feel eyes on him. Concerned faces swam in his vision and he all but ran to the other side of Beorn's house, collapsing against the side of the building in a cool patch of shade. His wounds burned and his breath came in shaky, heavy gasps. What was he going to do? He could not even begin to comprehend the implications of not finding the ring, for they were too astronomical, and every slight change reminded him of this. All he could feel was a cold, numb panic that seemed to exist within his very soul.

"Dwalin, I need to ask a favour," Thorin said, striding up to where Dwalin was sharpening his axe.

"Aye?" Dwalin replied, raising an eyebrow. Thorin looked troubled, his shoulders more tense than usual, brows furrowed.

"We have left Master Baggins defenseless for too long. He needs to be trained."

"Aye, that he does," Dwalin said. Despite Bilbo's seemingly endless supply of luck, Dwalin doubted that he had enough to make it through a true battle unscathed.

Not wanting to waste any time, Dwalin stood, marching over to a small cluster of flowers that the hobbit seemed to enjoy.

"Burglar," Dwalin barked, making the halfling, who was sitting hunched over in the shade of a small apple tree, jump. The company's burglar had spent the last few days in a tense silence, avoiding all attempts at conversation and engagement, and simply sat in the overgrown grass, glaring at nothing in particular.

"Master Dwalin?" Bilbo replied, putting a daisy chain down quickly with a questioning expression. He looked like death warmed up. More than usual. The dark circles around his eyes were more pronounced in the sunlight, and his skin was almost translucent. There was something off in the way he held himself. Dwalin wondered how much of it was his injuries and how much of it was far more internal than just a wound.

"Where's your sword?" Dwalin asked.

"Insi- inside?" Bilbo said, body tensing.

"Rule number one," Dwalin barked, relishing in Bilbo's obvious discomfort. "Don't ever be caught weaponless." Dwalin crossed his arms over his chest, flexing them subtly. Bilbo stared at Dwalin, brows furrowed.

"I- are you asking me to-"

"Go get your sword, lad," Dwalin growled. He watched Bilbo scramble to his feet and hurry through Beorn's enormous door.

"Finally going to teach our hobbit a thing or two, eh?" Nori asked, coming up behind Dwalin with a familiar glint in his eye. He brushed their arms together, causing Dwalin's hair to stand on end. "About fighting, that is."

"Thorin deemed it necessary," Dwalin said, leaning instinctively towards Nori's touch.

"And what the king wants, the king gets," Nori said with a bitter edge to his voice, stepping just out of Dwalin's reach.

"Enough," Dwalin growled, looking away.

"Still mad, I take it?" Nori asked, inspecting his nails with a careless ease.

"Aye, and so are you," Dwalin replied. "Don't think you can hide it from me."

Sure enough, at Dwalin's words, Nori's head tilted ever so slightly to the left, his blinks coming infrequently, yet fast. Dwalin resisted the urge to smirk. He folded his arms over his chest, flexing his biceps, once again but hoping to make a different impression this time. Dwalin had ruffled Nori's feathers.

"I have no reason to be angry," Nori said, shoulders angled inwards. Dwalin took a step forward, invading his space. To his satisfaction, Nori did not step back, but looked Dwalin square in the eye, pushing his shoulders back.

"Oh, but I think you do," Dwalin said. Nori narrowed his eyes, comeback ready on his razor sharp tongue, but they were interrupted by the sound of a door shutting. Bilbo stood on Beorn's porch, body seeming to hang mid-action, unsure if he should be there.

"I can come back later," Bilbo said in a rush, meeting Dwalin's eyes and flushing.

"No need," Nori said bitingly, walking away leaving Dwalin with a fiery rage in his stomach. Bilbo approached Dwalin with care, his footfalls light and precise.

"I'm sorry if I interrupted something," Bilbo said, making himself small, holding back.

"You didn't," Dwalin replied. He took a deep breath then rounded on the hobbit, bringing the sword he was using to train Bilbo down towards him without warning.

To Bilbo's credit, he did not flinch, nor cower away. He stood his ground, blocking Dwalin's attack with a strength he did not look capable of. In his eyes though, was fear. A wide, animalistic panic that Dwalin had seen in many battle-torn soldiers.

"Not bad, you've got rule two already," Dwalin said. Bilbo gave a grim nod. Dwalin knew that Bilbo understood, possibly too well. "Always be on your guard."

"Oh, well, good," Bilbo said with an uncomfortable chuckle, rocking back onto his heels. "Um, shall we continue then?"

"Yes," Dwalin said. "Ground yourself."

Bilbo assumed a position which Dwalin recognized. His knees were bent, one leg in front of the other, and he was leaning forward ever so slightly at the waist. It was a clumsy recreation of Thorin's fighting stance, but Dwalin knew it instantly.

Dwalin pulled back, then came down on Bilbo with another attack. Bilbo blocked it again but he held his arms too close to his body and his grip was too rigid.

"Move your elbow." Dwalin motioned what he wanted Bilbo to do and the hobbit followed suit.

"Like this?"

"I should have waited until he was fully healed," Thorin said with a sigh, eyes following Bilbo as he limped back into Beorn's house, shoulders drawn together and cheeks flushed.

"Could have been worse," Dwalin said, recalling the afternoon spent relentlessly attacking Bilbo and teaching him how to respond and attack in kind. Thorin had seen the worst of it. As soon as the king had started watching, any focus that Bilbo had managed to keep had left.

When Thorin was around, Bilbo's body turned almost instinctively towards their leader, eyes flicking back and forth between whatever he was involved in, and Thorin himself. Thorin, whether he knew it or not, had a similar habit.

"But you must admit," said Balin, voice low, sitting next to Thorin on an abnormally large fallen log, "He has natural instincts. Battle instincts, unless I am quite mistaken." Dwalin had noticed too. Where the hobbit lacked in practical skills and finesse, he made up for with a quick speed, and impressive instincts. He seemed to understand Dwalin's fighting style well, and had put up an impressive fight, considering the circumstances.

"You think that our burglar has seen battle?" Thorin asked, eyebrows raised.

"It has crossed my mind, yes," Balin replied. "I do believe he has shocked us all with his resilience and adaptability. He has taken to the perils of this journey with surprising ease."

"You're right, brother," Dwalin said. "His instincts are on par with many young soldiers I've taught."

"That being said, Thorin, you may be right," Balin continued, looking guilty. "I fear he is unwell. It may be more than just injuries, too," Balin said with a pointed look. Thorin scowled.

"What are you implying?" Thorin asked, looking at Balin with a stony look in his eye.

"Well, that I don't know," Balin said, scratching his beard. "At best, he doesn't seem to be sleeping again." Thorin drew his brows together, a thoughtful look in his eye.

"You know, don't you, Thorin?" Dwalin asked, watching his friend stiffen at the words. "You know what is ailing our burglar?"

"No, I don't," Thorin replied. Dwalin raised an eyebrow and Thorin exhaled heavily. "I don't know, but I may be able to guess." Thorin's brows were furrowed as he spoke. "I think Master Baggins was in love." Thorin said the last two words with an uncomfortable grimace.

"I fail to see the relevance of Bilbo's courting history," Balin said, giving Thorin an odd look that Dwalin could not quite pinpoint.

"He died," Thorin said, speaking at a higher speed than usual, voice hushed. "I believe that the man was killed, along with his sons."

"Even still," Balin said with a pained expression. "Why would Bilbo-"

"Unless he was there," Dwalin interrupted, feeling his stomach drop unexpectedly.

"You think he witnessed their murder?" Thorin asked, grimacing.

"It is possible," Balin said, tilting his head thoughtfully. "But hobbits are a peaceful folk. I can't imagine such a thing happening in the Shire."

"Because it didn't happen in the Shire," Thorin said, voice hollow. "It was an elf. It had to have been."

"He did know his way around Rivendell," said Dwalin.

"I didn't want to mention it before, but I am quite sure Bilbo understands Sindarin," Balin said at a whisper, looking over his shoulder for any prying ears.

"So the hobbit loved an elf," Thorin spat, as though it hadn't been his very own suggestion. Balin shot a very calculating look towards Thorin and opened his mouth as if to say something, but was interrupted.

"The hobbit what? I'm afraid I missed the last part." Bilbo had appeared as if from nowhere, a cheerful expression on his face that looked somehow forced. Thorin stood, posture straightening instantly, towering over the hobbit.

"You misheard," Thorin growled. Bilbo withered under the king's glare. "This has nothing to do with you."

"Oh, my apologies," Bilbo said, trying to catch Thorin's eye as the king avoided his gaze. "I'll leave you to it then," he said after a moment, walking away quickly, hands clenching the sides of his trousers.

"What the hell was that?" Dwalin asked as soon as Bilbo was out of eyesight.

"What?" Thorin asked, hunching in on himself again, losing all height and authority that he had held moments before. He sank back onto the log next to Balin.

"There's no use getting upset, lads," Balin said with an exasperated shake of the head. "What's done is done. I should think we have better things to do than sit around and gossip like a couple of elves. Bilbo's past is his own. If he wants us to know, he will tell us. Trust goes both ways," Balin said, patting his legs and standing up. "And that is all I have to say on that matter." With that Balin walked away, leaving Thorin and Dwalin feeling an odd childish shame in his wake.

Bilbo was exhausted. Bilbo was always exhausted. He could not recall the last time he had slept well, and apparently it showed on his face. Bilbo had had to find another spot to sit, because he was constantly surrounded by dwarves, poorly pretending they weren't concerned for his health. He was exhausted from training with Dwalin, trying to figure out a gift for Ori, and most of all, he was tired from the endless fake smiles and platitudes.

He had already been told off by Thorin, Balin, and Gandalf for straying so far from Beorn's house, but he found that he no longer cared. It took all of Bilbo's energy to simply exist at the most base level, and pretending otherwise was not only unappealing, but struck a deep dread in his heart. He just wanted to be alone.

He lay now, just on the edge of what he had come to think of as Beorn's property, where the oak trees grew tall and dark. Somewhere in the wooded area was a creek. Bilbo could hear its constant trickle. He knew he should be afraid. He knew that they were being hunted, but somehow this forest did not scare him. He used to think that no forest would scare him again after his first journey into Mirkwood. And with his proximity to Mirkwood once again, he mused that, to some degree, he had been right. That did not make the impending passage through it any more appealing.

The air was sweet and earthy, and to Bilbo, that scent was safety. The late afternoon sun spilled through the leaves above him and there was a slight breeze that cooled the surface of his skin. He knew this would not last long, for tonight was Ori's birthday- no, decennial. Hopefully the focus would be on Ori, and Bilbo could stay unseen. Or as unseen as possible without the ring…

Bilbo stood. Wiping his hands on his trousers, he looked around mournfully at his sanctuary of the last few days, then turned his back on it, making his way back towards Beorn's house.

Bilbo's return went largely unnoticed, save for by Thorin, whose gentleness from the first morning at Beorn's had disappeared as abruptly as it had come. Thorin watched Bilbo with a frown but made no move to say anything, so Bilbo ignored him and went instead to Bofur. The dwarf in question was bent over the firepit the dwarves had made in the clearing on their first evening there, coaxing a small flame to life with an odd gentleness.

"Ah, Bilbo," Bofur said with a wide smile, standing to face him. "Was wondering when you'd turn up again. Thought we might have to send someone after ye, but you made it back yourself, no problem and all."

"Er, yes," Bilbo said with a guilty frown. "Say, Bofur, is there anything I can help with?"

"You know, I don't think there is," Bofur said, shoving his hands into his pockets. "You could ask Dori to be sure."

"Right," Bilbo said, hiding a grimace. "I'll just go find him then, shall I?"

"You enjoy that," said Bofur with a snicker. Bilbo stuck out his middle finger.

Finding Dori proved to be quite simple. He was carrying food back and forth from the kitchen and the clearing, barking orders at anyone in the vicinity.

"Bilbo," Dori called, catching sight of the hobbit. "Take these," he said, passing several jars of honey, a platter of goat cheese, and a large bowl of seared squash into Bilbo's far smaller arms.

"And where am I to put them?" Bilbo asked.

"Dwalin and Glóin are bringing 'round a table," Dori said, already walking away. "And come to the kitchen when you're done. There's plenty to bring out."

"You've outdone yourself, brother," said Bofur, licking his fingers off one by one in an obscene manner.

"Yes, thank you, Bombur," said Ori with an appreciative smile.

The afternoon had so far gone off without a hitch. Dori, for all his overbearing tendencies, had actually planned a very nice evening, and one that seemed well suited to Ori's tastes as well. Ori was seated at what Bilbo supposed was the head of their rather abstract seating arrangement of mismatched logs in the clearing in front of Beorn's house. Ori had his own stump, plus another next to him that assorted members of the Company took throughout dinner, presenting Ori with their tokens personally. It was an aspect of dwarvish culture unbeknownst to Bilbo and he watched anxiously for clues that would tell him how to conduct himself when it was his turn.

Finally, as the Company was finishing off their plates, Kíli, to whom Bilbo had confided his plans, nudged him.

"It's now or never, Mister Boggins," Kíli said with a sly grin. Shakily, and very aware of everyone's eyes on him, Bilbo made his way to the seat next to Ori.

"Happy... decennial?" Bilbo said with an uncertain smile.

"Thank you, Bilbo," Ori said, smiling back, watching Bilbo curiously.

"So Ori," Bilbo said, fiddling with the inside of his pockets. "I spent a good deal of time trying to figure out what to make you."

"You didn't have to make me anything," said Ori. "It's not as important as Dori made it out to be."

"Yes, but I wanted to," said Bilbo with a determined nod. "As I said, it took me a while, but I think I've come up with something. See, I remember you were curious about hobbit culture and I thought, why not give you a taste of it?"

"What do you mean?" asked Ori, clearly confused. Bilbo felt a tense laugh build in his chest.

"I mean," said Bilbo, allowing his laughter to spill out. "that we are about to experience the first ever dwarf-hobbit party." Seized with an odd bout of confidence, Bilbo stood. "Alright, everyone? Take off your shoes." There was a roar of protest until Ori stood too.

"It's part of his gift," Ori said.

"Right, everyone take them off," Dori said with a threatening edge to his voice. Bilbo watched as the Company, and, to his surprise, Gandalf and Beorn, removed their footwear and stood barefoot in the tall, cool grass in the late afternoon sun.

"For Ori's gift, I'm going to show you all how to do a traditional hobbit dance," Bilbo said, jogging over to a nearby tree and producing a handful of flower crowns that he had made that morning. He put the most intricate, with daisies and small blue and yellow flowers, on Ori's head. The rest, largely just daisies, were passed around until each surly looking dwarf had a garland of flowers perched on his head.

"Don't you look sweet?" Dwalin said to Thorin with a mocking smile, Dwalin sporting his own crown proudly.

"Right," said Bilbo, interrupting whatever Thorin's response would have been. "First, I'm going to show you a few steps. Then we can split up in partners and try it with some music. Ori, why don't you go stand with the others." Ori nodded, and joined the group, facing Bilbo expectantly.

"All right, so the first move I'm going to show you starts by putting your left foot forward like so," he said, modelling the step for his audience. "Make sure you're on your tippy toes, then shift your weight forward, good! Bombur, you're looking excellent! Now bring your weight to your right foot. Then go back to the left. Great! Now let's try a bit faster…"

"Alright," Bilbo said, fighting to keep his breath even, a bemused smile on his face. "I think we mostly have the steps down, so why don't we try it with some music? Everyone find a partner."

Bilbo watched the dwarves stumble around trying to find partners. Kíli and Ori found each other's sides instantly, as well as Fíli and Bofur, and Gandalf and Beorn, being of the closest height to each other.

Bilbo cleared his throat, feeling very hot under his collar. When the dwarves settled down, all with partners save for Thorin, who was predictably standing off to the side. Bilbo tried very hard to ignore him, instead focusing on Ori's expectant smile.

"Alright everyone, with me!" Bilbo said, then began to sing.

Before long, the grumbles and complaints from the dwarves turned to laughter. No one was very good, not even Gandalf, who had much more experience with traditional hobbit dances. He was far too tall and skinny for the moves to look right.

Kíli was taking his job as Ori's dance partner very seriously and was swinging the smaller dwarf around mercilessly, the two of them breathless with laughter the whole time.

Bilbo had a very funny feeling in his stomach. It was like his chest was expanding, simultaneously making it very hard, and very easy to breathe. He sat on one of the stumps, singing the song he had written and watching his friends enjoy themselves.

At one point, Fíli and Bofur, who had been dance partners, walked over to Beorn and had a quiet conversation. The two dwarves then disappeared into Beorn's house, coming out minutes later with, what must have been, for Beorn, a fiddle. They walked over to Bilbo with purpose, stopping right in front of him.

"Alright lad, you've done your job," Bofur said, pulling his flute out of his pocket.

"We'll take over from here," added Fíli, setting the fiddle down with a grunt. It was huge. It took up the majority of his body. Fíli took a moment, eyeing the fiddle with a thoughtful look. Then, instead of hoisting the enormous instrument into his arms, he picked it up, placing the base on a stump. Bilbo stopped singing, his curiosity getting the better of him. One by one, the dwarves stopped dancing and turned to look at Fíli. The young prince took the bow and struck an experimental note. Fíli nodded to himself, then began playing the instrument in a way that Bilbo, and, by the looks of their faces, the rest of the company, had never seen. The fiddle was standing straight up, and he was drawing the bow across horizontally.

"Well I'll be," said Bofur, shaking his head in admiration.

The sound was far different from any fiddle that Bilbo had ever heard. Looking as though Beorn had made it himself, the fiddle had a rich, deeper sound. It was very un-Shirelike, but as Bofur began playing the flute, adding to the tune that Bilbo had been singing, the atmosphere came together beautifully. Not entirely unlike the music one would hear in the Shire, but with an added depth. A touch more gravity. Dori's sarcastic words from days previous about Fíli becoming a minstrel suddenly took on another meaning to Bilbo.

"Go on Bilbo," Fíli said, eyes alight. "Go dance!"

"Well, I suppose it couldn't hurt," Bilbo said, eyeing the dwarves with a nervous excitement. "I don't have a partner though."

In the corner of Bilbo's eye, he saw movement and flicked his eyes to Thorin who had straightened up at Bilbo's words. Their eyes met and Bilbo felt suspended in uncertainty for a moment. Was he to dance with Thorin? Would Thorin want that?

His focus was broken as Kíli came loping over, Ori in tow. Kíli was flushed and beaming and Ori was giggling breathlessly.

"It's your turn with the man of the hour," Kíli said, dragging Ori forward by his forearm.

"Right," Bilbo said, tearing his gaze away from Thorin, who was already looking elsewhere. "I do believe I owe you a dance," he continued, offering Ori's his arm.

"Aright, Uncle," Kíli called, bounding off towards Thorin. "You can't hide over there forever. Let's dance!"

Ori was clumsy but eager, and even sang along to the music every so often, still expertly played by Fíli and Bofur. Bilbo and Ori danced circles around most others, especially Thorin, Bilbo mused, who was very rigid and looked quite uncomfortable next to Kíli's youthful exuberance. Eventually, Kíli seemed to get sick of Thorin and came back up to Bilbo.

"Mister Boggins, I think Uncle is beyond me. He needs an expert to get him moving right," Kíli said. Thorin shot his nephew a disgruntled look but Kíli was unphased. "Plus, I want to dance with Ori again." The young dwarves shared an identical look of excitement and Bilbo could not begrudge this pair of best friends their chance to dance together.

When the two younger dwarves left, Thorin and Bilbo stood in silence off to the side.

"We really don't have to-" Bilbo said.

And at the same time, Thorin said "Shall we?"

"Oh, right yes," Bilbo said, flushing an ugly dark red. "What I meant was that if you didn't want to, we didn't have to, but we absolutely can if you wouldn't mind. I wouldn't want to force you to do something you're not comfortable with."

Thorin gave Bilbo a very odd look, then shook his head. "It's fine."

"Fine?" Bilbo asked. This cleared up nothing. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," Thorin said, then, in a surprising moment of surety, placed his hands very rigidly on Bilbo's arm and shoulder. Bilbo laughed.

"Yeah, you're not leading," he said, then replaced Thorin's hands with his own. Thorin was very warm. And a bit clunky. He still moved as though he had his heavy dwarven boots on and his toes curled oddly as though they had never touched grass before. Bilbo did his very best to lead Thorin along the steps, but he found that he quickly went from the best dancer, to among the worst. He was trying very hard not to focus on the warmth radiating from Thorin, but he found that he could feel it, even where they were not touching. He could feel the weight of Thorin's steps reverberate in the ground, and through their touch. Bilbo took a deep breath, the silence between them feeling very loud and very heavy. A bead of sweat dripped down his back and pooled at his waistband. There was one single blue flower in Thorin's crown that was coming loose. It matched his eyes. And then Bilbo stumbled.

"I thought you were meant to be the expert here, Master Baggins," Thorin said. Bilbo looked up to see Thorin wearing a soft, half smile.

Bilbo let out a laugh, that seemed to remove an immense weight from his shoulders.

"Even experts make mistakes sometimes," Bilbo said. "I'm sure you know that very well."

"That I do," Thorin said with a very quiet laugh.

"Your nephews are quite special," Bilbo said, watching Fíli and Kíli from the corner of his eye. "You must be very proud of them."

"I am," Thorin said, and Bilbo could tell he meant it. There was a pregnant pause, and then Thorin spoke again. "I wish I had been there for them more growing up."

"Oh?"

"I had just lost my grandfather, and my father was missing," Thorin said. "I said I was out looking for him, but I was just as lost as he. I think I was searching for a reason not to come back and face the people that I was now responsible for."

Bilbo stayed quiet throughout Thorin's words, not wanting to break the spell that Thorin seemed to be under.

"I owe Dwalin everything," Thorin said, with a sudden ferocity. "He was there for Dís when I wasn't. He was there for the boys when I wasn't." Thorin trailed off, his voice hoarse. "You see Bilbo," Thorin said, bringing his eyes to Bilbo's. They were especially blue in the fading summer light. "These are my kin. I am doing this, all of this, for them."

"I know," Bilbo said, breathless. Thorin gave Bilbo a very fond, yet very sad look, and then the spell was broken.

After many hours of dancing, more than Bilbo could remember doing in ages, the Company retired to Beorn's barn, drunk and beaming. They settled into their beds, but no one seemed all that keen to sleep. Somehow, Bilbo had ended up between Dwalin and Nori that night, and neither seemed particularly chatty, so Bilbo mostly sat and listened.

He reflected on his day with a tipsy smile on his face. He had felt safe. Safe and happy for the first time in far too long. What's more, he had learned so much about his companions. True to Nori's wishes, he had discovered most of the dwarves' crafts while observing their gifts to Ori.

He had known that Balin was an advisor, Dwalin was a warrior and head of the dwarven army, Oín was a healer, Glóin was a banker, Bombur was a chef, and Dori was a tailor. Thorin and Dwalin had teamed up to replenish Ori's supply of arrows, and fortify his bow (Bilbo suspected that this was mostly to make it more dwarven than elven), revealing Thorin's craft to be weaponry. Bifur was a toymaker and Bofur, a woodworker. Bilbo still hadn't quite figured out Nori's, but he suspected it was thievery. Or perhaps, he was a spy.

Bilbo sighed. He was quite spent, in all honesty, but he propped himself up on his elbows and watched as Bofur grilled the dwarves with questions that grew in ridiculousness by the moment. Bilbo was content to watch his friends interact with a lightheartedness that was ever so rare on the road. Despite Thorin, who was sitting off to the side, smoking, seemingly uninterested, although Bilbo was sure he'd caught Thorin's eyes darting to the Company a few times.

Bofur, rascal that he was, had started a conversation in which each dwarf said which of the Company they'd bed. It was terribly crass, and Bilbo had declined to participate, but he would be lying if he said he wasn't keen on listening. Most of them picked Dori, which Bilbo was surprised at, but apparently by dwarf standards, Dori was the height of desirability. Dori was quite chuffed at all the attention he was getting, relishing in reminding them all that he was dedicated to his craft and would take no lover.

"Dwalin, you've been mighty quiet over there," Bofur called, gesturing at the stoic dwarf. Dwalin turned and looked at Bilbo and shot him a fiery glare. For a moment Bilbo almost reacted, until he realized that Dwalin was actually looking behind Bilbo at Nori.

"Yeah Dwalin, we're all dying to hear your thoughts," said Nori bitingly. Dwalin growled under his breath then turned to Bofur.

"I'd pick Dori too," he said. The room erupted into laughter and Bilbo started to think that there was something going on with Dwalin and Nori. First the scene he had interrupted before his first training session, and now this?

"Nimthurul me ra rukhs, zânami rukhs," Dwalin spat over Bilbo's back at a gobsmacked Nori. Bilbo's mouth fell open, he couldn't help it. Of the little khuzdul he knew, it would of course come in handy at the least opportune time. Still, Dwalin's whispered 'between you and an orc, I'd kiss an orc,' was slightly funny..

"We can't all be as handsome as our lovely Dori, now, can we?" Bofur said, shooting a wink at a smug looking Dori. "We've got some unconventional lookers among us too. Say Bilbo, if you ever have an itch you need scratched, you know where to find me."

"Oh, I-I-" Bilbo could feel his face heat up as the dwarves roared with laughter. He caught Bofur's eye who gave him a look that told Bilbo that Bofur had been just teasing, nothing more, and Bilbo let out a relieved chuckle. "Thank you, I think?"

There was a rustle of furs and the sound of heavy boots on the floor. The room fell silent as Thorin stood.

"That's enough." Thorin's voice boomed. "We leave the morning after next. Tomorrow will be spent preparing. Get some rest, all of you."

At these words, despair flooded Bilbo's lightened heart. Bilbo watched Thorin stalk over to his sleeping pad and for a moment, Thorin looked over and caught Bilbo's eyes. Bilbo saw shame in them. Shame and something bitter. Hurt. Thorin looked away.

A/n:

Yes, Fíli just invented the cello!

Also, Thorin's mood for this chapter is Strawberry Blond by Mitski!

Update (19/08/21): If anyone is curious about Dwalin and Thorin's backstory that was briefly mentioned in this chapter, I have posted it in the first chapter of what will be a series of oneshots that take place in this universe. It's called Appendices of Unexpected Adventures. I'd love it if you checked it out :)