A/N: Okay, so there are going to be some Bagginshield drabbles thrown in here too.
Bilbo found himself staring more and more at Thorin. His dark hair, with its streaks of grey. The intricate braids held there with beads of metal.
The way he carried himself. With pride and just a touch of arrogance.
How he seemed to wield Orcist with such grace and fluidity.
How when he was angry, his eyes would flash with such fire.
And when he was happy, his eyes would soften just a bit, and the corner of his lips would twitch ever so slightly.
Bilbo was finding that looking at Thorin was a lot like looking for stars in the night sky; the longer one looked, the more one saw.