Just FYI, this story is like 90% completed, so I'll be posting the whole thing within the next week or so.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to The Hobbit, The Lord of the Rings, or The Silmarillion. They belong to the incomparable J.R.R. Tolkien. I'm just playing in his universe.

Bilbo tugged on his mittens, somewhat alarmed by the creaking pops his finger joints were emitting. He'd been anticipating such a development, but it was a different sensation than what he was used to, and he was not sure how to handle it. When at last he'd freed his calloused fingers from their soft prisons and discarded them, he took a moment to study them with interest.

The skin on his hands and wrists had always been the same, sun-kissed tone that most hobbits possessed, but now they looked pale and rigid. It made the startling change in the shape and color of his, or rather their veins far more visible - they had turned a dark, earthy brown and resembled tiny, pointed tree branches rather than the curvy, interwoven vines they usually were. What was even more abnormal was that they pulsed with a soft golden light, similar to the glow of fireflies. The sharp snaps he'd heard were a combination of the forceful stretching of tiny muscles, bones that had fractured and separated and the detaching of tendons and ligaments as his fingers slowly elongated beyond what hobbit anatomy permitted.

The process was rather painful, causing sharp, tingly feelings beneath his skin, as though he was being stabbed by thousands of tiny needles. He hoped that would be the worst of it, but he knew there was more to come. He had managed stop himself from crying out this time, but he doubted he'd be able to do so when the rest of his body succumbed.

"I imagine that this is not quite how you envisioned your journey would end," Gandalf stated, inviting Bilbo to speak his thoughts aloud.

Bilbo grinned and quipped, "Not at all. I can think of many times I thought my life would be over on this ridiculous quest. Let's see..." He struggled to count on his misshapen fingers. "I was almost cooked by trolls, eviscerated by wargs, impaled by orcs, eaten whole by Gollum, starved in a forest, drowned in a river, barbequed by a dragon, thrown off a wall, and had my head bashed in. And yet, I had always hoped that we'd all succeed, and I'd return to the Shire when it was over."

He looked down at his hands again and tried to flex the digits, but they had become too stiff to move. He took a deep breath. "But... all things considered, I really don't mind how things turned out, for my part, I guess."

Gandalf raised a curious eyebrow. "Do you mean to tell me that you had not dreamed of a rather different conclusion? Perhaps one in which you would remain in Erebor... with Thorin?"

Bilbo thought he'd be incapable of blushing at this point, but the warmth spreading on his face indicated otherwise. He cleared his throat a few times and disregarded the wizard's knowing smirk. Finally, he answered, "Well yes. I mean no. Er..." He rested one of his nearly solidified hands over his heart. "I think that once I accepted my feelings, I knew that this would happen. Even after we finally became friends, I knew that he was... well... quite beyond me. I'm just a hobbit, after all. What have I to offer a king?"

"Far more than you know," Gandalf said firmly. "Even after all you've done, you still underestimate your worth, dear friend."

"Perhaps." He curled in a little on himself and permitted a small, self-deprecating smile. "Of course, I might have had a better chance, if only I hadn't been so resistant. When it began, I had convinced myself that I still didn't really like Thorin all that much. The notion that he, of all people, would have that effect on me was utterly ridiculous..."

Rivendell was a wonder that Bilbo had never imagined he'd get to experience. His mother had told him many tales as a fauntling, but even her legendary skill for storytelling hardly did it justice. So while the dwarves groused and stayed hunkered down in their own rooms for the most part, he intended to take full advantage of their stay to explore as much of the Hidden Valley as time allowed. He wandered the grand halls, examined the ancient artifacts on display, flipped through as many books as he could handle, and chatted up various elves, including Lord Elrond, amicably. He cared not that his dwarven company shot him suspicious glares whenever he returned to them, Thorin especially. Their feud with the elves was of no concern of his.

In fact, he'd hardly seen much of his company after that first shared meal with their host, for they refused to associate with their "enemies" any more than was strictly necessary, while Bilbo was frequently invited to dine and converse with many of Rivendell's residents. He was grateful for each opportunity afforded him, not only to expand his horizons, but also to distract him from the discomfort he'd been experiencing in his chest as of late.

He had thought, perhaps, that it was due to the all of the recent running from Wargs and Orcs. Bilbo was by no means unfit, by hobbit standards at least, for he was fond of long, frequent walks around the Shire and was not nearly as inactive and sedentary as the dwarves seemed to believe at times. He was certainly no warrior, and would never possess the strength or build of his companions, but he had thus far kept up rather well, all things considered. Even so, the desperate sprint across the barren plains on their way to Rivendell had taxed him. His leg muscles were still sore and stiff days later, and he remembered how his lungs burned from the near-hyperventilation. Surely that must be the cause of the heaviness and warmth in the center of his chest.

He was resolutely sure that it had nothing to do with the bright blue eyes that stared at him as though he was the most vexing creature imaginable.

Bilbo frowned and shook his head, determined to give no credence to such an outlandish and barely conceived fantasy.

He strolled along one of the many tree-lined paths, hands shoved in the pockets of his trousers, contemplating what he might occupy himself with today. Gandalf expected him to be available later tonight, when Lord Elrond would (hopefully) take a closer look at their map of the Lonely Mountain. For some incomprehensible reason, the wizard thought that Bilbo's presence might be useful in tempering Thorin's foul mood and distrust, though he did not elaborate on why that should be. He didn't mind, since maps and runes fascinated him, but that meant that if he wanted to savor any peace and quiet today without the obvious tension between the two races, he'd best enjoy it now.

Before long, Bilbo had followed this particular path to its end and found a circular sitting area surrounded by a lush garden, nearly hidden by tall, ornate columns covered in sprawling, leafy ivy. The columns protected the garden from potentially harsh elements, but kept it open and airy, allowing for plenty of warm sunlight to bathe the whole area. Cushioned stone benches were arranged in a semi-circle facing the path, making for a very inviting atmosphere for silent contemplation or perhaps a relaxing smoke.

Bilbo decided on the latter as he approached, already pulling out his pipe, when he noticed that the area was not unoccupied. A small, hunched figure was sitting on one of the benches, staring at the ground as he idly swung his legs.

"Oh, hello Kili," he greeted with a smile. Despite the young dwarf's pension for pranks, he was immensely fond of him and his older brother, and would be glad of his company. It was odd to see only one of the Durin siblings though, and Bilbo cast a critical eye around, just to be sure he wasn't about to fall victim to one of their schemes. "Where's Fili?"

"Sparing with Thorin, I think."

"And you're not with them?"

Kili pouted and crossed his arms. "What? Am I not allowed to go anywhere without him? I can't just think by myself for a change?"

Bilbo held up a placating hand, laughing a little. "No, sorry! I didn't mean anything by it. I'm just not used to seeing one of you without the other skulking nearby, is all." He grinned at Kili's protest that either he or his brother were ever "skulking" anywhere. "Anyway, do you mind if I join you? Or do you want to be left alone?"

Kili shrugged. "Do whatever you want."

"Very well." Bilbo took a seat on the bench opposite of Kili and proceeded to pack and light his pipe. He was content to just sit in quiet thought, blowing smoke rings, but after a few moments, he noticed Kili squirming and casting him glances, his mouth gaping like a fish. He smiled to encourage the young dwarf. "Something on your mind?"

Kili flushed and shook his head, but his agitation betrayed him. Bilbo waited patiently for him to put his thoughts in order.

"I had to get away for a bit," he finally admitted. "The others, they've been on my case since dinner that first night, and they won't let up."

"Oh? What about?" Bilbo asked. He couldn't really recall much of that evening other than his own irritation at the dwarves' appalling manners, and Balin's insistence that his beautiful new sword was probably a letter opener.

Kili clenched his fists and avoided eye contact. "The elves," he muttered, without any sort of venom. "Uncle and the others hate them, and I know I should too; they deserve it, but..."

Bilbo raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"I don't know... I don't think they're so bad, really." His admission seemed to embarrass him a great deal. "I mean, they don't like us either, but they're nothing like the stories I've been told. I think they're actually... kinda pretty." His face glowed a healthy red.

Bilbo took a deep drag from his pipe, well aware that Kili was watching and waiting for his reaction. At any other time, he would have been tempted to tease him in turn, but the situation was obviously causing the younger prince stress. "Is it really such a bad thing... to admire the elves?"

"I don't know," Kili whispered. "Ori doesn't seem to think so, but Thorin..."

"But Thorin is such an ass, when it comes to elves," Bilbo added with a frown, but it was quickly replaced by a grin at seeing Kili struggle between being horrified and amused at his complete disregard for his uncle.

"It's not just Thorin, and he hasn't said anything to me. It's mostly Dwalin and Fili. They started it by saying since I'm attracted to elves, then my One must be an elf." Kili gasped and slapped his palm over his own mouth, apparently having said something that he shouldn't have.

Bilbo had no idea what part of his statement was taboo. "Why does that bother you?"

The lad looked affronted that he had asked, and the worry written on his face made him look much younger. His bottom lip even started to quiver just a fraction. "B-because, I'm a dwarf! And I'm not supposed to like elves, much less love them. But the elf maids are so beautiful, even without facial hair, and I can't stop looking! What if they're right? What if my One is an elf? What'll I do? What will Thorin think? What will mom think?"

"Woah, calm down, Kili!" Bilbo interrupted. He got up from his own seat and hurried over to sit next to him instead. "Take a deep breath, okay?" It was strange to him that the dark-haired princeling would get so worked up over something like this. It sounded like he was having a mini-identity crisis, and Thorin's over bloated sense of pride probably wasn't helping matters, especially since Kili looked up to his uncle. The thought that Thorin would be disappointed at such a turn of events must really be weighing on him.

Bilbo sighed and awkwardly pat the boy's back a few times. He was rather sure that his contract did not include any clauses about dealing with a teenager's existential crisis or romantic advice, and he was immensely under qualified to help. Then again, he was more or less a neutral party in everything that seemed to be happening on this journey, and he didn't like seeing Kili so distressed.

"Kili... is there a particular elf you like that's brought this whole thing on?" he inquired after some consideration.

"What? No, not at all! I just..."

"Then I don't really see the issue here." Before he could get himself into a panic again, Bilbo explained, "Listen, being in love with someone and being attracted to them are not always the same thing. They go in hand-in-hand a lot, but just because you find elves admirable or beautiful doesn't mean you'll fall in love with one."

"It doesn't?" When Bilbo nodded, Kili released a deep sigh of relief.

Bilbo squeezed his shoulder. "And even if you do happen to fall in love with an elf, it's really no one's business but your own. There might be consequences, sure, but if you really love someone, I think you'll find that any pain that comes along will be worth it in the end."

His dwarf companion scoffed. "I hope it doesn't come to that." He scratched at the stubble on his chin and grew still momentarily while he considered his words. "Bilbo? You said that love and attraction aren't the same thing, but they seem pretty similar. How do you tell the difference?" His voice lowered to a contemplative whisper. "How will I know when it's love? How will I know that I've found my One?"

Bilbo stifled a groan. This was not his area of expertise. At least Kili hadn't asked where babies come from. He sincerely hoped he wouldn't have to try to have that talk with him as well. "Kili, I..." He fully intended to just dismiss the rest of the conversation, or tell him to go ask his uncle, but stopped short at the wide-eyed puppy stare he was receiving. No one could resist such a look, and in retrospect, sending him to Thorin was probably a horrible idea.

He cleared his throat and looked away from those watery eyes, scratching his head. He breathed from his pipe a few times before he finally came to some semblance of an answer. "In all honesty, Kili, it's not something that is easily explained. I think most people would tell you that you just know, when it's love, but everyone's so different, that it doesn't quite fit. Hobbits get a very clear sign when we start to fall in love for real, you see, so there is no confusion with us. I don't know how dwarves handle these things. You'd be better off asking one of the older dwarves... maybe Balin or Dori. They'd probably help you without giving you too much trouble about it."

"Aww... I don't wanna ask the others!" Kili whined. "Wait... so like, hobbits automatically know when they're in love? Do you have soulmates? Do you know right away when you meet them?"

Said hobbit chuckled at the barrage of questions. "Hey, slow down! Yes, usually we do know right away when it's real love, but no; I don't think what we have are considered soulmates. And we do NOT know at first sight, if you take my meaning."

"That doesn't make any sense," Kili complained.

Bilbo pressed a hand over his chest, rubbing that strange warm spot that had appeared and debated whether or not it would be of any value to explain his heritage. "Well, there's an old tale that goes back to the First Age..."

He recounted the same story had told Ori some weeks prior, in Westron of course, but without Thorin around to interrupt, he was able to continue a bit more. "...When Yavanna had earned their love and trust in turn, she declared to them her purpose.

"Fire and ruin might utterly destroy that which could not move and defend itself, but such things could be protected by others that could, especially if their lives began within a vessel that could be moved. So in the same way that the hobbits planted seeds in clay pots and nurtured them in the greenhouses, so Yavanna would do. If they were agreeable, she could bestow upon the next generation of yet unborn hobbits a supernatural ability, wherein she would plant a magic seed within each of their hearts. They would be living greenhouses, able to better protect her creations and tend them with care, until such time as they were strong enough to thrive in the earth.

"The seeds themselves would be unlike any found or harvested in the wild, for life and will, not unlike the Shepherds of the Trees, would be in them. They would grow and multiply far more quickly than any common flora, so as to perpetuate the regrowth of barren lands.

"As for the hobbits, they could continue their own manner of farming and gardening as they ever have, but in this way, they would always have access to the plants that they loved. They could scatter across all of Arda and never have to worry about where they would find seeds to begin anew. All the land of Middle Earth might be laid low and bare, but so long as hobbits endured, it could become green and filled with life again.

"She went on to explain that as their trees and flowers were cared for with great love, so love would be the catalyst and culmination of her design. The seed that was planted in their hearts would awaken and begin to develop when they found themselves drawn to another in deep and true affection, and the plants would grow as their love for one another did..."

Bilbo stopped there, feeling that it was more than enough for Kili to take in at the moment. He was right to do so, since Kili was having a difficult time grasping the core concepts wrapped in the formal telling of the tale, if his narrowed eyes and frown was any indication.

"Let me see if I've got this straight," he mumbled, rubbing his temples. "So you've got a seed in your body that starts to grow when you fall in love?"

Bilbo nodded.

"I mean... a real seed? And it actually grows into a plant?"

Bilbo rolled his eyes. "Yes, Kili. That's what I just finished telling you."

"That is the weirdest thing I've ever heard."

Bilbo snorted, mildly indignant at such a comment. "I suppose it would sound strange to an outsider," he conceded. "But for hobbits, for me, it's perfectly normal. It's just a natural part of who and what we are."

Kili eyed him, as though expecting him to sprout leaves on the spot. "How does it happen exactly?"

Bilbo closed his eyes and resumed smoking the remaining bits of Old Toby in his pipe between statements. "Let's see, first we get to know each other for a bit, the same way friends do. Of course, there has to be some attraction, though that can develop over time as well. From what I've been told, the first physical part is a noticeable change in body temperature, starting near the heart. There's a sudden and constant warmth, almost stifling, like the kind you'd feel in a greenhouse, if you've ever been in one. It feels... heavy, and humid, and you just can't get comfortable..." His face paled, and he frowned, trailing off quite suddenly.

"Bilbo? Something wrong?" Kili nudged him to get his attention.

Bilbo took a deep breath and schooled his features into something neutral. "I... I'm fine."

"Are you sure?"

He forced a smile and ruffled Kili's hair affectionately, despite having to reach up a little to do so. "Of course. I'm just feeling a little tired, that's all. I think I might go lie down for a bit." He stood and tried to keep his pace even at his curt withdrawal. "I'll see you later. And, uh... if you need any more help, I really suggest you speak with Balin, or one of your other kin. Um... bye!"

He all but sprinted back down the path, hesitating at a cross-way while he tried to remember in which direction his room lay. Making up his mind, he turned to the right, glancing over his shoulder to make certain that Kili wasn't trying to follow him. But of course, such an action would naturally result in a small collision with someone as he ran without looking.

"Oof!" Whoever he struck was quite solid, and had grabbed his flailing hand, thereby preventing him from falling flat on his backside. "Thanks, I..." He gulped when he met an icy blue glare. "T-Thorin!"

The dwarf king glowered down at him, his jaw set tight. "Watch it, halfling!" he growled. Oddly enough, he did not immediately release Bilbo's hand.

"S-sorry!" Bilbo squeaked. He wrenched his hand free and backed away, giving Thorin a wide berth as he passed him and resumed his retreat.

Several elves and a few of his wandering dwarven companions hailed him as he passed through Elrond's halls, concern etched in their features. Bilbo brushed aside any comments as politely as possible and slowed his jog to a rapid walk. Thankfully, no one tried to stop or follow him, and he was able to shut himself in his room with no other incidents.

He waited a few moments to catch his breath, unsure if the heat in his face was from the exertion or embarrassed recognition. Eventually, he managed to calm himself down.

Bilbo bit his lip and fiddled with the top buttons of his shirt. Once they were undone, he peered down at his chest.

There was nothing visible as of yet, but there was no use thinking that the fluttering pulse in his rib cage was simply a result of stress anymore. Talking with Kili forced him to acknowledge that these feelings, that he had thus far not named, was more than a fleeting crush.

Bilbo dragged himself to the bed, and flopped down on his back with his legs dangling off the side. He groaned out loud and pressed the palms of his hands into his eyes.

"Bebother and confusticate you, Thorin Oakenshield!" he lamented.

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