A/N: Helo, dearest readers, thank you for all the support, especially to salwyn77, Celebrilsilweth (yes, their obliviousness is only matched by Thorin's stubborness!) and palysd'Artagnan (they'll have more arguments in the future, but they're both good hearted and may be able to solve their quarrels).

=^.^=

The forges of Erebor were scorching hot, wide and many. The main forge, the one Thorin used Smaug's fire to relit when they took the mountain back, was a good sample of the remaining ones, most of them close by. Yet, when you consider a place half a mile wide, the number of people working in there isn't small. Also, close by can mean a mile or two. And the meandering of tunnels and paths interconnecting them makes it easy to avoid someone if you want, by simply leaving one of them when the one you don't want to meet enters the other side of said forge. Which can be achieved if you know the right people willing to keep you informed. And people sympathetic to Kíli were not in shortage, ever.

This was what Thorin ran over and over again in his mind, flustered by his failure in finding Kíli in just another forge, having spent most of his day and early evening in a fruitless search for his nephew. Enough was enough, and he abandoned his plan of talking to Kíli that very night on behalf of his dinner. He knew he was grumpy enough without skipping meals, and wasn't willing to go hangry on top of everything.

"I imagine Mr. Shallowbogs' face when you beat his sixty-er and turned your own conker into a ninety-niner…"

"It was hilarious, I can assure you, Dís. Old Mrs. Brownlock's eyes grew big as a frying pan when she recorded it in the championship report, and the Mayor had to pay his lost wagers from his own purse because Rosamunda Took was in charge of the Mayor's Treasury instead of her fiançé Odovacar Bolger, who was officially tending a fallen hedge at his family's properties in the South Farthing, but everyone but Rosamunda knew he was in doubt about marrying her for fear of her grand-grandfather the Old Took (that's also my own grandfather, by the way), and she wouldn't let a penny escape the Treasury without all formalities and evidence that it was really accountable to the needs of the Shire and not a personal expense of the Mayor, which it was."

Thorin was dizzy at Bilbo's account of a conkers – conkers, of all sports! – championship, when his sister's reply took the ground from under his boots.

"But did they marry?"

"What?" Bilbo startled, unison to Thorin's silent startling.

"Did Rosamunda marry Odovacar?" Thorin noticed his sister's voice was different from what he was used to. Almost… wishful. "Did he overcome his fears?"

"Well…"

The king under the mountain chose that moment to enter the room, leaving no space for romantic speculations.

"Your son in nowhere to be found at the forges."

"Good evening to you too, dear brother."

Dís replied, nonplussed, eyes on the hobbit who was uncomfortable by the sudden attention Thorin granted them.

"Thorin! What a…"

"Thank you, Bilbo." Thorin interrupted. "I feel the same, but my mind is elsewhere right now. Thank you also for entertaining my sister, if entertainment it was." Bilbo and Dís exchanged looks as if trying to understand what Thorin's talk was about and, no wiser for looking at each other, formulated their own theories. "Dís, where might Kíli be?"

She took a thorough look at her brother and speculated.

"The forges?"

"I searched all of them."

"Sparring arena?"

"Almost spent some stamina there on my way back, but no, Dwalin granted me."

"Kitchens?" She guessed the next logical step.

"According to Bombur, no."

"Could he simply be sleeping?"

"Fíli won't say a word, and I can't possibly break into the lad's quarters."

"Maybe out in the forest?" Suggested Bilbo, to Thorin and Dís' surprise. "Well, he likes shooting his bow, he likes the wild, and out there would be somewhere less people would pester him about… you know."

The hobbit defended himself, thumbs under his suspenders. The dwarven siblings looked at each other like the other just had to had this idea earlier and didn't on purpose.

"It's already dark outside."

"Not the first time he'd slept out in the wild."

"Alone?"

"You know him less than you'd like to admit."

"His father wasn't an elf, I expect you to know."

"Patrols around the Blue Mountains weren't a weekend stroll, I expect you to know."

"You let him sleep alone in the wild?"

"Everybody slept in the wild."

"Alone?"

"Shazara!" Bilbo's shout silenced them in no time, part because the word commanded them to and part because they didn't expect a hobbit to use a word in Khuzdul. "If Kíli needs a time for himself to ponder the mess you imposed on him, Thorin Oakenshield, my friend," And here Bilbo took in a deep breath and looked pointedly at the aforementioned dwarf. "You'll allow him this time. You'll allow him this time and be glad to still have a nephew to complain about your idiocies. Because the alternative would be very, very distressing."

Thorin crossed his arms over his chest, visibly pissed off.

"Well, looks like everyone but me knows better how to deal with my second heir, and what would be better for the future of the kingdom I am responsible for. Considering this, and that I spent a whole day trampling this mountain up and down for nothing, it seems wiser to give up on this mess and let you to deal with it."

Here he uncrossed his arms to point an accusing finger to both Dís and Bilbo, a snarl on his face, and stomped away grabbing a chicken leg in his way out.

"Maybe we should talk to Kíli in the morning." Suggested Bilbo, eyes still on the door Thorin slammed harder than needed in his way out.

"Aye, a whole day of pissing my thick-headed brother off might have softened my son's own thick head." Said Dís, fingers playing with a bead in her beard, absently.

"Agreed. And, by the way, the answer is yes."

"What?" She looked back at Bilbo, confused.

"Odovacar and Rosamunda. He overcame his fears, and they married, the following spring."

"Really?"

Dís' eyes shone with joy for the happy ending of the Shire love-story, helping Bilbo to find his own courage and take a step closer to the majestic dwarrowdam.

"Yes. Because for him she was so gorgeous, and strong, and kind…" He reached out a hand, not yet bold enough to touch her hair or beard, knowing how intimate it was for dwarven standards, settling instead for touching the back of her hand with the tips of his fingers, light as a feather. "That it didn't matter if her family was powerful, or if there was a chance her own brother would be against their union, or what anyone would think or say about them. He was courageous enough."

Dís was no fool, nor innocent, and the darkening of Bilbo's eyes spoke volumes of what was said behind his words. His touch on her skin was like fire, so she left the silver bead to itself and interlaced her fingers to his. She was in the mood to burn.

"At least Odovacar didn't have to deal with a dwarrowdam. He would be at risk of finding out she already had had her One in her life."

Bilbo took another small step closer to Dís, holding her hand just a little firmer.

"What would that mean, in effect? Would she despise him? Order that he was thrown down from the ramparts for his boldness?" She snorted at the picture, and he continued. "Hobbits are brave enough to face such things, you know, although I believe Odovacar would suffer if his feelings were utterly rejected."

"Utter rejection could be the case if his dwarven Rosamunda didn't know Odovacar enough to know he's a sincere hobbit and that his friendship is precious to her." Bilbo's eyes lightened up with hope, and she resumed. "Yet, if she already had found her One and became a widow, for instance, he should know there would never be that full passion bards sing about in ballads and lays. Rosamunda would most probably be like a very close friend and companion. Not the intensity of a fire conflagration, but the steady warmth of a well-tended hearth. Do you understand?"

Bilbo breathed deep, understanding more than what she said in spoken words.

"I do." He brought their joined hands closer to his face, eyes set on her sapphire orbs. "And I'm sure that would be more than enough to make a hobbit like him the merrier person in whole Middle-earth." His lips closed the little space left to lay a chaste kiss on her knuckles, the scent of her skin inebriating like wine. "It would be my pleasure…" Bilbo reluctantly moved away from her hand, focusing instead on her adorable face, black soft beard on alabaster skin. "To tell you about the ridiculous courting habits of hobbits."

Dís smiled sheepishly as she retorted, uplifting one eyebrow.

"It will be my pleasure. I went through all ludicrous dwarven habits on courtship, so we can exchange anecdotes on the matter."

"I'll look forward to it."

"As will I, dear Bilbo, as will I." She took a step back, away from him, and bowed dwarven fashion. "I bid you good night, my friend. We might look for my wayward son in the morning."

"Good night, my precious lady. It will be my pleasure."

With these words, Bilbo left a smiling Dís in the royal family dining room, making a small victory dance and punching the air when he was sure none could see him.