A New Dream
Thorin has been dreaming of Billa Baggins for a half decade.
In his mind's eye, it has almost become second nature to picture the exact shade of her curls; to imagine the taste of her laugh as they cackle together in the caverns of the Elven King, a sharp heady fizz like the first glass of sparkling wine; he thinks on the warmth of her smile, remembers how it felt when his much larger hand caressed her face.
Those phantom sensations are nothing in comparison to the moment his lips touch hers. His fingers glide through her curls, silky to the touch; she tastes sweet like honey and the Hobbit ale she has imbibed this evening, but more intoxicating; her skin is warm under his greedy hands.
Then they are pulling away to draw a breath. He stares down at her, amber eyes glinting in the twilight, her cheeks flushed, chest heaving.
This time she is the one who reaches for him, and she is kissing him like she has been waiting a lifetime to do so, like there isn't a moment to waste. Her fingers are entwined in his longer hair and her body is pressed flush against his so he can feel every curve and dip of it against his broader form.
Aye, no dream could ever match the reality of the Billa Baggins.
They part again and Thorin watches pleased as she stares up at him with wet eyes, a little dazed.
"I don't want you to go without me."
He exhales, resting his forehead against hers, "It must be done, gamzûna."
"It does not mean I have to be happy about it."
"I would be concerned for your well-being if you were."
She raises those golden eyes to his, her small hands on either side of his head, "You will return?"
"Not even slumbering dragons could keep me away," he says solemnly.
Those eyes drift past his shoulders, glazing over. It concerns him for a moment, something which is only increased when she suddenly goes rigid in his arms.
"Billa?"
Her gaze shoots back to him, and she quickly shakes her head, "I just had a thought…it is nothing for you to be concerned about."
A soft hand reaches out to gently caress his face, fingers moving upwards to smooth out his furled brow.
He sighs, "You are scheming, aren't you, little Hobbit?"
"Perhaps," she grins.
"It is a wonder you did not realise you were being courted," Thorin tugs her closer, until there are mere centimetres between them.
"Courted?"
"What did you think I was doing?"
"I don't know," she shrugs, "Being confusing?"
He huffs a laugh, "I was trying to show the depth of my affection for you."
"Oh," she breathes. Thorin presses closer to her, until her scent brands his lungs. His gamzûna's breath hitches at the action, and he can barely swallow his contented hum.
"Do you accept?"
"Accept what?"
"My courting?"
Her eyes widen slightly, her voice hushed as she says, "You truly wish to court me?"
"I will have no one else, gamzûna."
She releases a shaky exhale, "Are you going to tell me why you call me that?"
"What?"
She hits his chest weakly, "You know what."
A flash of a grin, "Perhaps. The translation comes with a fee, however."
"Is that so?" She takes a couple of steps back, and Thorin swallows a growl at the growing distance between them. "Why don't you give me the translation, then I can decide what it is worth?"
"That does not seem like a fair trade."
"Is it ever with you?" She takes another two large steps back, staring up at him with innocent eyes.
"It means she that is fierce. Gamzûna," he says. He watches as her eyes widen and then as her smile grows. He takes a step forward, "Now, I do believe I am owed payment."
"Is that correct, Master Dwarf?"
Knock, knock. Thorin exhales as his nephew appears in the door, a hand over his eyes as he stumbles into the room.
"Is it safe? Can I look now - ow! Billa!" He scowls at the lounge pillow at his feet, "I was just trying to be polite."
"What do you want, Kíli?" Thorin rumbles as Billa snorts quietly.
"I simply wanted to check that everything is well?" He takes another slow step into the room. "Everything is well, correct? It was quiet for a moment and we were a bit concerned…"
"Have you been outside this entire time?" Billa's face pales as Kíli nods.
"Of course, we were worried you might try and kill each other…" he trails off as he takes in their rumpled clothing, Billa's flyaway hair and his own ruffled hair. A slow grin stretches across his mouth as he leans against the doorway, "I see we should not have been so concerned. What exactly were you two up to? You are looking quite flustered, Mistress Baggins."
"I…you…Oh!" Billa scowls, reaching for another pillow. Kíli ducks under this one smoothly, leaning back to peer into the hallway, mouth open to no doubt call for his brother.
"Kíli."
He stills immediately, turning back towards him. Thorin gives him a solemn look, smothering his own amusement as his sister-son mimics his stoic look, despite the twinkling in his eyes. That look knocks something loose in Thorin - and for a second he can almost see Frerin standing there in Kíli's place with the same mischievous grin. He wonders what his brother would think of his ghivashel, if he would also marvel over the kindness of Hobbits. He feels his gaze soften, even as he abruptly juts his head towards the door, "Out."
Kíli throws his hands up placatingly, "No need to tell me twice. There are some things I never wish to witness."
"Kíli!" Billa squawks. Thorin growls at the look of distress on her face, and Kíli vanishes in a moment, disappearing out into the hallway. This is going to be an issue, he can already tell.
He turns back to his Hobbit, who is glaring at the doorway as if it has personally offended her.
"Billa," he says softly, pulling her attention back to him. Her eyes are soft as she gazes upon him and a thrill runs through him. He could spend the rest of his long life staring upon her and never grow bored of the endless expressions, that soft look on her face. He wishes nothing more than to take her in his arms again.
Instead, he says, "The hour is growing late."
He can see the disappointment flicker in her eyes, despite the smile she gives him, "It is."
He envelopes her smaller hand in his and brushes his lips across her knuckles, bowing before her, "We shall continue this discussion in the morning."
"Which one?" Her smile grows coy. Heat pools in the pit of his stomach, his body tightening at that smile, "About the Lonely Mountain or the payment I owe you?"
By the Maker, this Hobbit will drive him mad.
"Both."
"Do you swear?" She takes a step closer; not close enough for him to touch her, but just close enough that he could bridge the gap should he wish to, and he so desperately wishes to.
"I always collect on my debts, Mistress Baggins."
"You better," she reaches up onto her tiptoes to brush her lips across his cheek.
Then she is gone, taking her warm umber scent with her. He exhales heavily, a hand reaching up to his cheek. By the time he has collected himself, she has disappeared in a flash of amber skirts, the sound of her laughter drifting down the hallway towards him.
A soft smile stretches across his face. He was right, no dream could ever match the reality of the Billa Baggins.
"Oh, Uncle, you are in so much trouble."
He turns slowly to see Kíli, Fíli and Dwalin staring at him from the kitchen doorway. He scowls and takes one step forward; it is enough to send his troublesome nephews scuttling off, but not enough to budge his oldest friend.
He cocks an eyebrow at Dwalin, who gives him a brisk nod.
"You should keep a tight hold on that Hobbit, Thorin."
Thorin glances back at the space Billa just vacated and smiles, "I intend to."
