Thorin Oakenshield was not the only asset the Marshall had brought back to Base with her. As Bilbo was to learn, they now had all of the necessary components for a bomb, and - with Lobelia's research – there was enough evidence to suggest that it might actually work.

'The department heads have already been briefed, thanks to Tauriel,' said Dís with a nod in Tauriel's direction, 'and they will now relay the message to their staff.'

'A bomb,' Bilbo said faintly, staring at the luminous blue diagram on the table in front of him. It was spinning gently, replaying over and over again the necessary steps of the plan. He watched as the tiny, crimson-red bomb fell into the so-called 'throat' between worlds and detonated, sending a wave of orange light thundering through the wormhole, which then disintegrated into the air like dust motes. He tore his eyes away and said, dry-mouthed, 'is this a suicide mission?'

'No,' said Dís immediately, 'Fíli and Kíli will carry the bomb into the breach and deploy their escape pods. There should be enough time for them to break free of the rift before it detonates.'

Should. Such a word did not belong in Marshall Dís' vocabulary. The image of Kíli and Fíli in their fragile pods, trying to escape the blast, like ants trying to outrun the tide of the sea, flashed across Bilbo's mind. He glanced across the conference table at Tauriel, to find that she, too, was staring at the 3D diagram, her face ghostly pale in the blue light it was throwing off.

Dís sensed their obvious uncertainty. 'Walls cannot help us,' she gently reminded them, but with a thread of pure mithril underpinning her tone, 'we cannot hide and hope that this stops and that the Kaiju show mercy. For too long we have relied on defensive tactics. It's time to take the fight to them. Any questions?'

Neither Tauriel nor Bilbo responded. After a few moments worth of silence, Dís leant forwards and tapped the table top. The diagram faded away.

'Good. Now, to our next order of business,' she said, voice forcibly bright. She threw a stack of piles on the table with a half-grin, 'finding my dear brother a suitable partner. This plan cannot work without at least three functioning Jaegers, and I would prefer it if our newest Jaeger is piloted by at least one Ranger with battle experience. Trials are tomorrow, at seven hundred hours, and we'll keep going until we find someone Drift compatible.'

It was quite an impressive stack of files. 'I didn't realise we had so many candidates,' Bilbo said.

'We have a fair few whose scores are a shadow of Thorin's, and a couple who are outstanding. On paper, Gimli seems to be the perfect match for Thorin. We'll have to see if that equates to compatibility in the training room. It helps that they're related, although distantly.'

'And Prince Legolas?' asked Tauriel.

'Is a bit of a curve ball, I grant you that,' Dís agreed, 'but you never know. The Kaiju might be so surprised that they decide to give up their plans for world-wide destruction.'

'That's if you can get him in the ring with Legolas in the first place,' Tauriel said.

'I'll see to that,' promised Dís, 'you and Bilbo worry about the rest. Bilbo, I'd like you to oversee the test with Tauriel. I want to hear your take on things. There'll be the usual observers, but you have a good eye for flaws in people's fighting styles, and I think it'd be useful for tomorrow. Look over the other candidates, if you think it'll help, though I'm sure you will whatever I say.'

Bilbo eyed the pile. He would not be getting much sleep tonight. 'Thank you, Marshall.'

'Any more questions? No? Good. I will see you both tomorrow, but I'd like a word with you, Bilbo, before you go.'

'Until tomorrow,' said Tauriel, dipping her head and closing the door firmly behind her.

Bilbo tried not to fidget as Dís turned her flinty gaze in his direction. It was, Bilbo realised, nearly identical to the look Thorin had treated him to in the elevator, though Thorin's had been tempered with a defensiveness Bilbo had not been able to understand.

'There's one more candidate I'd like to add to the pile for tomorrow,' said Dís, and threw another folder atop the rest. Bilbo's quick eyes fell on the thick, blocky writing at the file's corner. BILBO BAGGINS, it read, and then, under that, LADC RANGER CANDIDATE – UPPER TIER.

'I know you've been hesitant. I know you were found incompatible before, at Lothlórien. But,' Dís leant forwards, elbows on the table, staring at Bilbo, who refused to meet her look, 'I am asking you now to try, just one more time.'

'Marshall, I...' began Bilbo, though he had no idea what to say.

'Whatever's holding you back, I need you to move past it. With our plan now in place, the need for a good pair has become a necessity.' The Marshall pressed her fingertips to her lips briefly. It was the first gesture Bilbo had seen from her that spoke of nerves. She waved a hand in the direction of the files. 'I know on paper that Gimli seems the sure option, but if there's one thing that I've learnt over the years, it's that the more unlikely pairings are sometimes the strongest. That damn five percent, I suppose.'

Dís' gaze became a little distant. 'Mahal knows I...,' she started, but then shook her head, 'well, never mind that now. The point is - every instinct I have is screaming at me that you two could be a good match.'

'But I'm just a rookie,' Bilbo said, having finally found his voice, 'I can't possibly pair up with your brother.'

'I think you can. Besides, Thorin has more than enough experience for the both of you.'

Bilbo shook his head, chewing on the inside of his cheek. 'Maybe Hobbits just aren't meant to be Rangers,' he said quietly.

'Well that's the biggest load of dragon dung I've ever heard,' Dís snorted. 'You and Lobelia are proof of the resilience and the resourcefulness of your race. I could spend the next two hours telling you about all of the ways the Hobbits have helped with the war effort. You don't even know the half of it, Bilbo.'

'I just can't, Marshall,' Bilbo said, wishing he had something to hold in his hands to stop him from wringing them under the table.

There was a short pause, and Bilbo wondered if he'd actually achieved the impossible and made Marshall Dís angry.

'Look at me,' she commanded, but she simply sounded a little frustrated. Reluctantly, Bilbo looked up at her once more.

'What I am about to say is said with a great deal of respect and the utmost sense of kindness,' said Dís, 'but do you think that the reason why you are so hesitant to try again is not that you fear you will be incompatible, but that there is a possibility you will find your partner?'

'Perhaps you are afraid of failure, afraid that you might not be capable of fighting once you get into that suit, into the cockpit,' Dís continued, ignoring Bilbo's indignant expression, now speaking with an urgency that was breaking through her usual calm demeanour, 'better instead to hide behind files and reports and books and never find out at all. And believe me, I get that. Piloting a Jaeger should be a terrifying thought. To be given all that power is no small thing. You've done an outstanding job for one of your age, Bilbo, no one can ever dispute that. But I'm sitting here telling you that you can go one better.'

She rose from her seat and did not wait for a rebuttal from Bilbo. 'Take a chance,' she said as her parting shot, 'I expect to see you in your training gear tomorrow. Don't bother with your boots.'

Bilbo did, in fact, bother with his boots. He'd now worn them for so long that his feet felt unprotected without them. As it turned out, he was glad he had deigned to wear them – the training room was packed, nearly overflowing with staff all eager to watch the proceedings, and Bilbo's feet were stepped on quite a few times. He barely felt it through his thick combat boots.

The square ring that would be used by Thorin and his potential partners had been left religiously untouched by the gathered crowds. No matter how cramped the conditions, not a single member of staff encroached on the black markings on the ground that marked the arena. There were almost certainly many duties that were being neglected in favour of watching the matches, and Dís had likely let it pass for the sake of morale.

Bilbo took his place next to Dís at the head of the room. Tauriel stood on the other side and handed Bilbo a spare clipboard. There were three other officials – two Elves and a Dwarf - standing to Bilbo's left. One elf Bilbo knew to be the base's psychologist, the other was probably their Drift engineer, and lastly there was Dwalin, their resident trainer. Dwalin caught Bilbo's eye and sent him a wink, grinning merrily. Bilbo had no idea what he was so happy about.

Along one of the walls, two rows of benches had been set up, and on them were sat those who Bilbo presumed were Thorin's partners – he spotted Gimli among their ranks, looking faintly nauseous under his rich red beard, and Legolas, who looked for all the world as if this was no more than a particularly rowdy dinner in the Mess.

There were some familiar faces in the crowd, too. Lobelia and Bofur were standing off to one side, and Bofur waved at him merrily. Lobelia shot Bofur a grumpy look, her hands wrapped around a steaming mug, but she sent Bilbo a bleary smile all the same. Kíli and Fíli were also present, which Bilbo had expected, but they were scowling for reasons unknown to him, leaning on the training room wall as if they didn't want to be there. Strange, but Bilbo put it to one side. There were other things to think about, namely the figure striding through the crowds, coming to stand in the middle of the arena. A hush fell over the training room.

Bilbo's eyes inadvertently fluttered over Thorin's exposed, broad shoulders, over the well-defined muscles of his upper arms and the strong lines of his forearms. Thorin's hair was tied back into a low tail, and his white tank top was giving Bilbo rather too much to look at. For propriety's sake he tore his eyes away – although rather reluctantly, it had to be said – and instead stared furiously down at his clipboard. He subsequently missed the grin Lobelia sent in his direction.

'Thorin Oakenshield, reporting for duty,' said Thorin, and Bilbo dared to look over the top of his clipboard. Thorin's tone was nothing but respectful, but Bilbo caught the amused quirk of an eyebrow Thorin sent in Dís direction, a fleeting hint of teasing that lasted for half a moment, and Bilbo knew that Thorin was gently mocking the fact that he was under his little sister's thumb.

'Glad you could join us,' drawled Dís, 'shall we begin?'

'If you'll allow a moment for me to arm myself,' Thorin said, and caught the wooden sword that Dwalin threw in his direction, looking it over for a moment before giving a few experimental, smooth swings. Bilbo wrote the date out on his paper. It was perhaps the neatest set of numbers he had ever written.

'Who's to be my first victim?' he said, looking to the assembled staff, a glimmer of humour warming his words, and Dís took the file Tauriel handed her, calling out the first name.

The resulting series of matches was a lesson in many ways for Bilbo. For the first few bouts he almost forgot to take notes, so absorbed was he by seeing Thorin's fighting style in practise. Thorin was truly a master swordsman, matching the swiftness of his attacks with a ferocity that his opponents simply could not keep up with. His quick stabs and sharp swings were grounded in his agile, fast footwork, the dwarf using a circular style of swordsmanship that was hard to block and that allowed him to easily move past any defensive manoeuvres that attempted to forestall him.

Tauriel called out the result of each match tonelessly – 'four-two, four-one, four-one' – in contrast to the excited murmurings that broke out among the spectators after each challenger bowed and left the ring. Bilbo saw money changing hands more than once. He even saw Lobelia begrudgingly handing over a few coins to a laughing Bofur. The sheaves of paper on Bilbo's clipboard were now littered with notes; as impressive as Thorin's style of fighting was, there were still flaws and areas of improvement that Bilbo had picked up on. He hoped he would have the time to talk to Thorin about his analysis.

After the first six matches were finished, Thorin was given a short break to take some water and wipe the sweat from his brow. Bilbo was not an expert on Drift compatibility, but he was guessing that none of the pairings so far had been suitable. Thorin had beaten them all easily, and although winning was not the point of the exercise, it was clear that Thorin had been holding back on almost all of his partners, allowing them the chance to settle their nerves and show off their skills. Such a thing was understandable, but having to hold back because of your partner's skill level did not equate to compatibility.

There was still hope, though – when Tauriel handed Dís the next file, Dís said with a smile, 'Gimli, step forward please.'

The young dwarf did just that, stepping into the ring and bowing respectfully to Thorin, who bowed low in turn, his expression finally softening from the fierce and focused look he had worn all morning. Gimli gave Thorin a run for his money as no other before him had, but there was a hesitance to his movements that spoke of deference and respect. Jaeger co-pilots needed to see each other as equals, and it was clear that Gimli thought of Thorin not as a partner, but as his leader.

When Tauriel called out the score as 'four-three', Thorin slapped Gimli on the back, speaking to him in low tones. There was affection to be found in the curl of Thorin's lips, and there was a tug low in Bilbo's stomach at the sight.

'Well done,' Bilbo mouthed to Gimli, as the Dwarf stepped aside.

'Last but not least,' said Dís, 'we have Legolas Greenleaf, unless you'd like to take a break, Thorin?'

A sheen of sweat was now covering Thorin's arms, but he shot Dís a glare.

'Very well,' said Dís, hiding a smile, 'Legolas, if you'd be so kind?'

Thorin did not seem happy with his new opponent, but he nevertheless bowed to Legolas when the elf entered the ring. Legolas' skills matched up to his excellent scores in the simulator - his fluid motions were a wonder to behold, and yet, despite Thorin's obvious tiredness, they were still evenly matched.

'Four-three,' Tauriel said, but she shook her head as she did so. Bilbo had to agree with the unvoiced sentiment – separately, Thorin and Legolas were outstanding, but together they simply didn't add up. There was no awareness of each other's movements, no natural inclination to anticipate each other's attacks outside of that drawn from experience. They were not compatible. It had been worth a try, and at the very least it had amused their audience.

Thorin was outright panting when Legolas stepped out of the ring.

'Are we finished for today, Marshall?' he asked, leaning a little on his sword.

'Not quite, actually,' Dís replied, and Bilbo's breath caught. 'There is one more candidate, if you're not too tired.'

Thorin flicked his hand out as if to say, 'well?'

'Bilbo Baggins,' Dís declared, and she turned to Bilbo, extending him her hand so that he might hand over his clipboard.

Thorin snorted and did not look in Bilbo's direction. 'The hobbit?' he said, 'don't be silly, Dís. I would not want to break him,' and he began to turn away.

Bilbo stared at his notes. Line upon line of even, ordered hand-writing stared back at him, evidence of another day's worth of good work, and all of a sudden it wasn't enough. Thorin's jibe caused his heart rate to kick up a gear, sparking anger deep in his gut. Everyone always underestimated him. Why had he expected Thorin to be any different?

Something bright and golden was waking up inside of him, stirring into life just below his sternum. A sudden desire to fight, to test his skills against a worthy opponent flooded him from head to toe, a bright blaze of energy flew over the surface of skin, thudding through his veins, bringing with it a startling clarity that swept away all of Bilbo's doubts and fears.

He handed Dís the clipboard. She grinned at him, bright and glad.

'What's the matter, Thorin,' Bilbo said to the dwarf's back, 'afraid you can't cut it against a hobbit?'

The staff, right on cue, let out a low, pantomime ooooh, at this. Thorin stopped, and turned, and for the first time since the tests had begun, he looked Bilbo in the eye.

'I am not afraid, little hobbit,' he said evenly, 'I was simply not aware that you were a candidate.'

'Bilbo has a habit of surprising people,' cut in Dís. 'So what's it to be, Thorin? If you walk away now, you'll forfeit the match.'

She said this airily enough, but Thorin clearly took offence to being so obviously goaded. But still he hefted his sword to his shoulder all the same and said, 'you'll need to lose the boots.'

Bilbo tuned out the resulting clamour. Bets were likely being bandied about at breakneck speed, but Bilbo's focus was solely on his opponent. He quickly unlaced his boots and put them to one side at the very edge of the ring. Dwalin handed him a spare sword, and he tested its weight as he strode forwards. Thorin passed him at the halfway mark.

'Don't hold back because of my size,' he said to Thorin, 'or you might find yourself flat on your back all too soon.'

He knew exactly how his words could be taken. Instead of blushing at the innuendo as he normally would, he instead accompanied it with a bold grin as he settled into place at the far end of the ring. Thorin's only response was a small, surprised bark of laughter, caught off guard enough that his stoic expression slipped.

Bilbo tightened his grip on the sword's hilt, sliding his feet into a familiar stance. He had, if truth be told, initially struggled with his combat training in Lothlórien, until the kindly elf who had run the sessions took him aside to give him a small piece of advice: you are small and quick – try to outmanoeuvre your opponent, he had said, and your mind is a greater asset still. Think of it like a game of chess.

His blood was all but singing in anticipation of the coming fight. Let him underestimate me, he thought. Thorin readied his own sword, his dark eyes locked with Bilbo's, and every limb spoke of a coiled, restrained intent held by a hair trigger.

Tauriel raised one hand, then let it drop. 'Begin!' she said, and Thorin launched into motion, rushing Bilbo, who did not move at all. Thorin's blade stopped an inch short of Bilbo's neck.

'One-zero.'

A flicker of a frown passed over Thorin's brow. 'You'll have to do better than that, halfl-'

Bilbo's counter was so fast that Thorin almost didn't have time to block the hobbit's second strike, dancing backwards as Bilbo pressed forwards, and he was not quick enough to block Bilbo's stab, the tip of the hobbit's sword resting just above Thorin's heart. Bilbo had evened the score in the space of a second.

'One-one.'

'You were saying?' Bilbo said, and he had no idea where his courage had come from, but he was going to grab it with both hands and hold onto it with every fibre of his being, because this was thrilling. He felt more alive than he had done in years.

Bilbo could've sworn he saw a flash of a smile from Thorin, but he had no time to marvel over it – Thorin's riposte was to attack Bilbo with a flurry of sharp stabs, and it was clear that Thorin was no longer holding back. Bilbo blocked, matching Thorin's speed, refusing to give any ground, instead darting to one side, looking for any opening in Thorin's guard.

Thorin swept around in the circle that was so characteristic of his style, his sword sweeping back and around with every intention of hitting Bilbo on the shoulder. Bilbo didn't even bother to block it – instead, he dodged it, giving a little twirl of his own so that he could knock Thorin's sword as it swept past. The added momentum to Thorin's swing broke his rhythm for only a split second, but that was all that Bilbo needed. He hooked one foot behind Thorin's leg, bringing the dwarf down to one knee, knocked aside Thorin's defensive block with a twist of his sword, and pressed his blade to Thorin's neck.

'One-two.'

Thorin looked up at him from his kneeled position, gaze half-lidded and heated. He did not wait for Tauriel to finish calling out the score. He burst upwards, getting back onto his feet and forcing Bilbo to move back at the same time, but Bilbo's quick feet meant that he was not in retreat for long, even with the strong blows Thorin was raining down on him.

Instinct was now dictating Bilbo's moves, and when Thorin left his right side open for just one moment, Bilbo pressed home his advantage. But his eagerness to win another point made him step too far into Thorin's guard, and Thorin responded instantly, grabbing Bilbo's sword arm and flipping him up and over the dwarf's shoulder in a world-tilting throw. Bilbo landed hard on his back on the floor.

'Two-two.'

'Now who's on their back?'

Bilbo went for his leg with a fierce cry, throwing his whole weight into the manoeuvre, overbalancing Thorin and pushing him to the floor with the dwarf's leg in a lock.

'Two-three.'

Bilbo was panting. So was Thorin. He was definitely smiling now - Bilbo could see it, in spite of the precarious position Bilbo was holding him in. Quick as lighting, Thorin twisted his whole body sideways, throwing Bilbo off, taking up his sword once more to press it to the back of Bilbo's neck.

'Three-three.'

Dís' voice rang out. 'Enough,' she said, 'I have seen enough.'

Thorin released Bilbo. He scrambled to his feet, Thorin doing the same beside him. Dís was smiling.

'You don't need to finish your match,' she said, 'you two are Drift compatible. Thorin, Bilbo is your new partner.'

There were a cheers, and groans, too, from those who had lost money. Bilbo had eyes and ears only for Thorin. He was sure he was grinning like a fool, but he couldn't help it. His adrenaline and happiness were almost uncontainable, and he was nearly lightheaded with elation.

Bilbo saw, for a handful of moments, fear darken Thorin's face. Then his eyes shuttered, and his face became blank and stony.

'No,' he said over the commotion that Dís' declaration had caused, 'no, he is not my partner.'

And he strode away, leaving Bilbo alone in the ring.

To say that Bilbo was furious was an understatement. Livid was more likely the term he would have used to describe his current state of mind, had he not been so consumed by his anger. Not even Lobelia's outstretched hand, ready to help, to soothe, or Kíli and Fíli's anger on his behalf had dampened down Bilbo's fury. He stormed through the halls of the Base, and any who saw him took one look at his expression and hastened to get out of his way.

Ori had put Thorin in the room directly opposite Bilbo's. There would be time, later, to shout at Lobelia for the placement, for what little good it would do. It was here that Bilbo finally caught up to Thorin.

'Hey!' Bilbo barked at dwarf, putting a hand to his shoulder. It was like trying to move a mountain, but thankfully Thorin relented, turning meet Bilbo's ire with those impenetrable defences still in place. Bilbo wanted to shake him.

'Would you mind please explaining what, in the name of all that is good and green, you think you're playing at?'

'I don't think it concerns you,' said Thorin.

'I think it does,' Bilbo ground out, 'when you leave me, your potential partner, in the middle of the ring without a word of explanation as to why you've rejected me?'

'Leave it alone, Halfling.'

The fires of Bilbo's fury were stoked ever-higher.

'No, I will not. Because you felt it, too, I know you did! We're Drift compatible. For Eru's sake, everyone in the room knew it.'

Thorin said nothing, and Bilbo could glean not a single clue as to what the dwarf was thinking from his perfectly composed expression.

Bilbo was tempted to trip him again, but instead he said, 'come with me,' and turned to walk away without bothering to check if Thorin was following.

Bilbo led them both through a route that was very familiar to him. Thorin followed on behind him; Bilbo did not glance over his shoulder even once to confirm this, for the heavy tread of Thorin's boots told him he was not alone. They must have looked very odd – Bilbo stomping ahead, Thorin keeping up with his long strides just a few paces behind. If anyone wondered why there was a Jaeger pilot following Bilbo around like a very reluctant sheep, then no one dared stop them to ask. They were given a wide berth on their way to their destination.

There was, as Bilbo had discovered during his first week in the Base, a small, unused balcony jutting out into space on one of the floors. From here the viewer was gifted with the awe-inspiring sight of a Jaeger being brought to life by team upon team of hard-working engineers, who welded and programmed and tested at all hours of the day and night. Bilbo stepped out onto the balcony, uncaring that there were no handrails to speak of, and pointed up at the colossal and nearly-complete Jaeger.

'If you're not going to give me an explanation,' Bilbo snapped at Thorin, 'then explain to her why you're refusing to give her the pilots she deserves.'

Thorin took two steps out onto the balcony. Bilbo watched as his eyes tracked up and up and up, taking in the expanse of the dark blue armour, and Bilbo saw the same awe and wonder on Thorin's face that he felt every single time he stepped into the Jaeger hangar.

For a long minute, neither of them said anything. Gold flares sprung up here and there over the Jaeger's body from various welding crews, illuminating the strong, clean lines of the Jaeger's design.

'What's she called?' asked Thorin.

'I don't know. Dís is going to give her a name soon.' Bilbo's ire died down a little. 'She's an amalgamation of three Jaegers,' he told Thorin, not begrudging him the information in the face of his obvious enthusiasm, 'mostly Mark IIIs, but her speed comes from some of the early prototypes for the Mark V. I'm still not sure how Dís got her hands on the components.'

'She always has worked in mysterious ways,' said Thorin, still taking in the Jaeger.

'Why, Thorin?' asked Bilbo quietly, 'help me understand.'

Thorin's shoulders hunched. 'It's complicated,' he said.

In an amazing display of self-restraint, Bilbo did not throw him off of the balcony. Instead, he let out a little noise of frustration and said, 'well, uncomplicate it, then.'

Thorin finally tore his eyes away from the unnamed Jaeger. He merely looked at Bilbo for a long moment as if weighing up his words, before heaving a huge sigh and sitting down on the balcony's edge. Bilbo joined him, heart lifting. Perhaps he was finally getting somewhere.

'You've read my file, I presume,' said Thorin.

'I have.'

'Then you know I...I lost my brother while we were still connected.'

'I know,' said Bilbo softly. He did not offer up the usual sentiments. He knew they were meaningless for Thorin.

'An experience like that...it destroys your sense of equilibrium. It leaves a permanent mark on your mind, like a wound that will never fully heal. And that's not the only wound I bear.'

'I understand, Thorin, but I knew all of this before I stepped into the ring. I don't understand why it's a problem now.'

'It's a problem because we're compatible,' said Thorin, and exhaustion was beginning to creep into his voice. 'Very compatible.'

Understanding dawned. 'Oh,' said Bilbo, 'you're afraid that there might be a backlash.'

'Yes. Bilbo, the deeper the Drift, the more likely it is that you'll be affected by whatever emotional trauma that's been...locked away, so to speak.'

Bilbo mulled this over for a moment. He huffed a laugh and poked Thorin in the shoulder, looking at him side-long. 'You're underestimating me again,' he said, 'and that didn't go well for you in the ring, did it?'

Thorin raised his eyebrows. 'I'm sorry, you're making it sound as though you won. We drew, remember?'

'We didn't get to finish our match. I'll allow that there was a small chance of you winning,' he said with mock-arrogance.

'How very kind of you,' said Thorin dryly, but Bilbo caught a ghost of a smile before he turned his face away.

'I certainly think so,' Bilbo said. He sobered, and continued, 'in all seriousness, though, I know this is rushed. I know pairs usually have more time to get to know each other.'

'We seem to be running out of that, these days.'

'I know. And that's exactly why we have to at least try. And if it seems like it's all going horribly wrong,' Bilbo added brightly, 'then Tauriel can always pull the plug.'

Thorin let out a little snort. 'Simple as that.'

'Exactly. Besides,' sniffed Bilbo, 'I think you'll find that a hobbit's mind is a very orderly place. Neat, even. I'm sure I can bring calm to whatever chaos you are anticipating.'

This time Thorin grinned at him outright. 'For someone facing a high probability of neural overload very soon, you seem strangely upbeat about the whole thing.'

Bilbo clasped his hands together in his lap. 'People have always underestimated me, with just two notable exceptions. I am not used to relying on my instincts, but my gut is telling me that I can do this.'

Thorin was silent.

'I'm not sure...' Bilbo began hesitantly, and trailed off. Thorin glanced at him expectantly. Bilbo bit his lip – Thorin had been honest with him. It was the least that Bilbo could do to return the gesture.

'I was a candidate, years ago,' he said, 'I...was found to be incompatible with...well, with everyone in Lothlórien. I thought I'd never find a partner. I was certain of it, in fact, until the moment that I faced off against you in the training room.'

He heaved a breath and said with conviction, 'I'd at least like to try, Thorin. Someone told me recently that it's worth fighting for, and that's what I intend to do.'

'Hopefully not literally. I don't think I'm ready for another round quite yet,' Thorin said, tilting his head slightly to one side, the gesture coupled with his words lightening the mood.

Bilbo smiled, 'aha!' he said gleefully, inwardly relieved that Thorin had not considered his previous incompatibility cause for concern. 'You're afraid to face me again! Then you admit that I would have won.'

'I admit no such thing,' scoffed Thorin, 'merely that I am weary after the dozen or more matches I have completed today alone.'

Bilbo shook his head, chuckling. 'Excuses, excuses,' he clucked.

A comfortable silence fell over them. The burning desire to have confirmation that Thorin would accept him as his co-pilot was simmering away in his chest, but Bilbo could be patient. He would not hurry Thorin for his answer, not when the dwarf was making no move to run away again.

'Do you find it strange, wearing shoes?' said Thorin suddenly after a few minutes of silence had elapsed.

It was a non-sequitur, but Bilbo allowed it. He looked down at his feet to see, with belated surprise, that he had forgotten to put his boots back on. He wiggled his toes. 'Not anymore,' he said.

'I thought Hobbit feet were tougher than leather.'

'Oh, they are,' Bilbo agreed, 'but they were designed for walking down woodland paths, over stones and gravel. Things that would cut human feet are hardly felt on ours. But in a Jaeger stronghold-'

'There are worse dangers here than flinty rocks,' Thorin completed.

Bilbo nodded. 'It's a necessity. I hated it at first, but I've grown fond of stomping all over the place in my big boots. Not very stealthy, I grant you, but good for stepping on people's toes.'

'Sneaky hobbit tactics,' said Thorin.

'I think you'll find that all of my moves were perfectly legal, thank you.'

To his delight, he had managed to coax another half-smile out of Thorin. Bilbo shook his head, and allowed himself a moment of self-reflection.

'I'll take them off when this is all finished,' he said, 'when the Kaiju are all dust and the breach is closed, I'll throw off my boots and sink my toes into the nearest patch of long, thick, green grass.'

'You'll have to travel out of Ered Luin to find grass,' Thorin pointed out, but when Bilbo shot him a look he amended seriously, 'not that such things matter. It's a good dream, Bilbo.'

'What's yours?'

Thorin shrugged. 'A long, cold pint of beer and a hug from each of my foolish nephews.'

'And Dís, too, I should think?'

'That'll happen regardless of whether I want it or not,' huffed Thorin.

Bilbo smiled softly. 'It's a good dream.'

There was a creak and a groan from the Jaeger. Bilbo had almost forgotten it was there. They looked away from each other and up in time to see the right section of the Jaeger's armour being pulled slowly back to reveal a deep, blood-red glow.

'I'll try,' said Thorin, so quietly that Bilbo almost missed it altogether, but his sharp ears picked up on it all the same. Bilbo didn't need to clarify what Thorin was referring to. His heart was soaring, and he grinned, bright and unrestrained, staring up at what was now his Jaeger.

Elastic band, Arwen had said. Bilbo could feel it snapping into place.