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The company had come across an orchid of trees bearing oranges in the Greenwood forest. Gandalf, a head or two taller than any other member of the group, had spotted them; telling a tale of when Radagast had shared with him many years ago.
Now, the dwarves rest upon fallen logs in a clearing, snacking on the sweet fruit. Bilbo notices the way she peels the citrus, neatly, sections coming apart cleanly in her hands as she sits in the sun, a flower tucked behind her ear. Next to her, Fili is struggling to keep a hold on the orange in his hands. He’s managed to take the peel off, but when he tries to break apart the fruit he tears holes in it, juice squirting in every direction.
”Amrâlimê,” he exclaims, throwing his hands up in defeat as he watches his love pull apart another segment perfectly. “I don’t know how you do it!”
She smiles happily, eyes crinkling at the corners, before placing a piece of the fruit between his fingertips. The smile is returned in kind as the prince thanks her, leaning in to press a kiss to the crown of her head.
They are happy. All is well.
***
Later, once the others have begun to settle in for the night, Bilbo finds her at the edge of the camp, cleaning the dried orc blood from her swords. Seating himself next to her, he watches as her hands move with ease along the blades, nicks and scars on her hands telling him that she hadn’t always been so careful.
”You’ve peeled oranges for Fili before.” He states simply, and she nods her head, eyes not leaving her blades. “You don’t mind doing it for him?”
Soon, she’s smiling again, the kind of smile that stretches wide, accentuating the dimples that have made their home in her cheeks. “I hope he never learns how to peel oranges.”
Suddenly, Bilbo understands. They love each other. All is well.