The field is open and Brown Wizard is having more fun than he should leading the Wargs and Orcs on a wild chase.
Dwalin grasped Bilbo's shoulder, keeping him close.
"Ori, no!" Thorin shouted, pulling the scribe caught Ori, squeezing the scribe's shoulders. They pressed against a rock and held their breath. Dwalin heard sniffing and growling.
Kili readied his bow, coming out of hiding and shooting the Warg.
It fell, screaming.
Dwalin embedded his ax into the warg. The warg-rider attacked, but was overridden by the others.
"Run!" Thorin demanded when the wargs and orcs shifted their position to surround them.
Though they raced, the wargs quickly surrounded them.
"This way, you fools!" Gandalf shouted, popping out from behind a rock.
Dwalin shoved Bilbo into the passageway before following.
Balin helped him up, dusting Bilbo off.
"All right?"
Bilbo nodded. "I'm fine…just a little shaky."
Once everyone was inside, Dwalin looked about.
"I can't see where the pathway leads," he said. "Do we follow it or not?"
"Follow it, of course!" Bofur shouted.
Bilbo broke away from Balin's grasp and followed the others.
Dwalin stared at the valley before them. It was a scene from a fairy tale, or so he thought. The trees were green and plenty, there were waterfall in the distance, creating a rainbow reflecting off the water.
The triangular roofs and marble architecture did not exactly spell "homely" to Dwalin.
Bilbo looked entranced.
They descended the cliff they stood on, following Gandalf into the Elven City.
Greetings, rude introductions, and food is offered before they are dismissed for bed.
"How have things been with you and Bilbo?" Balin asked.
Dwalin glanced at him, sitting by the fire they made on the veranda. Bifur was roasting a cluster of lettuce over it and Bofur was rolling a cooled, boiled egg in his hand. Bilbo sat between them, staring at the fire.
"As well as can be expected, I guess," Dwalin sighed, crossing his arms. "I don't know what you expect, Balin. And don't you dare bring up anything about my marriage to him—"
Balin frowned. "Dwalin, he's in love with you."
Dwalin opened his mouth to reply. A crash interrupted him and he looked over at the group to see Bofur fall over, laughing. The table Bombur sat had collapsed under him. Bilbo stared at Bofur indignantly.
"He wouldn't have asked you in the first place if there wasn't a bit of attraction."
"I don't know what's gotten into your head to make you think our Burglar is in love with me, but my marriage to him is one of convenience. He's not in love with me. I'm not in love with him."
"Dwalin—"
He strode away from Balin, muttering threats under his breath.
Bilbo is in love with him?
Impossible!
Dwalin entered the room given to him during their stay in Rivendell, closing the door behind him.
He's in love with you.
Dwalin paced the room, deep in thought. The marriage to Bilbo was only one of convenience. Love was not involved at all in his relationship with Bilbo. How could it be?
He collapsed on the bed, staring at his hands. If Bilbo is in love with him, then it was a sort of emotional transference or illusion due to their relationship as spouses.
It was not real.
It couldn't be real.
Someone knocked at the door. It creaked open cautiously.
"Dwalin?" Bilbo stepped into the room. "Are you awake?"
"I'm awake."
"Why's it so dark?" Dwalin didn't answer, letting Bilbo pull the curtains back. Silver moonlight cast the room in a white glow. Bilbo walked to the bed, peering at Dwalin. "Is something wrong?"
"No."
Bilbo climbed up on to the bed. "Dwalin? If…if you want to talk about things bothering you, you can always talk to me. You know that, right?" His fingers barely brushed Dwalin's arm.
Dwalin swatted his hand away. Bilbo blinked, eyes wide and mouth parted slightly. He held his hand, reddening slightly. Dwalin glanced at his offending hand, still armored in knuckle busters.
"Bilbo, I'm—"
Bilbo jumped off the bed and ran, slamming the door behind him.
Dwalin closed his eyes, rubbing his head.
This is a right mess.
#
Though rare, Dwalin liked his conversations with Bilbo to an extent. But since Rivendell, their talks had become nonexistent. Bilbo avoided even looking at him. Balin had inquired many times before they reached the Mountains what had happened. Dwalin refused to tell him anything. Thorin sent them both nasty looks, demanding answers to why their burglar and his best warrior were not acting like themselves.
And then the storm hit.
When they had escaped the giants and Bilbo clung to the mountainside, Dwalin felt his heart stop—
Thorin jumped down and pushed Bilbo up to safety.
Dwalin caught him and pulled him up. Words of gratitude were forgotten when Thorin yelled at Bilbo. He glanced often at Bilbo, memorizing the dark glaze in his eyes, infuriating him more each time he looked at him.
Once in the cave, Dwalin pulled Thorin aside. "You've no right," he hissed. "It is not his fault he almost fell."
"I know. I'm sorry. I just…" Thorin silenced, looking away.
"Just what?" Dwalin demanded. Thorin ignored him. Dwalin seized his shoulder and pulled his around. "What?" Thorin winced. Thorin never winces. Dwalin's gaze hardened. "Are you in love with my husband?"
"It's not as though you love him in return," Thorin snapped, glaring back. "Until now, you wouldn't even call him 'husband.'"
"He chose me."
"That doesn't mean anything, though, does it? You don't love him. You didn't marry him for love—"
"Would any of us have at the time?"
"All right. You have a point there. But that doesn't change anything. You never show him any affection. You rarely speak to him. And then at Rivendell, before we left, you dared to hit him."
How did Thorin know? "That was an accident."
"An accident? Dwalin, he—" Thorin clenched his teeth. He stared at the ground. "What hurts most is I can't act on it. I never can."
He walked away. Dwalin crossed his arms, watching him go. Thorin called to Bofur, putting him on first watch and Balin on second.
Dwalin stared at Bilbo, curled in the corner toward the back of the cave. He approached and lay beside him. Transference or an illusion brought about their relationship, huh? Dwalin wrapped an arm around Bilbo, pulling him closer. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "Bilbo, I'm sorry."
Bilbo whimpered, burrowing closer to Dwalin and turning around. He buried his face into Dwalin's jerkin. His shoulders shook and his breath felt ragged against Dwalin's skin.
Dwalin petted his hair.
Why did it take almost losing him to make me see?
Time went on and the storm calmed outside.
Bilbo drifted to sleep, lax in Dwalin's arms.
Thorin glanced at them from where he lay, and Dwalin held Bilbo tighter. He hoped it was a loud enough statement. Thorin turned away, scowling.
Dwalin heard creaking. The ground beneath them shook. A blue glow emitted from Bilbo's dagger."Wake up," Dwalin shouted. "Wake up!"
Bilbo started, grabbing his weapon. "Dwalin?"
Dwalin hoisted him to his feet and the ground gave way beneath them.
Goblins surrounded them, grabbing them, pushing them—they were whipped, herded, and beaten. Dwalin tried to get an idea where Bilbo was, but he was gone.
And Dwalin had no idea where.