Bilbo was sitting quietly at the fire, warming his toes as he contemplated the past events. Was it really so long ago that he'd been safe and comfortable in his warm hobbit-hole? Safe from adventure, from danger, with his only worries being about what he was going to have for dinner. And now... Now he'd run in front of a warg-riding Orc swinging a sword he didn't even really know how to use.

He's been rained on and lost sleep, nearly been eaten by Trolls and killed by Orcs, flown on giant Eagles and seen Elves and sights and things that most Hobbits could never even dream of! And did he regret it? No... He'd had a chance to turn around, and he hadn't.

But that was hardly the main thing on his mind at the moment. What was on his mind was Thorin. Thorin Oakenshield, the King without a crown. There had been nothing at first except apprehension, for the words of being burned alive by a dragon had hardly been comforting, nor had been Bofur's words which he assumed were supposed to be comfort and had instead led the Hobbit to faint from the extreme stress and shock. As time had gone on, however, the uncomfortable feelings had turned to curiosity and amazement at all he had seen, and then slowly interest in the company.

Thorin was quiet and stern and seemed to have little humor in his thoughts, but underneath that Bilbo could sense the care and concern he had for the Company. While he could be a little rash when it came to his own well-being, Bilbo could tell that he wanted the others safe.

Perhaps that was what had driven Bilbo to such a rash decision himself. He had always prided himself to considering things carefully before going through with them, but upon seeing Thorin lying still and unconscious, Bilbo had suddenly forgotten himself and thrust himself in front of the Dwarf's form, swinging his blade wildly at the approaching beast.

When all had been said and done Thorin had confessed that he'd been wrong about Bilbo and even offered the Hobbit a hug. Not a polite hug, not a quick hug. It had been a warm, safe heartfelt hug. And with it were deepened the feelings that had been stirring in his heart, that he tried to brush off as silly or imaginary. But now he couldn't any longer.

This posed a new problem, however, for he was fairly certain that Thorin did not share his feelings. Not in the way that Bilbo seemed to have them for the Dwarf. Oh bebother this whole thing! Why had he even...

Bilbo was suddenly startled from his thoughts as someone wrapped a blanket around his shoulders and settled down next to him before the fire. Glancing over, he was surprised to see that it was Thorin. What was he doing awake, he ought to have been resting!

"Thorin, you ought to be in bed," he chided softly, speaking quietly so as to avoid waking the rest of the company. Thorin shot him an amused sideways glance.

"Last I checked you were not my mother," he replied, idly picking up a couple twigs from the ground to snap in pieces in his hands before tossing them into the crackling flames. Bilbo lowered his gaze slightly, staring into the fire.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that. I just meant... you're hurt, you should be resting..." he corrected himself, not wanting the Dwarf to be angry. But Thorin chuckled lightly and gave the Hobbit a friendly pat on the shoulder.

"I was simply jesting, Bilbo," Thorin offered quickly, realizing that Bilbo had taken him seriously and wanting to mend the misunderstanding before it started. "I cannot sleep, the ground is too hard and I am more comfortable sitting up," he added in explanation, taking up a better stick this time to poke at the coals in the flames.

Bilbo glanced up and smiled, watching as Thorin played with the fire idly. He supposed he couldn't complain, for the company was quite enjoyable. Except blast the butterflies in his stomach as he looked at the young Prince. And blast the desire to hear him speak again.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, instantly wondering why he'd asked that of all things. He'd been bitten and tossed by a Warg, how did Bilbo suppose he was feeling? Stupid, stupid!

"I'm a bit sore, but I've seen worse. I'll survive," Thorin responded, not seeming fazed by the question as Bilbo mentally kicked himself. Looking back over to his flustered company, he tilted his head curiously. "Are you alright?" he asked, looking concerned for a moment, and Bilbo couldn't fathom why. He wasn't the one who'd nearly been killed.

"I'm quite alright," he responded, tugging the blanket a bit tighter and inching closer to the fire. Then he looked up curiously at the concerned Dwarf and meekly added, "Why...?"

"You scared me..."

Bilbo looked surprised, his gaze turning inquisitive, and Thorin continued.

"That stunt you pulled with Azog... you could have been killed."

Now whose turn was it to feel like they were being scolded by their mother? Bilbo crossed his arms stiffly and shrugged.

"He would have killed you, I had to do something..." he mumbled, but couldn't continue as he suddenly found himself pulled into another unexpected hug. He couldn't even begin to try and resist as his arms wrapped clumsily around Thorin's frame, awkwardly patting his back. Thorin finally pulled back again and looked at Bilbo with concern and worry in his eyes.

"Don't ever scare me like that again..." he said, and Bilbo swallowed the lump in his throat at the tone of Thorin's voice. Perhaps it was this sudden show of care that drove Bilbo to say the words he never would have otherwise. He could plead temporary insanity, perhaps.

"I love you."

Thorin's eyes clouded with confusion as the words left the Hobbit's lips, and Bilbo immediately wanted to take them back as his heart nearly stopped in the anticipation of Thorin's response.

"What?" Thorin's initial reaction was expected, perhaps. He felt as though he had heard Bilbo wrong, and the Hobbit looked a bit tortured as he slowly repeated the words, knowing that there was no way he could make forgotten the words he had aid.

"I... I love you. I don't know where the feelings came from or why, I just... I just know that they are there and I cannot squash them," Bilbo explained, nearly losing his voice as he spoke. Terror clutched at his heart as he quickly looked into the fire, not wanting to see Thorin's face. He waited for the Dwarf's response, but none came and the silence finally drove him to glance over again.

Thorin was staring into the fire and in his eyes Bilbo could see the thoughts whirling. The silence and torture and Bilbo would have almost preferred for Thorin to shun him immediately rather than make him wait. Finally Bilbo could not bear it anymore and quickly spoke, wanting this matter to be settled once and for all.

"Well, are you going to say something?" he asked, a bit more harshly than he'd meant to, but Thorin simply glanced at him calmly, his confusion mixed with a sort of thoughtfulness.

"I don't know what to say yet."

"Why?" Bilbo's answer was quick as his brow wrinkled in confusion and fluster. Thorin's answer came as gently as the last one, and for this Bilbo was grateful. He could not bear to think of Thorin being angry or disgusted with him.

"Because I've never thought about it before."

"And now?"

"And now I'm thinking about it."

Well, this hadn't gone at all like he'd expected, but if the confused Hobbit had expected anymore then he was sorely disappointed as Thorin stood up.

"You would do well to get some rest, Bilbo. We'll stay here another day to give the Company time to recover, but then we shall be moving on," he said, and moved carefully back to his bedroll, for his body still ached from the prior day's attack. Bilbo sighed and looked back into the fire, trying to sort out his thoughts as he pondered on Thorin's words. He hadn't thought about it before. And now he was. Whatever did that mean?