Chapter Text
Bilbo stared at Thorin's profile.
He was sitting by the side of the King’s bed. Leaning down on the mattress, his face cradled on his palms. If he stayed like this it was easier to see Thorin's chest rise and fall. It calmed Bilbo to see the great dwarf breathing, even if his eyes had been closed for so long.
Thorin Oakenshield had been sleeping for weeks now. Every day his skin revived to a healthier colour. Initially, he'd been grey, his injuries gruesome. The bruises and gashes were livid splashes of colour on seemingly dead skin, but Oin had promised Bilbo that Mountainsleep would aid him in his recovery and patience was key.
Thorin's profile was like a mountainscape, that strong straight nose was the rocky precipice of the Misty Mountains, Bilbo could swear to it. His top lip, the carrock, his bottom lip and his beard heading back to the forest where they had left Azog temporarily.
Of course, the great white orc had found Thorin once more and this time Bilbo hadn't been able to intervene. He'd been too late, too late to stop any of it. Too late to save him.
After the sweet words that escaped those lips, on that frozen precipice, and when Thorin could no longer pour honey from them, Bilbo had screamed for aid. Pleaded with all the gods, screeched until his voice was raw, begging for someone to come. He had pressed his hands on those wretched wounds trying to stop the blood from seeping out. He could not bear it, for them to have come this far. The sons of Durin had all lost!
No! It would not be borne, not on his watch.
So when King Thranduil, his son, and sweet Tauriel appeared in that graceful manner of theirs, he beseeched that they save Durin's sons … and as the three elves each chose a body and began to chant, hope sprung up in Bilbo's heart. And, he did not let go of Thorin, until the Eagles had dropped them back into Oin’s precious healing hands.
But it had been weeks now. Long, long weeks and every spare moment he had was spent by the King’s side. He supposed it was a little improper. He perhaps shouldn't be with the Durins as much as he was. But he stayed nonetheless and no one had moved him yet.
Kìlì had woken first and Bilbo had greeted him with tears and much joy. Fìlì had gasped awake a week later, confused and hungry. It had taken a while but the young dwarf princes were practically back to themselves.
His days were mostly spent with the princes. They had bade that he would visit the mines when they reopened. Dain had sent in some of his miners to oversee the project and was initially a bit unenthusiastic about Bilbo's arrival, but the princes told many stories, some a little more factually incorrect than others and the large dwarf from the Iron Mountain relented and became warmer towards Bilbo.
The dwarves were busy. They barely stopped for breath before clearing the battlefield and beginning the reconstruction of the mountain. Of course, all practical arrangements were not forthcoming … rations were all very well and good but they weren’t meant to last. So, Bilbo, being a practical type of hobbit, began sorting out that problem. Food was something that he could throw himself into. After all, a hobbit very much liked a well-rounded diet. And he hadn’t had seven decent meals in a long time.
So, a raven was sent over to Beorn with a request in the hopes the bear would support them further.
Balin’s eyes travelled over to Bilbo’s when the carts arrived. Bearing many fruits and vegetables and barrels of honey. Bilbo was extremely busy in that first week, preserving as much as he could with Bombur's help.
Dain’s dwarves had brought flour and wheat, but it had been rationed, so Bilbo had spent time talking to Bard about his people reconstructing the mill. Balin had agreed to send out a party of dwarves to help Bard and the new inhabitants of Dale get some things set-up. Now the mill was in fine working order, so bread was back on the menu.
Fish was also available in abundance but Bilbo had no stomach for it, being as there was a bloated carcass of a great dragon merrily decomposing in the lake. He was very grateful when Dain arranged for his hunters to head out. Bilbo spent a few afternoons helping to make sausage with some of the cooks Dain had brought with him. They were nice folk, and seemed more than happy with his attempts.
Bilbo also noticed how much the mountain was in need of so very much. So he sat with Balin, Oin and Dain and came up with huge lists of everything they required. Bilbo liked a list, the trio organised the troops and requested everything from bedlinens to medicinal herbs to cloth for clothes. Envoys were sent out with coin and soon enough it began to trickle into the mountain. By day he was so busy he almost enjoyed himself.
It had helped to take his mind off things.
He sighed and let his eyes linger on Thorin's huge chest, watching as it steadily rose and fell.
The king under the mountain was alive. He would wake. Bilbo had to be patient. He just needed to see his eyes. Then he'd leave. It was folly to stay. He had no reason to be here. He'd done what he set out to do.
He should stay though, it was rude to leave when your host was still sleeping.
~
Thorin woke one morning, his eyes opened and he looked across to see a small hobbit fast asleep in an armchair. He frowned. Shame stole into his body and the pain of his atrophied limbs burned him as he tried to gather his strength.
He did not want the bloody hobbit there. He didn’t want the hobbit to see him thus.
Growling, he began to thrash and all at once he was attended by dwarves, as it should be. Some ghastly concoction was thrown down his throat and his senses dulled. The last sight he saw before sleep took him once more was hazel eyes wide with emotion.
~
The king had awoken and a level of anticipation ran ragged around the vast halls and deep caverns of Erebore. Dain became busy with other officials as they poured into the mountain. Balin was beseeched to return to Thorin’s side, as his official advisor. The princes were summoned. Then, at long last the company were encouraged to visit the King.
Bilbo was excited. He was so happy Thorin was well, he’d heard he was up and about now. Walking and able to hold his sword.
Bilbo’s chest was fit to bursting. Happiness had seemed lost to him. To them all, really. They were grateful to have lived, grateful to eat and sleep in a bed and be safe and warm. All of that was wonderful, but Bilbo had only felt any semblance of joy when the boys had awoken. Now, Thorin was part of that number too. Bilbo had even been there when he had first recovered. Yes, Bilbo had been asleep, but it mattered not, because he got to look at those beautiful eyes. Those bright blue eyes!
Open and searching, and they had found Bilbo’s. Even if he had been growling and thrashing. But, it was kind of what Bilbo had been used to. Thorin was more of a bear than Beorn was. Grumpy and snarly. Embarrassingly, it was part of the attraction.
Bilbo had walked into the throne room behind a cheerful Bofur. He was already smiling, ready to say a few words with Thorin, and maybe even share a few japes, a few stories … but the king had flat-out ignored him.
All the good feeling left Bilbo’s heart. Thorin would barely look at him. He had thanked the company as a whole, making sure they had each received their share of the fortune. Then he had taken a little time to talk with each dwarf, but had almost, for all intents and purposes, turned his back on Bilbo.
Worse still, it had been noticed and it was Fìlì who brought it up. “Uncle, do you not see Bilbo, right here? He saved us, he bade the elves tend to us as we lay dying …”
Thorin paused in his conversation with Nori. He barely turned in their direction. “I will get to the halfling, thank you, nephew.”
The halfling! It was a Dismissal. Almost as if Bilbo had appeared too needy, as if Bilbo hadn’t waited his turn. But Thorin didn’t come to Bilbo, he didn’t even look in his direction. So Bilbo cleared his throat and raised his chin and approached Thorin.
Enough was enough.
“Sorry to interrupt, I have something to attend to, but before I go, I just wanted to say that I’m very glad you are … well, alive!” He smiled, pouring every single ounce of his manners into that smile. “Keep well, Tho – Your Majesty. It was an honour being part of the company. Good evening, folks.” he said with a small wave to the thirteen. “I’ll see you in the morning, Bofur,” he added to the smiley dwarf.
“Aye, I’ll catch you on the morrow, Bilbo, looking forward to it,” his friend replied with a grin. He had agreed to help the crew with the construction for a day. There was a room they couldn’t enter and needed a smaller body to tunnel through.
As he left the room, he scampered down the halls … looking around, he made sure there was no one in the vicinity and as soon as he could, he placed the ring on his finger and fled to the shadow world.
Sobs were too loud, so silent tears ran down his cheeks as he ran to his rooms. As soon as he could he shut the door, barred it and fell heavily onto his bed. The ring was slipped back into his pocket and he wept uncontrollably.
~
“What the fuck was that?” asked Dwalin, his contempt bared for all to see. “How could you behave like that to the wee lad?”
Thorin glanced across at his oldest friend, he shrugged. “What?” he asked, although he knew to what Dwalin was referring. He felt wretched, he had hurt the hobbit.
“Uncle, that was Bilbo!” Kìlì said, horror on his features. “He saved us all, again!”
“I’m not sure what you want from me, I said I’d get to him, but he has ‘things to attend to’” Thorin replied. “Things obviously more important than waiting for his King.”
Dori scoffed. “You can’t be true … he did more than most of us combined. What were you talking to my brother about that couldn’t have waited?”
Thorin glared, that wasn’t like Dori. “I’ll ask you to hold your tongue till you’re in a better frame of mind.”
“And will you ask me to hold mine?” Dwalin asked. His eyes cut to the big dwarf, oh, Dwalin was angry. The hobbit had even curried his favour, which was nigh impossible, Dwalin barely liked his own brother.
Thorin looked at each of the company. One by one he assessed their faces. Only Ori dropped his gaze. The rest held firm. They were all waiting.
He gritted his teeth. This wouldn’t do. “I will speak to the hobbit - Bilbo …” he added the name only because each of their frowns became deeper. “I know we owe him a lot. You all are aware I’m not much of a diplomat … I– there is much to Discuss and I will do it. Our last words were … Look, give a dwarf a chance, I’ve only been walking about for a day and a half.”
It eased some of the tension and all but Balin looked relieved.
“He’s been busy, Uncle.” Kìlì exclaimed with a big smile. “He made sure we’ve all been able to eat, through his trickery! There were carts of food that just appeared! Like magic!”
“Yes, and we’ve all got soft mattresses and linens because of how he sourced all the right materials,” Bofur said, stopping from chugging his ale. “He even sorted out the drink too!”
Thorin frowned. “Bilbo did?” he looked to Balin who simply nodded.
“I was tied up with reconstruction, I had no time for anything else … it was the wee laddie himself. A more practical hobbit I’m yet to meet,” Balin said with a warm smile.
What on middle earth was happening? They were all more fond of the bloody hobbit now than ever.
“How industrious,” Thorin murmured.
“Yes,” Dawlin said firmly, stealing Nori’s pipe and setting up for a smoke. “It was, we were all tired and busy and he toiled by day ensuring we had all our needs covered and at night he sat by your bedside …”
Thorin’s heart cracked once more and the ache burned brightly.
“Or he watched over the young princes, don’t forget that,” Oìn opined. “Always made sure you were washed properly and helped me with all your bandages.”
The princes grinned enthusiastically. “He sang to us, I heard him!” Kìlì said.
“You did not! Mountainsleep would not allow for that …!” Fìlì argued, the boys tussled immediately. Gloin pushed them away from the table so they didn’t knock into it and spill the ale.
Thorin was still stuck on ‘washed properly’. Did that mean ..?
“We want him to stay,” Balin said. “He’s an incredible asset, Thorin. And he’s important - to all of us.”
“Aye,” the company chorused.
Fuck, thought Thorin.
~
“Are ye through?” asked Bofur, his head poking into the tunnel.
“Yes! I am,” Bilbo shouted back. He sneezed and blew his nose. “It's a bit dusty!” It was more than dusty, it was grotty and awful and very dark. He held up a lantern. It was another cavernous room, with little desks lined up and a blackboard off to the side.
“Oh! It's a school room!” he shouted through the tunnel.
“Fantastic, that's what I've got on my sheet … can you tell me where the nearest wall ends?” Bofur asked.
Bilbo took two steps forward and then guessed the rest. “Five and a half feet, I reckon. To my right as I look at you. Want me to make a quick sketch of the room?”
“You're a wee darlin’ and no one would say anything less.”
Bilbo rolled his eyes and snorted.
“Charmer,” he murmured as he got to work, sketching out the room.
The truth was, he liked being useful. It was addictive in its way. Gandalf had said to him that there was a great wide world out there … and now he'd had a taste he didn't feel like going back. He was here! He was living and it felt good that the dwarves looked to him to solve problems. They thought he had good sense and when the chips were down Bilbo would sort it out. He liked it. He loved feeling useful.
Alas, Thorin had knocked him off course the night before.
He was so sure they'd be in a better place. Surely Thorin remembered all the wonderful things he'd said to Bilbo? Surely they were good friends now? Especially after reclaiming the mountain. Bilbo would not hope for anything else, even if towards the end he did feel their relationship taking a more amorous turn.
He was not stupid enough to think there was even the slightest glimpse of a future like that with Thorin. A hobbit and a King? Ridiculous. His private thoughts on Thorin's beauty were no one's business but his own. And if he had caught Thorin looking at him in such a way that made a person’s skin feel heated, mayhap that was just a flight of fancy for the road. It had been a long walk after all.
He was a little ashamed at how attracted he was to the King under the Mountain, even as Thorin had hung him over the ramparts - there was an insane part of Bilbo that was thinking about how gorgeous he looked in his fury.
So, let us be clear, Bilbo was a fool, and he'd cried his tears for Thorin … he'd wept at the mere thought of the dwarf’s nonchalance, but there was more at play here. Bilbo liked feeling useful and he’d be damned if he was going to be chased away from Erebor because the King was an ungrateful arse.
He loved his dwarrow brethren. And they loved him.
Packing up his writing equipment into the satchel, he sighed with new resolve and prepared to climb back through. Bofur met him and pulled him the rest of the way out, brushing him down and placing a kiss atop his head.
“You're a wee beauty, thank ye kindly, Bilbo!” Bofur grinned as he looked at the drawing.
“You're welcome,” he exclaimed, warmth washed over him and he basked in Bofur’s appreciation.
~
The weeks rushed by, there was still so much to be done. And even though the King was well again, Bilbo seemed pulled into plans whether he liked it or not. He’d spent a wonderful few days in the map rooms, helping Ori to organise and clean that room. Gloìn had asked for his help with the new schematics for the vault, and they looked at the plans together over some cheese and wine.
But mostly he’d been with the young princes. The boys, left to their own devices, got up to all sorts of mischief and everyone was too busy to keep a good eye on them. So it was Bilbo who ensured they had been to the bath houses, and kept up with their martial practice. He watched them from the sidelines, honing their skills. They were both very talented but got bored so easily. For a treat, the boys had been desperate to head back into Dale and aid Bard and the humans for a day or two.
The princes took pretty dwarven broaches and hairclips for the sisters and some steel for Bane, Bard’s son. Both were so grateful for the care the young family had shown Kìlì when he had been so very sick. Bard was pleased the boys wanted to help, setting them up with projects to keep them busy.
As they walked back from the city, Fìlì and Kìlì seemed to be full of questions, much to Bilbo’s amusement. “So, hobbit families have lots of children?”
“Well, yes, some do - remember we are not as long lived as you dwarves.”
“You make up for it with sheer force of numbers?” asked Fìlì.
Bilbo chuckled. “Umm, no. We are not really a race built for war, Fìlì - unless you count Gethen Brandybuck and Til Took’s fight after the harvest festival a few years past.”
Kìlì rolled his eyes. “Was it about someone’s prize winning vegetable?”
Bilbo snorted as they traipsed back up to Erebor. “Yes, Til believed his carrot was much larger.”
“Don’t we all,” Fìlì mused, which made the three of them laugh.
“Do you miss it, Bilbo?” asked Kìlì. “The Shire?”
It was at that moment they turned a corner and the rampart to Erebor came into full view. It was being reconstructed and had lots of dwarves dotted all over it, repairing the damage. Bilbo stalled for a moment and the boya watched him with concern.
He felt a stab in his heart momentarily, but not because he missed his home necessarily. He was remembering how it felt as Thorin held him against that wall. Threatening his life.
“I-I don’t think I really belong back there, now …” he admitted, honestly. “I think it would be difficult to go back to my armchair and my garden.” He smiled at the boys reassuringly. “I’ve spent far too much time with adventuring dwarves, and - umm …!”
Thorin and some of the company had appeared on the rampart. Bilbo felt a bit faint and was wholly glad when one of Dain’s guards was hailing him, merrily unaware of his plight. With a deep breath Bilbo pulled himself together.
“Well met, Elin,” Bilbo said warmly, greeting the broad shouldered Captain from Ironhills.
“Master Baggins, I’m glad I caught you …” the large dwarf smiled in return. “I was wondering if I could have a quick word?”
“Yes, of course. I’ll meet you back for dinner, lads,” Bilbo said to the boys who could barely contain their boredom of having to stand still for over a minute.
“Bye, see you at dinner!” They shouted, already running back to Erebor.
“I’m part of a company heading to Ered Luin, so we’ll be travelling past the Shire, and Lord Dain asked if you wanted to send any letters home? I’d be glad to take them with my company, Mister Baggins.”
Bilbo almost fell over with his gratitude. “Oh, that is wonderful of you,” he smiled heartily at the Captain, grabbing the large dwarf’s arm in sheer happiness. They grinned at each other. The Captain happy to be of service and Bilbo thrilled to be able to let people know that he wasn’t quite dead, yet.
“I can’t tell you – it’s honestly – how helpful … it really is brilliant, thank you!”
Caught up in Bilbo’s happiness the guard allowed it when Bilbo hugged him. Bilbo apologised, patting the guard awkwardly on the chest. “Sorry, anyway! Will I have time to write a few letters?”
“Yes, we leave in three days. At dawn, if I remember rightly. So you have time yet - depending on how long the letters are, Master hobbit.”
Bilbo laughed. “Well, I have a tale to tell - so you best take another cart!”
The Captain laughed merrily.
Bilbo was just about to wish the Captain a good day when the large dwarf coughed politely, his cheeks blushing suddenly. “Mister Baggins, I was wondering … some of us from the Ironhills have never met a halfling —”
“Hobbit,” Bilbo corrected gently.
“Aye, your pardon. A hobbit and, well, your hair …”
Bilbo smiled in confusion. “My hair?”
“Aye, I was wondering if I may be permitted to touch it?” The guard’s hand was already raised and Bilbo saw no harm. Of course the guard would be intrigued. Bilbo had often wondered about the difference between the races. If an elf's skin was as cool to the touch as he imagined. What Thorin’s beard would feel like between his … well. How it would feel, so yes, he could see no harm in this at all. And he really did want to make a life with the dwarfs so he preferred to be as accommodating as possible.
“Please, do,” he acquiesced, lowering his head so the dwarf could feel the crown of his curls.
~