"Oin?" Bilbo dropped down next to the healer at camp that night. The hobbit had spent the rest of the day's march mulling over Bifur's mimed memories.
"Eh?" The dwarf glanced at him. Thankfully he had his ear horn nearby, holding it up now. "Master Baggins, what is it you need this evening?"
"Well, I, uh." Bilbo realized he probably could have planned this out a little better. "I just wanted to know more about dwarvish healing," he replied quickly.
Oin grunted. "That's a pretty wide field you're asking about. Anything in particular interest you?"
Bilbo hesitated too long trying to figure out how to proceed, and Oin plowed ahead without prompting.
"Now, any dwarf healer can cover all necessary procedures – it's a wartime necessity, you understand – but I myself am especially skilled in amputations. Though there was this one nasty time I remember – "
"Small injuries!" Bilbo blurted desperately, slightly green.
"Small?" Oin repeated, repositioning his ear horn.
"Yes, small injuries. I was just wondering – not that I don't admire your work with the more life-threatening wounds, of course," here he attempted a chuckle, "but what do dwarves do for everyday bumps, bruises… cuts?" He trailed off, watching Oin's face wrinkle a bit more than usual.
"Well, I suppose they take care of those themselves," he answered. "Dwarves are sturdy. A bruise or two never hurt anyone."
Bilbo nodded, trying another track though he was sure he'd regret it. "What would you consider to be a major injury, something worth medical attention?"
"Oh, broken bones, dislocations, lacerations, stab wounds…"
"Do you see lacerations much?" Bilbo hurriedly asked.
The dwarf's brow furrowed, clearly not understanding why Bilbo was so interested. He didn't press, though, just replied, "In wartime, certainly. Otherwise, no. We have tough skin, and training doesn't usually escalate to where a dwarf is needing stitches."
Bombur called that dinner was ready, though Oin didn't seem to hear it. Bilbo decided to wrap things up. "One more question, Oin, if you don't mind. What about bloody knuckles, from, you know, training?"
Oin shook his head, giving up on figuring out Bilbo's motives. "It'd take a lot to bloody a dwarf's knuckles enough to worry," he said. "But like I told you, Master Baggins, dwarves tend to take care of the minor injuries themselves. Swollen knuckles are hardly uncommon."
Bilbo nodded slowly. "I see. Well, thank you for indulging me. I believe dinner is ready, don't let me keep you any more."
The dwarf hustled off with barely a returning nod, but Bilbo sat quietly, ignoring his stomach. He plucked absentmindedly at one of his cuffs, thinking about proper hobbit wardrobes.
"I suppose," he murmured to himself, "you find how best to hide in plain sight." His own wounds had always been easy enough to conceal. Hobbits weren't ashamed of their bodies, but neither was it suspicious when Bilbo took to wearing long sleeves all year round. A gentlehobbit like himself could wear crisp button-downs in the middle of summer, and everyone would just assume it was a finicky mannerism.
Bifur hadn't hidden his injuries quite as literally, and Bilbo wondered if anyone had ever asked why the dwarf seemed to be having so many fights.
Bilbo wondered what it'd be like to be asked if something was wrong.
He shook himself briskly. No point in reminiscing about the past. He looked up – directly into the dark eyes of Thorin Oakenshield, once again watching him from a distance. Bilbo swallowed, heart thumping faster when the imposing dwarf started to step towards him.
"Bilbo!" Kili thumped down at the hobbit's side.
"Bilbo," Fili greeted more sedately but with a friendly grin. He sat on Bilbo's other side and handed him a bowl.
Bilbo looked back and forth between the smiling brothers. "Kili, Fili," he said warily. Glancing back up he saw Thorin deep in conversation with Dori. You really thought he wanted to talk to you? the voice mocked.
Trying to ignore it despite the sinking in his chest, Bilbo focused on his food. Maybe if he ignored the boys they'd go away, he thought childishly.
No such luck. Fili nudged his shoulder. "We were hoping you'd tell us a hobbit tale."
"Oh?" That sounded harmless. He'd told the boys several folktales already.
Kili leaned into Bilbo's space. "Yes! About your battle!"
Yavanna save him.