Bilbo awoke with morning dew in his hair and an empty bedroll beside him. He stared at it a while, a small smile playing on his lips, before sitting up and glancing around the small camp.

Not seeing the owner of the abandoned furs, he got up to search the meadow they had escaped to.

It had been three weeks since the battle, the Sons of Durin had all but healed and the mountain was aswarm with Dwarves of all trades preparing to begin the long task of restoring Erebor to its former splendour.

After thirteen months of seeing almost no one outside of the Company, poor Bilbo was finding the sudden onslaught of Dwarves overwhelming and was starting to feel rather insignificant and forgotten with all the demands that where springing up with for his friends.

In the time after Oin discharged him from the healing rooms he found himself, most days, sitting on the rubble of the ramparts looking out over Dale and the lake beyond.

This is how Thorin found him towards the end of the third week, sitting in the sun, pipe in hand, feet dangling over the stone he had planted himself on.

"Bilbo?"

The Hobbit started and turned back to face him.

"What are you doing out here Master Burglar?" Thorin took a seat next to Bilbo knocking shoulders.

Bilbo exhaled a cloud of smoke, flicking a glance at the Dwarf before setting his gaze back on the view before them.

"I'm hiding." came the eventual reply.

Thorin's eyebrow quirked, "hiding?" he echoed.

Bilbo nodded, tips of his ears turning pink "yes, hiding."

Thorin gazed down at Bilbo, saying nothing.

Bilbo fidgeted.

"There's just…" he paused looking back up at Thorin. "Just, so many Dwarves, so much happening and I seem to have been quiet forgotten about. I…" he paused again realising this probably sounded ridiculous to the Dwarf. "It's overwhelming." He ducked his head.

Thorin reached out and tilted Bilbos face up, gaze softening as he saw the stress in the Hobbits fair features.

"Yes, I suppose it must be." Was all he said, dropping his hand and settling in, pulling his own pipe out.

The next morning Bilbo opened his bedroom door and found Thorin on the other side holding up two traveling packs and some food.

"I find myself in need of a break from all of this." He gestured back to the busy halls.

"Join me?"

Bilbo accepted, gratefully.

A few hours later they had set up camp in a quaint little meadow overlooking Erebor.

Taking a deep inhale of the fresh morning air, Bilbo made his way through the meadow, hands trailing over the tops of the wildflowers. And found Thorin sitting by the stream, back against a tree, gazing thoughtfully towards his mountain.

He looked up as the Hobbit came towards him, and for the first time since meeting the Dwarf, Bilbo noticed the worry from the journey to reclaim the mountain easing and the lines of stress smoothing from his face.

It made him look younger, regardless of the grey that streaked his hair, which, after the time spent with them, Bilbo had no doubt was in part, the affect of helping raise his overzealous nephews.

He gave the Dwarf before him a smile.

Thorin returned it with a slight lift of his lips. He shifted, inviting Bilbo to join him.

As he made to sit beside him, Thorin grabbed his legs and guided Bilbo closer, sitting him between his legs, bringing him back against his chest, and nestling the Hobbit's head beneath his chin.

"Good morning, Master Burglar." He spoke softly, nuzzling the blonde curls on top of the head before him.

"Mhmm, morning." Came a reply, just as softly.

"Sleep well?"

Bilbo thought he heard a hint of amusement in Thorin's tone and felt the tips of his ears warm.

He turned his thoughts back to the previous night.

Warmth from the campfire, memories of the highs and lows of the past year.

Jokes, laughter, comfortable silences and the eventual confessions of shared feelings, relief at feelings reciprocated and as the night deepened hesitant touches led to stolen kisses, steadily growing in confidence and passion and eventually gentle tenderness.

"Bilbo?" Strong arms wrapped around the Hobbit's chest, bringing him out of his reverie

"Yes, yes I slept well." Tilting his head to glance back at the Dwarves face. "For the little I had." He added.

The warmth in his ears spread to his cheeks as he felt the chest he leant against vibrate in silent laughter, Thorin's face lighting up in amusement.

Bilbo had just enough time to acknowledge what a beautiful image it was before he was repositioned against the tree, Thorin laying his head in his lap and closing his eyes, a ghost of a smile on his lips.

"I'm glad." He said before relaxing further into his Hobbits lap and began to doze off.

Bilbo gazed down, drinking in the view of his Dwarf, their talk from the night before, of the future, hopes and unspoken promises, once again dancing through his mind as he let his fingers roam through the hair splayed across his legs, paying extra attention to the streaks of silver.

Thorin's breathing deepened and the sound of soft snores began.

Bilbo let out an amused huff and resigned himself to the mornings fate, and an eventual sore backside, reluctant to wake his sleeping companion.

Pulling out his pipe, he began to take in his surroundings. Bilbo started to see why Thorin chose the meadow to escape to. It was a secluded spot, half a day's ride from Erebor. Surrounded by tall trees of oak, spruce and fir, the sheltered area boasted a small stream, a magnificent view of the Lonely Mountain and was filled with an abundance of wildflowers, many of which the Hobbit was unfamiliar with.

'I must find myself a press' he thought to himself.

Putting his pipe aside he started picking the flowers closest to him, idly smelling each one and, smiling to himself, began weaving them into Thorin's braids, enjoying how the colours looked against the dark mane of hair.

Bilbo opened his eyes to see blue one gazing back, Thorin's lips soft against his own.

He didn't remember falling asleep, but what a perfect image to wake up to, and if this was to become a regular occurrence, it made his decision that much easier.

The Hobbit leaned into the kiss, bringing his hand up to cup Thorin's cheek, the Dwarf twisting his own in Bilbo's hair…

And started chuckling when he heard the noise rising from the Burglar's stomach.

He held his Hobbit at arm's length and smiled fondly.

"I believe we've missed breakfast."

Thorin stood up, pulling Bilbo with him. Tucking him under his arm, they started walking back to their camp.

Thorin turned to let Bilbo know that food was ready and found him looking over the clearing. He made his way over and wrapped his arms around Bilbo, pulling him back to him.

"Does something trouble you, Master Burglar?"

"Hmm? Oh. No. Just admiring the view" He reached up and grasped Thorin's arms. "I was thinking how much it reminded me of the Shire. A little piece of home right here at Erebor."

Turning in the embrace he looked up at the Dwarves face, noticing with delight how blissfully unaware Thorin seemed to be about his floral additions to his hair.

"And" he continued, capturing blue eyes with his, "A perfect spot to plant my acorn"

Thorin's gaze widened, and he tried to supress a thrill at what Bilbo could mean.

"Bilbo… do you mean what I think you do?" He could feel his heart pick up pace, thoughts of a future he'd not seen possible before meeting the Hobbit.

Bilbo smiled back at him.

"Thorin, you asked me last night, if I'd stay." He reached up and ran a thumb over parted lips. "Yes. I'll stay."

Thorin let out a breath he didn't know he was holding and pulled his Bilbo into a strong embrace, nuzzling his curls and breathing him in.

"Oh Bilbo, I am glad."

He set a soft kiss on the Hobbit's lips.

"Amrâlimê"