Chapter Text
The little hobbit child smiled brightly as she eagerly took the doll into her pudgy hands and inspected it with a giggle.
“It’s perfect!” She declared, “Thank you so much Mister Bofur!”
The dwarf smiled and nodded while the child’s parents thanked him profusely before departing.
Giving a satisfactory sigh, Bofur stretched and set himself to straightening up the display shelves that had been ransacked by several children that had bounded into his shop throughout the day with or without their flustered parents.
In the few months he’d come to live here, his popularity had seemed to grow overnight. Bofur smirked when he wondered if the children, that so often visited his shop, came to view his creations or him. Ever since it had been revealed that he was one of the dwarves that had accompanied Bilbo on his sudden adventure, his profits had doubled.
But then again, and Bofur frowned, so did the gossip.
Bilbo had explained, and he knew it too, that it was to be expected. Two males living together, not related and of differing race, were to be scrutinized to no end not matter where they were.
While he knew and accepted that unbreakable fact, it still pained him when he would spy children looking into the shop through its huge display windows, only to be sternly jerked away by an adult that observed him with disgust and disapproval.
Bilbo had tried to soothe him, pointing out that Bofur was still bringing in more and more profit everyday and that, from what he knew, most of the whispers about him were positive given his sunny disposition and eagerness to work out a deal.
“Is there much on your mind today?” asked a voice from the open shop door, and Bofur smiled as he finished straightening a shelf.
“There was,” He responded softly as he turned to face the one who’d asked the question, “But there’s only one hobbit on me mind now.”
Bilbo Baggins smiled softly and hurried over to the dwarf whom had extended his hand; briefly they embraced, careful not to kiss, and broke apart to examine each other thoroughly.
“I though’ ye had a lot to do today,” Bofur said as he made his way to his work area in the back, “What with that book ye’ve been writing an' all.”
Bilbo followed from behind and leaned against a far wall as he watched his partner set himself to painting a small toy wagon.
Bilbo sighed and stretched himself; “Oh, I hit a bump, and since I had to go into the market I thought it would be nice to check in on you.”
Bofur, dipping a brush into a paint can, chuckled. “Ate all those honey cakes again, eh?”
Bilbo snorted; “You had four last night! Don’t judge me!”
A peaceful silence passed between the two and Bilbo resigned himself silently, and proudly, to watch as Bofur began painting the wagon a lovely shade of blue.
He had yet to tell him but, as it had been told to him, many regarded Bofur’s craftsmanship to be superior to that of the old toy makers.
Approaching slowly, Bilbo slipped his arms around Bofur’s shoulders and squeezed him tightly; making the dwarf hum in both pleasure and amusement.
“What’s tha’ for?” Bofur asked as Bilbo gently kissed his cheek, “Ye’ve never been affectionate toward me…in public.”
Before Bilbo could answer, there was a great crash from up front and Bofur leapt to his feet so quickly, Bilbo stumbled backward and thumped against the wall.
“Stay here!” Bofur demanded as he hurried from his work area; however Bilbo ignored his order and followed swiftly after him.
“Oh bloody…great! Just feckin’ great!” Bofur spat, hands on his hips, as he observed the damage.
One of the display windows had been shattered, and the object of its demise lay within inches of Bofur’s boot until the angry dwarf swept it up into his large hand.
“Maybe it was an accident,” Bilbo began as he came to stand beside Bofur, “Children tossing rocks and~”
“Twas no accident,” Bofur interrupted and he handed it to Bilbo, “It was an attack.”
“What do you mean?” Bilbo asked as Bofur set about cleaning up the many shards that lay strewn about store.
But he found his answer when he observed the large, smooth stone; the slur standing out brazenly before him in bright red paint.
“Oh…” Bilbo breathed, and instantly felt a surge of anger course through him. He didn’t know what angered him more.
As he watched Bofur begin to sweep up shards of glass, he was infuriated that someone would commit such an act against the kind dwarf and, as he looked at the stone in his hands again, he wondered just what he was going to do about the person, he knew without a doubt, had thrown the stone in the first place.