Chapter Text
“What’s going on between Ori and Dwalin?” Bilbo asked, eying them over the rim of his soup bowl. “They’re suddenly awfully close.”
Fili followed the line of his gaze and smiled that little content smile he got when Kili did something particularly clever, or when he looked out over the reconstruction of Erebor and saw that it was going well. Bilbo frowned. He wasn’t sure what such a smile was doing in this conversation.
“Isn’t it obvious?” Kili said, elbowing Bilbo on his other side. “Ori’s finally gotten up the nerve to ask to court Dwalin.”
“They’re courting?” Bilbo squeaked, immediately blushing when a few other members of the company turned to look their way. “But, they’re both men!”
Fili and Kill both cast him disparaging looks that made him feel every inch the small village Hobbit he was. As he’d spent more time away from the Shire he’d learned to avoid those looks, and he wasn’t sure why he deserved one now. Surely Hobbits weren’t alone in, well, not doing that kind of thing.
“Should it matter?” Fili asked, turning back to look at Ori and Dwalin, who were now cuddling as though that kind of thing was perfectly normal. “Ori’s wanted to court Dwalin since before the quest but he was too young. Well, really he’s still too young for Dwalin, but he’d old enough to know his own mind at least and it seems he’s done letting people stop him.”
“Good for him,” Kili chimed in.
“But…” Bilbo said, letting his protest die in his throat. But it was wrong. But it wasn’t the way things were done. But weren’t their families ashamed of them?
He risked another glance, to see Ori smiling up at Dwalin with a look of such of open adoration that it made his heart ache for the young man. He pushed the feeling down ruthlessly. He was a Hobbit, those were not Hobbit kind of feelings.
He turned his eyes down to his bowl of soup and pretended to be engrossed in what he was eating. The conversation carried on around him, his little stumble forgotten. He tried to forget it himself, to label it as another strange Dwarf thing. Goodness knows he’d been exposed to enough of them. But, still, his soup tasted bland and tasteless and he didn’t know why.
***
Bilbo had been thirteen when he first fell in love. Not so young that it wasn’t unheard of, but still too young to do much with it.
He had spent a long, heady summer loving another boy from afar. Bilbo had dreamed about him every night, spent hours mentally writing songs and stories about him. He’d imagined what it would be like for them to kiss.
Moro was an older boy and he’d taken Bilbo’s love for hero worship. He’d allowed Bilbo to tag along when he was playing and Bilbo had done so eagerly, staring on with stars in his eyes as Moro played games and told jokes. He was funny, Moro. And sweet. He never realised Bilbo felt anything but admiration.
It was, as is the way of these things, Bilbo’s mother who worked it out first. Bilbo’s mother who sat him down and explained that having a few feelings for another boy now wasn’t so bad, they were both still so young, but that marriage was a thing for a boy and a girl, not two boys. And that kisses were things shared only with one you might marry.
He’d cried. He’d insisted that his love was true (as every first love it a true love) and his mother stroked his hair and explained to him that it just wasn’t done. That if he persisted in this he’d find himself without a home.
He could think of nothing worse.
His heart fought it for years. He never told his father, where his mother was wild enough to at least be reasonable about it, his father have been raised a Baggins and there were standards. Bilbo argued with his mother frequently, but she never relented. Moro married a pretty girl, Bilbo felt for other boys. He tried to feel for girls, he did, it just wasn’t possible for him.
And then his mother died and with her the only person he’s ever been able to talk to about what was in his heart, even if she couldn’t accept it. He had quietly confined himself to the life of a bachelor. He might not be able to provide her with grandchildren but he knew, for her, the second best thing would be for him to keep his feelings to himself and at least not be thrown from his home.
And he was happy. Or he told himself he was happy. And isn’t that much the same thing?
And then his home was invaded by Dwarves.
***
The thing was, when you traveled with a company for such a long time, that you grew accustomed to each other. You became, well, not unlike a family to each other. You knew each other’s bad habits and dreams and it was very difficult to go from that high level of intimacy back to polite conversation and separate housing in separate parts of the city.
There were many Dwarves in Erebor now, both those who had been native and were now returning and those remaining from the Iron Hills to help with the restoration. They no longer lived in each other’s pockets but, still, the enjoyed their time together. It hadn’t taken long for one of the smaller dining halls to be informally declared their dining hall and most evenings most of the Dwarves would gather there to eat.
The good side of that was that, while Bilbo was still clearly an outsider here among the Dwarves, he never felt alone. The halls were not built for him. And he knew that when the winter had passed and spring warmed the air, he’d likely head back to his own home. But in the meantime, he had this unlikely family to gather around him, to make the days pass more easily.
The down side was that he had no excuse to avoid them. They knew he had no other friends in this mountain, knew he had no pressing business to keep him from their company and no place to go out to, so every evening he was rooted out of his room by one or the other of them to join in.
This wouldn’t be a problem, hadn’t been a problem, but just lately he’d been struggling with the direction of his gaze.
Ori was sat on Dwalin’s lap, looking for all the world like there was no place he’d rather be. They had their heads bent together and they were talking in low voices. There was awe in Dwalin’s expression, as though he wasn’t sure why he had been chosen but he could never regret it.
“I’ll admit,” Dori said, sliding down to sit next to Bilbo and making him jerk, his eyes finally allowing themselves to be torn away from the couple. “They do make quite the odd couple. I had my doubts, of course, but Ori is a strong willed young thing when he wants to be, and who am I to say no to him after he’s proven himself in such a way? I mean, I can hardly treat him like a baby when he helped us re-take Erebor, even if he does choose to court a man so much older than himself. And so different in temperament. And so violent. Still, no need to stare at them so.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Bilbo blushed, forcing his eyes to Dori. “It’s not...I just…”
“I know Dwalin’s a trifle old for him but…”
“It’s not that,” Bilbo said, then quickly found himself at a loss to explain what it was if not that. After all, they all accepted this as normal here. He could hardly explain that it was just so unusual for him to see a man with another man. That it made something inside him feel tight, like he wanted to run or scream or...he didn’t even know. “I just...It’s a cultural interest. I mean, Dwarven courtship seems so different from Hobbit courtship.” It wasn’t a lie. Wasn’t the truth either, just a compromise.
“Oh,” Dori said, his expressing turning contemplative. “I didn’t think about it like that. I suppose you won’t have seen a proper Dwarven courtship before.”
“No,” Bilbo agreed, sighing with relief as Dori accepted the explanation. “I, well, I seem to be stepping constantly on little traditions you all have that I don’t understand. More so here than out on the road. Like, the way the two of them are always hugging. That certainly wouldn’t be done in the Shire!”
“No hugging?” Dori said, shocked. “But how do you become close without hugging?”
“Oh, well, there would be hugging,” Bilbo clarified with a wave of his hand. “Just not like this. When two Hobbits are courting they’re expected to be proper in public. They might hold hands, or share a brief hug, but nothing like that. Which isn’t to say that they might not sneak away for a time to cuddle and such while the family looked the other way, but it wouldn’t be proper.”
“You Hobbits are odd,” Dori said with a little sigh, his irritation at Bilbo staring apparently forgotten. “A Dwarven courtship is all about getting to know someone. After all, we marry only once. You don’t want to marry only to find out that your husband or wife isn’t your one after all. So we must be sure.”
“So you won’t be regulating the time they spend together?”
“Oh, a little, of course,” Dori said with a grin. “Ori’s rather prone to getting ahead oh himself and Dwalin doesn’t seem to have the best judgment where Ori’s concerned. But, mostly, it’s best to leave them to find each other. If they will.”
“They seem to be doing fine,” Bilbo commented, then turned the discussion quickly to the dinner they’d just eaten. Dori seemed content to let him do so and they passed the evening nicely that way.
***
Today, Ori was sat tucked under Dwalin’s arm as they discussed something with Kili. Bilbo had taken to bringing a book into the hall. The others didn’t question it, and if he sat at the right angle he could hold the book so it looked like he was reading, when he was really just watching them together.
He’d tried to stop after Dori had spoken to him, he really had. The thing was, his heart kept betraying him. His eyes wandered without his permission. He didn’t know how to stop it.
As he watched them he couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to have someone pressed against his side like that. Dwalin looked so happy just to have Ori there, so content. He wondered if it would be the same for him if he were courting another man. If he’d take that simple joy in just looking at his partner. In just knowing they were together.
Or maybe he’d be more like Ori. How wonderful it would be to have a strong arm wrapped around his shoulders. How safe Ori must feel, how secure, to be tucked into that embrace. Someone he cared about holding him so close like that…
A dream. A pleasant dream, but a dream.
He looked down at his book. Absently turned a page and tried to get a hold of the growing coldness inside. No man would hold him like that. He’d never hold another in a lover’s embrace. He was a Hobbit, there were standards. Standards he’d never understood. Standards he’d never chosen for himself, but standards all the same.
With a shock he realised that all he was doing here was yearning. Watching and yearning for things he knew could never be his. That wasn’t right. It wasn’t healthy.
The coldness inside him was the same he’d felt every time he and his mother had fought over him wanting to give a courting gift to a boy. The same coldness he’d felt when he realised Moro would never kiss him sweetly under the rose bushes. He was breaking his own heart by sitting here watching.
He couldn’t take it any more. It was too much.
He closed his book quickly then, after glancing around to see he wasn’t watch, he scampered out of the door and back to his rooms. Better to risk the Dwarves missing him than to sit there and hurt. There was only so much he could be expected to take.
***
“Um, Bilbo, can we talk?”
Bilbo froze for a second and then forced himself to relax. It was Ori. Just Ori. Nothing at all to worry about because it was just regular plain old Ori. Nothing to worry about AT ALL.
“Of course,” he forced himself to say, closing his book. Ori finished coming the rest of the way into Bilbo’s sitting room, closing the door behind himself. Which was good, it meant that nobody else was going to be coming in. It meant that, well…
He’d been trying to be better about the staring, he had. The thing was, the only way to do that was to avoid them. So, well, he’d been avoiding Ori and Dwalin. He hadn’t expected to get away with it for long, so he was willing to graciously accept that he’d lost.
“How have you been?” he asked, hoping to cut any discussion off at the knee. “It feels like a while since I’ve seen you…”
“I know,” Ori said, glumly. “You haven’t been in the library much.”
“No,” Bilbo admitted. It was always a risk; sometimes Dwalin stopped by just to say hello or to share a lunch and then he’d have to run away quickly. It was better to not be there at all. “I’ve been working with the books I have here.”
“But it’s been nearly a week,” Ori pointed out. “And you haven’t been at breakfast.”
“Ah, that,” Bilbo said, glancing back at his desk as though he’d find inspiration there. “Well, I’ve just been so busy with these texts I haven’t really had time…”
“It takes longer to walk down to the kitchen and back,” Ori pointed out most reasonably. “And, well, you’ve been about in the evenings but you keep slipping away, it feels like every time I look around for you, you’re gone.”
He couldn’t skip the evening meal entirely: they’d notice and fetch him. But he’d kept his eyes down, pretended to read, slipped out of the door as soon as nobody was looking. He’d known they’d notice but…
“I just want to know what I’ve done wrong,” Ori said, looking glum now. “Things haven’t been right for a few weeks and I thought, well, I thought maybe we were friends.”
“We are friends,” Bilbo insisted. At least he hoped they still were. “It’s nothing you’ve done, Ori. Trust me.”
“Dwalin said it might be, well, him. Maybe you think we’re not good for each other? Because, well, I can explain to you what I see in him. Or he can talk to you. I mean, I know our relationship is a little unconventional…”
“You don’t need to so that,” Bilbo tried to reassure him. The last thing he needed was Ori bragging about his love. The words would echo around that hollow part inside him for days and he just couldn’t bear that. “I’m glad you’re happy.”
“Only, you’ve stopped talking to me,” Ori carried on. “It’s just...Dori said you were watching us because it’s not how things are done in the Shire? Is that right?”
“Yes,” Bilbo said, as it was what he’d told Dori.
“Do we make you uncomfortable, being so close? We could try to be more private.”
“Oh no, don’t do that for me,” Bilbo cried, everything in him rebelling at the idea. He didn’t want to have to watch, but he wouldn’t deny Ori a moment of the happiness he seemed to have found. At least one of them should be happy.
“But it’s making you too uncomfortable to look at us.”
“It’s not that,” he said, running his hand through his hair. He wished he’d spent more time thinking of a convenient, pretty lie for this moment. He had, after all, known he’d end up having a conversation very like this when the Dwarves realised he was avoiding them. But he’d been too busy worrying about if they’d notice to plan for when they did and, in the end, all he had was the truth. And if it might stop Ori hurting he had to try.
“The truth is,” he said, leaning forward so he wouldn’t have to look at Ori as he said it. “It’s not the closeness that’s so strange to me. It’s...well, it’s that both of you are men. It’s just something that’s not done in the Shire. Or, well, it’s more that it’s forbidden in the Shire.”
“How strange,” Ori said, there was a hint of curiosity in his voice. “But, what if you meet your one and they’re a man?”
“Hobbits done have ones like Dwarves, maybe that’s why we’re not so permissive. Marriage isn’t always about love either, sometimes it’s just about finding someone you can tolerate to raise children with. A good friend. But it should be about love. I would never marry for anything short of love, why would I tell a girl I’d be her husband if I never truly could be?”
“Bilbo,” Ori said, his voice soft now. “Before you disappeared we noticed you watching us. Was that because you find us strange? But then what changed? I just…was it the only reason?”
Bilbo couldn’t find the words to reply. He knew Ori was a clever Dwarf, that he could probably read between the lines. But he’d never spoken of it, not since his mother had died. He knew well enough the feelings within him were wrong.
“It’s just, well, you talk like marrying any girl would be a lie and it’s something Dori said. He said there was almost a longing in your eyes when you looked at us. He thought you might have been hoping to court one of us, with the way you were looking. Until you told him the other thing.”
“I wasn’t hoping to court either of you,” Bilbo admitted. And that was true.
“But there was someone you wanted to court?”
“Everyone finds someone they want to court sometime,” Bilbo said, trying to force a laugh. “I...yes, there have been people I wanted to court.”
“Male people?”
“Yes.” Bilbo admitted, the word barely a whisper. “I am so sorry, Ori. It’s just that every time I’m around you I can’t seem to stop looking and it makes me think how easy it could be. How many years I’ve spent alone and how I shall go back there and be alone again and never know for myself what it’s like to have a partner.”
“You don’t need to go back.”
“I do,” he said, straightening up. He didn’t realise he’d let a few tears spill until he sat back and felt the unexpected coldness of them running down his face. He reached and wiped aggressively at his eyes. “I...I am a Baggins of Bag End and I need to return there. In the spring. So there’s no use even thinking about it.”
“I’m sorry,” Ori said, and he sounded it. Bilbo risked a glance over and the young man looked wretched. Wretched enough that Bilbo forced a shaky smile for his sake. Reached over and clasped his hand.
“It’s not your fault, Ori. I’m happy for you. I truly am. I just...my heart is only small and it wants things it can’t have. That’s not your problem. You should enjoy your courtship, it seems to make you happy.”
“Yes,” Ori said, thought he sounded almost reluctant to admit it. “Look, I’m sure if we spoke to the others...”
“I’d rather we didn’t,” Bilbo interrupted. “I just...I’ll be alright. I’ll come to dinner tonight and I’ll be fine, I will. I just can’t bear for them to look at me with pity in their eyes. I’d rather they not know.”
“I’ll try to keep the confidence,” Ori said, which wasn’t the most reassuring thing but Bilbo supposed it was the best he could give. “I really think they won’t pity you, though. They’re a very open minded lot, on the whole. Very resourceful.”
“Still,” Bilbo stood. “I’d rather not test it. I am sorry, Ori, but can you give me a little time? I’ll see you at dinner, but I do need to clean up.”
“Of course,” Ori stood. He fussed with his hands for a second before leaning in and giving Bilbo a hug. Bilbo returned it as best he could, smiling a genuine smile. He hadn’t wanted to admit that, it had been painful, but at least it seemed like things between the two of them were fixed.
***
As it turned out, Bilbo might as well have not bothered extracting the promise. When he came into the hall for dinner he saw that Ori was lost in thought, a slight frown on his lips. Ori was sat at Dwalin’s side, but the two of them weren’t touching and Bilbo felt several sets of eyes on him immediately.
Dwalin, Dori, Nori. Ori had probably told them all he intended to talk to Bilbo. They obviously presumed he’d said or done something to make Ori feel self-conscious, which he certainly hoped he hadn’t, though he couldn’t deny that he was probably the cause on the change in Ori’s behavior.
He went and sat by Thorin. Thorin was always a safe bet. He’d been too busy with reconstruction to be much of a friend recently but Bilbo understood that. He had many apologies to make and things to put right from the time he’d been affected by the gold sickness. Bilbo wasn’t the only one he’d wronged. Still, Thorin smiled for him when he drew close, shifted along the bench to make him a space.
“How are you, your majesty?” Bilbo said, his tone light and teasing. Thorin rolled his eyes. He’d banned used of his title among the company soon after they had been properly restored to Erebor.
“I am well,” he said, though he didn’t look it. He looked tired. Worn. The impulse to reach up and comfort him, touch his hair, press a kiss to his brow, take some of the burden for a short time, was an old one but it seemed harder than usual to suppress. “And you. I see you’ve stopped avoiding us.”
“I see you have,” Dori drawled from behind them. Bilbo winced; maybe Thorin wasn’t such a deterrent to an older brother who thought his younger brother had been hurt. “What, exactly, have you said to our Ori?”
“Nothing you would disapprove of,” Bilbo said, stiffly.
“Well, all I know is that he went to clear the air with you and now he doesn’t seem to want to touch Dwalin.”
Bilbo thought about saying something about how Dori had apparently blocked Ori from starting this courtship for some time, how odd it was for him to become it’s staunchest defender, but he bit it back. He would not be petty here.
“I told him nothing that would make him want to end his courtship, if that’s what you’re implying. We talked about Hobbit traditions, that’s all.”
“Hobbit traditions,” Dori said, skepticism dripping in his tone. “Which hobbit traditions exactly?”
“Dori, stop it!”
It was Ori, intervening from all the way across the table, that drew Bilbo’s attention to just how quiet the room had become. All eyes were trained on him. Oh goodness. He sighed. They’d all noticed, which meant that, one after the other, they’d come after him for an answer. He doubted they’d all be as confrontational as Dori but, well, how could he expect them to trust him in this when he couldn’t give a proper answer?
He glanced over at Thorin who was looking at him curiously. Most of the others were curious. Not angry, yet. They wanted to know. He had been acting oddly, he supposed.
“It’s not too intrusive a question,” Dori said, puffing up his chest. “What Hobbit traditions were you talking about?”
“I’m just thinking on something Bilbo said in confidence,” Ori insisted.
“It’s alright,” Bilbo said, standing slowly. “It’s alright. Look, I know you all think Hobbits most strange but, well, sometimes I think you lot a little odd too. You often do things that would be frowned upon in the Shire, though I’ve grown to have no quarrel with them. I must tell you that one of the things the Shire frowns upon is a courtship between two men.”
The Dwarves looked at each other in confusion. There was a low murmur of conversation, as though some of them didn’t quite understand the concept that someone might object. Before he could think where to enter into the next part of his story, Thorin, who looked a little more understanding, intervened.
“And you? Do you believe it’s a thing that should be be done?”
“As a matter of fact, I don’t agree with that part of Shire custom,” Bilbo said, smiling his thanks to Thorin for the entrance. “Have never agreed with it, honestly. In fact, it is the reason I’ve never married. It wouldn’t be fair to court a woman when I’ve only ever had eyes for men. That’s what I told Ori. I certainly wouldn’t wish him any ill will for finding the happiness I never managed to get for myself.”
For a half second there was silence and then it was like the room as a whole let out of breath. The Dwarves were smiling, relaxing, hands falling away from where they’d instinctively come to lie on weapons.
“That makes sense,” Dwalin said. Bilbo looked over to find him visibly relaxed. “Though why didn’t you just say?”
“Well,” Bilbo said, flushing a little. “I suppose I didn’t want you to think badly of me. A middle aged Hobbit who had never married is bad enough, one who has never even courted...?”
“What a thing to think,” Fili said with a laugh. “Like we’d think any less of you for that!”
Ori had relaxed now, leaning into Dwalin’s side and apparently the conversation was over as the others began to start their own discussions. Dori stopped briefly to apologize, all his bluster gone. Bilbo forgave him readily, reassured him that there was really nothing to forgive. After all, he might have done the same thing if he thought one of the others had caused offense.
Then he let himself be drawn back into conversation with Thorin, though he still couldn’t quite let himself relax. Every so often he would catch a mention of his name from around the table and he couldn’t help but think maybe this wasn’t all over yet.
***
“Thorin, I need you to talk to the other Dwarves.”
Bilbo was at his wit’s end. He should have known better than to say anything. He should have just let them think what they wanted to think. He should have known better than to think a group of Dwarves, especially this group of Dwarves, could behave reasonably.
Thorin slowly unfolded himself from the desk, and it occurred to Bilbo then that it was possible Thorin had something more important to be doing. Just maybe. But Thorin had already turned and was looking at him with grave intent, and when Thorin had that expression on his face there was no turning it away.
“What is it you need me to talk to them about?”
“Well,” Bilbo said, suddenly feeling quite foolish. He was sure Thorin had probably been doing something very important. “The thing is, they’re all being rather odd.”
“How so?” Thorin asked, staring at him intensely. Bilbo had never stood up well under that stare but he made an attempt to rally.
“Yesterday, Nori brought me breakfast. And then Bofur offered to clean my rooms. They’re all just being very...nice?”
He wanted to quake under Thorin’s gaze as it had apparently turned to steel. Though, after staring at Bilbo for a second, a hint of understanding flickered there.
“You don’t understand what they’re trying to do by these gestures?” Thorin asked.
“Well, at first I thought it was pity because of, well, what I told you all the other evening. And there’s really no need for that. But now it doesn’t feel like pity. It feels like...I don’t know…”
“They’re attempting to court you,” Thorin said, and as soon as he said it, well, it all made sense. Or a kind of sense. Dwarven sense.
“Oh goodness,” he said, hand coming up to his mouth. “I hope I haven’t accepted any of them.”
“Have you kissed any of them?” Thorin asked. Even thinking about it made Bilbo blush and he shook his head quickly, like his denial could dispel the accusation. “Then you haven’t accepted any of them. Yet.”
“And I don’t intend to,” Bilbo said indignantly. It was possible it came out as more of a squeak. “How could you think such things?”
“There are no traditions or laws here preventing you and another male courting, why not enjoy it?”
“Because it would be unfair,” Bilbo said, tucking his hands under his arms. “After all, I intend to return to the Shire in the spring. It wouldn’t be right for me to court a Dwarf and then run away and leave them here. What if, well, what if there were feelings? I’d much rather we all parted as friends.”
Bilbo had probably imagined the flash of hurt in Thorin’s eyes when he spoke about returning home. Almost definitely.
“There is a sense to that,” Thorin agreed. “But I can’t say I can fault what the company are doing. You’re not an unattractive creature, they don’t like to think that nobody has ever tried to show you that.”
“You are a master of words,” Bilbo said with a roll of his eyes. “And I don’t need the pity of Dwarves.”
“It’s not pity,” Thorin said, quickly. “We do not pity, as a rule. They see a friend who has never had something wonderful, something they can give him, and they want to provide it. Tell me we did not see hurt in your eyes when you spoke of not having been courted.”
Bilbo could not, of course, tell Thorin that. He stood there quietly, letting the accusation hang in the air between them. Thorin let the silence linger for a few seconds then stood. Bilbo almost jumped when large, careful hands came to clasp his shoulders.
“Let one of us court you as you deserve to be courted, Mister Baggins. Then when you return to your hole you might at least take some good memories of being treasured.”
“One of us...you mean you…”
He looked up in time to see the faint blush across Thorin’s cheeks. A very endearing blush he was sure the King would deny later.
“I would not be an unwise choice,” he said, slowly. “I am old, I know, but it means you stand no chance of inflaming young passions and of my falling for you too quickly and believing myself in love as some of the younger members of the company might. I have my responsibilities here, I understand that you have yours in the Shire so, while I might not like it, I will accept when you leave. And I would court you most intently.”
As Thorin said this his hand drifted up to touch Bilbo’s cheek and Bilbo felt his heart clench like he was stood on the edge of a precipice.
“Of course,” Thorin said, his voice unusually deep. “You must talk to the others first.”
He made no move to take his hand back. Bilbo made no move to, well, move. His choice was already made for him, he knew. In a way he was a fool as he could see how this would end badly but; at the same time he could have this. Even if only for a time. And maybe Thorin was right. Maybe when he was back at Bag End with his books and his cobwebs, he’d remember how it felt to be held in Thorin’s embrace and be happy.
“I don’t need to talk to the others,” Bilbo said. “How do I accept, again?”
“You would have to kiss me,” Thorin said, his eyes locked with Bilbo’s. Bilbo had to stand on the tips of his toes to do it but he did. His first kiss, a gently brush of lips, strange with the tickling of Thorin’s beard against his skin.
When he drew back Thorin was grinning at him and he had only a second to be amazed at his own bravado before Thorin leant in and kissed him again, long and hot and wet, and he knew then that he was in a lot of trouble.
***
Bilbo thought that, really, he was doing well in that he made it all the way back to his own chambers before the panic set in. After all, he was now courting Thorin Oakenshield, King under the Mountain. He’d eaten his evening meal at Thorin’s side, Thorin’s arm around him, Thorin’s attention on him. It had left him breathy and wanting more.
He hadn’t thought about Thorin that way before. Of course not, he hadn’t thought about anybody in that way in a long time. He just hadn’t. But he might have pointedly not thought about Thorin that way a few times. Possibly. There was undeniably something about Thorin…
But, honestly, more than the part where his partner was a King, what had him lying in bed unable to sleep was the fact he’d committed himself to a courtship.
A tiny part of him was obsessing around the idea that maybe he was wrong. Maybe the rules he’d grown up with were there for a reason and there was a point to his being denied this all his life, when it seemed so normal to the Dwarves. After all, his mother had loved him. They’d argued but she’d loved him. She’d be so disappointed to see him now.
But it was only for a little while. Surely a small courtship couldn’t hurt. It had felt so wonderful, to be the center of someone’s attention like that.
But as soon as he quieted that fear he would remember the kind of courtship he’d committed himself to. A Dwarven courtship. A courtship from an entirely different culture. Anything could be involved. He had no idea what he’d signed up for.
Which led, of course, back to the idea that he should never have agreed to this at all. A horrible spiral or anxiety and regret. It was a very long night.
***
“Ah, here you are,” Fili said, flopping down beside Bilbo. Bilbo shifted along the bench to make room but Kili quickly flopped down on Bilbo’s other side, caging him in. He sighed, leaning back against the wall and allowing the two boys to bracket him.
He’d thought he’d be safe in the library but he should have known that, in the long run, nowhere was safe. There are always Dwarves to find you and he’d seen a few of them throwing him inquisitive looks last night, as he sat tucked close to Thorin’s side. He couldn’t say he was surprised that Fili and Kili had been the first to find him: they always seemed to want to know what was going on with their companions.
“You can be a hard Hobbit to find,” Kili said, swinging an arm around Bilbo’s shoulder. “And since you’re courting our Uncle we’re almost related now, so that’d be bad form.”
“It’s only a little courting,” Bilbo protested.
“Only a little courting,” Kili scoffed.
“It’s almost like he doesn’t know,” Fili finished of with an overly theatrical roll of his eyes.
“As if I don’t know what?”
“About Dwarven courtship traditions,” Kili started.
“Very strict.”
“Must be observed.”
“Oh, I see what you’re doing,” Bilbo said, pulling away. “You’re making fun of me. Because I don’t know your ways. That’s it.”
“Would we do that?” Kili asked, doing his best to look innocent. Unfortunately, though he had the face for it, he lacked something in the execution.
“We just want to help you,” Fili said, his concerned face a little more sincere. “After all, with all the intricacies and such…”
“We wouldn’t want you to accidentally offend Uncle.”
“I’m sure Thorin would forgive any offense I unintentionally caused.”
“Maybe,” Fili conceded. “But isn’t it better not to take the risk? I bet you haven’t even thought about the gifts?”
“What gifts?”
“He doesn’t even know about the gifts, Fili.”
“Don’t worry,” Fili said, throwing his arm around the back of both of them and crushing Bilbo. “This is why you need our help. You’ve got to give the correct gifts in the correct order, of course.”
“And since Uncle technically already owns most of the things in this mountain that’ll be challenging.”
“You’re trying to trick me,” Bilbo said, ignoring the twist of doubt in his gut that was pointing out that he’d feared just this. He’d lay awake wondering, hoping the process would be easy. If it was intricate. If there was an order to things and he could get it wrong…
“Well,” Kili said with a cheeky grin. “Now we have your attention we’ll tell you all about it.”
***
“I thought we would last more that one day into this courtship before I was forced to come and unearth you from your chambers,” Thorin said, stepping past Bilbo into his room. Bilbo spluttered for a second, awed at the rudeness of it all, then let the door slip closed behind him. After all, he did need to talk to Thorin, so throwing him out for rudeness would achieve nothing.
“Yes, about that,” he said, storming over to where Thorin was making himself comfortable by the fire without so much as a by your leave. “Well, I’ve been thinking and…”
“And my sister sons have said something stupid that has made you change your mind,” Thorin said, leaning forward and putting his elbows onto his knees, his expression stern. “They haven’t said anything to me, of course, but I have known them long enough to know the guilty faces they cast at your empty seat. I have also known them long enough to know that they almost certainly did not intend to drive you away.”
“It wasn’t them,” Bilbo lied. “It was, well, we’re just too different. A Dwarf and a Hobbit. It’s just ridiculous.”
“I don’t think it’s ridiculous,” Thorin said, reaching for Bilbo’s hand. Bilbo dodged back, keeping himself to himself. He’d already discovered that he tended to become compromised in Thorin’s arms so he intended to avoid them. “What, exactly, did they tell you?”
“Nothing,” Bilbo insisted. “Or, well, nothing that affected this decision.”
“Then I think you owe me an explanation as to why you are rejecting me without giving me a fair chance.”
“It’s not like there’s really a chance,” Bilbo said, gesturing as though to encompass the situation. “This is only temporary, and what’s the point in becoming involved in some kind of complicated Dwarven courtship when I’m not even going to stay here? When it all leads to nothing? Better for us to be friends and not bother.”
“You believe Dwarven courtships are complicated?” Thorin asked, latching on to exactly the part of the conversation Bilbo hadn’t expected him to. “Is that what my sister sons told you?”
“They may possibly have mentioned something like that. In passing.”
“They may possibly have lied to you,” Thorin said with a sigh. “They likely intended it as a joke. Come here and let me tell you about Dwarven courtships.”
“And how will I know you’re telling me the truth?” Bilbo asked, though he drifted closer. He had to admit that, well, maybe trusting Fili and Kili was not his best move. They had seemed quite, well, merry.
“I plan to court you,” Thorin said with a shrug and an extended hand. “It would serve me nothing to lie to you about what to expect.”
Bilbo hesitated for a second longer, then reached over and took Thorin’s hand. He allowed the other man to guide him forward and maneuver him until he was sat upon Thorin’s lap. There was something strangely comforting about being so close and he allowed his arm to fall about Thorin’s neck, keeping them together. He’d seen Ori and Dwalin sit like this on occasion and felt a slight thrill to finally be experiencing it for himself.
“Now, let me see,” Thorin said, tightening his arms around Bilbo. “As you know, Dwarves love only once, marry only once, so the point of a courtship is to be absolutely certain that the two are compatible, that it is love. For that reason nobody may court before they come of age, obviously, and courtships are normally long. A year is normal though up to ten years and longer aren’t unheard of.”
“That seems a terribly long time,” Bilbo admitted. “Hobbit courtships last months, in the most part. Though I suppose we all grow up together, there’s nobody new, so it’s not like you don’t already know the person you’re courting.”
“As we court, I’ll expect to spend a lot of time with you. Mainly in the communal areas though we are adults so nobody will frown at my being here now. I could be trusted alone in a room with you yesterday, that has not changed. We would be expected to talk, to grow comfortable with each other and know each other.
“There are more formalised elements. I would be expected to sing for you, as the courting grows more intense. There is traditionally an element of ritual fighting though many modern courtships skip that and I believe it would be appropriate to do so in our case. And, of course, I must prove myself a good husband for you so I would be expected to perform simple services for you. I may clean your room of prepare food, though you might rather I didn’t.”
“I’m sure it’d be lovely,” Bilbo said, flushing. It sounded lovely. Much less structured than what the brothers had told him to expect. He could certainly invest in the idea of really coming to know Thorin. “Fili and Kili said there was a lot more ritual. Exchange of gifts and such.”
“Only one,” Thorin said, his face taking on a serious tone. “If I wished to end the courtship successfully, to ask for marriage, I would present you with a gift. To accept it would be to accept the proposal. Of course, we do not intended to take things so far, and if we did, to reject a gift might only mean you felt you needed more time to court. My sister, Dis, rejected two gifts before accepting marriage.”
“To refuse a proposal in the Shire would be a thing of great insult,” Bilbo said, relaxing into Thorin’s embrace despite himself.
“Not so here,” Thorin said. “Here, we worry the most on being sure. Nobody would want to marry and then regret their decision. There could be no worse thing.”
“This all sounds very pleasant,” Bilbo said, letting himself smile. Maybe it really could be this simple. Maybe it really could just be spending time with Thorin and enjoying it. Maybe the two of them were both owed some luck. “What about if I want to stop the courtship?”
“Then you talk to me,” Thorin said with a shrug. “I’m not unreasonable.” There was a pause for all the words they couldn’t say about the times Thorin had been entirely unreasonable. Then it passed. “If you truly came to me and told me this courtship brought you no joy I would let you go. But I don’t believe that to be true.”
“No,” Bilbo admitted, blushing a little. “I mean, well, when I’m not tying myself up in knots about it, well, it does seem rather nice.”
“I shall take that as a high compliment,” Thorin said with a grin. “Now come, as you avoided us as dinner I presume you haven’t eaten. Bombur will have kept some food back for you.”
“That’s the best suggestion I’ve heard all night,” Bilbo said with a laugh. He felt as though a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Maybe he would enjoy this after all. “Though I can think of one thing that might be better.”
“And what would that be?” Thorin said, his smile betraying that he already had some idea what Bilbo might suggest. Bilbo smiled, gathered all his courage, and leaned in for a kiss.