A/N: Here's Part 2! Hope you enjoy... Heheheh :D There's fluff and feels in this one, guys. Just warning you... :P

When the sun was finally hidden behind the line of the horizon leaving only a faint pink lightness in the now dark sky, Bilbo and Bofur headed back inside, making for the dining room.

'Remember Bofur - don't tell anyone. Not a soul. Yes?'

Bofur nodded, a sly grin still slipping over his face.

'And act normal, by Yavanna! Well, normal for you anyway,' Bilbo smirked.

'Cheeky,' Bofur grinned, giving Bilbo a poke, making him laugh.

They reached the dining room and took their places as they waited for the rest of the Company and their families to arrive,which they did in drips and drabs. Dwalin and Balin arrived - Bilbo had to kick Bofur underneath the table and send him a warning look - then Óin, Glóin and his family, and so on. The Ri brothers eventually came in and Dori was sporting a new coat - knitted, with a trim of his favourite plum purple colour.

'Dori, that jumper is fabulous,' Bilbo exclaimed as Dori took his seat. Dori smiled at the compliment, and patted Ori beside him.

'Ori made it. Knitted it himself, he did -' he paused as Thorin, Fíli, Kíli and Dís entered, then continued '- and he made one for Nori too.' Dori's chest puffed out with pride, while Ori just looked like he wanted to disappear as everyone admired his work.

'Why aren't you wearing yours, Nori?' Bofur teased, and Nori punched Bofur on the arm, which served to make Bofur laugh even harder, his guffaws filling the room as the younger of Bombur's children began copying Nori and punching their siblings, much to their parents' dismay and everyone else's amusement. Even the red-faced Ori smiled.

Then Bilbo said it.

'Are you making them for everyone? Because Dwalin insists on going around with bare arms, but maybe he'd wear something if you made it.'

He flashed a winning smile, but faltered as the room fell silent. He glanced around at the faces all looking at him - Bofur with amusement, Dori looking thunderstruck, Thorin looking uncertain as to whether he should look amused or disapproving, and Ori was squirming in discomfort.

The silence was broken by Dís breaking into laughter, clutching at her belly as she laughed. Balin was chuckling too, and Dwalin was glaring at him.

Balin put a hand on Bilbo's shoulder and leant in closer. The others began laughing and talking amongst themselves while Balin whispered to Bilbo.

'D'ye know, I've never seen my brother more discomfited! D'ye know what you just proposed?' the old dwarf said kindly, his blue eyes twinkling with mirth. Bilbo shook his head. 'By suggesting that young Ori knit my brother something, you were suggesting he give him a courting gift! Dwarves only give the fruits of their skills to family members, or sell them. They only gift something to the one they wish to court and eventually marry. So ye see,' he said, laughter clear in his face, 'why the others found it funny.'

Bilbo hadn't realised the significance of what he'd said... A courting gift, indeed! He looked Balin in the eye then, and lowered his voice.

'But Balin, between you and me, wouldn't that be...appropriate, in this case?'

Balin's gaze sharpened. 'So you know?'

Bilbo snorted. 'Anyone could see it. Well, anyone who's not a dwarf, it seems. '

Balin smiled a little at that, but when he next spoke it was with a warning. 'Best it stay that way for now, laddie. You can't rush these things.'

He drew away and smiled at the others, who had finished chuckling, and clapped his brother on the back (which did nothing to clear Dwalin's scowl). Bofur and Nori were distracting Ori and Dori was sitting in silence, observing Dwalin sharply. Bilbo supposed he'd better apologise to Ori and Dwalin (although he wasn't really sorry) and say something to placate Dori - because Dwalin would never make a move, ever, if Dori's cat-sharp scrutiny was focused on him like that the while time.

Dís ruffled Bilbo's hair and he grinned at her. 'Honestly, I'd forgotten how fun it was to have non-dwarves living with us,' she said fondly. 'Our customs are so numerous and so obscure it's hard to not to do something like that!'

Bilbo just ducked his head and grinned into his mug of ale. He hoped he hadn't just made things worse for Ori and Dwalin... But judging by the way Ori kept shooting tentative little glances in Dwalin's direction, he guessed it was only a minor setback.

Kíli had left his usual spot next to Thorin and was instead next to Gimli, the two having an animated conversation about something they'd done together back in the Blue Mountains, interspersed with rather heated interruptions from Fíli. Bilbo caught Thorin's eye, and the dwarf gestured for Bilbo to sit in Kíli's seat next to him. Bilbo did so, feeling Dís' eyes follow him as he joined Thorin.

'What was that all about?' Thorin asked when Bilbo was seated.

'It was just a suggestion!' Bilbo said heatedly. 'Honestly, I didn't know that just by giving someone something you've made it means you're courting them.' Valar, if that was the case, he was courting at least fifty hobbits back home in the Shire. Now wouldn't his mother laugh at that! Fifty hobbits and...

He looked away.

Thorin's blue eyes looked at him searchingly, and Bilbo began to feel a little uncomfortable under the scrutiny. Thorin then just as abruptly looked away, looking back at the table and the dwarves surrounding it. The food still hadn't arrived, and Bilbo's stomach gave a small rumble.

'It wasn't appropriate,' Thorin said, not looking at him.

Bilbo felt the heat of indignation at those words flare in his belly - how was he to have known? No one had told him! The injustice of it coupled with the lingering embarrassment prickled at his skin, and he scraped back his chair. He was overreacting, he knew, but he didn't want to stay here any longer.

'Where are you going? Sit down.' Bilbo bridled at Thorin's tone, as if he were a disobedient dwarfling in need of discipline.

'I'm not hungry any more.'

Thorin looked at him disbelievingly. 'I heard your stomach rumble.'

'I need the loo.'

'You could have gone before.'

Bilbo just turned on his heel and stormed off, heading to the kitchen to find some food there instead of suffering Thorin's disapproval. Ním presented him with a fine stew and some iced biscuits for afters, but his heart wasn't in it and he only managed three before retiring to his bedroom and burrowing deep under the fur covers before falling asleep.

As Bilbo left the room, remorse flooded through Thorin. He hadn't meant to make him upset - only to warn him, or something - he wasn't even sure any more. With the empty seat beside him, Thorin regretted his words. Of course he couldn't have expected Bilbo to know.

He gave a sigh, ignoring Dís when she came to sit next to him, instead focusing on the food which was being brought in. He told the servant carrying the bowl of mutton to make sure enough was set aside for Bilbo and taken to his rooms, should he decide he wanted something to eat and had been too stubborn to go to the kitchens.

He chewed listlessly on the mutton, thinking it would taste infinitely better if Bilbo was beside him, when Dís spoke up.

'Well, brother? Something about this has got to you. What is it?'

'Nothing.'

He could feel Dís giving him what Bilbo had nicknamed the 'Durin stare', and the thought made him feel worse. He set down his cutlery.

'Thorin, I will find out one way or another, but it's best if you just tell me.'

Thorin gave an irritated sigh and put a hand to his forehead. Dís was a headache if ever there was one; he knew she was right.

'I was just a bit harsh with Bilbo,' he said evasively. 'I expected him to know something he had no reason to.'

There was a pause for a moment. 'Something you wish he knew.' Dís sounded smug like a cat who'd got the cream.

He didn't answer and her gleeful silence told him she took that as confirmation. 'Well, what is it he gave you?'

Thorin ignored her question.

'Oh, come on, Thorin. You wouldn't be this tetchy if he'd - if he'd impugned Dwalin's or Ori's honour - which he hasn't, by the way - but you still wish he knew of this custom. Ergo he's given you something, not realising the significance. So what was it?'

Thorin remained stubbornly silent for a few moments, but then he pushed his plate away and rested his head in his hands, not looking at Dís.

'One evening, we were reading together. He likes to come and sit with me sometimes, and this time was no different to any other. I got up to get a drink, and he got up too. He was looking embarassed - shuffling his feet, like he does - and held out a booklet to me. "I want you to have this", he said to me. It was a little book he'd made, full of sketches and poems he'd written and composed on the journey.'

Dís said nothing.

'So I accepted it, knowing it was given in friendship and nothing more; but still a part of me had still hoped. Now I know that hope was foolish,' he finished bitterly. He looked at Dís, who gave him a sad smile and took his hand.

'I don't think so. No hope is ever foolish.'

Bilbo woke feeling miserable. He had hardly been able to sleep all that night, and when he had it was full of dreams of eyes filled with scorn and a disapproval that made him feel sick to his stomach. He coccooned himself in his blankets, unwilling to get up and start the day. Perhaps if anyone came knocking he could plead a headache and he could just stay there for the day, safe in his little nest.

He reached for a book, intending to read and take his mind off things. He wasn't sure how long he read for, but eventually he turned the last page and he had no new material. He heaved a sigh, shutting the book and rolling out of bed. He could at least get dressed.

He pulled on his clothes and brushed his hair and teeth, feeling refreshed and slightly better. He walked over to his desk, and was just sitting down when there was a knock on his door. He paused.

'Bilbo?'

Oh sweet Eru. It was Thorin. Bilbo really didn't feel like talking to him right now. He ignored the knock, but he was still frozen in place, listening intently.

There was a pause for a while, then Thorin's voice sounded again.

'Bilbo, if you're in there, I want to talk to you. I'm sorry about yesterday and I understand if you're upset with me, but can we at least talk?'

No, actually. Bilbo didn't want to talk to him.

There was a thud on the wooden door, as if Thorin had slumped his head against it. The thought made Bilbo feel strangely guilty, but he still said nothing.

'Fine. Come and find me when you're ready, Bilbo.'

Silence once more. Bilbo heaved a sigh of relief, breathing easier now Thorin was gone. He felt a small amount of pleasure knowing that proud Thorin had stooped to speaking through a door just to talk to him, but mostly he felt bad at over-reacting so much. Well, if Thorin was going to treat him like a child, then he was going to act like one - and sulking was first on the agenda.

At first his new found freedom was fun - but it quickly grew boring. There was only so much he could do, holed up in his bedroom on his own. And anyway, he was hungry. So Bilbo stole down to the kitchens, using the quiet corridors and hoping against hope that he wouldn't bump into Thorin - or Dís, for that matter. Or Fíli or Kíli. Or Balin - essentially he hoped to reach the kitchens undetected. Which, to his surprise and delight, he did. He begged some food from Ním, the wonderful head cook who had developed a soft spot for him, scrounging some bread and cheese and a few crunchy green apples; but he didn't stay in the kitchens. If anyone realised he'd left his bedroom, this would be the first place they'd check, so he left the kitchen and pondered where he could go.

Not the library - also an obvious place to go.

Not outside for a smoke - Bofur or Balin would be able to find him; and anyway, he'd left his pipe in his room.

That didn't leave him much choice. He'd go to the armoury, secret himself in a little niche with a book and hide there for the rest of the day. He'd have to make a detour to the library, but it'd be worth it.

Reaching the armoury with a book tucked under one arm and his precious supply of food clutched in his hands, he proceeded to find a spot well away from the door and well-hidden, and he began to read. The book had been one he'd picked up at random, sneaking in then out without even Ori seeing him. It was a little dry - dwarven politics in the early Third Age - but interesting enough that he read for several hours on end, stopping only when his eyes began to droop and his stomach was growling horribly.

Picking himself up and dusting off his clothes, he left the armoury and hurried to the kitchen, where Ním and Lís proceeded to fill him up with a hot chicken stew full of beans and soft meat; both women were amazed that he'd even managed to last the day on what little food he'd eaten, considering how much he ate normally.

When he'd had enough he thanked them and left, heading back to his own chamber. He was pleasantly sleepy, if a little stiff from sitting hunched up the entire afternoon. He made it back to his room without incident, however, and he flopped down on the bed fully clothed and fell asleep.

He awoke the next morning with pillow lines on his face and his clothes stuck to him most unpleasantly. Hastily he shed them and washed himself at the washstand, rubbing away the grit and dirt of sleep until he felt clean. He dressed in fresh clothes and decided to go to the library - after first getting breakfast, of course. He could get Ori to pretend he wasn't there, he was sure; Ori was a friend.

After a breakfast of boiled eggs and golden toast, Bilbo entered the library.

'Bilbo! Everyone was worried about you yesterday, after you disappeared!' Ori was regarding him reproachfully. He smiled sheepishly.

'Yes, well, here I am now! I want to stay in here and help you today, but... If anyone asks where I am, can we pretend I'm...not here?'

Ori nodded - he'd sought refuge away from Dori's sometimes smothering attention when he was younger. Bilbo smiled gratefully and clapped his hands together.

'Great! What can I do?'

Ori directed him to a shelf which was filled haphazardly with boxes of papers and scrolls, all chucked on any which way. Ori asked him to begin by just removing them; they could be sorted and replaced afterwards. Bilbo began, carefully removing the boxes one by one, trying to avoid creating an avalanche. Ori was nearby, working on another shelf, and he'd given Bilbo the stool so he could reach the higher shelves. They worked in companiable silence for an hour or so, and Bilbo had sorted the lower shelves and was now moving onto the higher ones. He didn't like the stool, rickety as it was, and more than once it wobbled dangerously.

One time, however, it wobbled and Bilbo cast out a hand to the shelf to steady himself as he nearly slipped off. Shutting his eyes tight he called out, 'Ori?'

But then the nightmare began. The shelf began to topple forwards - onto Bilbo. He could feel himself falling backwards, he was going to be crushed -

'Bilbo!'

He heard his name being called and then felt something push him and he was on the floor, coughing in the dust but unharmed as something crashed behind him. Whirling around he saw the wreckage of the shelf - and Ori underneath it.

'Oh sweet Valar, no,' he moaned, and began to dig Ori out of the splintered wood wreckage. His hand touched something warm and sticky and red. 'Merciful Yavanna...'

He breathed deep, trying to clear his head. He managed to clear Ori's top half, freeing his torso and head, on which there was a nasty gash pouring out blood.

'Ori? Ori, can you hear me?' No response. Bilbo dithered for a moment - should he stay with Ori? But he needed help - Where were the lads who were supposed to help Ori?

Pulling the wreckage off Ori's legs he ran to the door, wrenching it open and calling for help. He stopped a servant passing by.

'Get Thorin and Dori - Ori's hurt - blood -'

The servant immediately ran to fetch them, and Bilbo stood on shaky legs. He should have got Óin instead, not Dori, who'd only panic...

'Steady there lad,' a voice came from behind him and a large hand touched his shoulder. He started, turning to see who it was.

'Dwalin! Please - Ori's hurt -'

'Ori?' If Bilbo hadn't been panicking himself, he would have felt a little smug satisfaction at the panic crossing Dwalin's face, especially when he saw the red on Bilbo's hand. He turned and raced into the library, Bilbo following after him. Dwalin was clearing the wreckage well away from Ori, smoothing the hair away from his bloody forehead and muttering something.

Another warm hand touched Bilbo's shoulder for the second time - Thorin.

'We've got Óin,' he murmured; sure enough the grey haired dwarf rushed past and began checking Ori while Dori watched, fretting and in tears. Óin ordered Dwalin to carry the young scribe, and he and Dori followed Dwalin to the nearest chamber. Bilbo could have collapsed into Thorin then, but he forced himself to put one foot in front of the other and the two waited outside the chamber, not wanting to get in the way. Neither of them said anything, but Bilbo was content to just hold onto Thorin while they waited.

The silence was loud in Bilbo's ears and he spoke, his voice breaking slightly.

'It's my fault. He got me out of the way and now-'

Thorin shushed him and merely tightened his arm around Bilbo.

Soon Óin came out and told them Ori was alright but still sleeping and they could see him if they wanted. Bilbo went in and joined Dwalin and Dori in their silent vigil. Now Ori wasn't going to die, he could appreciate the way Dwalin sat tense and immobile, staring at the gently sleeping figure, while Dori fidgeted and fluttered in his chair. Now that the panic and adrenaline had worn off, Bilbo felt bone-tired, but he stayed to watch and wait for Ori to wake. This mess was his fault, after all.

The others began to arrive at the door, alerted to Ori's accident. As the noise outside grew louder, Ori's eyelids began to flutter and he began to shift and fidget. Finally he opened his eyes, the large brown orbs fuzzy with sleep, but focused on one person as he smiled softly.

'Dwalin,' he breathed.

The warrior smiled, his whole countenance lightened at hearing his name uttered from Ori's lips.

'Ori? What - what's going on?' Dori was demanding, confusion clear in his face which began to turn to outrage when Dwalin took Ori's hand. Thankfully Óin pressed a calming hand to Dori's shoulder and ushered him outside, smiling wryly as he prevented Dori from ripping Dwalin apart.

'Don't think your brother will appreciate you tearing his One into shreds, now, will he?' Óin said with gentle amusement. Bilbo got to his now steadier feet and followed them out, leaving Dwalin and Ori together.

'His One? What do you mean, Ori's One?' came Nori's indignant voice. Someone explained to him and the hall was suddenly filled with Nori's cackles of mirth as he clapped his older brother on the back, who was now looking rather shell-shocked and forlorn.

Bilbo felt Thorin's eyes on him and he moved to stand next to the dwarf.

'It appears you were right,' Thorin said, a hint of a smile ghosting the corners of his mouth.

'Of course I was,' Bilbo replied tiredly, sending Thorin a small smile in return. He didn't notice that Thorin's smile grew wider as he glanced at the door, behind which his warrior friend was finally finding his love in a quiet and bookish type.

Yes, Thorin was decidedly more optimistic, especially as his quiet, bookish type leant softly against him and rested his head of curls on Thorin's shoulder.

A/N: Eeep. What did you think? Heheh. Now Dwalin and Ori are finally together, but Thorin is still pining for his hobbit... (I'm so sorry not sorry about that.) *evil laugh*. Don't worry, there's plenty of fluff in the next few chapters to offset the little drama here :D I really hope you enjoyed this, and don't forget to review! XD