Chapter Text
He was watching you.
Not that this was anything new, you thought as you bit into your apple as the Company sat at banquet. He’d been watching you from the start.
You’d been sitting at dinner then too. Waiting, poised over the delicious trout your brother had prepared as he huffed over to answer the door. It was most unusual to have guests come calling so late, really downright rude even. Which should have been the first clue that this guest, as well as the ones to follow were going to have all the social graces of a cactus bush. Either way, she’d been surprised and quite intimidated by the fierce looking male who’d stomped into the room moments later, a confused and flustered Bilbo trailing close behind. Actually, your brother was so close he’d rammed face first into the wall of muscle when the dwarf had suddenly stopped in the archway and stared rather fixedly at your underdressed self. You were at home and it was late, you’d intended to bed down after the meal, was it little wonder you were in little less than a loose shirt and your bathrobe? Really, it was completely inconsiderate of the male to just stand there staring as you slowly turned purple with embarrassment and trembled in… fright? Well of course it was fright! A stranger had just barged into your home! Fright was the logical, proper reaction. So was jumping up and tugging your robe shut… though you probably should have done that well before the second knock on the door drew that deep penetrating gaze away from you. You were going to blame surprise and panic on the lag in reaction time.
Either way! You buckled up and raced to your room to dress only to come out moments later to find the singular dwarf had apparently sprouted another three. With all the hubbub afterwards you’d barely had a moment to think never mind converse with any of your houseguests. Bilbo had to be calmed down after all, before he got a nosebleed or the vapors.
Before you knew it the unexpected party turned into an unexpected journey, as Bilbo and yourself were mounted on ponies and prancing off with a grand totally of thirteen dwarves and a ridiculous old wizard. That was when you began to develop something of a sixth sense for the trail of those deep heavy eyes on your person. It started as a small tickle in the middle of your back and turned into a burning as you were riding. Master Dwalin, as you’d been informed, rode at the back of the troop, understandably guarding the flank, being so… formidable as it were. Bilbo and yourself were also rather close to the back, being so abysmal at riding. It seemed a perfect opportunity to get to know your first dwarf, and perhaps apologize for your disastrous first impressions.
“Good day Master Dwalin!”
Bushy brow furrowed and deep blue eyes turned forward as you settled to, well, canter, next to the larger male. The only indication you had that he’d even acknowledge your presence was a small nod and a gruff huff of air through his nose. Most would be rather discouraged at the lack of interest or manners.
You were not most, “I’d like to apologize for last evening. I know I looked a fright when you first entered our smial. And then to just disappear without a proper introduction or a by your leave, truly abhorrent on my part.”
Another gruff huff of air was your answer. Well, that, and a curious rosy spread suffusing the base of the mostly obscured neck of your chosen companion.
Your mother had once told you and Bilbo that if there were two more different twins in all Arda she’d be blessed confounded. To be sure, you were both polite and quite content to be the best hobbit you could be, but had you been Bilbo he’d have seen that ruby flush and moved onto a topic of conversation meant to lull and sooth. You father had once told you that if given a stick you’d poke at anything moving in a miles radius before moving on to whapping everything till it was begging for mercy.
Sadly for Dwalin, he did not know this. “Oh dear, are you quite all right Master Dwalin? Have you been out in the heat too long? Your neck is turning an awful shade of red!”
Your reaching fingers barely brushed his neck before it was caught in a calloused grip, dry and solid, as the dwarf turned wide eyes on you and grumbled in his reverberating tones something about “Fine… Thorin…” and galloping away as though a troll were after his head.
You sat on your sweet tempered pony at the back for the rest of the day, swaying with the ambling beast, eyes trained on an ever-reddening broad shouldered dwarf. A small smile flirted across your lips as you hummed to yourself, barely noticing the way your hand kept clenching as you rode on.
That seemed to be the end of it too as Bilbo and yourself struggled to keep up with the travel worn Company. Thorin was glowering more and more as each day passed and your brother and yourself became more and more sore and sleep deprived. You’d even lost a terrible amount of weight from the lack of meals. And you smelled. Everyone did. Honestly it got to the point the only thing keeping your temper in tact was Bilbo’s calming presence and his flustered attempts to dissuade you from galloping up to Thorin and kicking him in the head. The fun little game you’d developed with the gruff warrior was proving less funny and more annoying as you became more and more convinced the taller male was actually of a mind with Thorin. Hobbits weren’t known for their traveling prowess, and to compare the pair of you to weathered and worn nomads were both ridiculous and insulting! You’d like to see any five of them prepare a six-course meal for thirty hobbits during the bleak season complete with birthday gifts and entertainment. The only ones who’d be capable of pulling anything half decent off would be the Ur family and they would still scandalize half their guest, the other half becoming enraged at Bofur’s crude jokes.
And with Bilbo’s peacekeeping nature slowly wearing thin as his confidence was withered under harsh commentary and mean spirited teasing, it wasn’t any wonder he wasn’t there to stop you when your patience finally snapped.
“No thanks to your hobbit,” had barely left the King’s mouth before you’d picked up a piece of the spit those horrible creatures had meant to cook you all with and bashed him in the back of the head.
It was the surprise more than anything, you were sure, that had the King falling to his knees and staring at you in shock as you laid into the ungrateful vagrant, “No thanks to your lack wit kin for going temporarily deaf, dumb, and blind you mean!? Because I guarantee had a pair of hobbit been watching the ponies at least one of them would have smelled those horrible beasts before it got close enough to steal four ponies and upend half the damned woods! And another thing –”
Bilbo came up behind you at that point and grasped you up, dragging you away to clean the snot from your clothes as the dwarrow continued to stare in shock or laugh uproariously at the suddenly rabid hobbit lass in their midst. It wasn’t till much later, as you dried off from your third bath in Rivendell that you’d realize Dwalin’s intent gaze had been, once more, tracking your rant, but this time it had been accompanied with a, dare you think it, proud smile flirting with his bearded lips. The thought would send a few flutters through your being and a soft smile over your lips as you hummed a bit as you dressed before falling into a pillowed haven.
It wasn’t until the Carrock the dwarf managed to do more than grunt and huff at your overtures of friendship, however. The Eagles had deposited you all on the smaller mountain and Gandalf had woken Thorin up from his ill-timed nap. It was as the King embraced your brother that you felt that burn in the middle of your shoulder blades once more. Then Gandalf informed the lot of you that you would be basically attempting a controlled tumble down the rest of the mountain.
“It was damned stupid,” why anyone thought it wise to silently stalk you after the ordeal you’d just had was beyond you. Especially as you were making your way down a rather steep set of ‘stairs’ or so Gandalf surely jest. Thankfully the larger guard’s reflexes were sharp as ever and he managed to grab you before you stumbled off the ledge and drew you flush to a rather firm and warm chest.
He was staring down at you, meeting your eyes as he continued to grasp at your bare elbows, warmth suffusing you as you stood there. It was… tantalizing. But no one got away with calling you stupid, “You know, I do believe that’s the first time you’ve spoken a sentence in my general hearing range.”
That red flush was there again, though you could barely make it out below all that bristly black hair. With one last brush of thick calloused thumb over the apparently hypersensitive skin at the indents of your elbows he released you and turned away, jumping down to the next level, “I’ve spoken to ye befur.” He turned around once there and reached up, waiting for you to jump down, his neck practically purple.
It made you wonder how much it would take to make the color trail into his actual face as you dropped into his hands, clasping at his very broad shoulders, “Ah, so gruff huffing is a language!? I apologize Master Dwalin, I hadn’t realized. My first and only language being Common after all.” He dropped you like you were on fire and leapt to the next landing without a word. You thought that may be the end of it but as you leaned over to judge the next distance he was still there, waiting for you once more.
It was four steps later when he spoke again, “… Dwalin… Jus’ Dwalin,” he didn’t even look at you as he barely growled that out. Luckily because the goofy smile on your face was surely ridiculous. Kíli, who’d been pacing you, rolled his eyes before pantomiming gagging and falling to the step below. You stuck your tongue out at him as he came back into sight before Dwalin followed him down. Oh good, the last step.
“Well, my name’s Y/N. Once you’ve used it I’ll begin to address you in whatever fashion you desire,” you may have dropped your voice at the last and stood closer to the dwarf than strictly necessary when he let you down once more. It may have been taking things a bit far but the deepening of that red at his neck and the brief clenching of strong hands at your hips was beyond worth it as you felt something tighten and flutter in your lower stomach.
“You could have been killed up there,” you actually weren’t expecting the sudden hint of raspy despair in his voice, or for him to remain so close as he continued. Those dark blue eyes were hooded and the grooves on his forehead were deep.
His obvious concern touched you deeper than you’d thought it would, and catching as you felt your stomach twist at the thought, but you kept a straight face as you nodded, “We all could have.”
“We’re warriors, we’re bred fer this.”
“Bofur’s a toy maker and Ori’s a scribe.”
“They’ve training.”
“So’ve I. It’s in embroidery, doesn’t make me any less of a meat shield.”
“Y/N!” Heavy hands suddenly came up and grasped your shoulders as his eyes widened a bit and his spine seemed to snap into place. He was honestly horrified by your proclamation, but then, so were you. And it didn’t seem to have any effect at all on the pleasure you suddenly experienced from hearing your name uttered by that gravelly brogue.
“DWALIN!” your mimic may have been a lot less harsh and a lot more breathy but you could feel your eyes widen and your lips and face pinch. Fear was shared and discarded for necessity. He should know this better than anyone else, having taken oaths to his King just as you and your brother had.
Your fear didn’t sit well with him, it seemed, as he loosened his grip, trailed his hands down your arms a moment before nodding, “… Jus’ promise… no’ again.”
You smiled at the ridiculousness of the request and watched as his dark eyes trailed down a moment before turning back to your eyes, that bright red color starting to glow through once more, this time seeping into the tips of his adorably rounded ears. This caused you to smile even wider, “Awe, Dwalin, I didn’t know you cared!”
He was back to his huffing grumble as he stormed ahead of you once more, and you allowed yourself to trail his broad shoulders and densely muscled back a moment as you bit your bottom lip, trying to keep the enormous grin from your face and failing miserably. It wasn’t until Bilbo fell back to ask you why you’d taken to skipping that you realized how silly you were being.
You were a little distracted afterwards to push your dwarf any further over the brink as Gandalf decided keeping pertinent information about their intended ‘host’ was a brilliant plot twist. Being chased by giant bears was tiring work, not to mention the epic amounts of climbing and fighting and smoke inhalation. So you slept late, ate a lot and languished in peace till you were informed it was time to leave. Even so, a day’s worth of leisure in sun soaked fields wasn’t enough to make picking up a pack with enough food in it to last you three weeks easy.
Or possible you realized as you fell onto your ass after trying to put it on. In that time, however, your brother and yourself apparently made a large impression on your host, “Hmm, I could always keep the small ones here. They would prosper in these lands, made fat with bread and honey.” Beorn’s announcement was met with the anticipated uproar as well as two very angry dwarrow grabbing up a hobbit apiece and dragging them onto the ponies in front of them. Though you’d certainly miss the fields and the food you were more than happy to find out exactly what Dwalin’s limit was as that charming pink flush rushed up his neck and into his face. Though you hardly got the time to enjoy your revelation as you suddenly doubled over the pony’s neck laughing at Bilbo’s flustered and bright pink face as Thorin marched their pony to the front of the line. Dwalin’s thick arm wrapped around your waist to keep you steady as he joined in your mirth, his own deep rumbling chuckles vibrating through your back and setting you abuzz as you all rode towards the forest.
The forest was terrible; the less said about it the better.
And you had wanted a bath but that river was ridiculous.
Between everything before and then the giant war that happened after the dragon, there was very little interaction with anyone, especially after Bilbo was almost thrown from the wall. In the end, the dust had settled and a tentative alliance had been forged. The Men and the Elves had sworn to aid the Dwarrow in resurrecting their home and by the time the first influx of refugees made their way from the Blue Mountains to Erebor there was space cleared and cleaned for them and some semblance of order was erected.
That had been almost a year ago.
Kíli was healed.
Fíli was healed.
Thorin was limping but mostly healed.
It was Durin’s Day, the anniversary of the great delousing, as it were.
This was the feast meant to honor of the thirteen dwarves and two hobbits brave enough to face down a dragon to get back this mountain.
And you were being stared at… again.
“What’s got ye so quiet tonight luv?”
With a heaving sigh you smiled at the dwarf in front of you, “Just think of something long overdo Bofur. If you’ll excuse me a moment?” and rose to your feet carefully. You straightened your spine and raised your left brow as you turned sharply in the direction of those heavy eyes, smirking as the deep blues turned swiftly away from you and that charming red wave worked its way back up onto that thick neck. Without so much as a hint of your plans you flounced across the hall to the table your brother sat at by Thorin’s left, helping the dwarf with his meal and stopped in front of the guard to his right. Thorin glanced up at you, smirked behind his goblet and knocked his elbow not so subtly into his cousin’s side just as Balin looked up from his brother’s right and smiled at you, “Good evening Y/N.” The older son of Fundin rolled his eyes as his awkward little brother continued to trail his eyes everywhere but the pretty little hobbit right in front of him.
“Good evening Balin,” you nodded to the dwarf in acknowledgement as you lunged across the table at the fluster guard, grabbed him by the beard and dragged his lips to yours. You could hear Thorin’s grumbled “About time” and Nori and Bofur’s screaming laughter as Kíli and Fíli thumped the table down the way. It wasn’t very deep or long a kiss, but it was enough, and hard enough to get your intent across as you dropped back to the stone floor and settled your skirts once more. “Now,” you stated calmly as you smoothed the wrinkles from your bodice, “you can continue to sit there and stare at me for the rest of the winter, the end of which I intend to leave for the Shire once more should I not have any reason to continue my residence in the Mountain or,” you looked up and cocked your head to the side as you smiled beguilingly at the very red very dower looking befuddled dwarf. He didn’t seem to take the thought of you leaving very well at all. Without another word you twirled on your toes and walked out of the hall and idly strolled back to your rooms.
It took maybe ten minutes for the guard to catch up to you, not even three feet from your room. It took ten minutes and three seconds for him to pull you into his arms and steal the breath right out of you, trailing those large work worn hands over the thin material of your gown. As you both parted to breath for a moment, foreheads flush with each other you reach a hand behind his neck, caressing the smoother skin there as you asked breathlessly, “Is this how you intend to communicate with me from now on dear? Not that I’m complaining but it may get a wee bit confusing. I mean, even this is open to a plethora of interpretation, does he want me, does he like me, did he just kind of fall on his way across the hall – ” you were shut up in a fashion you were growing surprisingly fond of.
As you parted again your dwarf grumbled, “You talk enough fer the pair o’ us. And ye’r no’ leavin’ in the spring.”
You sighed as he nipped your bottom lip once before claiming the it and its twin for a tender, pecking kiss, followed by a half dozen more, “Is… that… so? Why… not? Will… I be doing something else then?”
Those strong hands trailed up your sides and over your slender neck to cup your cheeks, turning your face up to his own as the guard stared into your smiling eyes, “Aye. Ye’ll be marryin’ me.”
You crinkled your nose, “Just like that? Because you say so? I can think of a number of better reasons than that. Hell, I could think of three better reasons to marry Bofur than that!”
The growl was fierce as he moved you both back and trapped you again the cool stone wall behind you, rumbling through you as he pressed flush against you and laid a harsh claiming kiss to you in the next moment. The assertion in it set your blood to thrumming and quivering through you. He tore away as your knees began to cave under your trembling self and growled into the space between, “Because I love ye, even if ye are a pain in me –”
It was your turn to shut him up as you jumped up and twined your legs around his waist, moaning into his mouth when his hands came up to cup your ass and help keep you perched, the roughened texture sending heat and sharp twinges of pleasure through you as it caught on your silky warm skin.
It wouldn’t be till the next morning that you realized you hadn’t actually verbalized the return of his sentiment. After that it wouldn’t be till that afternoon you confirmed your intent to marry your dwarf. In the end the only thing that got you out of the room by teatime was your much-abused stomach as it grumbled for sustenance. Especially if you were hoping to continue in your current activities.