A Hobbit Courted
Thorin can barely contain his joy. It is him. Her. Them. Bilbo Baggins and Billa Baggins are the same Hobbit, he is sure. If her sudden stiffness at his question wasn't the final straw, the chewing of that damned thumbnail was. It is the same thing his Bilbo did when nervous in those dreams.
Had she been lying in that accursed life? Had that Thorin had Billa by his side all along and been none the wiser? He draws to a stop, his feet failing him as his heart spasms at the thought. If that is true, he dragged a near-defenceless female across Middle Earth without much care for her well-being - or at least none that he admitted to himself until after their brief spate in Thranduil's dungeons.
He looks down at his hand. He can still feel the sensation of Bilb-Billa's small hand on his in those caverns, the soft touch that pulled him from his all-consuming concern over his sister-sons.
Mahal, she almost died. Anger flares in him, knocking loose the memory of those terrified eyes peering into the heart of him, body dangling over the ramparts. Thorin turns and abruptly vomits into the bushes.
Forget elves, goblins and dragons, he almost killed her.
He stays, bent at the knees, staring at the foliage decorated with the bramble tarts he has been consuming constantly. A heavy exhale falls from his lips, his hands trembling as he wipes traces of vomit from his mouth. Thorin knows then that he does not deserve Billa Baggins, gift of the Shire - and perhaps he never will.
But he can spend the rest of his long life making it up to her.
Thorin looks at his Hobbit, and thinks that if he had lived he would have given Bilbo everything. Forget jewels and gems, the gold under the mountain; he would have given him enough books for an entire lifetime, planted trees that would have buried their roots in Erebor's fertile soil, given him enough sunlight so that he could thrive like the wee sproutlings he cared so much for, planted him an entire garden.
Suddenly, he knows exactly what he needs to do.
"Noid!"
The stout dwarf looks up as Thorin strides towards him with a surprised expression. He is settled on the bench outside Bag End, whittling away at a small block of wood. His wedding present to Maisy, Thorin thinks with a soft warmth.
"My King," he sweeps into a low bow.
Thorin waves away his action with an impatient hand, "I need to ask something of you."
"Aye?"
"Bimor mentioned that you met Billa after you realised she was travelling alone in Bree," he asks.
"Aye," Noid grins. "He and Bromor were horrified. Didnae help that Bimor was convinced she was a lad at first either."
Thorin's heart picks up its pace, "Did he now?"
The other dwarf snorts, "Introduced herself as Bilbo and everythin'."
He stills, "Bilbo? Are you sure?"
"Aye, Bromor teased Bimor about it for days."
Thorin nods, the hope sparking in his chest. His feet are already propelling him forward, "Do you know where Dwalin is?"
"Down in the market with wee Prim, last I saw him."
"Thank you," he barely manages to squeeze the words out as he jogs off down towards the marketplace. It's not becoming of a King to jog, a dark voice at the end of his mind hisses.
He bats it away, eyes roaming over the occupants of the busy marketplace until they fall on the familiar head of Dwalin.
"Dwalin!"
The larger dwarf looks up as he crosses the distance, "Thorin."
"I need your assistance, friend."
He raises an eyebrow, "Ye have my shield, ye know that-"
Thorin shakes his head impatiently, "Not like that. It is for Billa."
If he didn't know any better he would swear that Dwalin's eyes are twinkling at him.
"How can I help?"
"How do you court a Hobbit?"
"Oh! I know! I know!" A wee voice pipes up from behind Dwalin. Thorin startles, his gaze dropping to the Hobbit tween peering out from behind the other dwarf's legs with a bright and excited expression.
Thorin blinks, "Hello."
"Hi!" She beams, "I'm Prim!"
The dwarf feels himself soften at the wee one's evident eagerness and he kneels so that they're the same height. The lass bounces out from behind Dwalin, although her hand clutches at his trousers as if worried he might disappear.
"I am Thorin Oakenshield."
"I know! Cousin Billa talks about you all the time."
Thorin smirks, and shares a look with a proud Dwalin, "Does she now?"
"Hm," Prim nods. "I think she really likes you."
"Well, it is a good thing I also like her," Thorin replies. "But I am not sure how to show her my affections. Do you think you can help?"
"Yes!" Prim does a wee jig, beaming at the dwarves. "Courting's my favourite, I helped Noid you know."
Dwalin startles at Prim's words, "Did ye?"
"Hm, he was useless before I helped him," Prim says brightly. "He didn't know how important sharing food was."
Like a bolt from the blue, Thorin remembers his Hobbit's expression in those dungeons when he slid his food towards her, the inner turmoil that roiled like an angry sea in her eyes. Oh. Oh.
"I think we're going to get along very well, Prim," Thorin says with a smile. "Now, what can you tell me about flowers?"
The wee one's grin near borders on evil, but it sends a little thrill through Thorin and if Dwalin's preening is any indication, the other dwarf is also proud of the Hobbit lass' capacity to scheme. As she starts to trill off important courting facts, he can feel his chest grow warm with hope.
Billa Baggins, burglahobbit, barrel rider, dragon riddler, would be his if she so wished. Mahal, how he hopes she wishes it. Now that he's finally found her, he's not sure he'll be able to let her go.
...
A/N: MWHAHAHAHAHAHA.
Just FIVE chapters left in Part One people! Then the Quest begins - but is our Hobbit going to get a clue before then?
Next week:
Those Durin blue eyes swept into her dreams, teasing her with possibility until she woke that morning her blood hot and her face flushed. It is too much for one Hobbit lass to take.
