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Bofur sat dressed from head to toe in armor finer than anything he'd ever seen before. Although old---it was obviously made before Smaug had come to Erebor---after a good shine, the suit of armor had been good as new, as tough and well built as it had been the day it'd been crafted. However, the miner had never felt more vulnerable as when he'd watched Dwalin fuss and adjust it just for him, all the while muttering about how foolish this whole business was. Although he'd never go again Thorin, even Dwalin could see that the path their king had set them on was a very destructive one.
Now, settling down to for the night---still in full armor upon Thorin's insistence---Bofur's foot tapped restlessly as he kept his eyes focused anywhere but on Bombur. His brother had been watching him with such anxiety since Bofur had picked out his armor that it was a testament to how nervous they ALL were that no one noticed. Or, if they DID notice, no one saw fit to comment on it.
Unconsciously, Bofur's arm curled around his middle protectively and, not for the first time, he found himself questioning his decision to not tell anyone (except for Bombur, of course) the grave secret he carried. His brother had certainly wanted him to speak to their king, hoping that a guard or two would be assigned to keep Bofur safe in the Mountain during what promised to be a horrendous battle. However, Bofur knew that a guard or two for him left his remaining friends with even less warriors than they already had. They so desperately needed every able body they could get if they were to have ANY chance to live through this coming day. No, he could no endanger any of his companions for his own sake, not at a time like this.
So Bofur would follow his gold-maddened king into an impossible battle despite his... condition because he loved his king, and he loved his friends. Perhaps, if Aule was merciful, he might even be able to catch a glimpse of his One before the battle ended. He even dared to dream that, perhaps, he might even be granted enough time to apologize for being the coward that he was.
Such a thought gave Bofur as small measure of comfort as he closed his eyes for a last bit of sleep before they marched to their (most probable) deaths on the morrow. As soon as Bofur slipped off into slumber, Bombur got to his feet and, with unusual stealth, made his way to where a messenger raven was perched. None of the company stirred as he tied a note to the raven's leg and instructed him to deliver it to the lone hobbit in the Men's camp.
~*~
Bilbo jolted up in his bedroll with a barely strangled shout of horror. Since Thorin's banishment, anytime he closed his eyes, Bilbo saw Bofur's death in some terrible form or another. Sometimes it was the teeth and claws of wargs or the terrible swords and hammers of goblins that tore the genial toymaker to pieces as Bilbo struggled through the battlefield to reach him. In the worse dreams, it was the men and elves extracting vengeance upon those they believed responsible for this... mess. Nevermind that Bofur was no prince or nobleman with any sort of sway over Thorin's actions; he would be blamed right along with the rest of the company and sentenced to a less than swift death.
Stifling a sob, Bilbo turned to his side, ready to force the nightmares out of his head to get at least a LITTLE sleep that night when a raven cawed beside him, making the poor hobbit's heart attempt to leap out of his chest.
"Oh my!" Bilbo yelped. "What in blazes..."
"For you, Master Baggins, hobbit of the Shire," the raven declared in a thin, reedy voice. He held out his sharply taloned leg towards Bilbo, waiting with an air of impatience.
Quite stunned, Bilbo took the letter with shaking hands. "Who...?" he started, but the raven was already gone.
Quickly snatching a nearby, low-hanging lamp, Bilbo opened the letter and, as he read the message inside, his stomach plummeted.
"Not turning spy on us, are you, my friend?" Bard solemnly asked as he approached the hobbit. He'd seen the raven enter the camp and depart from the hobbit only moments ago. His sharp eyes immediately shot to the piece of parchment in Bilbo's hand as he waited for the hobbit's answer.
Bilbo automatically folded the parchment and tucked it into his vest pocket secretively, trying to hide the blush rising in his cheeks. "No, good Bard. It's merely a message of a rather... personal nature," he elusively answered the archer.
"At a time like this?" Bard questioned skeptically.
"There was no other time for it," Bilbo whispered regretfully, placing a hand over his vest pocket so the message was held close to his heart.
There was such sincerity in his voice that Bard accepted his answer. "May you and your One---as the dwarrows call it---have time to spare once this battle is done, my good hobbit."
Bilbo was shocked to hear the term from Bard's lips, but he found himself smiling nevertheless. Yes, Bofur was his One, and he would find him on the morrow, no matter what it took. He was ready to do whatever it took to protect his new family.
~*~
Bilbo rushed about the battlefield, eyes constantly moving through the impossible crowd of elves, men, dwarves, orcs, and wargs. He should have been keeping an eye on himself in the melee, but Bilbo couldn't be bothered at the moment. He HAD to find Bofur. But with every dwarf wearing armor, it had become more than a chore trying to identify just where his One could be. Then he saw it... a mattock, a wonderfully familiar mattock.
The hobbit nearly screamed for Bofur, but held his tongue; he didn't want to distract the dwarf in a crucial moment. Besides, given that he was wearing his magic ring, Bofur wouldn't have been able to see him.
It was only after Bilbo managed to fight his way to a strange clearing on the battlefield that the hobbit finally wrestled off his ring so he would be visible to Bofur. However, despite his resolve to call out to the toy maker now that he could be seen, Bilbo found himself completely tongue tied at the first good look he'd gotten of Bofur since he was banished.
Bofur was glorious. He moved like he wasn't wearing any armor at all, swinging his mattock with deadly percision and shifting just out of reach of the swords and spears that dived at him. It was nothing like the first time he'd seen Bofur fighting against the trolls; this was a completely different dwarf, one who was fighting for more than just HIS life.
Bilbo was so enraptured by the sight of the toymaker, he didn't see the warg that charged at him until it suddenly skidded to a halt at his feet, a boar spear buried in its head.
Bifur yelled something Bilbo didn't understand, yet when he gestured toward Bofur, the hobbit got what the injured dwarf was trying to tell him. At Bofur's feet sat Kili who was cradling an unconscious Fili in his lap. Kili's dark eyes were glazed with tears that streamed down his face and his complete attention was focused on his brother's slack face; he ran his fingers through the matted, bloody blond hair, whispering words that couldn't be heard over the din of the battle. It was obvious to all that Bofur was the only thing keeping the gathered orcs from rushing the young dwarves.
Nearly tripping over the odd boots Bard had insisted he wear on the battlefield, Bilbo rushed over to Bofur, finally giving in to the instinct to scream the dwarf's name with Bifur beside him, ready to take down any monster that might try to take advantage of Bofur's distraction.
Bofur paused in his fighting, his eyes widening at the sight of Bilbo, and the hobbit could have sworn that Bofur had been about to say something when a burst of pain exploded from the back of Bilbo's head and the world went black.
~*~
Bilbo woke slowly, pain throbbing in his head and the world refusing to come into focus. But there was something else, too; a voice, deep and soft and the most beautiful thing the hobbit could remember ever hearing.
"I love that song," Bilbo sighed, turning his head and smiling happily at the dwarf sitting beside him.
Bofur returned Bilbo's smile; he was no longer wearing his armor and that ridiculous old hat was back on his head, right where it belonged. "Aye, I've grown quite fond of it myself, after all this time," Bofur whispered, his voice trembling slightly and eyes brimmed red.
"Bofur... I'm sorry," the hobbit whispered.
"Sorry? For what, lad?" Bofur sat up stiffly in his chair and leaned over to rest a hand on Bilbo's.
Before Bilbo could get anything more out, the tent flap opened and, though he was heavily bandaged and obviously needed Balin's support to stand, Thorin Oakenshield somehow managed to look as majestic as ever as he limped into the tent.
"Thorin," Bilbo sighed in relief, pleased to see the king, despite how their last parting how gone. "You're alive."
"Oh, aye, laddie," Balin replied with a smile mixed with relief and wariness. "Kili and Fili as well, though it'll be some time before they're up and running about as usual. Still, we paid a much smaller price than we had any right to. All thirteen of our company live."
"All thanks to you," Thorin stated, eyes fixed on Bofur.
Bofur squirmed a bit at the intensity of Thorin's glazed which settled so firmly upon him. "Thorin..."
Bilbo felt a rising sense of unease as Thorin stepped away from Balin and moved to kneel before Bofur.
"The line of Durin would have been ended and Azog's terrible oath fulfilled if it had not been for you, Bofur."
"It was nothing, Thorin," Bofur tried to insist, but Thorin's dark frown kept him from saying any more.
"It is EVERYTHING, Bofur," Thorin declared, hand grasping the toymaker's. "Loyalty, honor, a willing heart. This is all I asked of from those who joined my quest and you have displayed all of these, not just to me, but to all in our company."
"Thorin---" Bofur attempted one more time, but his voice gave up on him as those deep blue eyes met his unflinchingly.
"Agree to rule Erebor with me," Thorin suddenly blurted, catching Bofur AND Bilbo completely by surprise.
"W-What?" the toymaker gasped.
"Marry me and allow me to attempt to reward you for everything you have done for me and my kin for the rest of my life."
The silence that followed was deafening. Bofur gaped at the king, uncertain of what to say to such an impossible proposal. However, once Bilbo's brain kicked back on, the hobbit scrambled to his feet and, swaying rather badly, snatched Bofur's hand away from Thorin.
"No, no, no, no," the hobbit huffed, face reddening with indignation. "Now see here, Thorin! You can't just---I mean to say---Bofur isn't---"
"This is business to be settled between Bofur and myself, burgler," Thorin snapped at the hobbit. "You have no right to interfere."
"I have every right." Bilbo stood at his full height, which should have been thoroughly unimpressive, but there was a steel glint to his eye, the Tookish part of him rising at this latest challenge. "He's carrying MY child!"
"Oh, dear," Balin groaned in the thick silence that followed these last words.
"Is this true?" Thorin demanded of Bofur, getting unsteadily to his feet once more.
Bofur looked as if he was on the verge of attempting to make a joke, but the look Thorin gave him withered it on his lips. His face grew grim as he confessed, "Aye, so it's true."
"So... you've decided then?" Disapproval was plain on Thorin's face.
Bofur looked uncertainly at Bilbo and the hobbit once again gripped Bofur's hand, smiling at the dwarf. "We have."
Relief shone clearly on Bofur's face.
Balin cleared his throat, going back to Thorin's side to help brace the injured king. "We will leave you two to talk, then," the wise dwarf chuckled, leading Thorin back to his own healing tent.
Just before they exited the tent, Thorin paused and informed Bilbo, "We will have words, burglar. Soon."
Bilbo nodded, having expected a confrontation with the dwarf king, even before Thorin's unexpected proposal.
When they were alone once more, Bofur helped Bilbo back onto the bed, but Bilbo clung to his sleeve. "Join me?" he requested.
Fortunately, the bed had been set up by the elves and, thus, was large enough to fit both the hobbit and dwarf comfortably, if a bit close. Though neither found it worth complaining about.
"How did you know?" Bofur asked softly after several moments of quiet.
"Bombur sent me a letter," Bilbo answered plainly. The hobbit scooted up so he could look down into Bofur's eyes. "I swear, Bofur, I wouldn't have left if I'd known. Thorin could have threatened me all he wished, but I still wouldn't have---"
"I know, Bilbo," Bofur interrupted, smiling sadly. "Which is why I told myself it was best that you didn't know."
"And you decided to head into battle?" Bilbo prompted.
Bofur looked a bit sheepish as he admitted, "Aye, well, I couldn't be letting the lads go in on their own. We're family. All of us."
Bilbo rested his hand upon Bofur's stomach. "Yes, we are. Though I believe you owe me an explanation about how this newest member of our company came to be."
"Oh, well, it's quite simple, you see," Bofur chuckled. "When one dwarf really likes another and they're constantly finding themselves in life or death situations and finally get a moment of privacy to themselves thanks to a top secret invisibility ring---"
"Stop it," Bilbo laughed, swatting at the dwarf lightly. "I'm serious."
Bofur grinned wickedly. "But it's true. That's why dwarves that want to focus on their trade keep away from relationships altogether."
"Would have been prudent to know that BEFORE we... well, you know," Bilbo couldn't help but point out.
Bofur smile faded at these words. "Bilbo..."
"I don't regret it," Bilbo quickly assured the toymaker. "I never thought that I COULD have children given my preferences; it's a true blessing to learn that's not true after all. Besides, I could never regret finding my One."
Bofur had to admit, he was shocked to hear Bilbo use the phrase. "I... I didn't know that hobbits..." he started, but Bilbo cut him off with a soft laugh.
"I don't know about hobbits in general, but for THIS hobbit, yes. You are my One and Only, Bofur. And you would make me the happiest hobbit in the world if you would give up the chance to be consort to a king and marry me instead so that we can raise our child as a proper family."
Laughter bubbled out of Bofur even as tears slid down his whiskered cheeks and he kissed Bilbo, accepting his hobbit's proposal.