Had Bilbo thought more carefully about it, he would probably have taken a less direct path to the forge. It couldn't possibly have taken longer. As it was, he had led Thorin by the most direct path out of habit: a path that took them right through the market. The market where the two of them had been mobbed by hobbits. At first, Bilbo had been nervous, but all the hobbits had wanted to do was ask questions. It seemed that Bilbo and one dwarf were much less intimidating that Bilbo and four dwarves had been. Bilbo almost wished that they were still intimidated. He was beginning to feel claustrophobic . . . and vaguely jealous as he saw the gentle smiles that Thorin was giving to the other hobbits.

Thorin, however, was not feeling claustrophobic in the least. The hobbits were leaving a respectable space between them and were showing no signs of aggression. He wasn't sure why they were so interested in him when they had seemed afraid of the others, but it pleased him because—despite Bilbo's insistence that hobbits would not tolerate dwarves in the Shire—it showed that they were willing to tolerate dwarves—if the dwarves in question behaved themselves. What did worry him was the tension that he could feel radiating from Bilbo. He had seen it before. He could still remember the reaction that the company had elicited from the hobbit when they had crowded around him too closely one night at dinner.

They had been intrigued by his curly hair, his bare feet and his pointed ears and had surrounded him, more than one dwarf touching the hobbit and all of them looking at him as though he had two heads. It had been early in the quest and Thorin had seen that they were angering the hobbit but hadn't felt that he needed to put a stop to it. He had felt that Bilbo either needed to stand up for himself or go home.

And stand up for himself Bilbo had! He had made quite a scene; standing up to his full—and rather unimpressive—height with his hands on his hips and murder burning in his eyes.

"I beg your pardon!" Bilbo had snapped as he knocked away the hands that were still on him despite him having moved. "I will not abide by this! I am a hobbit! Not a pet! I will thank you all to keep your hands to yourselves!" Thorin had smiled at the chagrinned looks on the faces of the others as they muttered apologies and sidled away from him. He had never figured the hobbit capable of cowing a group of dwarves. That was the first time that he felt the first stirrings of feelings for the smallest member of their company and had wondered if the hobbit would protest if he decided not to keep his hands to himself.

Even though no one was touching him this time, Thorin feared that Bilbo was about to make another scene and figured that it would be better to extract them from the situation before it happened. Especially with the strange way the hobbit had been behaving lately. With Bilbo's strange rages even he wasn't sure what Bilbo would do if provoked.

"I'm very sorry," Thorin said suddenly cutting off a hobbit's question with a soft smile. "We really must continue our journey. I have urgent business I must take care before nightfall." Rather than be offended, the hobbits cleared a path in the direction Thorin and Bilbo had been traveling before they were mobbed and apologized for delaying them.

As soon as they were out of earshot, the residents of Hobbiton began to gossip once more. Hobbits love gossip, and true gossip is even more of a draw. Especially when the true gossip has a mystery attached that can give rise to speculation. Even though they now knew the name of the polite dwarf, his name told them next to nothing about him or his relationship with Bilbo. It was in the last areas that speculation abounded. Strangely enough, the suggestions that got rejected as being too far-fetched (that Thorin Oakenshield was well-mannered because he was some form of dwarven royalty, and that he and Bilbo were more than just friends) were the ones that were the truth.

ooOO88OOoo

Once they had cleared the crowd, it was clear to Thorin that Bilbo was still seething. Thorin didn't understand it. It had only been a small delay. They would still make it to the forge in time for him to speak with the smith and perhaps even start work. And even if they did not, it was not a particularly urgent errand—despite what he had told the hobbits—he didn't necessarily need a sword as long as they were in the Shire. Perhaps Bilbo was upset because he thought that Thorin was.

"They were rather friendly," Thorin said warmly trying to show Bilbo that he didn't care. "I thought you said that hobbits would not tolerate dwarves in the Shire. They seem to like me well enough." Bilbo said nothing but only harrumphed in response and kept walking without looking at Thorin.

"It was only a small delay," Thorin said trying again. "They were just curious. Understandably so." Bilbo glared at him and muttered something else that he couldn't hear.

"Why are you upset?" Thorin finally asked, figuring that a direct route would be better. Bilbo had always been a little passive aggressive and would only reveal what bothered him when he built up enough pressure to explode or when challenged directly.

"You ask as though you don't know," Bilbo snarled.

"I don't!" Thorin replied sharply. "If I knew, I wouldn't have asked." He wasn't sure how many more of Bilbo's mood swings he could handle. He loved the hobbit very much, but he was not accustomed to coddling people for fear of their responses. And all of Bilbo's yelling was starting to grate on his nerves. He knew that he deserved some of the hobbit's anger, but he had done nothing this time to merit this attitude.

"It was you!" Bilbo snapped whirling suddenly to face Thorin, that same strange light in his eyes that had been there earlier. "You didn't have to be so nice as you answered their questions!"

"What would you have me do?" Thorin asked his voice growing loud while he gestured animatedly. He did not want to argue with Bilbo but if the hobbit wanted an argument that was what he would get. Thorin had no intention of allowing Bilbo to level baseless accusations. "Should I have snapped at them? Been rude? Snubbed them entirely?"

"You did me when we first met," Bilbo snapped glaring up at the dwarf.

"That was an entirely different circumstance!" Thorin snapped in reply. "I was about to take you into the wilds! Not talking with you in the market! I feared that bringing you along would not only lead to your death but to the death of us all. There is a steep learning curve in quests. You either live or you die by the decisions that you make. That was not the time for kindness and introductions!"

"And," Thorin added, "If you remember, I did not treat you that much differently than anyone on the quest. Not even my own kin. Everyone was subject to the same treatment. I was a little preoccupied with keeping us alive to observe niceties."

"There is a fine line between niceties and what you were just doing!" Bilbo snapped the implications clear in the words and tone. Bilbo thought that Thorin had been flirting with the other hobbits! What a ludicrous idea! Bilbo was jealous. If the situation had been less explosive, Thorin would have been amused. Bilbo had never shown even the faintest hint of jealousy before and the dwarf hadn't been aware that the hobbit had it in him. As it was . . .

"You've lost your mind," Thorin said his voice a horrified whisper, his anger fading and concern taking its place. He realized quickly that the words were true. He could see the madness in Bilbo's eyes that had once been in his grandfather's—though the source was different. That was why that strange light unhinged him so. He recognized the first stirrings of madness.

"What?" Bilbo asked, the madness fading slightly to be replaced by confusion. What as Thorin talking about. He placed his head in his hands and thought about it carefully. As suddenly as the anger had come on, it faded. With a sudden rush of clarity, he realized that he was being unreasonable. Thorin had behaved just as he should have in the situation they were in. The dwarves would need the goodwill of the hobbits and Thorin could get it for them. He had done nothing wrong, nor had the others. The fault had been Bilbo's. Why had he gotten so upset over nothing? He looked back up at Thorin.

The lost look in Bilbo's eyes nearly broke the dwarf. He was so confused, and underneath the confusion was fear. But at least the madness was gone, for now. Thorin couldn't resist the urge to pull Bilbo into his arms, though he knew that the hobbit had issues with public displays of affection. He leaned down and buried his face in Bilbo's downy curls, stroking the back of his head. He had no idea what he could do to help Bilbo with this. He felt helpless.

"Thorin," Bilbo began, his voice soft and just as lost as his eyes, "what's wrong with me?" The question had been a rhetorical one. He didn't think that his lover would actually know the answer. Even though Thorin knew the answer, he didn't disclose it. He couldn't bear to be the one to tell the hobbit that he was going insane but neither could he bring himself to lie to him and say that nothing was wrong. Instead, he tightened his hold on the hobbit and held him there, in the middle of the road until his sobs subsided.

ooOO88OOoo

Eventually, Bilbo's sobs quieted. But the time they had, there was no sign on Thorin's face of the pain that he felt at what Bilbo was going through. Neither of them said a word about what had just taken place, but rather continued their trip to the forge.

When they arrived, the forge was silent, though the fire was still lit and unbanked. The smith was nowhere to be seen.

"Hello," Thorin called, poking his head into the doorway. "Is there anyone here?"

"Hello!" came the call from the other side of a closed door. It opened to reveal the burliest hobbit that Thorin had ever seen. There was no roundness to his figure and he actually had muscles. It was a strange sight.

"Sorry. I was enjoying my lunch. What can I do for you, Master Dwarf?" the smith asked, a warm smile on his face that crinkled the heat creased skin around his hazel eyes.

"I find myself in need of a good sword, Master Smith," Thorin replied with a smile. He felt his own smile fall slightly as the smith's face took on a pained expression.

"I'm afraid that I can't help you," the smith replied, regret apparent in his tone. He knew that it was rare for dwarves to be in the Shire, but when they were . . . they paid well for good service and he prided himself on his work as a smith. But a sword . . . that was beyond his ability.

"Perhaps I can be of assistance to you," Thorin said gently.

"How so?" the hobbit asked suspicion in his eyes. He had no idea what the dwarf intended to offer him.

"I will offer my services to you, if you have need of them, and in exchange all I ask is the supplies and time that I will need to forge a sword for myself, " Thorin explained. "Do you find these terms agreeable?"

"So," the hobbit said slowly as he tried to think through what had just been said. "You will work for me and all you ask is that I allow you the time and materials to forge a sword?"

"Yes," Thorin agreed with a nod. "What say you?"

"What say I?" The hobbit crowed delight in his eyes. "Master Dwarf, your terms are more that agreeable! To think, a dwarven smith in my forge!" Thorin smiled at his enthusiasm and nodded his head.

"In that case, I'll get started on whatever you need me to do, shall I?" Thorin asked. The hobbit nodded eagerly and led Thoirn and Bilbo into the forge, showing Thorin where he kept all the materials of the trade. Thorin looked around with a critical, practiced eye and realized that despite his limited skills the hobbit did have a good set-up and many fine things could be made here. He nodded his approval and saw the smith's eyes light up in delight at the praise.

"Where would you like me to start?" Thorin asked as he removed his coat and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt.

ooOO88OOoo

Thorin had been right. It was unbelievably hot in the forge once Thoirn got it going once more. Bilbo had had to step outside repeatedly to cool off. And during all of his breaks, the dwarf had worked tirelessly on mundane things: broken pots, new hinges, spokes for a cart. Even so, Bilbo couldn't help but be intrigued. For some reason, his mind had never been able to reconcile the competing images he had of Thorin: that of the proud leader and king and that of the simple blacksmith. But now he realized that there was nothing to reconcile. They were one and the same. Even as a blacksmith, Thorin dominated the room and commanded order. True in one case he was commanding the compliance of people and in the other metal, but he faced both tasks with the same calm determination. And in both cases, Thorin was a sight to behold.

Even though he had seen Thorin completely naked more times than he could count on one hand, and seen him dressed in finery, something about the sight of his ex-lover wearing nothing more than his undershirt and pants with his skin sheened with sweat was almost more arousing than seeing him completely nude had been. It could have had something to do with the look of pure focus in his eyes as he shaped the metal to his meet his desires.

He had also finally learned something that had bothered him for the entirety of their acquaintance: the purpose of the braids under his hair beside his face. Bilbo had always wondered why Thorin had braids there, they didn't seem to have any purpose and weren't particularly intricate. But now he knew. Before he had begun working, Thorin had gathered up his long hair and used the two braids to tie it back from his face. Bilbo had never seen his hair pulled back before and despite the strangeness of it—or perhaps because of it—Bilbo couldn't seem to quit watching him. Even now that he had been watching for the better part of the afternoon, Bilbo found that he could not tear his eyes from the dwarf.

Thorin tried to focus only on his work. He had quickly learned that what he had told Bilbo was true. Now that there was no one forcing him to do it, he found that he truly enjoyed working as a smith. There was something rewarding about seeing something broken or formless come into being something useful under his hands. The steady rhythm of the hammer. He found it soothing almost. But despite the allure of the forge, it paled in comparison to the allure of his hobbit's heated gaze on him. The flush on his face had more to do with desire than the heat rising from the forge. He could feel Bilbo watching him and as he paused to allow the metal to reheat or cool as needed, he snuck glances at the hobbit, surprised at the wonder and lust that burned in his eyes.

He was sure of only one thing: if Bilbo did not stop looking at him that way, things might escalate at a rate that Bilbo might just be unprepared for. Especially since he would be done with work shortly. The pot in his hands was the last thing that the Smith had asked him to do and there were lots of dark, secluded corners between the forge and Bag End. And if he remembered correctly—which he did—Bilbo had no objection to making love under the stars.

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Well, there we are for now folks! I hope you enjoyed it!

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Stickdonkeys