For all those who have reviewed and I haven't answered, I'm so sorry! Nasty flu bug got me but I'm back now. Y'all are great and I'm so glad you're enjoying this little thing!

The next several days were spent healing and relaxing. Finally everyone was feeling enough better that they began to explore.

Bofur and Nori made their cautious way through Beorn's bee pastures to the woods on the far side, wanting privacy. They sat on a small hillock, shoulders touching, and simply stared out over the land, saying nothing. It was a comfortable silence, the kind they had been finding with each other more and more often. Finally Nori touched one of Bofur's braids and broke the silence.

"I meant what I said," he said simply. "I'm never letting you go. You... you mean too much to me. I've never cared about anyone but my brothers and then only because they're family, you have to care about your family. But you, I care about you so much, it scares me. It scares me because before, I could always walk away. And I can't walk away from you." He pulled Bofur in close, holding him tightly before kissing him gently. "Don't want to anyway. So you might as well get used to the idea that I'm gonna love you forever."

Bofur nestled into his arms, resting against him easily. That moment in their shared bedroom, the moment Nori had promised to love him, he'd thought his heart would burst with happiness. But this felt even better. "Ye know I love ye," he said slowly. "Always will. But kin y'promise me somethin, Nori?" He felt bad asking but he had to. He was so afraid, so afraid that this quest would be the death of them both. "Please try t'be careful. I know ye like the excitement, the thrill. But I want a long, long life with ye an if we're not careful, we won't have one."

"I promise to try if you promise not to change. You're fierce, 'fur, you're the fiercest person I know. Everything you do is strong, joking, laughing, loving – you don't do anything by half. It's why I love you, one reason anyway. You never give up." Nori just held him then, saying nothing else.

He couldn't believe how relaxed he was in Bofur's company. He was never comfortable with others; being a thief meant he kept his distance. But he wasn't able to keep the miner at a distance, hadn't been since he'd come on Bofur that first night and decided to give him a little help. He had thought it a mere whim, a way to ease his boredom and maybe have a little fun, but it had led to so, so much more.

Bofur straightened up slightly and reached upward, then swiveled and faced Nori. "Promise. But ye gave me somethin when ye did m'braids, an I'd like t'give ye somethin back." He raised his hand before Nori's face and in his fingers he held his earring. "It's just a little thing but it'd make me happy t'see ye wear it."

Nori blinked. It was all the outward reaction he gave before offering a huge smile with a slight blush. "Bofur, are you trying to court me?"

Bofur ducked his head with a grin of his own. "I guess ye could say that. Didn't think ye'd mind at this late date." He held up the little tooth, dangling it suggestively.

Nori chuckled softly and moved slightly, giving Bofur a clear shot at his earlobe. "Just so we have that in the clear, then." And once the earring was in place, he pulled his miner back in close, and they sat together companionably for a long time.

(Dwalin/Ori)

Ori went to the room he was sharing with Dwalin and closed the door firmly behind him. He was in no mood to listen to any more of Dori's well-meaning diatribes on how they were rushing things, how it was totally improper for them to be sharing a bed, how things like this were supposed to take time.

He didn't care.

This quest was too dangerous to let things wait. Granted, they were safe enough here; but once they left the security of Beorn's land, they would be in deadly peril once more and he wasn't going to die without living.

The nights he'd already spent with Dwalin, held in the warrior's arms, had only served to make him want more. He felt so safe there, so loved. He wanted to keep feeling that; and he wanted to make Dwalin feel just as special.

So, he'd come up here directly after dinner. He had plans for his warrior tonight, and Dori wasn't going to interfere. Period.

Finally the room was arranged how he wanted it. The lanterns were lit, but they were turned low. The sheets were turned back invitingly and the fire crackled comfortingly.

When Dwalin came in, Ori was in a chair next to the fireplace, watching the flames. He rose to meet the warrior who had stopped just inside the door. "I wanted to surprise you," he said softly.

"Aye, lad, ye did. What's all this?" Dwalin looked about the room, taking in all the homey little touches Ori had put in place. It touched him deep inside that his scribe had taken so much effort to make things comfortable.

"I was trying to make it more like a home." Ori's words were soft. "I know it isn't. And I know our chances of actually surviving to make a home after this is over are very slim. But I wanted to see what it would be like to have one. And to give you a chance to feel it too."

Dwalin crossed the room quickly and folded Ori into his arms, holding him tightly. He said nothing; he had no words to explain how deeply the thought affected him. Ori wanted to make a home with him. It was more than he'd hoped. Yes, he'd asked to court the lad. Yes, he'd wanted more, wanted everything from his scribe. But he'd never expected to feel this, never expected to 'come home' to his love. And he'd never really believed, until that moment, that Ori felt the same way. That Ori truly did love him and want to be with him.

Ori raised his hands to Dwalin's face, tracing the line of the scar that ran from his brow across his nose. "I'm glad you like it," he said softly. Then he took the warrior's hands in his own and drew him toward the bed. "I believe you mentioned that once we were healed enough, you would love me 'something fierce,' was that the term?" He gave Dwalin a smile. "I'm quite better now. And I know Oin took your stitches out earlier." He sat down on the edge of the bed and looked up at the other questioningly.

Dwalin said nothing, only leaned in to kiss him gently before taking hold of Ori's tunic and helping the lad out of it. The rest of Ori's clothing followed swiftly and Dwalin stopped a moment, just looking at his love. Ori was beautiful, not a spare ounce of flesh for all his life had been spent working with letters rather than weapons. Still, there was more muscle there than he had expected and it was a pleasant surprise.

Ori was quite a willing participant in his disrobing but he wasn't finished yet. He rose again, standing near enough to Dwalin that a deep breath would have their skins touching. His fingers moved slowly, teasingly, removed the warrior's clothing, making sure it ended up neatly stowed on the chair and not all over the room. Dwalin was neat and Ori would respect that. Then he took Dwalin's hand and laid back on the bed, pulling his lover with him.

Dwalin moved to lie beside him, his fingers moving restlessly over Ori's body, effortlessly finding those spots he'd noticed before, bringing soft sighs and not so soft moans from the scribe and following those fingers then with lips and teeth, soft little nips that still marked the pale skin. Then he moved back upward, still nibbling and caressing, listening to each moan and feeling each shiver that wracked his Ori. He dived in and kissed his lover passionately, his hands never ceasing their movements and then finally, finally closing around the prize.

Ori had both hands working as well; one behind Dwalin's nape, tangled in the hair there, holding him tightly while they kissed, and the other working across his chest, teasing and tangling in the crisp hair there, stroking the hard muscles and lightly scoring across nipples already pebbled with desire. He moaned into Dwalin's mouth, a long, lingering sound of need.

Dwalin pulled back slightly, watching his scribe. His own eyes closed for a moment at the sensations those strong fingers were bringing him, and then he opened them again to meet Ori's. His hand never ceased its slow, gentle stroking though he did gentle his touch, barely grazing along the sensitive skin. "Tell me what ye want, Ori," he murmured as he nuzzled the lad's neck.

"Everything," Ori whispered back. His own hands dipped lower, grasping Dwalin and beginning to lightly, slowly stroke him as well. He felt the warrior's breath hitch slightly and stilled his fingers. "I want to be yours in every way. I want to feel you inside me, I want to hear your voice crying out in passion and know that it's me making you feel it. I want to touch you, hold you while you make love to me. I want to smell your scent and know it's mine, I want to taste your skin and trace every one of those tattoos with my tongue. I want it all."

Dwalin let his forehead rest against his lover's for a moment, trying to catch his breath. Of all the things Ori could have said to him, he had never expected that kind of declaration. Then he kissed his scribe again, wild, full of passion and promise as one hand scrabbled in the drawer. He drew out the vial and flipped it open, never stopping his assault on Ori's willing mouth, and dribbled it across his hand where it gripped the scribe, letting the motion slick both of them up. The fingers of his other hand dipped lower, lightly stroking that thin strip of flesh and then rubbing the oil that had dripped down around Ori's entrance, slicking it and the fingertips in the process.

Ori made a long, low keening noise when Dwalin's finger brushed just the edge of his entrance, swallowed by the warrior's mouth against his own. He bucked upward, tearing his lips free and crying out. Broken Khuzdul flowed from him, pleas for more, gasps of need, moans of pleasure, he wasn't silent by any means and Dwalin listened carefully to all of it as he gently, carefully prepared his lover.

One finger found that spot and Ori nearly screamed, his hands scrabbling over Dwalin's back and then tangling in his hair, trying to simply hold on. Dwalin rumbled pleasantly and flicked it again, watching Ori squirm, and then withdrew his fingers, moving both hands to hold Ori's face gently and force the lad to look up at him. "Ori, love," he murmured as he locked eyes with his scribe. "Yer beautiful. An yer mine, always. I want no one else, ever."

Ori kissed Dwalin's fingers and then squirmed against him. "Then make us one," he moaned raggedly. "Need you, Dwalin, need to feel you inside me." One hand slipped down to grasp at Dwalin's hard length again. "Please! Don't tease me. Make us one."

Dwalin needed no more urging. He moved into position and slowly, carefully eased inside his love, taking care not to rush Ori. He wanted nothing to mar this joining, so he would take his time. And once fully inside, he waited, barely breathing, until he was sure his scribe had adjusted to his size before beginning to move, slowly at first but with mounting urgency.

Ori met each thrust with one of his own, pushing back against Dwalin with every stroke, moaning and sobbing with need. Finally Dwalin grasped Ori's length with one hand, steadying his hip with the other as he continued to move, and stroked lightly but with increasing speed.

Ori came with a ragged scream, bucking upward, both hands scrabbling for purchase against Dwalin's sweat-slicked skin, trying to hold him even closer. Dwalin followed quickly with a roar, spilling himself deep inside his love, then holding him just as tightly as he rolled them to the side to lay together. He watched the lad for a moment, stunned by the intensity of the act, before gathering his courage to speak.

"I don't have yer gift with words," he said slowly, "but I have t'say this. I love ye, Ori, with all m'heart. I always will. Yer m'One. An I'd marry ye right now if ye said yes."

Ori framed his face with his fingers, smiling ecstatically. "Then yes."

(Thorin/Bilbo)

Bilbo got between Thorin and the door. "Oh, no you don't," he said simply as he put one hand on the startled Dwarf's chest. "Off with it, right now. If you don't, then, then I'll just have to take it off you. So take off that shirt right now."

Thorin blinked and then gave the Hobbit a slow smile. "I hadn't realized you were so determined to have my clothes off, Bilbo," he rumbled in amusement. "Very well." He slipped the tunic off over his head and tossed it onto a chair. "Satisfied?"

"Quite. Now sit down and let me have a look." Bilbo made sure the Dwarf was comfortable on the side of the bed and ran his fingers over the marks the Warg had made on Thorin's skin, humming softly to himself the whole time and apparently oblivious to the reaction he was provoking. He finally stepped back, nodding a bit. "Well, it seems you've healed quite a bit. Does it still hurt?"

Thorin had to take a deep breath to be able to answer. What was it about his Hobbit that made him shiver at the slightest touch? "Not much, no." Swiftly he grabbed Bilbo about the waist and tumbled them both onto the bed. He straddled the burglar's hips, holding his hands against the bedspread, and kissed him deeply.

Bilbo was trembling. This hadn't at all been what he'd had in mind – well, maybe just a little - but he wasn't objecting, either. Perish the thought. He made a little sound of protest at not being able to touch, but then he responded to the kiss, returning it passionately.

Thorin loosed the Hobbit's hands and took Bilbo's face in his own, framing it gently and watching his little one with thinly veiled desire. There was an answering gleam in the burglar's eyes, and it thrilled him to the bone. "I promised you soft sheets, a warm bed, and time, my Halfling, and we have all those things right now," he murmured against Bilbo's throat. His hands then skimmed over the pleased Hobbit, ridding him of his clothing and caressing bare skin until Bilbo was moaning softly and hauled Thorin's head back up to kiss him desperately.

Finally he let the Dwarf back up for air as his own hands made explorations. "Then what are you waiting for?" he growled as he nipped at Thorin's throat. "You're still dressed, Thorin," he nearly purred.

Thorin didn't pause in his explorations. One hand moved only long enough to remove his breeches and then returned quickly, still touching and caressing that expanse of pale, hairless skin as he kissed the startled burglar deeply, desperately.

Bilbo was a beautiful, exotic creature, he thought as much as he could think through his desire. His skin was pale, nearly hairless save in two places. His adorable feet... and the prize Thorin now sought. One large, calloused hand wrapped around the shaft and Bilbo arched upward with a cry, pressing himself against his Dwarf and kissing him wildly as his own softer hand found Thorin's hardness as well.

Both instantly went still, eyes locked together, shock keeping them silent. Neither so much as breathed for a long moment.

Something was happening between them, something more than just need and desire. Something powerful held them in its grasp, much like they held each other, and slowly Thorin lowered his lips back to Bilbo's. It was different, now, no longer frantic, no longer fueled merely by want. There was an emotional element now, a need to please his Hobbit, not merely possess him. And he could feel, from the way Bilbo was responding to his kiss, that the burglar felt it as well.

This was miles beyond what either of them had felt before. Both had taken lovers, both had experienced the need, the driving, pulsing lust that had driven them earlier. But this, this was different, at the same time both wilder and gentler. It drove Thorin to gentle his caresses, slow them, to press his entire body against Bilbo's in an attempt to touch even more.

Nor was the Hobbit idle. He arched against Thorin, arms around him, trying desperately to bring him closer, seemingly trying to submerge himself inside Thorin's skin. Their kisses were desperate, yet loving and passionate, giving and not taking.

It seemed they would go no further, as if the simple fact of skin to skin contact would be enough, until Bilbo came up for air and put both his hands against Thorin's chest, not pushing but not allowing him any closer, either. He'd finally tumbled to a conclusion and he needed to share it before things went too far, before it was too late. "Thorin. Thorin, listen to me," he began softly.

Thorin blinked quickly, trying to focus. He'd never been so overtaken by need in his life and it was a struggle at first to comprehend his Halfling's words. His hands continued to run over Bilbo's so soft skin, but finally he was able to bring his mind back enough to listen.

It was hardly the time for Bilbo to be delivering a lecture on Hobbits but it needed said. He'd never expected things to reach this level of intimacy so quickly. "Thorin. We have to stop. We have to talk about something first. We HAVE to."

Thorin scowled and leaned back slightly, watching Bilbo with thinly veiled frustration and not a little anger. "And what is it that's so important, Halfling?" he demanded suddenly. "I thought you wanted this."

"I do, that's the problem." Bilbo ran a hand through his hair and then touched Thorin's face, though the Dwarf didn't react to the caress. "Thorin, it's – I love you. You have no idea how much, though. That's what's wrong." He had to take a deep breath and that scowl was decidedly intimidating. "We Hobbits, when we love deeply... it forges a connection between us. It's rare, but it happens. It's a soul bond. And it's unbreakable."

Thorin sighed deeply and rolled onto his back, staring at the ceiling. It was taking an enormous amount of restraint to keep from simply continuing where they'd left off, but something in the Hobbit's words had reached him.

A bond. An unbreakable bond. But was that truly something he should avoid? What if Bilbo was his One? It certainly felt that way. He'd felt NOTHING like this for any other lover. He'd never felt such a depth of emotion for anyone. As much as he'd denied it, the Hobbit had been in his thoughts almost non stop since the moment they met.

He loved Bilbo. It was nearly graven on his heart, and that wouldn't change. He intended to keep Bilbo with him after this was over, if they lived through it. Slowly, deliberately, he reached over and cupped the startled Hobbit's face in his fingers, drawing him closer, kissing him gently. "I will bond with you, Bilbo," he said softly. "I would have you with me always."

Bilbo drew him in closer then, not desperately but close. He rained kisses on the Dwarf's face, neck, and then lower. His hands tangled into the crisp hair on Thorin's chest, stroking and teasing.

There was nothing frantic or rushed about them now. It was slow, and tender, and gentle. And when they were together, when they were one, there was a sense of completion, a sense of belonging, a sense of rightness that flooded through them.

Neither wanted to leave the other. They lay together, spent, sated, and more than content. Thorin smoothed back Bilbo's hair and the Hobbit placed a gentle hand over Thorin's heart. It beat in time with his own and Bilbo sighed contentedly as he laid his head against the Dwarf's shoulder. He didn't know much more than he'd already said about the bond; but he knew he didn't want to move from this spot, not ever. "I love you," he murmured softly.

"And I you, my Bilbo," Thorin murmured back as he pressed a kiss against the Hobbit's lips. "Rest now, just rest."

They slept.