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“I’m due for another visit with King Bard in a few days,” Thorin said in between bites. He and Bilbo had taken to sharing dinners in Thorin’s rooms, the evenings being the only bit of free time either of them had to spare for the other. Bilbo, sitting next to Thorin on a couch beside the fire, grinned. “Trying to escape another day full of paperwork, are we?” Thorin’s lips twitched, though he tried very hard (and failed) to look unamused. “Maybe a little bit… but honestly, I have been meaning to see how far Dale’s reconstruction has progressed.”
Bilbo looked thoughtful for a second, then asked, “Do you think they’ve been able to rebuild much with all this snow we’ve been getting? I wonder how Bard and his children are faring this winter.” There was a short pause, then he continued, “Do you think I could join you on your visit? I haven’t seen little Tilda in some time, and she’s always such a joy.” Thorin gazed at him with a smile. “Of course you can come, Bilbo. Just make sure to dress warmly… maybe wear that sweater Ori made for you? The cold doesn’t seem to be letting up.” Bilbo nodded, and they continued eating in comfortable silence.
When the day of their journey arrived, Bilbo bundled himself in layers and wrapped a scarf around his neck, but the wind still found its way through. As he reached Erebor’s gates, he saw Thorin speaking with Balin and a few guards beside a sturdy carriage. The ponies stamped their hooves impatiently as the wind picked up, the world growing whiter as the snowfall steadily intensified.
“Good morning,” Bilbo managed, shivering as he tucked his hands beneath his arms. Thorin noticed immediately. “Get in before you freeze, Bilbo,” he said, opening the carriage door and placing a gentle hand at Bilbo’s back to help him inside. Bilbo felt his cheeks warm at Thorin’s touch, and he quickly slid onto the narrow bench, grateful for shelter.
Balin joined him, and Thorin climbed in last, shutting the door behind them. Balin turned to Bilbo with a concerned look, asking, “Are ye alright, laddie? You’re as cold as stone!” Bilbo tried to wave away the concern, but his shaky hands betrayed him. “I-I’m fine, it’s just a b-bit colder than I expected,” He spoke, teeth chattering uncontrollably. Not a moment later, Thorin took off his heavy fur coat and wrapped it securely around Bilbo’s shoulders.
Flustered, Bilbo tried to protest, “Thorin, you’ll be cold-” but Thorin just shook his head. “I’ll be fine. Dwarves are better equipped for this kind of weather.” Balin gave Thorin a knowing grin and turned his gaze to Bilbo. “Best you keep it, Bilbo. At least until we reach Bard’s.” Bilbo grumbled, but the warmth was undeniable. He tried not to breathe in the familiar scent of smoke and pine that clung to the coat, a scent that was simply Thorin, but it was a losing battle.
During the ride, Thorin’s lingering gaze made Bilbo’s cheeks burn. When Bilbo caught him looking, he raised an eyebrow in silent question. Thorin only smirked, a hint of amusement in his eyes as Bilbo burrowed deeper into the coat, and Bilbo found himself smiling in return. The carriage rumbled on until a knock from one of their guards announced their arrival.
They stepped out into the biting air and onto the steps of Bard’s home. Bilbo paused for a moment, taking in the view of Dale. Where there had once been ruin, now people moved through the streets, and smoke curled from chimneys. Small shops had reopened, and children’s laughter rang through the streets. Though still rough around the edges, the city felt alive again.
The door opened, and Bard greeted them with a grin. “Welcome, King Thorin, Master Balin, and- Master Baggins? I didn’t expect to see you in this weather.” Bilbo rolled his eyes but still smiled up at the man. “We’ve gone over this, Bard. Just Bilbo, please. Unless you’d like me to start calling you ‘Your Majesty’?”
Bard laughed and waved away the notion. “No need for that. Come in, all of you. The fire’s on, and I’m sure the children are around here somewhere. Tilda’s missed you, Bilbo.” Bilbo stepped inside, soaking up the warmth. “I’ve missed her as well. That’s why I came along, though I’ll try not to get in the way.”
He was interrupted by a squeal. “Bilbo! You’re finally back!” Tilda ran to him and nearly toppled Bilbo over, hugging him tightly. “There you are, Tilda! It feels like you’ve grown since I last saw you. I think you’ve almost passed me in height!” Bilbo cried out, causing a giggle to erupt from the child. “Where’s your sister? I brought a new recipe or two to show her.” With that, Tilda eagerly pulled him away, leaving the others chuckling as they made their way to discuss Dale’s progress in Bard’s office.
The day passed, and the meeting carried on, with laughter drifting from the kitchens, where Bilbo helped Sigrid, Bain, and Tilda prepare dinner. As discussions came to an end, Thorin, Balin, and Bard shuffled out into the dining room where Bilbo helped the children set the table with the prepared meal: a honeyed roast with cooked root vegetables, brown bread, and Shire-style apple turnovers, their golden tops sticky with glaze.
“I hope you don’t mind me teaching them some Shire recipes, Bard. They’re quick learners,” Bilbo said as he passed out plates and utensils. Bard’s mouth watered as he took in the scent of the meal. “If this is the result, Bilbo, you’re welcome in my kitchen any time.” Everyone settled in to eat, and dinner was lively, with Bain trying to make Tilda laugh, Balin speaking casually with Bard, and Sigrid asking Bilbo questions about hobbit gardens. Thorin found himself relaxing, enjoying the company and the delicious food his hobbit so expertly cooked.
A sneeze interrupted the meal, and Bilbo turned to Tilda with a worried look. “Are you alright, little one?” Bard watched his youngest child with a small frown, “She’s a bit under the weather from the cold, but she’s on the mend.” Bilbo let out a sigh of relief and told Tilda, “Rest up so you can help me pull pranks on Bain next time I visit.” Bain groaned, and Sigrid smothered a laugh, while Thorin watched Bilbo with a fond smile.
After dinner, as they prepared to leave, Bard clasped Thorin’s arm. “Thank you again, King Thorin. Your help means a great deal to us.” Thorin nodded. “We’ll get through this together, King Bard. You have my word.” Bilbo took his time to say goodbye to the children. “I’ll visit again soon. Cooking with you all was wonderful, and I haven’t forgotten my promise about pranks, Bain.”
Despite Bain’s grumbling and his sister’s laughter at his expense, all three of Bard’s children wrapped him in an embrace. Bard patted his stomach and grinned. “Thank you for the meal, Bilbo. Hobbits really know their way around a kitchen.” Bilbo laughed and made his way to the door. “I’ll be sure to leave a bit of the Shire here every time I visit.”
After a final wave to Bard’s children, Bilbo joined Thorin and Balin outside and hugged himself to retain as much warmth as possible. As they made their way into the carriage and rode home, Bilbo realized he had worn Thorin’s coat through the entire visit. His cheeks went a little pink as he quickly took it off and handed it back.
“Thank you, Thorin. I should have given this back earlier.” Thorin reluctantly took it back, running his hand along Bilbo’s as he did. “I couldn’t let my burglar go cold.” Bilbo flushed even further and redirected his gaze at anything that wasn’t Thorin. Thorin grinned at Bilbo’s reaction, and Balin huffed a small chuckle at the flustered hobbit.
Their trip back to the mountain went by in the blink of an eye, and soon a knock from one of the guards steering the carriage signaled their return. Bilbo, Thorin, and Balin filed out of the carriage and made their way into the mountain. Balin said his farewells and disappeared down one of Erebor’s many hallways, leaving Bilbo and Thorin alone. They walked together down the halls, stopping once they’d reached Bilbo’s rooms. Bilbo turned to face Thorin and gave him a sweet smile, one that was instantly returned.
“Thank you for letting me tag along, and for the coat. I enjoyed today.” Thorin stepped closer, close enough now that Bilbo could feel the heat radiating off the dwarf. “As did I,” Thorin murmured. His gaze shifted from Bilbo’s eyes down to his mouth, and Bilbo found himself involuntarily licking his lips as he stared into those icy blue eyes.
They stood there for a few seconds; their eyes locked on each other, and for a moment Bilbo thought Thorin might lean forward and kiss him. “Sleep well, Bilbo. I’ll see you tomorrow,” Thorin whispered, only loud enough for Bilbo’s ears. With that, Thorin continued down the hall, leaving Bilbo alone in front of his door, cheeks flushed, and lips parted in small breaths.
Bilbo shook his head clear of his thoughts and opened the door to his rooms, stepping inside and feeling the subtle warmth of the small fire still going in the hearth. He closed the door behind him and reflected on his day, thinking about the way Thorin called him his burglar, the adoring looks he received across Bard’s dinner table, and the intensity in the dwarf’s eyes moments ago in the hallway. He smiled to himself, took off the excess layers of clothing he’d wrapped himself in, and made his way to stoke the fire.
Once the fire was big enough, he plucked a blanket off his bed and settled into his armchair. He found himself shivering despite the blanket and fire, and his head throbbed dully. Determined to ignore the growing ache, he pulled the blanket up higher, intent on focusing on a specific dwarf king’s smile. He fell asleep wondering if Thorin only spared those rare smiles for him alone.
The next morning, Thorin dressed and made his way to breakfast. The dining hall was already lively with the Company and dwarves from the Iron Hills and Ered Luin. It had been a few weeks since his sister Dis’ arrival, who was sitting with her sons, Fili and Kili. “Good morning, brother. You look well rested,” Dis teased.
“It’s probably because Uncle spent the entire day yesterday with Bilbo. He wouldn’t even let Fee and me tag along!” Kili cried out while Fili quietly snickered at his brother. Dwalin mumbled under his breath, “What he needs to do is pluck up the courage and court the burglar already.”
A couple of barely suppressed giggles went around the table, and Thorin shook his head, smiling despite himself, but paused when he noticed Bilbo wasn’t there. “Where’s Bilbo? He’s usually first to breakfast,” Thorin asked. “Haven’t seen ‘im,” Bofur replied. Balin added, “Maybe he’s sleeping in. He’ll turn up.” But Thorin couldn’t shake the nagging worry. The day dragged on, countless meetings, endless paperwork, and no hobbit in sight. Thorin finally excused himself to check on Bilbo.
At Bilbo’s door, he knocked. “Bilbo? Are you there? I hadn’t seen you today and thought I’d check in.” There was no response. Thorin turned the knob, and surprisingly, it was unlocked. He stepped inside and closed the door behind him. His eyes followed the faint glow of the fireplace, and beside the small fire, he saw Bilbo, slumped in his armchair and unresponsive. He hurried across the room and knelt beside Bilbo, gently cradling his hobbit’s head in his hands.
“Wake up, Ghivashel. Show me you’re okay,” Thorin whispered, rubbing Bilbo’s jaw with his thumb to slowly wake him. Bilbo stirred, mumbling, “Thorin? What’s wrong?” Thorin let out a small chuckle, moving his thumb to soothe the furrow in Bilbo’s brow. “I should be asking you that question. Are you okay, Bilbo? You feel hot.”
Bilbo blinked his eyes open and gave a tired smile, “I’m okay, just a bit under the weather,” he replied, but all attempts at trying to play off his pain failed when his migraine returned with a vengeance. Bilbo’s wince didn’t go unnoticed. Immediately, Thorin stood and gathered the hobbit in his arms, carrying him to bed.
He settled Bilbo against the pillows and fetched his blanket from the armchair. “You probably caught a chill yesterday. Let me get you some water. Have you eaten?” Thorin asked, and Bilbo shook his head. “I could use a drink,” he answered and watched as Thorin left the room to get water. A couple minutes later, Thorin returned and sat beside Bilbo on the bed, handing him a cup of fresh water, then placing a cool rag on his forehead.
Thorin watched him for a moment before saying, “I’ve fetched a guard to bring you some food, Bilbo. Want me to get Oin to come check on you?” Bilbo gently shook his head to avoid aggravating his migraine further and replied, “No, it’s fine, Thorin… Thank you for the water, you don’t have to stay if you don’t want to.” “I’m not going anywhere,” Thorin spoke with finality, shifting closer to Bilbo to switch out the skin-warmed rag on his head for a new one.
A little while later, dinner was brought in, two trays each containing a bowl of plain beef stew and some dry bread. Thorin received the dishes and sent the guards away, then settled down beside Bilbo again, offering to feed him. “You don’t need to do that,” Bilbo protested, slightly embarrassed. “I’d like to, if you’ll let me,” Thorin offered again. Bilbo hesitated and felt a small explanation was necessary. “It’s just… for hobbits, feeding someone is usually very intimate. For courting or married couples, or parents and children. Surely now you don’t want to do this?”
Thorin’s eyes never left his. “And if I want to?” Bilbo smiled softly and gave a small nod. “Then I’d like that.” They ate quietly, Thorin helped Bilbo finish his bowl of stew, then Thorin’s own when the hobbit’s appetite seemed to return. When he finished eating, Bilbo felt himself growing tired again. Before he could overthink too much on his next choice, he asked, “Stay with me? There’s plenty of room.”
Thorin smiled one of those rare smiles of his in reply and took off his crown, placing it on the bedside table, then moved on to remove his heavy coat and boots. “I’ll take that as a yes, then,” Bilbo said in between giggles. At hearing Bilbo’s laughter, Thorin replied with a grin, “Of course I’ll stay, Ghivashel. I missed seeing you today.” Bilbo flushed at the obvious affection in Thorin’s voice. “I missed you too, my King.” Then it was Thorin’s turn to blush; he chuckled at the formal address, and once he had taken off his heaviest adornments, he settled beside Bilbo on the bed.
“Is this okay?” Thorin asked, pausing before getting too close to Bilbo. He didn’t know how much he was permitted when it came to cuddling his hobbit and didn’t want to make him uncomfortable, but his worries faded away when Bilbo nuzzled into his side, placing one of his smaller hands on Thorin’s tunic. “This is perfect, Thorin,” Bilbo mumbled into Thorin’s side as he snuggled his dwarf. Thorin instantly wrapped his arms around Bilbo, bringing him closer until they were fully wrapped in each other’s embrace.
Bilbo let out a sigh of contentment while Thorin traced his hands up and down Bilbo’s back, his nose buried in unruly curls, breathing in Bilbo’s scent. “Will you sing to me?” Bilbo asked quietly, already half asleep. Thorin pressed a kiss into Bilbo’s curls and resumed rubbing his back. “Of course, my hobbit.”
He began a gentle melody; a song he only ever remembered his mother singing to him and his siblings as a child. Bilbo fell asleep in his arms, and Thorin pressed a few more kisses to Bilbo’s hair, the only sounds in the air coming from the crackling of wood from the fireplace and Bilbo’s little snores. “Goodnight, Amral,” Thorin whispered, letting the quiet and warmth envelop him as he drifted off to sleep.