Chapter 8

"These should be ready to harvest soon." Bilbo lifted a tomato with the tips of his fingers to get a better look at it. The color was deep, bright red and there were no blemishes to be found. These could definitely be another batch of prizewinners.

"Your garden is coming along nicely," Thorin said, his arms crossed as he surveyed the rows of greenery. When Bilbo turned and raised his eyebrows at the unexpected comment, he added, "There are no dead plants here."

"That is a good sign, indeed." Bilbo smiled and stepped back, linking arms with Thorin. He considered himself fortunate, all things considered. His smile wavered at that. Seven weeks had passed since the disturbing discovery of May Goodbody's dead dog, and the memory still made him shudder.

He counted himself very lucky that Bag End had not been affected. Quite the opposite, actually—his garden and the flowerbeds in front of his house had all thrived. Even the oak tree above seemed to have grown a little taller during the past few months.

Thorin was staring at a basil plant, his gaze pensive. Bilbo smiled up at him and squeezed his hand. "Coin for your thoughts?"

"I was just thinking," Thorin said, blinking away his reverie. "Everyone here is dependent on the weather. The changing of the seasons. It seems an almost...vulnerable way to live."

Bilbo shrugged. "Things can get a bit unpredictable at times. Not that the Shire has that in overabundance, anyway. But it does add a certain rhythm to life here. It must be different living under a mountain."

Thorin nodded. "The seasons do affect us in terms of hunting and crops. But for many it goes unnoticed. We do not perceive the passing of a year the same way you do in the Shire."

"Do you ever miss the sun?"

"No. Sunlight does not carry the same importance for dwarves. We find our illumination in the earth, from the gems and gold and the things we craft from them."

"As well as an overabundance of lanterns, I'm sure," Bilbo said, prompting a wry smile from Thorin.

He loved hearing about life in Erebor, and dwarven culture in general. His brief stay in the mountain kingdom had been full of rubble and empty halls and overshadowed by dragon sickness and the threat of war—there had never been an opportunity to truly appreciate its magnificence. Thorin's tales of what had once been always prompted a wave of exhilaration to rise in his heart, a mix of longing for what had since passed and another emotion, one that he couldn't quite put his finger on.

It was a bit like the feeling that had prompted him to run out his door in the first place, chasing after a group of dwarves and a wizard.

"Would you do me a favor?"

"Anything."

"It's nothing important," Bilbo said, a bashful smile creeping onto his face. "I was only wondering if you'd sing for me. Because, well, you know, I was just thinking about that song you and the others sang the night of the party, and…" He trailed off, biting his lip.

"You liked that one, did you?" A smirk tilted the corners of Thorin's lips as he lifted his hands, fingers lightly tracing the backs of Bilbo's arms. "I wrote it on the road, during the years before we settled in the Blue Mountains."

"You wrote that song?" Bilbo raised his eyebrows. That fact intrigued him just as much as the time Fíli had told him that Thorin was a talented harpist. The artist in him was a facet the dwarf kept well-hidden, but it fascinated Bilbo to no end. "I grow more impressed with your skills with each passing day."

He was delighted to see the blush that spread across Thorin's cheeks at his words. "If it would please you, then I promise to sing for you sometime."

Thorin's face was open and relaxed, so Bilbo ventured to ask a bit more of an intrusive question. "Could you also possibly tell me about that part of your life? The years during which you wrote that song? You hardly ever mention that time."

His expression sobered at that. "It's...It's not easy to talk about. Those years were full of hardship and suffering." A thread of irony twisted his words as he said, "During that time my people were indeed at the mercy of the passing seasons."

"Then you needn't share any of it," Bilbo said. The last thing he wanted to do was drag up the hardships of the past when he knew Thorin still struggled with the sorrows of the present. "I am sorry I asked."

"Do not apologize. If you wish to hear it, then I will share some of my history. Tonight."

"Tonight," Bilbo repeated. "Very well." He gestured for Thorin to follow him as he made his way out of the garden. "I look forward to it."

"I would like to ask a favor of you as well," Thorin said, falling into stride next to him. "I have not yet heard you sing."

"Oh." Bilbo reddened as he realized what the dwarf was hinting at. "Well, I suppose there is a reason for that."

"And what might that be, Master Baggins?" Thorin stepped in front of him, blocking his way with a teasing smile.

"Perhaps I was banned for singing years ago for causing a public disturbance," Bilbo said, hands on his hips. In truth, he had not sung in public, or any place for that matter, for several decades and had no idea if he was any good or not. There was no doubt that he did not have the deep, alluring voice possessed by a certain dwarf.

"When I heard you humming the other day your voice sounded fine."

"Well, that is quite different…" Bilbo trailed off as Thorin lifted his gaze to something over his shoulder, his teasing smile sliding into a glower.

He followed his gaze and turned around. Exasperation and alarm mingled in his stomach. Curse his dratted cousin's impeccable timing.

Lobelia's brows were high on her forehead, her lips pursed tightly. Upon making eye contact with Bilbo, her face contorted into its usual scowl. "Bilbo Baggins."

"Can I help you, Lobelia?"

"I don't know what you're up to, but—"

"Well, it appears as though I am minding my own business in front of my own home." He wasn't even going to bother with any sort of formality or courtesy. After her actions at the birthday party last month, he didn't see a need for it. "Though the same can hardly be said for you, can it? You know, I'm not entirely sure what you're doing on this road—it's a bit out of the way for you, isn't it?"

"And what exactly are you trying to imply?" Lobelia asked, her face flushing.

"Nothing that isn't already out in the open." Bilbo stepped closer to the fence separating them, meeting her eyes with a hard stare. "You've had it out for me, even before I went away last year. And I'm beginning to wonder what I've done to deserve such hatred from you."

"I've always had a bad feeling about you. And you only proved me right by running off with those dwarves. It's not good for the community, someone like you, especially now that you've gone mad."

Bilbo tried not to flinch at that.

"Don't think I didn't see you talking to yourself just now," Lobelia continued, pouncing on his moment of weakness. "You'd best stay away from the rest of Hobbiton, especially the children. One can only think the best solution would be for you to move out altogether."

Bilbo shook his head, a bitter smile on his lips. She was after his house—he should have guessed, really. Lobelia and her husband had coveted Bag End for many years now, though their desire had never been as outspoken as it had after their near-acquisition a few months before.

"It is beyond me how someone as selfish as you could have the interests of the town in mind. You have spent your life being ruled by greed and spite and lies, and it is going to destroy you one day. That's what always happens to people like you."

Lobelia's eyes widened and she half-opened her mouth to say something in response, but apparently she saw something in his eyes that prompted her to do otherwise. With a sniff and a particularly nasty scowl, she turned on her heel and continued on down the path.

With adrenaline racing through his veins, Bilbo made it as far as the bench at the front of his house before he had to sit down. He supposed that one could be called a victory, though he didn't feel particularly good about it.

Thorin sat next to him, one arm tentatively wrapping around him. "Are you all right?"

Bilbo let out a slow breath, clenching one hand into a fist to keep it from shaking. He was feeling the same rush he would experience after a narrow escape from an orc pack or a giant bear. It was strange how often his interactions in the Shire resembled battling monsters.

"I think I could use a cup of tea," he said, then stood and walked back into his house.

One thing that Lobelia had mentioned stuck with him, though. He didn't exactly feel safer in the Shire, nor was he happier. If he left again, perhaps for good this time, would it be better for everyone?

Bilbo tucked that thought away for later, forcing himself to focus on making tea and ignoring the way his fingers trembled against the kettle.

"...And so we made it all the way back the camp, but when we went around to the back of the wagon, we realized we'd forgotten to put the stopper back in the keg."

Bilbo leaned back and laughed until his stomach hurt, setting his wine glass on the table so as not to upset it accidentally.

"Dwalin was livid, of course," Thorin said, grinning as he continued his story. "And once he'd gotten past his disappointment, Frerin dubbed that path Ale Road, and claimed it still smelled like spilled drink for weeks after."

"Oh, dear." He dissolved into another fit of giggles as he tried to imagine Dwalin's reaction.

The dining room was only lit by a few candles, and the glowing orange light added to the hazy warmth that had settled in his stomach after a hot meal and three...four...some number of glasses of wine. The confrontation with Lobelia from earlier seemed like nothing more than a distant memory.

"This Frerin person is very funny." Bilbo knew better than to ask what had happened to him, as he suspected the dwarf had met the same fate as most of Thorin's kin and friends. "I'd like to hear a bit more about him."

"Another time," Thorin said, the humor in his smile fading. He had started telling him about his life in the wild with a few light-hearted stories, but even those carried a tinge of grief.

"Here." Bilbo pushed the glass of wine across the table, nearly knocking it over in the process.

One thick, dark eyebrow rose slightly. "I can't drink, remember?"

"Nonsense." He used the tips of his fingers to inch the glass a bit farther towards Thorin. "I know dwarves prefer the stronger stuff, but this is...it's the good stuff. It—oh." Bilbo blinked, remembering the real reason why Thorin had refused.

"I appreciate the offer."

"Hmm." Bilbo lurched forward and retrieved the glass, downing the rest of what was inside.

Thorin leaned his forearms on the table, and Bilbo thought that he looked almost nervous. "Bilbo, there's something I want to discuss with you."

"All right." He picked up the bottle and began pouring himself another glass.

"If you want to wait for a better time, when you're more…"

"No, no. I'm fine. Still can hear and think and all of those. Say what you say. Or what you want to say, rather."

Bilbo looked up and saw the way Thorin's lips pursed, as if he wanted to argue, but eventually he said, "I want to talk about the future. Our future."

"What about it?" Something in his tone made unease wiggle in his chest. He tilted the bottle in his hand. Just a little more wine in the glass wouldn't hurt.

"The way you're living isn't exactly...conventional. You've chosen to spend your time with someone who cannot interact with anyone else. And I've noticed that you're not keen to associate with many of the other people in the community. For some, it is quite evident why you would choose to avoid them, but—Bilbo. The glass."

He looked down and realized he'd gotten quite carried away with the wine, which was now overflowing onto the table. "Oh, dear." It took a prompting nudge from Thorin's hand for him to finally tilt the bottle back upright and set it down on a dry spot.

Bracing one hand on the table, he stood up and made his way to the kitchen to get a towel. When he returned and began cleaning up the mess, he noticed Thorin staring at him out of the corner of his eye.

"I'm fine. It's fine. I just got a bit…You know."

Thorin moved around the table and grasped his wrist before he could touch the wine glass. "I think you've had enough, Bilbo. You should get some rest."

"Weren't you talking to me about something?"

"That can wait."

Bilbo allowed Thorin to guide him out of the room. They were halfway down the hallway when he remembered. "Wait, wait, wait." He took his arm and began pulling him in the opposite direction. "You never did that singing. The sing...thing. That you promised."

"I did promise, didn't I?" Thorin hesitated for a moment, then allowed Bilbo to lead him into the sitting room. They settled together on the couch in front of the fireplace. The fire was mere embers now, and they glowed a deep red-orange as Thorin began his song.

This one was similar to the last—low and haunting, with a thread of mournful longing in the slow tune. However, of this one Bilbo could not understand a single word. The song was in Khuzdul, apparently, but his lack of comprehension did nothing to lessen the beauty of it.

When he had finished, Bilbo let out a contented sigh and rested his head on Thorin's shoulder. He was feeling quite relaxed now, and could feel his eyes drooping closed.

A gentle hand on his jaw coaxed them back open, however. "I hope I did not put you to sleep with that song."

"You relaxed me. I think it's the wine, anyway." Bilbo shifted, tucking one leg under himself as he leaned up to plant a kiss on the dwarf's lips. The hand on his jaw shifted to the back of his neck, pulling him closer, and Bilbo was lost to the searing heat of Thorin's mouth.

Without quite thinking about it, he shifted his position again, throwing one leg over to rest on the couch against Thorin's hip so that he was effectively sitting on the dwarf's lap. Normally such an action would not have even crossed his mind, but given the wine in his belly and his recent disregard for normal hobbitish propriety, he didn't give it a second thought.

On his part, Thorin seemed entirely agreeable to this new position, placing his other hand on Bilbo's lower back and pressing him even closer. Bilbo breathed in sharply through his nose as the solid surface of Thorin's chest pressed against his own. He was only wearing the pale blue shirt that lay beneath his armor, and even the thickness of the fabric could not conceal the heat that was radiating from his body.

Bilbo drank it all in, reaching up to card his fingers through Thorin's thick, dark hair. He broke the kiss so he could lean down and press his lips to the surprisingly soft skin of Thorin's neck. Where this sudden boldness was coming from, he hadn't the slightest idea. All that was running through his mind was the heart-pounding desire that had overtaken him, and how everything he wanted at the moment lay beneath his fingertips.

Thorin tilted his head back, his groan dissolving into a breathy sigh as Bilbo began working his way down to his chest, nudging aside the collar of his shirt to give him better access. That shirt would have to come off altogether.

Like a shock of cold water, the thought broke Bilbo from his haze of desire, and he leaned back just enough to look Thorin in the eye. A becoming flush was spread across his skin, eyes dark and lips parted as he gazed back at Bilbo.

A soft, half-awkward laugh escaped his lips. "I suppose I got a bit carried away there, didn't I?"

"I don't mind." Thorin's voice was low, and deep enough that Bilbo could feel the vibrations of it beneath the hand that was resting on his chest.

And just as Bilbo was about to lean in, thinking that he didn't much mind either, a strange movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention. For a moment, he wondered how much he'd actually drunk, for his vision to be distorted so badly.

He leaned to the side, just enough to see past Thorin's head, and was forced to conclude that no, he wasn't seeing things. Just outside the window, glinting white against the darkness, flakes of snow were falling.

Ah, unexpected weather patterns, the ultimate cockblocker. Like I said earlier though, I'm trying to keep this story T-rated ;)

Thanks so much for reading this chapter, and I hope you enjoyed it! Please leave a comment letting me know what you thought or if you have any predictions for what will happen next.

Major angst warning for next chapter (plus a special appearance of a familiar character). And then the chapter after that will have the big reveal I keep talking about. Stay tuned!