Archive of Our Own

“You are well, Master Burglar?”

“Yes,” Bilbo replied from where he sat by the Thorin’s bedside. That word, ‘burglar,’ had over the course of their journey become something of a pet name between himself and the dwarven king, but everything that had happened while Thorin was gold-mad had changed that. It had been some months since the battle, since the aftermath wherein Thorin held on to consciousness just long enough to apologize to Bilbo for everything he’d said and done before falling into a deep sleep that Oin and the elven healers had not been sure he would ever wake from. It would likely be some weeks more before Thorin was able to take up his throne; he was still very weak. He could walk only a little in a given day, and got almost all his news via visits from the company. “Erebor is almost completely mapped, now. It will not be too long now before more of your people-”

“Bilbo,” Thorin said, gently. He used Bilbo’s given name with sufficient rarity that he startled and stopped talking altogether. “Dwalin and Balin give me news of Erebor every day. I am quite aware of the comings and goings in the mountain. I asked after you.”

“I-” Bilbo considered for a long time and eventually used Thorin’s words- “am well. I keep busy, mostly in the library.” In truth, there was not a great deal for him to do. Because he could not read the language, most of the shelving and organizing duties fell to Ori alone. Bilbo devoted most of his time, instead, to writing out a chronicle of their quest. He had expected it to be the work of many years, but between his worry for Thorin and his own early period of enforced bed rest, Bilbo had gotten much more done than he had ever expected, and was in fact nearly finished. “I’ve been working on…” Bilbo trailed off. “It would be easier to show you.”

He added to his chronicle whenever he had a chance, and thus carried it with him always. He placed it on the bed beside Thorin.

“It isn’t finished,” he said. “But I want you to know- it’s for you. Well, it’s for everyone to see what we went through together, but really it’s for you.”  

Thorin reached out, fingers touching the binding of the manuscript, as Bilbo told him a little more about what it was. Eventually, Bilbo ran out of things to say and just watched Thorin. His expression was… complicated- sufficiently complicated that it scared Bilbo more than a little. The truth was that he actually hadn’t known Thorin very long in the general scheme of things, and as far as cataloguing and understanding his expressions went, Bilbo was nowhere near as far along as he would have liked to be. Since he’d been on the mend, Thorin had been as mild and gentle as he had been directly after Bilbo saved him from Azog- before they were again running for their lives- but just now he looked more as he had when they first met, or just before he completely lost his mind over the Arkenstone and the rest of the treasures of Erebor.

In dismal fact, an angry Thorin was too similar to a contemplative Thorin for Bilbo to know if he should keep still or run for his life. Palms beginning to sweat, Bilbo stayed where he was.

Finally, Thorin said, “Are you sure?” in a choked voice.

“Sure?” Bilbo repeated, confused.

“Sure that it is not out of some misguided guilt that you have…” The king then seemed to lose the ability to speak altogether, and he merely looked at Bilbo with eyes so intense Bilbo could hardly tolerate them.

Tolerate them Bilbo did, however. He looked into Thorin’s face and tried to figure out what he meant. Finally, it occurred to him that though they had spoken on dozens of topics, the question of Bilbo’s forgiveness had not been revisited since Thorin awoke from his long sleep and Bilbo said, ‘You lost consciousness before I could say it- yes. I forgive you.’ Perhaps, given the gesture that Bilbo was making with his chronicle, Thorin finally thought it was time to make sure their friendship was secure.

“No,” Bilbo said. “I mean- it isn’t.” He gestured to his chronicle, which- for him- represented all that they had achieved together. “We both made mistakes, I know that. But after everything we went through together, I can’t imagine not…”

Thorin’s expression softened then, but his eyes remained guarded. “But you have been through much with the others of my- our- company as well, have you not?”

“I have,” Bilbo agreed. “But with you- I can’t really explain it.”

When Thorin’s smile finally reached his eyes, it was like the sun coming up. “Nor do you need to,” he said, with unexpected exuberance. Thorin leaned in and pressed his forehead to Bilbo’s, gently enough not to hurt at all- which, knowing the hardness of dwarven heads and Thorin’s in particular, was quite obviously the result of a concerted effort on Thorin’s part. Bilbo enjoyed that for a moment- then he noticed that Thorin was shaking faintly.

“You need your rest,” he remarked.

“Yes,” Thorin admitted, voice wry. Bilbo helped him lie back on the bed, and then moved to leave and fetch Oin. Thorin grasped Bilbo’s elbow. “He’ll be back in his own time. Stay with me.”

Bilbo was beginning to be uncomfortable perched on the side of Thorin’s bed as he was, but there was certainly room enough for a hobbit beside the king lying horizontal if he moved his book, and Bilbo boldly positioned himself thusly. He half expected to be told off, but Thorin didn’t seem to mind. In fact, his arms went around Bilbo, and Bilbo felt warm and secure. Sufficiently so, in fact, that he dozed off and fell into a pleasant sleep.

*   *   *

Bilbo woke to a pair of dark eyes peering at him. “Awk,” he cried out quietly

He would have scrambled up, but he recalled that there was an injured dwarf wrapped around his back. Instead, Bilbo eased out of Thorin’s grip carefully, perched on the edge of the bed, and glared at Kíli.

“What do you want?” he whispered sharply.

“I came to check on Uncle,” Kíli returned primly. There was something odd- odder than usual- happening on his face and behind his eyes. He looked… happy. He looked, in fact, as though his joy might at any moment bubble out of him, and he was doing his utmost to keep it back.

Bilbo’s annoyance melted away when he processed just how unusual it had become to see the once exuberant prince so joyful. Kíli and Fíli both had been injured in the battle, but Fíli’s injuries had been by far the most severe. What was more, the efforts of a certain elf maid had undoubtedly played their part in Kíli’s quick recuperation. Tauriel never seemed to mind Kíli spending nearly all his time at brother’s bedside. Indeed, she had tended him by Kíli’s side until she returned to the Mirkwood with the other elves, and still she visited often and spent her time with both brothers.

There had been an incident with a small party of orcs who had survived the battle that had put Fíli back in his bed for the time being- and though Oin insisted he would make a speedy recovery Kíli had been more subdued than ever. Bilbo hoped it was nothing to do with Tauriel, who had come and gone several times since then. He hoped that- despite the differences between their two peoples- Kíli and Tauriel found a way to make a life together; a more compassionate soul than Tauriel Bilbo had rarely known.

And Kíli was happy when she was around, but still some of his light had clearly dimmed. Bilbo didn’t know why he was so sad, and thus couldn’t guess what would help him.  

“How is he?” Kíli asked.

“He did seem overtired earlier,” Bilbo told him. “But he’s resting now. I should go.”

“Not on my account,” Kíli protested.

“No, really, I- I’m hungry.” Bilbo was always hungry, and it was a statement everyone in Erebor had learned to respect.      

“All right,” Kíli returned. He took up the place Bilbo had vacated at Thorin’s side. Bilbo made his way out of the room. He lingered in the doorway for a moment, long enough to hear Kíli whoop quietly and pat Thorin on the arm in a gentle but congratulatory manner.

Confused and shaking his head to himself, Bilbo departed in search of food.

*   *   *

The following day, things began to be… odd.

In the morning, after he’d had an early breakfast, Bilbo went to see Fíli. He lingered a while by the door, and it was no surprise to hear Kíli’s voice along with Fíli’s echo from his rooms, but what Bilbo overheard- by accident, of course, he didn’t mean to eavesdrop- did puzzle him.

“Are you sure?” Fíli was saying.

“Of course I am,” Kíli replied, sounding a bit offended. “I know what I saw. Don’t tell me you’re not happy.”

“I’m not unhappy,” Fíli returned. “If you’re right, I assure you I will be very happy indeed. I just want you to be sure that what you saw was- well, what you think you saw. You know that not everyone is… of one mind about these things. We wouldn’t want a repeat of the bluebell incident, now would we?”

“No, Brother.”

Bilbo knocked on the door, embarrassed about having listened in to a private conversation and horribly curious about what the bluebell incident was.

“Come in,” Fíli said.

“Bilbo!” Kíli cried, beaming when he saw Bilbo.

Fíli rolled his eyes and beckoned. “Have a seat,” he said. “Somewhere.”

Most of Fíli’s chairs were covered in trinkets of all shapes and sizes, but Bilbo cleared one off and sat. “What is all this?” he asked.

“As more of the mountain is cleared, the dwarrows of the Iron Hills keep bringing me things,” Fíli replied.

“That’s nice,” Bilbo said.

“In a way,” Fíli replied without enthusiasm. “I will have to do something about it eventually.”

“Will you?” Bilbo blinked at him. Fíli looked distinctly uncomfortable, and Kíli was patting his shoulder rather sympathetically.

Fíli nodded and sat up in his bed. “On the subject- none of them are bothering you, right?”

“Bothering me? No.”

“No gifts?”

“No gifts,” Bilbo confirmed, puzzled.

“Good.” Fíli was awfully emphatic about that- bizarrely so. But all the members of company were rather protective of Bilbo when it came to Dáin’s contingent, so probably Fíli wanted to avoid any friction on that score. Of course, it wasn’t as though any members of the company were showering Bilbo in gifts. Only Thorin had given him anything- and that had been before the battle.

There was a silence after that, one apparently only awkward for Bilbo. But then Kíli squirmed slightly in his seat and finally said, just a little too casually, “Say, Bilbo- when you visited Uncle Thorin the other night, what was that book you had with you?”

For a moment, Bilbo was torn between his desire to tell more people about his chronicle- he had wanted Thorin to be the first, but that was done now, and he was so very proud of it- and his suspicion that Kíli was up to something. Finally, he said, “It’s something I’ve been working on, for Thorin. It’s a … chronicle. Of our adventure.” Bilbo thought that would be fine thing for Thorin to have, but suddenly he found himself wondering if it was a suitable gift for a king. “That is… right, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Kíli said eagerly. “Since you’re not one for dwarven crafts, that is. It’s a work of your hands and a very symbolic one too. It’s perfectly appropriate.” He was practically glowing, though when Bilbo glanced at Fíli for confirmation, he found him unusually pale. But then, Kíli was elbowing him rather hard, and perhaps in a place that was still tender.

“Yes,” Fíli agreed at last, and conjured a slow smile. “It’s appropriate.”

“Good,” Bilbo said, hesitantly. He had the oddest sensation that more had happened than he realized.

He took his leave of the princes and went to the kitchens to see about a second breakfast and ask Bombur if he needed any help.    

*   *   *

The kitchens weren’t especially busy that morning. Bombur didn’t need help, but he was always glad for the company and the opportunity to share his food with someone who wasn’t Bofur- who of course was there already.

While Thorin was still recuperating, Balin was in charge. He traded enthusiastically with Dale- on Thorin’s orders, he claimed- and only slightly less happily with Thranduil’s elves, and the mountain’s food stores were rich with fruits, vegetables and spices. Bombur had been shy of these new foodstuffs at first, but in time he’d begun to experiment and always seemed pleased with the results.

“Bilbo!” Bofur said happily. “How are you?”

“Bilbo!” Bombur said happily. “Try these rolls.”  

Bilbo obediently tried the rolls and answered Bofur’s question. “I’m well,” he said. “Although… hmm. Never mind.”

“What?” Bofur prodded.

“I overheard something, and I’m curious, but it’s really none of my business.” He chewed. “These are wonderful!”

“Thank you. And it’s probably not your business,” Bombur agreed.

“But why don’t you ask anyway,” Bofur said.

Bilbo rolled his eyes but did as his friends had suggested. “Something Fíli said about a… bluebell incident?”

Both brothers chuckled.    

“You know what it… um… was?”

Bofur nodded, still laughing. “None in our company would not. See, like most of our kind, Prince Kíli has an eye for beauty.”

“Even if he and most of our kind differ on what beauty is,” Bombur picked up.

“And that elf-maid is not the first non-dwarrowdam to catch his eye.”

“Nor is she the first to catch him back.”

“At any rate,” Bombur said, with a quelling look at Bofur’s leer. “We were in staying in a village of Men, just for a day or two, while we resupplied.”

“This was not long before we collected you as our burglar,” Bofur added in.

“And the prince took an interest in a lady there, who I suppose was pretty enough in her way. He was just looking, mind- but apparently she was interested in him back, because she gave him a bluebell when they met in the street, which in that particular village is considered a courting gift.”

“But he didn’t know that, and there was much friction when it was discovered that he was leaving the very next day.”

“I see,” Bilbo said, and he did, sort of. When Fíli said they didn’t want a repeat of the bluebell incident, what he meant was that Kíli should be mindful of cultural differences, and not read too much- or too little- into something done by someone who was not a dwarf. It probably wasn’t Tauriel, as she had not been in Erebor for some time, but it could have been one of any number of elves or men who came to trade there.    

Bilbo did wonder, briefly, if it might have been him- but he didn’t know of a casual way to ask if he had done anything of large cultural significance to the dwarven people without realizing it. He decided that he had spent a whole quest in their company without doing incurable offense and so told himself that he could get on for a while longer in that way.

In hindsight, of course, that was where Bilbo went very wrong- but he didn’t know that at the time. He just had another of Bombur’s very fine rolls.

*   *   *

If Bilbo had thought his visit with Fíli in the morning was odd, his visit with Thorin that afternoon was odder still.

Balin and Dwalin were there when Bilbo arrived, but instead of waving him off Thorin beckoned him closer and Balin and Dwalin slipped away, not out of the room but rather to the side, where they lingered in a corner. Dwalin crossed his arms over his chest, and if he looked fractionally less forbidding than usual it was still very forbidding indeed. Balin looked unusually pleased.

“Are they here for royal business?” Bilbo asked hesitantly. “I can come back another time, if you wish.”

“No,” Thorin said. “They merely intend to stay to make sure this is done properly. It is traditional that someone do so.  And given… everything that has happened between us... it is particularly important.”  

“Oh?” Bilbo asked, wondering if he was about to be banished again and concluding that if he was he would go willingly and consider himself well-rid of dwarrows. He told himself that this was an uncharitable thought, and that Thorin looked as soft and welcoming as Bilbo had ever seen him, so he sat in his usual place at Thorin’s side and waited.  

“I was not… completely in my right mind before the battle.”

“I know that,” Bilbo replied.

“Even so, I was sorry for the nature of my gift even then. It was not the work of my own hands, for one thing.”

“But important to your people, yes?”

“Very,” Thorin said. “But what is more, a shirt of mail is not exactly… hmm… correct.”

Thorin had said a word in Khuzdul before he settled on ‘correct’, and Bilbo was surprised. He had never known Thorin to have so much trouble with their common tongue before. Neither, for that matter, did he know what was so wrong with the mithril in the first place. Did Thorin mean he shouldn’t really have given it? Did he want it back? Bilbo was about to say it was all right if he did, since Bilbo would hopefully not require it again, when he oddly enough remembered the bluebell incident, and decided that this was some kind of dwarven… thing… that he didn’t understand. He said only, “Right,” and waited for Thorin to continue.

“My gift should have been something you could keep always with you, or at least display in pride, as I will yours.”

“Right,” Bilbo said again, slowly.

“At any rate, I wish to apologize. It was not… regular.”

“Little about the past few months has been regular, I should think,” Bilbo told him.

Thorin smiled, and from his corner Balin made a satisfied sound and even Dwalin looked mollified, if not pleased outright.

Bilbo had said something right, then.

“I cannot forge yet,” Thorin said, sadly. “When I can it will be another thing. Until then…” He beckoned, and Balin handed something to him. He produced a bead of what looked like silver, set with gems and rather… gaudy, truth be told. Bilbo recognized the bead as the sort most of the company wore in their hair or beards, though a bit different in shape and decoration. “I made it as a boy when we first learned how,” Thorin told him. “It does not suit you.”

“I like it,” Bilbo lied.

Thorin gave him a quelling look.

“You’re right,” Bilbo admitted.

“I will make you another when I can,” Thorin said. “Until then, will you take it? I am… anxious while you are without one.”

“All right,” Bilbo said, at last. “I don’t quite have the hair for it.” His had grown longer than it had ever been on their journey- the company had cringed, fairly cried out when he tried to give himself a trim on the road, and Bilbo had ultimately decided to do without- but even so he couldn’t manage much of a braid.

“Dwalin thought of that,” Thorin said.

“Did he?” Bilbo asked faintly.

Thorin produced some strands of fabric in cream, butter yellow, and blue- all suitably subdued and tasteful, as the bead was not. “May I?” he asked.

Bilbo nodded, abruptly short of breath. Thorin sat up, took hold of some of Bilbo’s hair gently, and braided the strands into it. What the hair itself was exhausted, he braided the fabric together, tying in the bead. Something about Thorin’s concentration, and his proximity, made Bilbo’s skin feel tight. He looked stubbornly at the opposite wall and thought about giant spiders and goblins and other things that made his blood run cold- unlike Thorin, that was. Bilbo was only a simple hobbit who would, undoubtedly, not be welcome forever in this… dwarven place. It didn’t do to get too attached.

When Thorin was done, though, Bilbo had to admit that with the braid he did feel a bit more… dwarven. He also felt ridiculous, but Bilbo embraced the dwarven feeling as best he could. “Um,” he said. “Thank you?”

Thorin smiled and sat back.

“I should. Um. Let you rest,” Bilbo said, and left- probably a little too quickly.

*   *   *

Bilbo’s dwarven feeling faded rapidly. The dwarrows who had come with Dáin and were not part of the original company had always stared at Bilbo in a less than comforting fashion; Bilbo had never been sure if it was because he was a hobbit, because he had stolen the Arkenstone, or simply because they didn’t understand why he was still in the mountain. So it was an unpleasant surprise for Bilbo to learn that- if anything- the staring got worse now that he had the braid and bead.

There were days when- unless he specifically sought them out- Bilbo didn’t see a member of the original company at all. The day after Thorin gave him the bead had been shaping up to be one of those until he went looking for a place to sit quietly and found Bifur already there.

“Hello,” Bilbo said. “May I?” He pointed at a hobbit-sized space beside the dwarf.

Bifur answered in what Bilbo had learned was the affirmative, and Bilbo sat beside him. The language barrier between them made Bifur quiet company, and Bilbo liked that.

He sat in silence, thinking about whether he should take his growing unpopularity as a sign that it was time to leave. The looks of surprise and even disappointment that were being directed at him made the mountain feel really rather inhospitable, after all. He would bring it up with Thorin or Fíli, but he didn’t like to do so with both of them unwell. Perhaps Balin…

Bifur stood, and with a tiny smile pushed a drawing into Bilbo’s hands.

“Thank you?”

Bifur bowed his head and departed.

Bilbo examined the sketch. It was of him, with his new braid and bead in his hair. Bilbo looked rather alien, not like himself- and yet regal and a little bit wild. He found he liked it, and supposed that- somehow- Bifur had known about his doubts and done his best to calm him.

Bilbo wasn’t sure if it had worked. It did remind him of why- every time he thought it would be best for all concerned if he just had done with dwarrows altogether- something always happened to make him change his mind.      

*   *   *

It was just as well Bilbo had had that little burst of friendly feeling, because things continued to get stranger.

Though at the time it had been the truth, Bilbo began to feel as if he had lied to Fíli when he said there had been no gifts, because on the following day gifts began appearing on his doorstep with alarming regularly. Dwarrows he’d never seen before would bow to him and present him with any number of items. At a loss for what he should do about these gifts- he remembered Fíli’s dark tone when he spoke of dealing with the matter- Bilbo wondered who he should talk to. Bofur was his closest friend, and often at loose ends while the mountain was being cleared, but he felt the need to speak to someone a little more official- and Fíli had already given him the opening.

By the time he made his way to Fíli rooms- and found, surprisingly, that the prince was for once alone- the cozy living space Bilbo had chosen for himself was fairly swimming in presents that he hadn’t the first idea what to do with.  

He stood hesitantly in Fíli’s doorway, watching him put aside books and scrolls to make room for Bilbo to sit beside him. “What is it?” he asked, noticing Bilbo hesitate.

“Um. Gifts,” he said.

“Right,” Fíli said. “It’s in full swing, then, is it? I’d say you could take one of these, but I have to give them all back.” He pointed to a table at the far corner of the room. “All that is actually mine. If you see something you like, ask about it.”

“All right,” Bilbo hesitated. “But I meant- do I have to do anything about it? When you asked before…”

“Well, that was before, wasn’t it?” Fíli said cryptically. “No, these are just gifts of… acceptance, as it were. You just… take them.”

“All right,” Bilbo said again, though he had no idea what was different about receiving gifts now than receiving gifts only the other day would have been, but he suspected it had to do with the bead in his hair. Maybe Thorin had made him an honorary dwarf without him realizing it, and now everyone had to give him something to prove that they understood and- how had Fíli put it?- accepted him.  

“Speaking of…” Fíli reached out. “May I?”

Bilbo shrugged and nodded. Fíli gripped Bilbo’s chin gently and turned his head to examine his braid. Bilbo noticed that Fíli very carefully didn’t touch his hair. “It doesn’t suit you.”

“That’s what Thorin said. He implied he’d make another.”

“Of course. Something he made before he met you wouldn’t do at all.”

“Of course,” Bilbo agreed, though he didn’t understand.    

“What are you thinking of doing for yours?”

“You mean… to give him?” Bilbo had been wondering if he was supposed to give Thorin a bead of him own- it seemed only right to trade a gift for a gift. He hadn’t wanted to ask and was glad that Fíli had made it so he didn’t have to. “I’m not sure, honestly. I can’t forge, obviously, but… perhaps carving one of wood?”

Fíli nodded thoughtfully. “It’s done,” he told Bilbo. “Do you know how?”

He shook his head.

Fíli released his chin abruptly. “I would talk to Bofur. He knows the most about carving- and just about anything that doesn’t involve a forge. As for learning the appropriate braiding, I recommend Gloin. He could teach you.”

“You couldn’t?”

“That wouldn’t be proper,” Fíli told him. “Anyway, I hardly bothered to learn.  I’ll never…” He trailed off, looking sad. It occurred to Bilbo that Fíli had almost always looked sad of late.

“Are you… all right?” he asked, after he’d made a mental note to go to Bofur and Gloin as Fíli had suggested he do.

Fíli smiled tightly. “Just tired of being cooped up in here day in and day out.”

“Right,” Bilbo said, and took his leave.  

*   *   *

Bofur wasn’t difficult to find. He admired Bilbo’s new braid, told him like everyone else that the bead didn’t suit him, and agreed to instruct him in carving one to give Thorin. It struck Bilbo that Bofur seemed a little sad too. He wondered how it could be that after everything- the long journey to the Lonely Mountain and their battle to take back Erebor- so many of them were so melancholy of late.

In contrast to the gloom Bilbo saw in the company’s most cheerful members- Kíli, Fíli, Bofur- Thorin’s good mood seemed particularly odd.

When Bilbo asked him what troubled him, Bofur only laughed softly.

“It’s nothing,” he said. “Nothing I won’t recover from, leastways. I just heard about your braid yesterday and it got me wondering if- in another life- it might have been me gave it to you.” He patted Bilbo’s hand. “Don’t worry over it.”

“All right,” Bilbo agreed faintly, and tried to copy Bofur’s work with his knife.

*   *   *

Gloin was a little harder to track down, but when Bilbo found him- newly finished bead in hand- he was in a much better mood than any dwarf he’d seen since Thorin. Bilbo asked him what had made him so joyful.

“A messenger arrived from Ered Luin,” he said. “Our kin are on their way!”

“Your wife and son?”

“Aye, laddie,” Gloin said happily.

Bilbo returned his grin for a moment, and then he thought of something that dimmed it. “And the lady Dís?” he asked. He had heard tales of Thorin’s fearsome sister from her sons, and privately doubted that she would be pleased to find a hobbit burglar taking up so much of Thorin’s time. Indeed, he doubted she would be happy with him at all.

“Aye,” Gloin said again. “And Thorin will be so pleased to see her, especially now. Speaking of which- I heard that you were looking for me.”

“Yes,” Bilbo agreed, remembering. “Fíli said you might be able to help me with braids.”

Gloin bowed his head. “I would be honored.”      

*   *   *

It took Bilbo several days to finish the additional carving on his bead and to learn the proper braiding technique. Once he had, he went to see Thorin again. Thorin was up and about by that time, even though it was only for a few hours a day, and Bilbo found him in the throne room. Again Balin and Dwalin hung silently back in the corner of the room- only this time Fíli, who was also back on his feet at last, was with them as well.

“Bilbo,” Thorin said with a gentle smile. “It has been several days.”

“Oh,” Bilbo said. “Sorry. I just… I wanted to make sure that I’d- um- done it right before I came back.”

Thorin nodded slowly. “Of course.”

Bilbo knew it wouldn’t be right for Thorin to give him access to his head by getting down on the floor, so he sat on the table in front of Thorin’s throne instead, glancing toward Balin and Dwalin to see if they approved. Both looked amused rather than horrified, so he guessed it was all right.

If he had thought it was intense when Thorin was braiding his bead into his hair, it was nothing to the way it felt to be the one doing the braiding. Thorin seemed so still and trusting under his hands. He was hyperaware of the dwarven king. As such, he hardly noticed Fíli excusing himself until he had already left the throne room.

“Is he all right?” Bilbo asked. He’d been worried about Fíli since the last time he visited him in his rooms, when Fíli had advised he go to Bofur and Gloin for help and acted so melancholy.

“He’s happy we’ve worked things out between us,” Thorin said.

“He didn’t seem that happy.”

Thorin’s mouth quirked. “But I assure you, he is. Yet it troubles him, because he is afraid he will never do this. He has always been afraid of that, but it’s worse of late.” Thorin’s eyes went a little bit stormy, but the look faded. “Unfortunately, there’s nothing to be done about it.”

“Why does he think he’ll never do this?” Bilbo asked, eying the beginnings of his braid critically.

“Kíli,” Thorin said, like it explained everything. Of course, Bilbo had learned that ‘Kíli’ was the explanation for most things were Fíli was concerned, but under the circumstances he had no idea how. Of course, there was the fact that Kíli wore no braids- Bilbo thought that maybe they wouldn’t stay in his finer hair- but Bilbo didn’t know what, if anything, that had to do with the whole business. He kept his questions to himself.

So it was Thorin who spoke next: “You carved a bead of wood, then?”

Bilbo nodded. “You don’t mind, do you?”

Thorin shook his head. “Everyone in the mountain knows you do not forge. Those from Ered Luin might be a little shocked, though.”

“Shocked?”

“In ages past, it would have been quite the scandal for a dwarven king to wear a wooden bead. But I am not like other dwarven kings. I think this is exactly as it should be.”

“Thank you,” Bilbo murmured, and fought the urge to run off again. “I should leave you to your… erm… ruling.”

Thorin caught Bilbo’s hand. “In three days, the caravan from Ered Luin will arrive and there will be a feast.”

Bilbo nodded, not knowing what else to do.

“You will join us?”

Bilbo nodded again. “When have I ever missed a party?” he joked.

Thorin grinned, squeezed Bilbo’s hand, and then released him. And as dignified a manner as he felt able, Bilbo exited the throne room. He saw Fíli in the hall with his head in his hands and thought it best to leave him be.

*   *   *

Bilbo really wished he spoke Khuzdul, that was main thing.

He had left his room dressed for the feast, walked down the hallway and emerged into chaos. There were more dwarrows than he’d prepared himself for, all talking excitedly to each other in Khuzdul. The crowds had parted for him, everyone wide-eyed and whispering things he didn’t understand, and staring at the braid and bead in his hair, and Bilbo had been so embarrassed that he’d sat down the moment he found an empty place and stayed there.

The unfortunate consequence of this was that, when Thorin stood from the head table and began a long and impassioned announcement, Bilbo had no one he knew to tell him what Thorin was talking about.

Thorin’s sister- who, to Bilbo’s eye, looked very like Thorin himself- was seated beside him. In his speech, Thorin obviously addressed her, and the rest of dwarrows who had arrived from Ered Luin. And then said some other things that made everyone stare almost exclusively at Bilbo for minutes on end.

At that point, Bilbo would have taken a translation from absolutely anyone- but everyone he knew was seated some distance away, and Bilbo couldn’t bear the thought of catching some strange dwarf by the sleeve and demanding to know what was going on.         

When the speeches were over, Bilbo ate as much as he could- he didn’t feel very hungry- and then tried to sneak away unnoticed.

“Bilbo! Whoever knew you to leave a feast early?”

“Nori,” Bilbo said, flushing at having been caught out by a member of the company. “This just seems like more of a feast for… well, people who aren’t me, and I don’t want to be a disruption.”

“When have you ever been a disruption?” Kíli asked, popping up from nowhere.

“I don’t know,” Bilbo replied, backing away. “But I’m sure you have much catching up to do with your mother.”

“We can catch up with our mother anytime,” Fíli said from behind him. “This is when we’re supposed to be introducing our mother to you.”

“That was what Thorin was telling everyone,” Kíli added. “Didn’t you know?”

“Well, no, because he was speaking in Khuzdul, but…”

Bilbo huffed, realizing that his escape attempt had been more or less slaughtered in its infancy. He was now surrounded. He glared at Nori, who had obviously taken it upon himself to hold him up for precisely this purpose.

Nori grinned unrepentantly.

Thorin and Dís arrived at Bilbo’s side not too long after that.

“So,” Dís said gruffly. “This is the One, eh?”

“Um,” Bilbo said.

Dís was looking at Thorin, though, with an expression that demanded an explanation. Thorin spoke quickly- and rather passionately- in Khuzdul. Whatever he was telling his sister made Fíli and Kíli grin and even blush on occasion, glancing happily at Bilbo. Dís seemed mollified, and eventually even pleased.

“Is he defending me?” Bilbo hissed at Nori.

Nori nodded furiously.

“I could do that myself,” Bilbo said, flushing. In truth, he would hate to try it while being measured in such an obvious fashion.

“Well, that’s Thorin’s job now, isn’t it?”

“Is it?”

Nori laughed and slipped into the crowd, probably to bother Dori.

Dís’ attention returned to Bilbo and whatever Thorin had told her seemed to have done the trick, because she softened fractionally, tossed her head, and said, “Well then. You’ll do.” She swept regally away. Thorin followed her and Kíli trailed along behind.

Bilbo tugged Fíli’s sleeve. “How exactly did she raise you and your brother?”

Fíli laughed. “She’ll warm up to you, and when she does you’ll get just as spoiled as Kíli was, mark my words. She’s just protective of Thorin.”

“And I did hurt him, didn’t I,” Bilbo sighed. “Not that I don’t consider myself very much the injured party.”

“But that’s a part of what love is, isn’t it? Forgiveness?”

“I suppose,” Bilbo said. His gut had turned over, because he did love Thorin and not strictly as a brother in arms. How long had he been putting that from his mind? Even through the discomfort that realization brought, Bilbo noticed that there was an odd tone to Fíli’s voice.  He resolved to get to the bottom of it.  Later. 

For the time being, he fled.

*   *   *

Bilbo hid the library, where he found Ori, bent over his books and hard at work.

“Did you escape too?” Bilbo asked him.

Ori smiled. “Well, this evening gave me much to write down,” he reported. He patted Bilbo on the shoulder. “By the way… may I?”

So much of Bilbo’s life had become a succession of dwarrows politely asking to examine his bead- and then dutifully telling him that it didn’t suit him- that he knew immediately when someone was asking. He nodded and Ori tilted Bilbo’s head to look at the bead. He didn’t get to say his piece, though, because Nori and Dori appeared, plates laden with food in their arms.

“There you are,” Dori tutted. “We’ve brought you something to eat.”

Ori rolled his eyes. “I’m fine.”

“You’re too thin,” Dori corrected.

While Dori fussed at Ori, Nori turned what he obviously thought was a disarming smile on Bilbo. “I’m not speaking to you,” Bilbo sniffed.

Nori laughed. “Fair enough,” he said.

He and Dori departed soon after, and Ori shared his food with Bilbo.

“By the way,” Bilbo said, “I’ve been meaning to ask you. Is there anything more I can do to help you around the library? I need to be useful right now.”

“You don’t need to be anything, Bilbo,” Ori protested.

“Well, I’d like to be then. And I want to avoid the lady Dís, if at all possible.”       

Ori smiled shyly. “She is fearsome, isn’t she?”

“Yes, Ori. Yes she is.”

*   *   *

Bilbo kept himself out of the way with Ori for quite a while. Either Dori or Nori dutifully brought their little brother more than he could eat at regular intervals and so Bilbo rarely had to come up for air. When he realized he had gone several weeks without seeing any of his other friends for more than a moment, Bilbo decided that it was time to be brave.

He went to see Fíli first.

One step into Fíli’s room and he knew that something had changed while he was in the library. He heard giggling, and stepped inside to see Tauriel sitting on the floor by the bed while Fíli and Kíli laughed and bickered over her head.

“Um,” Bilbo said. “I should come back later.”

“No,” Kíli protested. “Come in.”

“We’d be honored if you stayed,” Fíli told him, in a tone that suggested something important was going on.

Bilbo obediently came in and sat in a chair. He saw that the braid and bead Tauriel had had on the right side of her head for some weeks now was being given a twin on the left. Fíli was braiding it, and Kíli was telling him what to do- though from the sound of it Fíli didn’t think that he was being all that helpful. Bilbo noticed that Fíli had two new braids in his hair too. He remembered the significance that Thorin had put on having someone observe the braiding, and decided to do his best.

Tauriel’s face, when Bilbo could properly see it, was impassive- but she radiated fondness out of her eyes, and both Fíli and Kíli had all the exuberance in their manners that they had lately lacked.

“There,” Fíli said, at last.

He let the braid hang and Bilbo saw her new bead properly. When he did, he understood for the first time why everyone felt the need to remark that his bead didn’t suit him. Tauriel’s was so simple, a delicate silver thing all etched with leaves. It suited her perfectly. The old one- Bilbo assumed it was Kíli’s work- was bolder, bright and fierce and shining in the afternoon light, but it suited her too, for Tauriel- Bilbo thought- was many things.

“You look lovely,” Bilbo told Tauriel when she looked to him.

She glanced at Fíli, who held her eyes and nodded seriously. And then- startling the life out of Bilbo- she leaned up and kissed Fíli. It was a quick kiss, but definitely romantic. Bilbo meant to look away, but didn’t manage to do so before she drew back, turned, and kissed Kíli too.

“Oh,” Bilbo said.  

“Let me show you,” Kíli said to Tauriel. He grabbed her hand and hauled her up, tugging her somewhere with a mirror, Bilbo assumed.

Fíli watched them go with the most besotted look Bilbo thought he had ever seen.

“So,” Bilbo said to Fíli. “I guess I missed… some things.”

Fíli grinned, a full smile the like of which Bilbo hadn’t seen since- well, before the Mirkwood, certainly. “Our mother is not pleased.” He shook his head fondly. “She’ll recover. I don’t blame her. It’s not… usual. Our people have One, you know. It happens, sometimes, that the one we love does not love us back. I thought I was one of those.”

Bilbo didn’t doubt that when Fíli talked about the one he loved he meant Kíli, was about to protest that of course Kíli loved him when he actually processed what kind of love Fíli technically meant. He kept another, ‘Oh,’ from escaping his lips by a narrow margin.

“And he loves Tauriel. I guess he loves us both. If any dwarf had space in his heart for two Ones I guess it would be Kíli, but… lately I've been thinking he isn't the only one.”

“You know,” Bilbo started. He hesitated to bring it up, but he thought Fíli might like to know. “Such relationships exist in the Shire.”

Fíli sat up eagerly. “They do? How do they work?”

“Different ways depending on the different people. The important thing is talking, making sure that everyone is getting what they need out of the… arrangement. Some people simply love more than one person, but it doesn’t mean that they can’t want a relationship- so they work out... different ones. I’m not explaining it very well. And there are others who… just work better with three. Or more than three.”

Fíli smiled. “I thought it would be the first kind. If Kíli loved us both, I figured he should have us both. But then… I started to realize I liked her too. And she likes me- can you believe that?”

Bilbo nodded. He found it oddly adorable that Fíli considered Tauriel’s interest Kíli’s due, but had trouble believing she might take an interest in him.

“So know it’s not that I think it’s impossible when I ask- what does this mean? Can you… marry? Do you want to?”    

“I don’t know,” Fíli said. “We are… what’s the word? Engaged, in a way. And Uncle Thorin is king- and there’s no law against something that, as far as we know, never happened before. Right now it’s enough that she’ll go back to the Mirkwood with both our braids in her hair. But… well. Thorin won’t like it any more than Mother in the beginning, but he just wants us both to be happy. And ever since Kíli met Tauriel, none of us thought that was possible. Until now.”

“Thorin is more forgiving now,” Bilbo agreed.

“Of course,” Fíli said. “He has you.”

“He does.” It seemed to come out of Bilbo’s mouth without his meaning to say it, because a number of things were becoming clear to Bilbo in that moment. Because Fíli’s way of saying One with a capital letter reminded Bilbo of Dís. And there was such ceremony to the gift exchange, especially to a people who so valued the works of each other’s hands. “Because of course, Thorin and I are engaged too, aren’t we?”

“Yes,” Fíli said, slowly. He seemed to have detected the vein of hysteria in Bilbo’s voice.

Before he could question Bilbo about it, Kíli and Tauriel returned. Fíli had always had an intense way of watching his brother that Bilbo hadn’t really understood before now. But now Fíli’s gaze raked over Kíli and Tauriel both like they’d been gone for years rather than minutes and he needed to make sure they remained in working order.

“Your turn,” he said to Kíli.

Kíli shook his head, putting his hands up. “You know how I am with braids.”

“No excuses,” Tauriel said, and pushed him into Fíli’s arms. They wrestled him into position, and Bilbo watched from his chair as Fíli and Tauriel started to braid Kíli’s hair, and he slowly went a little bit crazy.

*   *   *

It followed him. Everything Bilbo did for the rest of the day- eating, shelving books, putting the finishing touches on the chronicle that had started all this, was tinged with it. I’m engaged to Thorin.

I got engaged to Thorin and I didn’t even notice.  

*   *   *

It was evening by the time Bilbo finally worked up the courage to go to Thorin, who was still in the throne room. 

“Hello,” Thorin said, looking surprised but pleased to see him. “It’s been some time since I saw you.”

“Yes,” Bilbo agreed. “I’ve been keeping busy. With the library, and such.”

Thorin nodded to those attendants who surrounded him, and they departed so they could speak privately.  Thorin gestured for Bilbo to sit as he asked: “Not… avoiding me?”

“No,” Bilbo said, sitting. It was only half a lie- if he had been avoiding Thorin, he hadn’t realized that was what he was doing.

“Good.” Thorin smiled. “I was afraid my sister might have scared you off.”

“Nonsense,” Bilbo declared. “I’ve faced a dragon. Goodness knows I can find a way to warm your sister to me. That said, she is terrifying.  And I’ve been to see Fíli,” he added, looking at the floor.

Thorin snorted.

“You don’t make this any more difficult for them than it already is, Thorin Oakenshield,” Bilbo scolded sharply.

He looked at Thorin, and saw so much adoration in his face. Bilbo couldn’t believe he’d missed that before. Thorin nodded. “You’re right, of course,” he said. “And I do want my nephews to be happy. Even if it’s with each other. And an elf.”

Bilbo couldn’t help sniggering at Thorin’s tone. “It’s actually not uncommon in the Shire, loving more than one person. And even having a relationship- or relationships- with more than one person.”

“Are you trying to tell me something, Bilbo?”

“No,” he said. “I’m not. It is a bit of a segue, but not that kind- I want you, Thorin. Just you.”

Thorin smiled, slow and sweet.

“I just want to say that we hobbits have our own customs, and I’ve been trying so hard to follow yours that they've... gotten lost.  And my ways aren’t bad ways, especially not if they make things easier for Fíli and Kíli and Tauriel.”

Thorin nodded. “Of course. If I’ve made you feel that I ignore your customs…”

“You haven’t. It’s my own fault. I’ve just been… pretending to understand, a little? And now I have to confess that dwarven… courtship… confuses me. A bit.”

Thorin nodded again and leaned close. “And how do hobbits court?”

“We… talk. We just… we say how we feel. And while I understand how much it means to you, to give me things you’ve made and have me wear them- this bead is growing on me, by the way- and while I’d be lying if I said it didn’t mean a lot to me to give you things that I made thinking of you- well, we’ve missed out, a little bit, on the talking. It’s why I keep running off and hiding from you. Because where I come from unless you come right out and say how you feel, it doesn’t really mean anything. So. Uh. I was wondering what you thought. About that.”

Thorin’s face softened. “Dwarrows keep what we feel to ourselves. We hoard it and let it come out in the works of our hands and the devotion we show without words. It is how things have been forever. But it isn’t always what’s for the best, as I believe my nephews demonstrate. Perhaps we ought to try things the hobbit way.”

Bilbo felt himself beam. “Good. That’s good. I’ll go first, then?”

Thorin nodded.

“I’m so glad we met, so glad I decided to come with you. You’ve changed me in ways I can hardly begin to know, and I’m proud of those changes, and happy to think I’ve changed you as well. It took me until I thought I was losing you to realize that I loved you, and even longer to realize how I loved you, but I do.  And I would like to stay in your life for as long as you’ll have me.”

“I too am glad we met,” Thorin said when Bilbo was finished. “You saved my life and the lives of my company so many times. I have been proud to call you my companion, and my friend, and I shall be prouder still to call you my One, my other half. And you must know, by now, that I would have you forever.”

Bilbo laughed breathlessly. “I guess I do. Know that. By now.” He felt himself flushing. “And. Um. Hobbits would probably- well- kiss. At this point.”

“Then kiss me,” Thorin said.

Bilbo did, leaning all the way out of his chair to do so. At the first taste of Thorin’s lips Bilbo’s legs seemed to give way from under him, and he pitched forward. Thorin caught him and gathered him into his lap. Bilbo smiled against his lips and settled in.

He would keep the part where he hadn’t known they were courting to himself, he decided. No one had to know.