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Chapter Text

The Plot

"Master Baggins, you're a Hobbit."

"Uh, yes, I am, if I remember correctly."

Dwalin narrowed his eyes, and Bilbo gulped. If he could, he would move out the tattooed warrior's way. He would rather be sitting with, say, Bofur and Bombur, or sitting alone in contented silence by the light of the camp-fire. The one problem was that the two brothers were in conversation with the brothers Ri. The other problem? Dwalin had sat down next to him – intentionally, by the looks of it – and suddenly engaged him in conversation with that very curious (and rather obvious) statement. It would be rude to get up and leave, even if he was inwardly cowering in fright.

After a small pause, Dwalin continued, albeit in a quiet voice. "As a Hobbit, you would know a great deal about the matters of the heart. Aye?"

"I'm sorry, matters of the what? The heart?"

"Not so loud," growled Dwalin, casting a worried glance behind him. Nori's laughter and Dori's disapproving sigh at hearing Bofur's inappropriate joke nearly drowned out the tall Dwarf's next words. "I don't want the others to hear."

"I'm sorry," said Bilbo, lowering his voice, "but what do you mean, matters of the heart?"

"You know, emotional matters," Dwalin replied, his cheeks suddenly darkening. "Romantic matters. Love. That sort of thing."

He looked down at his lap, unsuccessfully trying to hide his blush.

The tips of Bilbo's ears glowed red. It was quite unsettling to see the tall, tough-as-nails Dwarf blushing; it was even more so to see him so uncomfortable whilst talking about the subject of love (of all things!).

Clearing his throat, the Hobbit spoke. "Um, well, I suppose I consider myself fairly knowledgeable regarding … that … love, I mean ... but I don't see why being a Hobbit has got anything to do with –"

"So then you're the right person to speak to," cut in Dwalin, looking up at Bilbo.

His eyes were suddenly shining with what seemed like … excitement?

"You mean about love?" asked Bilbo, getting a funny feeling in the pit of his stomach as Dwalin moved closer.

"Aye," replied the warrior, "and about … courting."

"Courting?!"

Now Bilbo was totally surprised. Honest to goodness, he didn't expect to be talking about courting with Dwalin, of all Dwarves. Please tell me Dwalin wasn't smoking on Gandalf's pipe-weed, for all that is good and sacred.

"Aye, courting," Dwalin replied. He noticed the shocked look on Bilbo's face and chuckled under his breath. "You needn't fret, Master Baggins. I know what I'm talkin' about – I haven't touched Gandalf's pipe-weed."

"I wasn't thinking that at all."

"Anyway, about courting," went on Dwalin. Here, his gruff voice became even lower, and the Hobbit strained his ears to hear his next (very unexpected) words:

"There is someone here whom I desire to court, Master Baggins. I have been wantin' to approach this person for some weeks now, though I haven't had the courage to do so."

A pause.

"It's not me, is it?"

Dwalin nearly had a choking fit as he tried to contain his laughter. "No offence, Master Baggins, but you! ..."

He couldn't even finish the excuse; he doubled over in his seat, red in the face as he tried to breathe.

"Er, none taken?" was all poor Bilbo could say. Well, that certainly does wonders for my self-esteem.

Not too far away from them, Thorin turned to look in their direction. He raised an eyebrow at the sight of his lieutenant losing his self-control, then he narrowed his ice-blue eyes at Bilbo, who was thumping the Dwarf on the back. Flustered, the Hobbit could only smile awkwardly at the black-haired Dwarf, who just shook his head and turned away.

When Dwalin recovered, wiping away a mirthful tear, he continued softly, "The Dwarf whom I desire to court is young Ori, Master Baggins."

Ori! Bilbo glanced discreetly behind Dwalin. Sitting at his brothers' feet, paying no mind to Bofur's inappropriate jokes, was little Ori. The young scribe had his journal open, no doubt writing away in his elegant script or sketching some delightful portraits to pass the time. A contented smile graced his features.

Bilbo looked back at Dwalin, who looked at him expectantly, as if to say, "What do you think?"

Dear me, they weren't lying when they said opposites attract. Dwalin and Ori, Dwalin and Ori, Dwalin and Ori – an odd combination! To think, little Ori is the object of such a tough, battle-ready Dwarf's affections. And to be courting at a time like this – then again, when will they ever have the chance? But Ori! Dwalin wants Ori!

"Uh, he's a good choice," he finally managed. "But what does this have to do with me?"

Again, Dwalin blushed (I'll never get used to that, thought Bilbo fervently).

"As a Hobbit," (Bilbo tried to interrupt at this point and failed) "you know how the heart works. As I said before, I haven't had the courage to approach Ori, because I just don't know how to go about it. You would be doin' me a great service, Master Baggins, if you were to help me court Ori."

Bilbo gaped at him. "Me? Help you? Court Ori?"

"Aye."

"I … I don't know what to say ..."

"Say that you'll help me … please?" said Dwalin, pouting (oh my happy hat, now he's pouting? Will wonders never cease?) at the stunned Hobbit.

Finally, Bilbo conceded with a sigh. "Alright. I'll help you, but don't expect miracles."

"That's alright – one miracle is enough for me," replied Dwalin with a grateful smile – he would have hugged the Hobbit there and then, but he resisted the urge (he had a reputation to uphold, lest he forget). "So, Master Baggins, what do you propose I do?"

Bilbo raised his eyebrows at Dwalin's exuberance, but did not dare to comment. Instead, putting his thoughts together in his head, he whispered, "Well, to court someone like Ori, you need to know what his interests are."

"Okay," said Dwalin, nodding.

Then he frowned. "Why's that, then?"

Bilbo stared at the tall Dwarf. "Because, Dwalin, what his interests are can tell you a lot about himself."

"Ah." Another blush.

"And as we both know," (Hopefully) "Ori's interests lies in writing and art. He has a passion for books and has the gift of creativity. That tells us that he's sensitive, smart and, uh, creative. Possibly romantic, too.

"So, what you need to do is to appeal to those senses," the Hobbit continued under his breath. "And to do that, you've got to show him your sensitive, romantic side, the side he hasn't seen before. Show him that you're capable of being someone other than a rough, tough warrior. At the same time, you'll also be showing him how much you admire his talents. Do you understand?"

Dwalin nodded impatiently. "Aye. This is all very helpful. But now, how do I go about doin' all of this?

"Uh …"

Bilbo glanced behind Dwalin again as he racked his brains. He watched as Ori's pen moved swiftly across the pages in his journal. He remembered the one time when the scribe wrote a rather lovely poem about meeting him, and the Dwarf blushed with pleasure when the Hobbit praised his work …

That's it!

"Dwalin," murmured Bilbo, his eyes shining brightly. "How neat is your handwriting?"

The Results

"Dori, have you seen my journal? I can't find it anywhere."

"No, I haven't, Ori. Where did you last put it?"

"In my pack. I put it in there last night before I slept. Now it's gone."

Dori sighed, patting his youngest brother's shoulder in a comforting manner. "Don't worry, laddie. We'll find it. It can't have just disappeared."

"Ori."

Ori and Dori swivelled around to find Dwalin standing there. In his hands, to Ori's utter delight and Dori's amazement, was a leather-bound journal. Ori's journal, to be precise.

The warrior held it out with a smile. "I believe this is yours."

"My journal!" Ori breathed, taking it. His eyes shone brightly as he asked, "Where did you find it?"

"Found it whilst we were ridin' on the road. Must've fallen out of your pack."

"Thank you, Mister Dwalin," said Ori, bowing slightly. Dori did the same, though he looked bemused.

Dwalin watched the beaming young scribe retreat to the corner of the camp-site, and with a thudding heart he sat down next to Balin, watching.

Waiting.

When Ori opened his journal, a page suddenly dropped out onto the grass. He immediately noticed that the handwriting on the page did not belong to him. Surprised, and struck curious, the Dwarf reached down, picked it up and read the contents.

What he read made him turn a dark shade of pink:

Dearest Ori

Each thought of you fills me with sweet emotion.
I give to you my deep, complete devotion.
To love me, my fondest wish you'll fulfil,
Because I love you, and I always will.

Ori looked up, his heart beating furiously, and his brown eyes met that of Dwalin's. The scribe blushed harder, but he couldn't help but smile widely at the tattooed Dwarf, who smiled right back.

Getting up, Ori made his way to Dwalin, who also stood up, to Balin's bemusement.

"Mister Dwalin?"

"Aye, Ori?"

"Could you lean down a bit?"

"Why?"

"So that I may kiss you." Another blush. "If you'll let me."

"Another wish come true, then."

Bilbo felt proud of himself that he managed to pilfer Ori's journal out of his pack when he was asleep. He felt even more proud as he helped Dwalin to compose the love poem. But he felt the proudest of himself as he watched Ori kiss Dwalin's cheek as a sign of accepting the tall Dwarf's desire to court him. Once the young Dwarf pulled away, the couple found themselves surrounded by the other Dwarves, congratulating them on their courtship. Dori, however, looked ready to have an apoplectic fit.

Smiling to himself and praising himself on his matchmaking success, the Hobbit turned away, when he noticed a pair of ice-blue eyes staring at him.

Before the Hobbit could even react, Thorin turned away.

Chapter Text

The Plot

"Master Baggins, may I have a word with you? In private."

"Uh, of course, Mister Dori."

"Good. Follow me, please, and be quick about it."

Dori turned around and walked away.

Bilbo gulped, and gulped again.

Oh no, he found out I helped Dwalin to court Ori . Now he's going to kill me. Just when Gandalf decided to go and leave us!

The Company had just finished setting up camp. Gandalf was goodness knows where (bloody Wizard), and it looked like he was going to be away for quite some time (utterly, bloody MAD, in my opinion!). Bilbo was expected to handle the preparation of the food (bloody Thorin). Luckily for him, Bombur and Bofur took over the actual cooking and told the Hobbit to take a break (bloody decent, those two).

Still, it didn't stop him from feeling anxious, and rather angry, that Gandalf walked out on them – on him!

The absolute, BUH-LUH-DEE cheek of it all!

To calm himself, Bilbo sat down by the fire with a pipe in his hand. Thorin and Balin were speaking together in hushed yet angry voices (probably griping about Gandalf). Óin and Glóin were talking to Nori, who would divide his attention between chatting to them, exchanging outrageous jokes with Bofur and glaring daggers at Dwalin.

The warrior Dwarf sat closely next to Ori, wrapping a muscular arm around his One's shoulders. The scribe was reciting a poem he had written, and it pleased him when Dwalin praised his work before planting a kiss on his cheek (dear me, if looks could kill, Nori would be guilty of murder!). Behind them, Fíli and Kíli were making faces at Ori and giggling, ignoring the rude gesture Dwalin threw at them ("Don't you idiots have ponies to look after?" he barked).

Next to Óin, Bifur was busy carving a new toy, although he would continuously nudge the slightly deaf healer's shoulder and sign to him in Iglishmêk for his opinion. Glóin would nudge his brother's other shoulder to get his attention, speaking to him in a booming voice. Poor Óin was so muddled up between Bifur's signing and Glóin's loud voice and who was tapping which shoulder that he swore heatedly and stomped off to have a smoke.

Dori was nowhere in sight – until Bilbo felt a tap on his shoulder.

The Hobbit turned around, and there was the eldest Ri, looking grim as he made his request.

And Bilbo was absolutely scared witless.

Ever so reluctantly, he got up from his seat to follow Dori. Puffing on his pipe somewhat calmed his nerves.

Perhaps he doesn't know that I helped Dwalin to court Ori. Maybe he has another matter on his mind that he wishes to discuss with me.

When Bilbo arrived next to him, Dori turned to him and, in a very low voice, addressed him:

"Master Baggins, I know for a fact that you helped Dwalin to court Ori."

Bilbo's stomach dropped violently.

"H-How did you know …?" he stammered.

The eldest Ri narrowed his eyes. "Come off it, Master Baggins. I saw Dwalin cuddlin' up to you the other day. That was strange, I thought, but I paid no mind. Suddenly, I find my brother all over him because of a love poem that he supposedly wrote. Dwalin! Writing poetry! I had a look at the poem m'self – either Dwalin is secretly a talented poet, or he had help from someone else."

"You … you figured out it was me? Just like that?"

"Of course, laddie. Naturally, I put two and two together. That, and I promised Dwalin I wouldn't break his arm if he told me who helped him to write that poem."

"Oh," gulped Bilbo. Despite the Dwarf's tendency to come off as a fussy, smothering 'dandy', Dori was unbelievably (and deadly) strong.

"I also promised him that I would not tell Ori that he got help from you," said Dori, even more quietly, "because, as you are a Hobbit who is, by nature, learned with regards to the matters of love, I, too, am in need your assistance."

Here, Bilbo looked surprised. "You are? Mind you, being a Hobbit has got nothing to do with –"

"Yes, I am, believe it or not," intervened Dori. His cheeks took on a rosy hue. He reached up to fiddle with a braid that came loose. "I need someone of your talents to assist me in courting a certain Dwarf among our Company."

Bilbo stared. Now Dori wants to court someone! What on earth is floating around in the air that's making these Dwarves want to have a go at each other?!

"Master Baggins?"

Dori's voice interrupted the Hobbit's thoughts. The Dwarf had finished fixing his braid, though for some odd reason, another braid came loose, causing him to curse under his breath. As he moved onto this braid, he whispered, "Master Baggins, will you be willing to help me?"

"Uh … I suppose I will, Mister Dori," replied Bilbo, not knowing what else to say.

As long as you don't try to break my arm, either.

"Delightful!" whispered Dori excitedly, accidentally pulling another braid loose. "Confound these complicated braids!"

Bilbo coughed. "So, um, who is it? The one you're wanting to court, I mean."

"Ah, Master Baggins, 'tis the one that sits at Thorin's side at this very moment," came the wistful reply.

The Hobbit canted his head slowly to the side to have a look.

Both surprisingly yet unsurprisingly, the object of Dori's affections – "the one that sits at Thorin's side" - was, apparently, dear Balin. He, with his snow-white hair and beard, cut a dashing figure in his ruby-red robe and black gloves. An intelligent, diplomatic Dwarf with a kind and calm nature was bound to be appealing to a fussy, organised Dwarf with an eye for culture and beauty like Dori.

Balin caught Bilbo's eye and smiled at him. Bilbo smiled back in greeting. Next to Balin, Thorin shifted his gaze from his advisor to the Hobbit, staring at him for a few disconcerting seconds. A frown tugged at his lips. For some reason, Bilbo's cheeks suddenly felt very warm as the ice-blue eyes bored into his own.

What is he doing? Why does he insist on looking at me like that?

Damn his blue eyes …

Then, wordlessly, Thorin turned away, continuing to speak in hushed tones to his advisor.

"Isn't he something?" came the whisper of Dori's voice.

"Yes, but that doesn't mean he has to look so miserable," replied Bilbo softly.

"I was talking about Balin, Master Baggins."

"Ah, of course." Bilbo's ears glowed red in embarrassment.

Dori coughed. "Er, anyway, about Balin. All I want is to tell him how I feel, but there's hardly ever a moment for even m'self to be alone. How can I share my most intimate feelings with the one I love when there's 11 rowdy Dwarves around you at all times? Nori's always one to spoil the mood, the bugger. Glóin will not hesitate to go on and on about missin' his wife – I mean, he went off on a tangent when Dwalin courted Ori. And, by Mahal's beard, don't even get me started on Bofur's jokes! 'Tisn't pleasant for Ori to hear –"

"Yes, I think I understand what you mean, Mister Dori," cut in Bilbo.

No need to overload me with information like that.

"Pardon me, Master Baggins," said Dori, looking sheepish. "When I get worked up, I tend to ramble on."

His fingers fiddled with yet another loose braid. "I can't even braid my hair properly, I'm so rattled."

"Do you need help braiding your hair?" asked Bilbo politely, eyeing the Dwarf's intricate braids with dread. They were marvellous to look at, but it required all of Dori's time to braid his hair every morning. To be honest, the Hobbit hoped that the Dwarf would turn down his offer – he didn't want to mess up his beautiful mane of hair.

Dori smiled. "Ah, no thank you, Master Baggins. It's a messy business to get my hair the way it is. I don't even let Ori braid it. It's not something you would like doing. I appreciate your offer, though."

"My pleasure," replied Bilbo. Phew!

"Anyway, I'd rather you concentrate on how I can properly court Balin," said Dori, sneaking a glance in the white-haired Dwarf's direction. "You needn't rush with coming up with a plan right now. As long as I can court Balin before this blasted journey is over, I'll be grateful."

Bilbo nodded, grateful for Dori's consideration. The eldest Ri at least had a degree of patience, in contrast to some Dwarves (ie. Dwalin).

Just then, the call of Bofur's voice was heard: "Supper-time, lads!"

"Nice to have this talk with you, Master Baggins," said Dori, patting the Hobbit on the shoulder – unintentionally hard, but hard nonetheless. "Now start thinking!"

With an aching shoulder, Bilbo followed Dori back to the camp. For some odd reason, the image of Thorin staring at him popped into his head, and a shiver ran down his spine.

Why am I even thinking about him? Focus on the plan, otherwise Dori will break my neck!

Wrapping his arms around him, feeling not at all hungry, the Hobbit checked to see for a sign of Gandalf. The Wizard had been gone for a long time …

After nearly getting cooked by Trolls, Bilbo didn't expect to come up with an idea so soon.

When Gandalf finally appeared out of nowhere to help them out of that dreadful predicament, there was only one casualty:

Dori's braids.

The eldest Ri's hair was a mess. After being rotated one too many times on the spit, his silver braids came undone. His hair hung in untidy tresses. Bilbo felt sorry for Dori, who ran a hand through his hair mournfully whilst he and Ori recovered his beads. It would take some time to braid his hair again, and – after what they had just been through – Dori wouldn't have the patience to do so.

That's when the idea hit him.

Gandalf and Thorin led the group away from that horrid spot where the now turned stone Trolls would stand forever, until they came upon a cave – a troll-cave, by the looks of it (and the smell of it). When they got there, Bilbo pulled Dori roughly to the side.

"Mister Dori, I've come up with an idea to help you court Balin – right now, if you like" he whispered quickly. "If all goes well, you will be the happiest Dwarf alive all in a matter of minutes!"

"How can I court him in this state?" hissed Dori under his breath, pulling at his mussed-up hair. "He'll just laugh at me."

"No, no, this is a good thing!" replied Bilbo hurriedly. "Look, if Thorin wants any one us to go down into that cave, you must insist that you stay up here because you want to fix your braids. Balin will most likely stay up here, too, and that's when you must take your chance!"

"But what must I do then?"

"What you must do is this …"

"Dori. You are coming down into the cave. We might need your strength."

"I'm afraid I cannot do that, Mister Oakenshield. I must attend to my braids. Have you seen what it looks like? I can't go dilly-dallying about with my hair looking like this, even if it is to go down into a foul troll-cave."

Thorin glared at Dori. "Is your hair that important to you that you dare not step into this cave?"

"But of course. I'll be of no use to you if I don't do my hair up. I remember the one time when it came undone, and Ori had to –"

Thorin emitted an annoyed sigh. "Very well, then. Remain up here if you have to."

"Er, pardon me, Thorin," piped up Bilbo nervously.

Ice-blue eyes fell on him. "What is it, burglar?" he barked.

Bilbo flinched. "Might I make a suggestion? Why not take Dwalin, Glóin, Bofur and Nori? Óin has his hands full with Ori, Fíli and Kíli, as they got a few nasty bruises. Bifur, Bombur, Balin and I can check on the ponies."

"Are you trying to tell me how to do my job, Master Baggins?" The Dwarf's tone was aggressive. Bilbo flinched again.

"Actually, it's rather an excellent idea," said Gandalf, appearing at Thorin's side. "Dwalin and the other three recovered more quickly than the others from this incident, and they are able-bodied enough to assist you. Wouldn't you agree?"

Thorin glared up at Gandalf, before he sighed once more and muttered, "Fine. Let's just go into this cave and get out. I don't want to stay here another minute. Glóin, light up some torches."

He spun on his heels and walked away. Gandalf winked at Bilbo and followed in Thorin's wake.

The Hobbit smiled at Dori, who nodded, his silver hair bouncing slightly.

The plan was going good so far.

Though Thorin was a bit rude for Bilbo's taste.

The Results

"Blast these braids!"

"I take it that you're not doing successfully there, Dori?"

Dori grinned sheepishly at Balin. The white-haired Dwarf, after checking on the ponies, had seated himself beside the eldest Ri. Óin, partially deaf, paid no mind to them as he rechecked his supplies. Bombur was chewing on some food to notice anything, whilst Bifur stationed himself near the ponies. Fíli and Kíli were busy admiring each other's bruises, and Ori stood near the mouth of the cave, waiting for Dwalin to return.

From afar, Bilbo watched Balin and Dori, and he waited.

"You're right," sighed Dori, twirling a piece of hair around his fingers. "I'm going nowhere with my braiding. I honestly don't have the patience nor the calm to do so right now."

"Dwalin was like that when he was younger," said Balin, his eyes twinkling at the memory. "Even after I taught him how to braid, I ended up havin' to do his hair myself because he got so frustrated. The prettiest thing you'd ever see, after I was done with him – though he hated it when people called him pretty."

He chuckled. "Dwalin gave up on braids a long time ago, but it was fun for me while it lasted."

Dori smiled, shifting closer. "Then I suppose you won't mind if you … no, never mind."

"What is it, Dori? Never mind what?"

The eldest Ri pulled at a silver lock of hair, looking up at Balin from under his dark lashes. "Could you … could you, perhaps, braid my hair for me?"

Balin's cheeks darkened. "Braid your hair? Me?"

"If you don't mind," said Dori, his voice low. "I wouldn't trust my hair with anyone but you."

The advisor looked at Dori, then he looked up at the silver mane. He hadn't braided someone's hair in a long time … but his hair looked soft, clean and manageable …

"Please?"

A pause.

"Alright, hand me that brush," answered Balin, taking off his gloves.

Dori smiled widely before handing his brush over. Turning his back on the advisor, the process began.

Balin brushed the hair thoroughly, sometimes using his fingers to run through the locks to search for any hidden knots. His thick hair felt as soft as it looked, and it was clearly healthy as it shone brightly in the light of the sun. It was longer than he expected, too, going past his shoulders. Normally, Dori's intricate braids were so fine that it gave the observer the impression that he had short hair in comparison to the others. Balin felt mischievous as he took a lock, twirling it lightly around his fingers and giving it a tug.

"Very fine hair," he murmured under his breath.

In front, Dori blushed.

Gathering three strands of hair, Balin began to piece them together into a single braid, the beginning of many more to come. He threaded Dori's beads into the braid, keeping it in place. Content with the good start, Balin's deft fingers picked out loose strands of hair and transformed them into fantastic plaits before securing them. Occasionally, Dori felt Balin's fingers brush lightly against his temples or his cheeks, and his skin tingled from the touch.

"You're doing a good job of this," he said softly.

Balin smiled. "It may not be as perfect as how you do yours, but it shall certainly not get in your way, as you made it clear to Thorin."

Dori chuckled. "I may have exaggerated a little bit."

"I'm sure," the advisor replied, unable to suppress his own grin.

Then he sighed, placing his fingers on the top braid. "I'm sorry that this is taking so long, Dori. I know you want your hair to look perfect."

Suddenly, Dori reached up with his own hand. To Balin's surprise, the eldest Ri took his hand and twined their fingers together.

Much like a braid.

"Don't worry, Balin," whispered Dori, looking to the side at the advisor. "I'm more than happy to give you all of my time from now on."

Balin stared.

Then he smiled, squeezing the other's fingers.

"Now that's an arrangement I can live with."

Then he leaned down to give Dori a kiss.

Another success!

Bilbo felt immensely proud of himself at that moment when Balin kissed Dori. The others that had remained behind had yet to notice this, even when Dori leaned back into Balin as he finished up on braiding his hair.

The silver-haired Dwarf turned in the Hobbit's direction, smiled and mouthed, "Thank you."

When Thorin and the rest of them had returned, Ori finally broke away from Dwalin to see that Balin was holding his brother's hand, and he called Dori out on it.

To his surprise, and everyone else's, Dori answered, "You're not the only one who's found his One, laddie."

Everyone stepped forth to offer their congratulations. Dwalin patted Dori on the back and took Balin in his arms to give him a tight hug, whispering "Good luck" in his ear (earning himself a glare from his soon-to-be brother-in-law).

Bofur laughed about the entire thing. "First it's Dwalin and Ori. Now it's Balin and Dori! Who's next?" he proclaimed, stealing a glance at Nori.

Oh goodness, no more for me, thank you! thought Bilbo, moving away from the crowd to sort through his pack. I think that's it, so help me, all things bright and beautiful!

"Ahem."

Bilbo looked up from his pack, and his stomach dropped at the sight of Thorin Oakenshield standing before him. Those eyes (damn them) stared hard at the Hobbit.

"Uh, hello Thorin," he offered weakly. "Can I help you?"

"Why is it, Master Baggins, that I get this feeling that you had something to do with Balin and Dori's courtship?" the Dwarf rumbled, narrowing his eyes.

"Uh …"

"And also that of Dwalin and Ori?"

"If I did," Bilbo finally managed, gulping, "why does it matter?"

Thorin's featured hardened at the Hobbit's mettle – even Bilbo couldn't believe he just said that, and in front of Thorin, of all people!

"I don't want this quest to be jeopardised any further, Master Baggins," he said slowly. "I hired you as a burglar. Now is not the time to play matchmaker – not while I'm here."

He stomped away, leaving Bilbo with an open mouth. Jeopardised any further!? The bloody, bloody Dwarf … ugh!

When Gandalf returned with the sword, the Hobbit very nearly wanted to tell the Wizard where he could shove it:

Between Thorin Oakenshield's eyeballs.

Chapter Text

The Plot

"Melekûn!"

"GAH! Bifur, you gave me a fright!"

Bilbo was minding his own business, quietly admiring the beautiful Rivendell scenery from above behind a balcony. A small breeze gently ruffled his hair. He watched with an observant eye as a fair Elf gardener below tended to the beautiful orange rose beds in Lord Elrond's magnificent garden. This certainly made a change from running from foul Orcs and ferocious Wargs through a thorny wasteland (thank goodness for Elven bath salts – it worked wonders for my poor feet!).

Lord Elrond had spoken to him a few minutes before (such a decent, intelligent Elf. Thorin had no right to be rude to him when he's being so hospitable towards us), and now he was quite alone, savouring this moment of peace.

In fact, I do believe it's going to be a peaceful afternoon.

Until Bifur pounced on him out of nowhere, almost giving the Hobbit a heart attack.

Aaaaaand there goes my peaceful afternoon.

Bifur suddenly let loose a stream of Khuzdûl.

"Jemut men, achrâchi gabilul. Kahomhîlizu –"

"Bifur, I don't mean to sound rude, but I can't understand a single word you're saying."

"My apologies for scaring you, Master Baggins," signed the axe-embedded Dwarf in Iglishmêk, not looking at all sorry, "but I need your help. Dori said you were good."

"Good? Good at what?"

Although the Hobbit had a slight suspicion as to where this conversation was going …

Here, Bifur looked down at his feet, his cheeks flushing red. Very slowly, he signed: "Helping those to court others."

Oh, for goodness sake, not you too, Bifur!

"Dori thinks highly of your talents. He was insistent that I should come to you if I had any problems with courting, seeing as you're a Hobbit who knows about things like that."

Bilbo sighed, rubbing his temples. "I'm flattered that Dori thinks so, but as I've tried to explain to him and to Dwalin at least a thousand times, just because I am a Hobbit, that doesn't mean I know everything there is to know about love –"

"You helped Dwalin to court Ori?" cut in Bifur, his eyes widening.

He took a step towards the startled Hobbit, grinning in absolute joy. His eyes were sparkling. "Then you must really be good as Dori says you are!"

"Uh," Bilbo coughed, glowing pink in embarrassment in light of the compliment.

At the same time, a rather sensible, Baggins-ish voice sounded in his mind:

Now, Bilbo, don't give into him. Bifur's trying to get you to help him by flattery. Be firm and just say 'no'. After all, what did Thorin say to you? Even if the bigoted idiot claims you're jeopardising this quest (which you're not, obviously, because Thorin is just being impossible and miserable to deal with – don't even think about him! Or his eyes!), you need a break from this matchmaking business. Think about yourself for once! Say 'no'! And for goodness sake, ignore Bifur's puppy eyes. Resist, Bilbo, RESIST …

"So will you please help me, Master Baggins?" Bifur signed, a hang-dog expression on his face.

At the same time, he blurted out, "Kahomhîlizu?"

Please?

Can those bloody eyes get any bigger?

"Alright, alright, I'll help you!" said Bilbo finally, letting out a growl of frustration.

It's not as if I had anything better to do today!

Bifur beamed like he was the happiest Dwarf alive, and he ruffled the (protesting) Hobbit's brown curls gratefully (and affectionately – not that he'll admit that he liked Bilbo; after all, it was so much fun to frighten the living daylights out of the Hobbit).

Smoothing his hair, and grumbling under his breath, Bilbo pulled himself together and got straight to the point (the sooner I help Bifur, the sooner I get to putting this entire matchmaking business behind me): "Okay, Bifur, now who is it that you're wanting to court? … Bifur? Bifur, are you listening to me? Bifur? Bifur!"

Bifur was, evidently, not listening. The axe-embedded Dwarf's eyes were not on the Hobbit. Instead, he was standing stock-still, staring over the balcony, his brown orbs seemingly focused on something down below. Two pink spots slowly appeared on his cheeks.

Altogether curious, Bilbo followed Bifur's gaze.

Long, grey hair … a matching beard, which consisted of a fine moustache and two very intricate braids curled upwards … twinkling brown eyes as its owner looked about in wonder, taking in the beautiful sights … a wistful smile as the figure held an instrument to his right ear, listening to the sounds of the birds chirping and the breeze rustling the leaves on the trees …

Óin?

Yes, it was Óin. Lord Elrond, being a most hospitable host, despite the rowdy behaviour of his guests, allowed the Dwarves to wander around his home at leisure. He had even granted permission to Óin, their kindly yet ever-so-feisty healer, to walk around in his gardens and pick out whatever herbs and flowers to add to his medical supplies.

Bilbo watched as Óin approached a flowerbed of white peonies – a common flower in the Shire, and, if he remembered correctly, a favourite of his mother. Lowering his ear-trumpet, the grey-haired Dwarf reached out with a gloved hand, gently picking a peony off its stalk. He breathed in the fragrant scent of the white-petalled flower with an appreciative sigh before placing it into his satchel. Picking out a few more and putting them away, Óin moved farther and farther away to inspect a bed of lavender in the distance until he was gone from view.

The Hobbit looked back at Bifur, who watched the healer closely until he was out of sight. The black-haired Dwarf met his gaze and blushed again.

And then, in that moment, Bilbo understood.

"You're wanting to court Óin, am I right?" he whispered.

Bifur nodded, his cheeks still blazing red.

Bifur and Óin … hmm, I would never have thought about them being a pair. They don't seem to suit each other …

But now that the Hobbit was dwelling on the matter, it began to make sense. The healer and the axe-embedded Dwarf were quite close, going beyond a relationship of that between a doctor and his patient. Throughout the journey, Óin made it his duty to regularly check Bifur's head wound. In turn, Bifur would help him search for herbs. The grey-haired Dwarf, being partially deaf, and the other, unable to speak in the common tongue, would sit side-by-side on some nights away from the others, signing together in Iglishmêk about goodness knows what. Bifur came off as unhinged and feisty but he turned out to be surprisingly gentle; Óin, on the other hand, was generally kind but was actually, too, quite feisty, prone to cursing when it suited him.

Hmm, looks like they really do suit each other.

Bilbo could now remember that night, when Dori approached him for help to court Balin: Bifur sitting beside Óin, vying with Glóin for his attention, only to have the healer stomp off in frustration …

"You care a great deal about him, don't you?" he said softly.

"Yes," Bifur signed with another nod. "I've tried many times to tell Óin how I feel, but it's difficult to … express myself, especially in Khuzdûl and Iglishmêk."

The black-haired Dwarf sighed, almost sadly. "It's even harder when you're trying to tell him the words that come from the heart …"

Profound words, indeed, thought Bilbo solemnly.

An image of Thorin Oakenshield suddenly drifted into his mind –

Wait, WHAT? Why are you even thinking about him, Bilbo? Damn it, concentrate on Bifur, you silly goose! After all, what's that bloody Dwarf got to do with any of this?!

Sighing inwardly in annoyance, brushing aside all thoughts of the majestic Dwarf, Bilbo reached up to pat Bifur's shoulder sympathetically. "I shall certainly be glad to help you, Bifur. I'll let you know when I come up with an idea. Are you alright to wait in the meantime?"

Bifur smiled, patting Bilbo's hand before signing, "Yes, Master Baggins, that's fine. I appreciate your help, I really do. Dori was right in suggesting that I come to you."

Standing back with a bow, Bifur said in Khuzdûl, "Dôlzekh menu", before turning on his heels and leaving the Hobbit at the balcony.

With yet another sigh, Bilbo looked down at the garden once more, resting his head on his arms on the balcony. There was a marvellous array of flowers and herbs, but the orange rose beds were certainly a sight to behold.

They also grow abundantly in the Shire. Mother liked them, too, especially since they represent –

Bilbo's thoughts came to halt.

Wait, what exactly did Mother say that they represented?

When the answer hit him, the Hobbit realised that an idea had hit him, too.

Tomorrow, all I have to do is to approach Lord Elrond …

"Good morning, Lord Elrond."

"Good morning, Master Baggins. I trust you had a good night's sleep?"

"I did, thank you very much for asking. It's certainly much better sleeping in a warm, comfortable bed in my own room than in a bedroll outdoors with 13 Dwarves. Uh, not necessarily in the same bedroll, of course." A blush.

"I understand. But, judging by the look on your face, Master Baggins, I'm assuming you are wanting to talk about something else rather than sleeping arrangements, correct?"

Another blush. "Er, actually, I do want to ask you a favour. You see, you've allowed Óin – our group's healer, you know – to collect flowers and things from your garden. Could you – could you, perhaps, give permission to another Dwarf to pick flowers as well?"

An elegant raise of an eyebrow. "What flowers does this Dwarf have in mind?"

"Erm, well, you see, Lord Elrond … the orange roses you have grown look utterly spectacular … and I recall my mother saying that orange roses are representative of … um, passion and desire, without being crude … enamour … new beginnings …"

Yet another blush, but now redder than red.

The raise of the other eyebrow, albeit in amusement. "Your mother was correct, Master Baggins. Orange roses are indeed indicative of those powerful emotions."

A pause.

"This Dwarf has my permission to pick those roses."

"Thank you, Lord Elrond."

A smile. "It seems that being a matchmaker is much more befitting of your talents than that of a burglar, Master Baggins. Unless, of course, the Dwarf in question is not really a "Dwarf" at all, but the object of his affections is …"

The Elf retreated, leaving a madly blushing Bilbo in his wake.

Just what did he mean by that …?

When the Dwarves finally woke up for breakfast, Bilbo quickly pulled Bifur aside the moment he stepped out of his room, to the surprise of Bofur and Bombur.

When the brothers were well and truly gone, Bilbo said to a perplexed Bifur, "Bifur, you'll be pleased to know that I came up with an idea on how to court Óin."

The axe-embedded Dwarf's eyes sparkled, bursting into a babble of Khuzdûl before the Hobbit interrupted, "I assume that means you're happy, right?"

Looking sheepish, Bifur signed (quite fast, I see), "Sorry. I didn't expect an idea so soon. So, what do you have in mind, Master Baggins?"

Bilbo smiled. "They say flowers are a good way to express yourself …"

The Results

"Baknd ghelekh."

"Ah, good mornin', Bifur! Have you come to have a look at the flowers? 'Tis a pity that we don't get such stunnin' varieties back home. These ruddy Elves are lucky, to be sure!"

Here, Óin reached out to lightly stroke the white petals of a lime blossom flower that hung on the lowest branch of the blossom tree. The two Dwarves were standing at the very end of the beautiful garden, near to the lavender beds that the healer inspected yesterday. The morning sun was higher in the cerulean-blue sky; in fact, it was nearing the afternoon.

Bifur, his hands behind his back, watched as Óin picked off a few lime blossoms, popping them into his satchel as he said, "They're good for fevers and infections."

He smiled at the black-haired Dwarf. "And they're also good for headaches. Speakin' of which, you haven't had any headaches lately, have you?"

"Not as much," signed Bifur with one hand, at the same time thinking, My heart, on the other hand …

"And this flower," exclaimed Óin, bending down and deftly picking some buttercups, "is best for treatin' nerve pain and blisters."

"You know a lot about flowers."

Óin smiled in light of the compliment. "Well, flowers have their uses, where medicine is concerned."

"Do you know what they mean?"

"I'm sorry?"

"Flowers. Do you know what they mean?" asked Bifur in Iglishmêk, suddenly taking a step forward. His eyes, Óin noted with surprise, were shining brightly.

The healer's cheeks darkened considerably.

"Er, well," he coughed, nervously tucking a strand of hair behind his ear, "if you mean in a symbolic sense, then I can say that I do, though I'm not the world's greatest symbolism expert on every flower and herb that comes me way. Why do you ask, Bifur?"

The axe-embedded Dwarf did not answer.

Instead, with a fluttering heart, he brought his other hand from behind his back to the front.

Óin gasped.

Roses.

In Bifur's hand was a bouquet of roses.

And a stunning colour they were, too: a brilliant, blazing orange colour, like that of the sky when the sun descends on the horizon; like that of a glowing fire that promised warmth and comfort …

But the mere fact that they were roses was what really caught the healer's attention.

And every Dwarf and Dwarrowdam, young and old, and not just healers like him, knew exactly what roses represented …

When Óin looked up at him, their eyes locking, his cheeks a bright pink colour, Bifur – his heart thudding away at a furious pace and his stomach filled with butterflies – knew that his message had been received.

The words of my heart:

I love you, Óin.

Silently, Bifur placed the bouquet into Óin's hands. He very gently touched the Dwarf's gloved fingers with his own, which tingled at the touch. He watched as Óin looked from him, breaking eye contact, to down at the roses that were now his hands. The grey-haired Dwarf stroked the bright petals of one of the roses in silence. A thoughtful expression graced his features.

Bifur patiently watched him.

Waiting.

Finally, the healer looked up at the axe-embedded Dwarf. His mouth curved into a small smile, and his brown eyes shone brightly.

"They're … they're beautiful, Bifur," he said softly. "Magnificent, they are. Although …"

He frowned, furrowing his eyebrows.

"Although what?" Bifur signed, looking worried. At that moment, he could feel his heart threatening – beginning – to drop …

Looking down at the bouquet once more, his frown deepening, Óin said, "They're orange roses. I know for a fact what roses mean, but orange roses? It's quite befuddlin', as I've no idea what they represent. Like I said before, I'm not an expert."

Then, he looked up at the other Dwarf from under his dark lashes. A teasing grin appeared in place of the frown now.

"Unless," he whispered, "you can tell me what they mean, Bifur?"

The black-haired Dwarf, relief instantly flooding his body, felt his face grow warm at the healer's low tone.

But by Mahal, he recognised a challenge when he saw one.

With a grin of his own, Bifur leaned in towards Óin, his mouth close to the healer's right ear, and, in a low whisper of his own, explained the meaning behind the orange roses.

When he withdrew slightly, he was pleased to see a wide grin on Óin's face.

He was even more pleased when the healer gently pulled him forward on one of his braids to plant a kiss on his lips.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, Bilbo and the Dwarves were eating lunch – or rather, Bilbo was trying to eat his lunch whilst Dori was arguing with Ori and Dwalin, and Thorin was off somewhere with Gandalf.

Good grief, just when I need Thorin to stage an intervention.

Dori was telling off Ori about his "night-time visitations" to Dwalin's chambers, arguing that the scribe should not be doing such things, especially since he and the warrior Dwarf were not yet married, and saying how disgraceful it all was, and that he was not going to let his youngest brother "get loose" whilst he was around. Little Ori was indignant, claiming he was old enough to make his own decisions, and anyway, if it was such a disgrace between two unmarried Dwarves to sleep together, how come Mister Balin spent his nights in Dori's room? In a (blushing) fury, the eldest Ri roared that Balin wouldn't have to if Ori didn't sneak into his room every night, which he shared with Dwalin – besides, they never did anything they weren't supposed to. Then Dwalin piped up, "How do we know that?". The argument escalated from there, and poor Balin, expected to take the side of either his One or his brother, merely suffered in silence (I'd hate to be in his boots).

Kíli and Bofur backed up Dwalin and Ori, whilst Fíli, Bombur and (surprisingly) Nori were behind Dori (Fíli and Bombur, I can understand, as Fíli is slightly more responsible, and Bombur is married; Nori's probably only backing up Dori because he's not that enthusiastic about Dwalin courting his younger brother).

Surprisingly of all, Glóin was on the fence. On the one hand, Glóin was a married Dwarf, and it was a strict tradition to wait until marriage to "take things to the next level" ("And it's well worth waitin' for," he said gruffly). But, on the other hand, because he was a married Dwarf, Glóin missed his wife and son terribly – would they ever see each other again? Therefore, Ori and Dwalin, as well as Balin and Dori, should have a chance to celebrate their love before it was too late.

At that moment, Bifur and Óin walked in, stopping the argument dead in its tracks.

Bilbo noticed a few things – and, judging by their stunned expressions, the others noticed these things, too.

For one thing, the axe-embedded Dwarf and the healer were holding hands. Another thing: Óin held a bouquet of bright orange roses in the other hand. The last thing? Óin's grey hair was braided into a plait and – to everyone's immense surprise – a few of those orange buds were actually interwoven into his braid.

It was dear Balin that broke the short silence.

"Óin … Bifur … what's going on?" he asked, voicing the same question that lingered in everyone's mind.

The plan worked, right?

The two Dwarves smiled at the advisor.

"You and Ori are not the only ones who are bein' courted," answered Óin, squeezing Bifur's hand.

SUCCESS!

The entire room erupted into cheers and congratulations. Bofur and Bombur embraced their cousin and his One, welcoming the healer into their family, and thereafter Bifur bound up to Bilbo, hugging the proud Hobbit tightly and whispering "Dôlzekh menu" in his ear.

Only Glóin, Bilbo noticed, had yet to do anything. The fiery-haired Dwarf sat in his seat, looking deeply shocked in response to the events that unfolded before him. His mouth was gaping slightly.

Must he look so shocked? But then, if I had a brother who was being courted by someone with an axe in their head, I'd also be worried a bit.

Bofur tugged on Óin's braid, flicking an orange rosebud. "Why's yer hair done up in a braid, then, Óin?"

The healer smiled, blushing faintly as Bifur adjusted a rosebud in his hair; the black-haired Dwarf's locks unsuccessfully hid the blush that crept to his own cheeks. "My hair got a bit … dishevelled whilst we were in the garden. Bifur did it up nicely for me."

"Glóin, are you feeling alright?" asked Bilbo, for Glóin's skin seemed to turn a shade of green. "You look ill …"

"I'm fine," he muttered, swallowing hard. "Give me a … few seconds … to collect m'self …"

Looks like you need more than a few seconds …

Just then, a tall figure appeared in the doorway – it was Lindir, Lord Elrond's assistant.

But it was obvious that something was terribly wrong with him: the fair Elf looked absolutely pale – paler than usual, anyway. He was breathing heavily and trembling somewhat.

When he laid his eyes on the Dwarves – on Bifur and Óin, specifically – his eyes widened, and his face contorted as his skin, too, turned a shade of green. With a loud groan before slapping a hand over his mouth, Lindir spun on his heels and ran out, his hair flying out behind him.

A short silence occurred.

"What's wrong with him?" said Kíli, looking highly confused.

Here, both Bifur and Óin looked at each other, and their cheeks flushed in embarrassment.

"He, er, caught the two of us in, uh, Elrond's flowerbeds," the healer eventually said. "It was quite, um, a shock for him …"

They didn't …!

Bifur could only grin sheepishly in response, flicking off a purple flower petal that was caught in his hair.

The penny dropped a few seconds later, and the Dwarves and Bilbo just stared at each other in silence for several seconds.

They did.

Finally, Bofur broke the silence with a casual, "Ah, now that gives a new meanin' to the word "flowerbed"."

Crash!

The sound of Glóin falling to the ground in a dead faint made everyone jump.

As Bifur rushed to help up his future brother-in-law, with Óin on his heels, all Bilbo could think of was:

Looks like Glóin will be backing up Dori now.

The stars shone brightly in the Rivendell night sky. Their luminous glow lit up the garden, which only served to enhance its beauty (save for a couple of wrecked flowerbeds). The sounds of the nearby waterfall proved soothing to the Hobbit's ears as he made his way up to his quarters, passing by the balcony.

Of course, Bilbo stopped when he overheard Gandalf and Lord Elrond talking about Thorin a little farther away from him.

But he didn't expect to turn around to find the Dwarf in question standing behind him.

Good grief, now you decide to make an appearance?

Their gazes locked momentarily, but Thorin's eyes darted back to the two figures below as they spoke about – what was it? – the madness in his family; his orbs hardened somewhat.

It mustn't be easy to hear all of this.

When the voices of the Wizard and the Elf could no longer be heard, Bilbo inwardly sighed as he turned around.

The dark-haired Dwarf's head was bowed slightly. His ice-blue eyes were cast downwards, yet they still managed to catch the light of the stars.

And though Bilbo was reluctant to admit it, they looked very fine …

Blue, my child, he could hear his mother's voice saying, encourages communication and peace, with yourself or with others, and it also speaks of how we feel …

"Thorin?"

Thorin looked up. He narrowed his eyes at the Hobbit, who gulped in response to the Dwarf's hardened expression.

"Are you alright?" he asked, hesitating.

Thorin didn't reply immediately. Instead, he took a large step forward …

… and Bilbo took a step back, until his lower back was pressed against the railing of the balcony.

"I didn't intend for you to hear those things, Master Baggins," said the dark-haired Dwarf in a low tone. "I would rather you had heard it from me."

"I-Is that why you were standing there behind me?" asked Bilbo softly, trying to contain his trembling. "Y-You wanted to speak to me about all of that?"

"No … I wanted to talk about something else …"

A pause.

"I heard that Bifur is courting Óin now," said Thorin, frowning, "and if I'm not mistaken, despite my warning the other day, I assume you had something to do with it."

Oh, for the love of everything …!

Bilbo let out a sigh before he could stop it. "Look, Bifur asked me for help. I couldn't just refuse –"

"Did I not say before that the only reason you're here is because you are a burglar?" Thorin barked, the Hobbit flinching at his words. "You are here only because Gandalf has faith in your thieving abilities! Instead, I find myself speaking to someone who is posing a serious threat to this Company! This entire matchmaking business of yours is making everyone lose their focus, and it's maddening to think about!"

"What? Now wait a moment …"

But Thorin took another step forward, leaning down into the Hobbit's face as he whispered dangerously, "This isn't some sort of bonding trip, Master Baggins – this is a serious quest to reclaim Erebor and the treasures that lie within that mountain. But you don't seem to care. That would not bother me in the slightest, if not for the fact that the others are now starting to think the same."

"They're not," Bilbo said softly, mustering up his courage to look Thorin dead in the eye. "They still support you, but they also just realised that there's also more to risking their lives for the sake of treasure."

He paused. "And you're wrong, you know … I do care."

Thorin stared at the Hobbit.

Bilbo, amazed at his own strength, stared back.

Damn those eyes …

Then, the Dwarf took a step back. The light in his eyes dimmed as he rumbled, "We leave Rivendell at first light. I suggest you think about what I said tonight, burglar."

Without so much as a "good evening", Thorin turned around and walked away into the shadows of the night.

Ice-blue … I'm willing to bet Bofur's hat that it doesn't encourage good communication and peace …

Chapter Text

The Plot(s)

"Master Bilbo, fancy seein' you out of yer room so late – and on a freezin' night, too."

"I only just walked out of the door. Besides, I sort of expected you, Nori."

"So you know why I'm 'ere, then?"

"I figured that only you would approach me in the dead of night to ask me to help you court Bofur. That's more your style, I think."

The star-shaped-haired Dwarf smiled. He blew a smoke-ring from his pipe before he spoke again: "By my beard, yer cleverer than I expected."

Bilbo smiled in reply. He wasn't stupid. He'd seen the way Nori and Bofur interacted, and it was all too obvious that there was an attraction between them. They hardly left each other alone, for goodness sake! Always sitting near each other, talking and joking and laughing together as if they were the only two people left alone in the world. Even Bofur's inappropriate jokes were highly suggestive (and not exactly subtle, either), and the Hobbit had seen the way the hat-wearing Dwarf stole that not-at-all-inconspicuous glance at Nori after Dori courted Balin. The thief was more skilled in hiding his feelings, but there was no mistaking the love and adoration in his eyes, which were ever fixed on Bofur as if the hat-wearing Dwarf was a piece of gold.

So, Bilbo wasn't exactly surprised when he walked out of his sleeping quarters to find Nori standing by the balcony, trying to look casual as he smoked his pipe and blew smoke-rings into the cool Rivendell night.

In truth, the Hobbit expected either Bofur or Nori to approach him before they departed Rivendell to continue on their journey.

Not even before we departed Rivendell – I actually rather expected one of them to approach me already!

And it was Nori who decided to take matters into his own hands, and that suited Bilbo fine.

Whoever is first works for me.

A matchmaker's work is never done.

You can't stop me now, Thorin …

"I'm surprised that you only decided to come to me now," said Bilbo smugly, crossing his arms. "I thought you'd want Bofur putty in your arms much sooner."

Nori grinned, secretly impressed by the Hobbit's effrontery. "I couldn't do nuffink wiv Bifur breathin' down me neck, now could I?"

"Bifur?"

"That's righ'. Bifur dotes on me like Dori dotes on Dwalin – not at bleedin' all. Figgers I'm too much of an unsavoury character for his precious cousin to be around, y'know what I mean?"

"Well, your sticky fingers often get you into more trouble than you bargain for," replied Bilbo, unable to suppress an amused smile. "Bifur may have an axe in his head, but he's not ignorant. He's not exactly going to let you – how should I put it? - be a bad influence on Bofur."

"Too righ' I'm a bad influence," said Nori, rolling his eyes, which began to glint mischievously, "but now that Bifur's off bonkin' Óin, the house is empty and I'm all ready t'break in, so to speak."

Interesting use of words. Not at all crude and suggestive.

"When I saw Bifur 'uggin' you, I knew for certain you were behind his an' Óin's courtship. And since yer the love expert, being a 'obbit an' all, I thought, why not?"

Bilbo face-palmed with a frustrated growl. "This is RIDICULOUS! Why does everyone think that my being a Hobbit makes me an expert on love?"

"Probably b'cause yer better at matchmakin' than you are at bein' a burglar," Nori replied solemnly.

Bilbo looked up at the star-shaped-haired Dwarf, surprised at the earnest and totally unexpected answer. Normally he would be cut off at this point when he bemoaned the fact that literally every bloody Dwarf thought that he, being a Hobbit, was some sort of know-it-all when it came to the subject of love.

At least somebody's given me an explanation! I just didn't expect to hear it from Nori, though …

"I, uh, never thought of it that way," he finally said.

Nori's lips curled into a smile around his pipe. "Trust me, Master Bilbo. I'm a thief meself, so I know one when I see one. Still, righ', I think you could be one, what wiv yer cleverness. Now if only Thorin weren't too thick-'eaded and realised tha' already. That, an' you bein' completely bonkers about 'im."

"What?!" Bilbo's face turned red the moment the Dwarf uttered those words. "What exactly are you implying, Nori?"

"Come off it, Master Bilbo," said Nori, sounding (scarily) like Dori for a moment. "Yer not foolin' me. I've seen the way you look at Thorin. Blimey! Like a puppy wantin' attention from 'is master, you are! Yer besotted wiv 'im – don't even try to deny it!"

"I most certainly am NOT besotted with Thorin, as you're so crudely putting it," spluttered Bilbo, too flustered for words (good grief, how many shades of red can my face turn?!). "I can assure you, Nori, I am not romantically interested in that bloody Dwarf, not in the least."

Besides, it's not like Thorin's showing any interest in me –

Oh, for the love of Middle Earth, what ARE you talking about, Bilbo?! Why should he, that miserable Dwarf, show interest in me?! That's the silliest thing you've ever thought about! Why are you even thinking about him? Curse Nori! Curse Thorin bloody Oakenshield! Double-curse his bloody eyes! And triple, quadruple curse BLOODY Gandalf for getting me involved in this venture, too!

Exhaling in pure, utter frustration, the Hobbit, still red in the face, looked up at the star-shaped-haired Dwarf and growled, "Look, do you want my help or not?"

"If changin' the subject will help to calm yer knickers an' to help me court Bofur, then yes, please, I want it," replied Nori, raising an amused, braided eyebrow. He proffered up his pipe to Bilbo, who took it without hesitation and took a few puffs on it to calm his nerves. "Better now?"

"Quite, yes," answered Bilbo. Just barely.

Letting out a smoky breath, the Hobbit began: "Well, the first thing we can establish is that Bofur has strong feelings for you as you do for him."

"I'm sure," said Nori, his expression and tone quite nonchalant, but even in the dim light, Bilbo could clearly see the thief's cheeks flushing faintly. Even the Dwarf's eyes, which only shined when he intended to create mischief, held a certain sparkle that the Hobbit thought he would never see. When he noticed the amused grin forming on Bilbo's face, Nori turned his face away. His skin was pinker than pink.

It's like Nori doesn't want anyone to see him showing emotion. Why?

"It's alright to be open about your feelings, you know," he said, stepping closer to the star-shaped-haired Dwarf. Here, his tone became dry. "There's nothing wrong about showing that you're "besotted" with Bofur."

"The chuffin' Hobbit's revenge," murmured Nori, his lips curving into a smile.

He turned on the Hobbit, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear as he spoke. "That's always been me, Master Bilbo, ever since I was a kiddie. "Stone-Face", they used t'call me, b'fore they gave me worse names. I never showed much emotion 'cause I always thought it meant you were weak. And believe you me, righ', it gives the authorities no end o' pleasure to see a thief at 'is weakest. Showin' no emotion suited me, an' it suits me line of work fine, too."

"But this is different," argued Bilbo. "In case you haven't noticed, Nori, Bofur's been expressing his love for you left, right, centre and practically upside-down on this entire journey, and he has yet to see any clear indication from you that you reciprocate his love. If you're wanting to court him, I highly suggest that you start showing him that there's a real, red-blooded Dwarf with feelings hiding underneath that façade of yours. Show him that you care … that you're willing to do anything for him. He'll definitely appreciate your honesty, I can tell you right now."

A small silence. Nori stared at Bilbo with a stony expression.

And Bilbo stared back, a little out of breath from his small speech.

Then, a smile – a genuine one, at that! - broke out on the star-shaped-haired Dwarf's face.

"By Mahal, Master Bilbo, you never cease to amaze me," Nori murmured, patting Bilbo's shoulder. "Yer certainly one in a million, an' that is the honest truth."

The Hobbit grinned. "I try my best."

Nori nodded. "Now if only Thorin realised tha'," he said in a grave tone.

Bilbo groaned. "Oh please, not that again …"

At least Nori had the decency to look sheepish (Thorin – I mean, Dwalin could take some pointers from him!). "My bad. If it 'elps, maybe thinkin' of a courtin' plan for me will cop yer mind off 'im. No rush or nuffink."

"I'll see what I can come up with," replied Bilbo. He could not suppress the yawn that followed. "Dear me, it's getting late. We'll be leaving in a few hours. It's a shame, really. We could've stayed in Rivendell longer."

Nori shrugged. "Whatever Thorin wants, he shall get."

Isn't that always the way?

Nori patted the Hobbit's shoulder once more. "I'll let you cop back t'sleep now. You 'ave a good night – what's left of it, anyway."

"Same to you, Nori. I'm glad that you came to see me."

The thief bowed. He turned to leave when he paused in his tracks. He looked back at the curious Hobbit with yet another stony expression on his face.

"Nori, what's wrong?" asked Bilbo, feeling uneasy under the thief's gaze.

"Nickin' one's personal property in fron' of me eyes – I would never 'ave expected it of you t'be so bold."

"W-What?"

"If you don't mind, Master Bilbo, I quite like to have me pipe back," Nori answered, holding out his hand.

"Oh!" cried Bilbo, remembering that he still had the thief's pipe. Hurriedly, he handed it over to the stony-faced Dwarf. "I honestly forgot about your pipe. My apologies."

"S'alright," Nori muttered, pocketing his pipe.

That's when Bilbo noticed the twinkle in the Dwarf's eyes. Before the Hobbit could call him out on it, Nori's hard features softened, and there again appeared that warm smile of his.

"You 'ave the makings of a fine burglar, Master Bilbo," he remarked, "though I dare say you've got a bit o' a challenge comin' soon when it comes to yer next theft."

"What do you mean by that, Nori?" asked Bilbo, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion.

Nori's eyes glittered, reminding the Hobbit of a fox.

"You'll know it when y'get to it," the star-shaped-haired Dwarf whispered before he turned around and disappeared quickly into the shadows of the night.

He's a mystery, that Nori. One, hopefully, that Bofur can solve.

But if that "theft" remark refers to you-know-who, then I'll definitely be sending Bifur after Nori.

"Where d'you think yer goin'?"

"Back to Rivendell."

"But yer part of the Company! Yer one of us! And … yer the only one who can help me."

"Look, Bofur, if it's about courting Nori, then I'm afraid I can't help you. This matchmaking business has proved to be nothing but trouble for me. I want to put as much distance between it – along with Thorin's griping – and myself as much as possible!"

Bofur's saddened expression, which was so unusual to see him wear, given that the hat-wearing Dwarf always looked jolly and cheerful, almost made the Hobbit want to drop his pack and stay in that cold, dismal cave.

Almost.

But the harsh words of Thorin Oakenshield echoed loudly in his mind: He's been lost ever since he left his home. He should not have come, he has no place among us.

Bilbo had enough. He knew that the Dwarf harboured anger for him, all because he was meddling in the love affairs of his companions. But, in the Hobbit's opinion, it did not mean that Thorin had to say such a cruel thing like that, and in front of everyone as well!

If that's how he's been feeling about me all this time, then he should have let me fall off that cliff and be done with it.

But Thorin saved him. Saved him before he ridiculed him.

Upon reaching the cave, Bilbo noticed that at some point, everyone silently approached their leader, trying to put in a kind word for their burglar. But the dark-haired Dwarf (stubborn, wretched lout!) remained silent and resolute, only speaking when he appointed Bofur on first watch and when he checked on his nephews one last time before they fell asleep. His ice-blue eyes were full of what seemed like concern and love as he silently watched them succumbing to sleep, the brothers unsuccessfully trying to stay awake as they pleaded for their uncle to act kindly towards the Hobbit.

Only minutes before, those eyes looked upon me with hate …

Dwalin, Dori and Bifur made an extra effort to comfort Bilbo, to the slight puzzlement of their Ones, and Glóin and Bombur: Dwalin gave him an extra pillow ("One of Balin's, but he's got a new silver-feathered pillow to sleep on now."); Dori gave him a spare blanket ("'Tis one of Ori's, but I doubt he'll notice that it's gone – he's too busy cuddlin' up to Dwalin to notice anything these days."), and Bifur gave him a tight hug before promising that he would make a toy for him ("I'll get started on it right away," he signed, before Óin jumped in and said, "The only bloody thing you should be doin' is gettin' some sleep." Bombur nodded his assent, whilst Glóin grumbled something along the lines of letting the axe-embedded Dwarf carve the damn toy if it meant not having to see him cuddling up to the healer whilst they slept).

But despite their efforts, Bilbo still felt wretched, and in that moment of wretchedness, he decided that this was it.

This was absolutely the last straw.

I've no other reason why I should stay any longer. I've helped these Dwarves as much as I can, though it's only served to make me look worse in Thorin's eyes. It's a shame that I can't help Nori any further with courting Bofur, but at least he's smart enough to come up with his own ideas after he heard what I had to say.

Honest to goodness, I've had enough of Thorin. He doesn't need me any more.

But it's not like he needed me in the first place …

So caught up in his emotions and his sudden desire to leave, the Hobbit had forgotten about Bofur being on watch.

He felt uncomfortable and ashamed that the hat-wearing Dwarf had caught him trying to leave; he felt even more so when he spoke harshly to him … and now, seeing the doleful look on Bofur's face made him feel even worse.

"Ye've come t'be a close friend, Bilbo, ye really have," he whispered in a low, pleading tone. "Ye've been like a second brother t'me – well, third, if ye count Bifur, bless him, but tha' is not the point. I don't want ye to go."

Bilbo sighed, almost growling in frustration. "It's very kind of you to say, Bofur, but Thorin has made it abundantly clear that I don't belong here."

I never did belong here in the first place …

"Don't let what Thorin said bother ye, laddie," replied Bofur, clasping the Hobbit's shoulder. "We all know Thorin can be a dunderhead at times, but I can assure ye tha' he didn't mean t'be so hostile towards ye. Stone Giants aren't a laughin' matter, believe ye me: he was ruddy nervous, is all. He needed to vent his feelin's, and it jus' happened t'be ye tha' he took it out on. Anyone could've 'ave fallen off that cliff an' been on the receivin' end of that! So don't take his words to heart. I know it sounds like I'm makin' excuses for him, but tha' is truly his way. He'll come 'round. Please stay, Bilbo. Say that ye will."

If Bofur's words were made to comfort Bilbo, then he had succeeded, and for that the Hobbit was grateful.

But the hat-wearing Dwarf's words did not persuade him.

I'm not staying. I'm going.

Still, there's one way I could show him my thanks before I leave …

"Bilbo?"

Gently shrugging off Bofur's hand, Bilbo finally answered the Dwarf. "My journey comes to an end here, Bofur. I'm going back to Rivendell, no matter what you say. "

Bofur's face fell the moment the Hobbit uttered those crushing words.

To his surprise and bemusement, however, a small smile broke out on Bilbo's face. The Halfling reached out and placed his hand on the dumbfounded hat-wearing Dwarf's elbow, lightly squeezing it.

"You've been a good friend to me, too, Bofur, despite our short time together," he murmured, his smile warm. "I thank you from the bottom of my heart, and I mean that truly. I shan't ever forget you, and I know you'll come to a good fortune, you and your family, when this quest of yours comes to an end."

A pause. "And if you wish to succeed in courting Nori …"

Another pause.

Bilbo's smile grew wider. "Never," he said softly, "stop being yourself. Laughing, joking, singing, comforting … that's what makes you, you. Nori knows this, but he'll never learn to appreciate it until it's too late. Nor will he be honest about his own feelings until he realises that he might lose you. You're sending out the messages to him – now it's his time to respond, and that requires taking a step back a little. Give him that chance to show you that he cares. When that time comes, he'll be yours, and you'll be his. Just … never forget to be yourself."

The Hobbit stepped back, letting his words sink in.

Bofur stared at his friend for a minute or so, his mouth slightly agape. Then, a little smile soon appeared on his face. His eyes, moist with tears, crinkled with both happiness and immense sadness. When he spoke, it was clear that he was holding back his emotions.

"Thank ye, Bilbo," he whispered quietly. "I appreciate yer help. I'll never f'get it."

Then the hat-wearing Dwarf reached out and affectionately patted Bilbo's shoulder, saying as he did so:

"I wish ye all the luck in the world. I really do."

Bilbo smiled, patting Bofur's hand fondly.

I shall certainly need it.

Until we meet again, my friend …

With a small sigh, Bilbo turned to leave the confines of the cave, to leave behind his now-to-be-former companions, to leave with a sense of feeling that, despite the hardships he endured, he accomplished quite a bit in sorting out these Dwarves' love lives …

… when Bofur's next words stopped him.

"What's that?"

When Bilbo looked down at where the Dwarf was pointing … when he slowly pulled out his sword, which was glowing and giving off an effervescent blue colour … when he felt the tremors beneath his feet … when he heard Thorin shouting, "Wake up! WAKE UP!" … when his screams mingled with that of the others as he felt himself falling down into the earth … all he could think of was:

Well, there goes my luck.

The Results

Well, ain't this a fine predicament that we've gotten ourselves into.

Things weren't exactly going well for the Dwarves. First off, they had lost their burglar – the last Nori had seen of him was when they were being rudely ushered from that cage by those vile Goblins deep down into Goblin Town, and that was that. Then, after their weapons were confiscated, they were soon face-to-face with the foul, grotesque Goblin King. A despicable character indeed, spitting as he spoke, his wobbling chin (if that's what they could call that swollen glob) shaking to and fro as he made a show of stomping back and forth.

It was bad enough that the ugly brute ordered his underlings to search them ("In every crack, every crevice!") - poor Óin's ear-trumpet was crushed flat (hoo boy, if looks could kill, Bifur would be me hero), and Dori wasn't exactly impressed that they discovered Nori's stolen hoard from Rivendell ("And in front of Balin, too!" the eldest Ri hissed, clearly embarrassed; Bofur's little chuckle made the thief feel instantly better). But it only got worse when the Goblin King bellowed for the torturing devices to be brought out and ordered Ori to be tortured first (I don't think Dwalin, Dori an' I have ever moved this fast).

The Goblin King wasn't impressed with Thorin when the dark-haired Dwarf revealed himself, ridiculing him and taunting him with referrals to Azog the Defiler. And now, he was singing uproariously (and badly) as his henchmen took to harassing their prisoners whilst the torture devices were making its way towards them.

A very fine predicament indeed, Nori thought dryly as he fended off a Goblin pulling at his arm.

Bofur was thinking the same thing – albeit with the inclusion of mental swearing. He pulled a face as a clammy Goblin hand tugged painfully on one of his braids. The hat-wearing Dwarf slapped the hand away, only to receive a hard kick in his shin.

These ruddy Goblins are relentless!

When he heard Bombur yelp behind him, Bofur whirled around to go and help his younger brother, but just as he made a move to go, he felt a hand clamp down hard on his shoulder, the nails digging into his skin. Feeling himself being turned around, Bofur's eyes fell upon the leering face of a seedy-looking Goblin.

"I quite like your hat," the creature hissed, grinning madly. "Mind if I take a look at it?"

Before the Dwarf could tell him where to shove it, the Goblin's arm moved quickly, and several seconds later, to Bofur's horror, he had the hat in his scabby hands.

"Give that back, ye little fecker!" Bofur roared, rushing forward, only to be pulled back by two of the Goblin's mates. "Get offa me, ye sorry excuses for Orc dung! GIVE ME THAT HAT BACK OR I'LL CHOP YE TO PIECES AND FEED YE TO THE SOD YE CALL KING!"

The hat thief laughed. He placed the hat on his head, where it sat perched at an odd angle, and he stuck his tongue out at the incensed Dwarf. "It does wonders for my figure, don't you think, lads?"

His mates roared with laughter. "It was wasted on this Dwarf, alright!"

Bofur growled. "Yer figure would look much better once I chop yer head off!"

It was at this precise moment that they discovered Orcrist, the "Goblin-cleaver". The Goblins, itching to have a proper go at these Dwarves, now had an excuse to do so. Bofur yelped as his shoulder got hit; Nori heard him and swung around – but his eyes could not detect the hat-wearing Dwarf among the throngs of Goblins.

I can't see 'is bloody hat! It ain't supposed t'be hard to miss!

Please let Bofur be okay. I promise not to pick on Ori, make Dori angry, be rude to Dwalin, try an' nick Glóin's brass from 'is purse … well, maybe one or two coins 'e won't miss … but blessed Mahal, keep Bofur safe! I'm not gonna lose 'im. But where is that hat of 'is?!

Metres away, unknown to the star-shaped-haired Dwarf, the Goblin wearing Bofur's hat cackled.

Then, Gandalf decided to show up at last.

And in light of this (literally – the Wizard an' 'is light shows, so dramatic), Nori saw Bofur's hat out of the corner of his eye before he fell.

There you are!

Things happened quickly. Before the thief knew it, he was back on his feet, his mace and knife suddenly thrust into his hands. Goblins from all sides came flying at him, and it took only but a little effort to dispatch of them quickly.

And the more Goblins he knocked down, the more Nori could see Bofur's hat bobbing into view.

Hold on, Bof, I'm comin'!

Keeping his eyes fixed on the headgear, Nori moved forward, ducking and diving out the way of his fellow companions and the Goblins as they fought. Felling a few of those nasty creatures that stood between him and his companion, the star-shaped-haired Dwarf lunged forward, and –

"'Ere, yer not a bloody Dwarf!" he exclaimed, all too surprised to come face-to-face with a Goblin.

His tone immediately became angry as his eyes fell on the hat that lay askew on the creature's head. "Wotcher doin' wiv that hat?!"

The Goblin spat in Nori's face. "I'm wearing it, if that isn't obvious! Borrowed it from that rude Dwarf. What are you going to do about it?"

"Borrow it back, mate, if that ain't obvious!" Nori returned before he raised his mace and, without a sound, he swung the weapon and knocked the side of the Goblin's head. Stunned, the Goblin did not see the knife coming …

Nori caught the hat before the Goblin's head fell to the ground.

If this don't prove tha' I care for Bofur, I'm burnin' this damn thing, he thought, wiping his cheek clean of Goblin spit.

Suddenly, Gandalf was yelling something, and he found himself running between Dwalin and Ori as they were being pursued by even more Goblins over rickety bridges.

From behind him, Bofur's voice rang as clear as a bell as he yelled, "C'mon Bombur, move yer legs! And mind where ye swing that ladle – ye could knock somebody's hat off with tha'! Oh right, mine's gone, now …"

Nori couldn't help but grin, tightening his hold on the hat.

Now it will be me who ends up gettin' separated from the others!

Bofur found himself running along a bridge, which felt unstable under his feet. Below, he could see the tops of his companions' heads as they fought. Ori clearly had Dwalin's back, wielding the tattooed warrior's war-hammer expertly whilst his One contended with a particularly tough Goblin. Dori was near Gandalf, whilst Balin held his own against a few foolish Goblins who dared to cross his path. Glóin and Bombur were not too far away from Óin and Bifur (how does Óin not hit anyone with tha' bleedin' staff?!). Fíli and Kíli fought alongside their uncle, and Nori –

Wait, where is Nori? Please don't tell me that bugger got himself killed – augh!

The Dwarf yelled as the wooden planks gave way beneath his feet, feeling genuine terror as he began to fall …

… before it was replaced with pure relief when someone grabbed his hand.

Looking up, Bofur's blue eyes met the shining eyes of a star-shaped-haired dwarf.

"Tryin' t'get yerself killed or sumfink?" said Nori (for it was he), grinning. "Just b'cause you lost yer hat, that don't mean you can commit suicide."

Bofur beamed up at him before replying, "If that's how ye feel, could ye be so kind an' bloody pull me up already?"

Nori nodded, using both his hands to pull the Dwarf up to safety. Helping his friend back to his feet, he asked, "Straight up, though, are you okay, Bof?"

"After lack o' sleep, fallin' into the clutches of Goblins, bein' kicked and pulled on, an' then nearly fallin' to my death … an' losin' my hat … well, the next time when adventure beckons, I'll remind m'self to read the fine-print," answered Bofur, smiling a little at the thief's concern.

"Perhaps a present will cheer you up," said Nori, pulling out the hat that was tucked into his belt.

Bofur's eyes widened in absolute delight. "Me hat! I thought it was gone fer good! How'd ye get it back from that Goblin?"

"Well, t'be honest, I actually thought for a moment that tha' Goblin was you b'cause 'e was wearin' yer hat," Nori replied, biting back an amused grin. "Nicked it hammer an' tack from 'im."

Bofur stared at him. "Ye cheeky git! Ye actually thought tha' Goblin was me? I can't be ugly as tha', can I?"

"Oy, I said I was bein' honest, didn't I?"

A pause. Then, softly, "And while I'm at it, yer not ugly at all, yer tosser."

"By Mahal, an honest thief, are ye?" remarked Bofur without malice, but to Nori's surprise, two pink spots appeared on his cheeks as he spoke. "Hardly yer style, I dare say."

"There's more t'me than you think, Bof," responded Nori quietly, his lips curving into a warm, indulgent smile.

To Bofur's amazement, an unusual sparkle appeared in the thief's eyes – his own blue eyes nearly popped out of his head as the star-shaped-haired Dwarf took his hand into own, twining their fingers together.

But Bofur said nothing, instead watching Nori silently.

"It's taken us a long time t'reach this point. I guess it were b'cause I wasn't strong enough to tell you the truth. But the thought of losin' you, wivout you knowin' …"

Nori sighed, squeezing the other Dwarf's hand.

"I'm well sorry tha' I couldn't tell you this sooner, an' I know this ain't exactly the time or place to do so, but Bofur …"

This time, he looked straight into his eyes.

"Bofur, I care about you. Straight up, I do. You make an honest thief out of me, an' I want t'make you 'appy as much as I can."

"Nori …" whispered Bofur, a warmth spreading in his chest whilst the other Dwarf made his confession. "I never knew ye to act this way, so honest and open about ye feelings, but it only serves to make me care about ye more."

And then, without even thinking, he uttered, "The Hobbit was right …"

Hearing those words roll out of Bofur's mouth, Nori looked stunned. "What did you say? The 'obbit was righ' about what?"

The tips of Bofur's ears turned red. "Bilbo said if I stood back and let ye show that ye cared, and that yer were bein' honest, ye were certain to admit that ye liked me. This was b'fore we ended up here."

Nori raised his eyebrows. "That's funny. He told me the exact same thing, righ', or at least sumfink along them lines, back in Rivendell."

"In Rivendell?"

"That's righ'."

"The Hobbit?"

"Aye. And he said the same t'you?"

"Aye."

"Before we got captured?"

"Aye."

Nori and Bofur stared at each other for several seconds.

Then, in unison, they cried at each other, "YOU ASKED BILBO FOR COURTING ADVICE, DIDN'T YOU?"

"Mahal zai abrâl!" exclaimed Bofur, grinning broadly. "Ye don't mean to say we've been too scared to simply tell each other how we felt –"

"– and then we both asked the 'obbit for help!" said Nori, smiling widely. "Tha' smart little git! Too clever by half!"

They both burst into a fit of laughter, unable to believe the sheer absurdity of the entire situation. Bilbo Baggins set them up. Sure, maybe he didn't tell Bofur that he had already advised Nori, but at least the dear creature didn't have the heart to reveal this fact. Besides, did the hat-wearing Dwarf not come to him for advice, too? That he made this all the easier for the two Dwarfs to finally admit their attraction towards each other after all this time … it was laughable!

Suddenly, the aggravated voice of Thorin immediately interrupted their gaiety.

"Bofur! Nori! Get down here NOW, for Mahal's sake! You can finish your chat later!"

"Righto!" answered Nori, wiping a mirthful tear from his eye before turning back to Bofur. He offered up the hat with a bow. "Yer hat, dear Bofur."

"My, my, honest an' polite," murmured Bofur with a grin, placing the hat back onto his head. "I wonder what else lies underneath ye."

"Believe you me, you'll 'ave more than enough time to figger me out."

"I love a good mystery."

It's unclear as to who kissed the other first, but nevertheless, the Dwarves' lips met together in a crushing kiss. They could have kissed longer, if not for a Goblin's arrow whizzing by and nearly hitting Bofur's hat off, and then another shout floated upwards from their leader.

With some reluctance, they parted before gently bumping their foreheads together. And then, hands still intertwined, with their other hands holding on tightly to the mace and the hat, the two new love-birds flew.

Looks like my luck has not yet abandoned me.

This thought was stuck firmly in Bilbo's mind long after he escaped from the mountain, the Hobbit now far from its dangers, and even then he still thought this as he ran to catch up to the Company. So concentrated was he as he ran after them, he nearly forgot about the ring on his hand (a strange item, this ring is – it's a rather good thing that I took it before that dreadful creature used it to do goodness knows what to me).

Puffing as he jumped over rocks and bits of scrub, Bilbo began to slow down when (at last!) he caught sight of his companions, along with their Wizard, who was asking about his whereabouts.

When Nori attempted to explain, only for Thorin to cut in and say some very unkind words about their burglar, and in a very angry tone, only then did Bilbo come to a complete stop.

Leaning against the back of a tree, the Hobbit merely listened as the dark-haired Dwarf spoke, processing his words:

"He's thought of nothing but his soft bed and his warm hearth since he first stepped out of his door! We will not be seeing our Hobbit again … he is long gone."

Swallowing hard and blinking away the burning salt drops in his eyes, Bilbo sighed. Thorin's words … they cut him deep. Deeper than the deadliest knife, and it all but threatened to reopen his wounds. Wretchedness, in that moment, crept into his frame, threatening to consume his mindset once more.

A sharp whisper, the voice of his Baggins side, sounded from within him:

Leave them, Bilbo. Go back to Rivendell. It's what you were going to do. Now they cannot stop you, least of all Thorin. He doubts you. He doesn't care for you. He is incapable of feelings. Escape, Bilbo, and you'll never have to contend with him ever again.

And for a second, the Hobbit almost gave in.

But then, a soft, kind voice suddenly echoed in his mind:

Don't let what Thorin said bother ye, laddie. Don't take his words to heart. He'll come 'round.

The image of Thorin's eyes, blue and cold as ice, filled with love and concern, appeared before him …

Please stay, Bilbo. Say that ye will …

He is capable … he isn't unfeeling …

He thinks I'm weak …

Prove him wrong …

How?

You'll know … when you get there …

Bilbo sighed again.

If I can give Nori and Bofur the same advice, it shouldn't be hard for me to follow through with it, right?

When Bilbo slipped off the ring and revealed himself, it amused him to see the shocked expressions on Gandalf and his companions' faces, and oh, how it cheered his heart when those expressions changed to that of gladness.

But what delighted him the most was when he saw Nori wrapping an arm around Bofur's shoulders, and the hat-wearing Dwarf quickly pecking the thief's cheek before breathing, "He's alive, Nori! He's alive!"

And you two are finally together. Well done for sorting yourselves out.

But when his eyes fell on Thorin, he was surprised to not see anger lingering in those ice-blue orbs – instead, all he could find was curiosity burning there. Even when Fíli, Kíli and Dwalin questioned him, the Hobbit only paid attention to the look of flaming curiosity in the dark-haired Dwarf's eyes.

And when Thorin asked him, "I want to know … why did you come back?", Bilbo hesitated before he gave him the answer.

The honest answer.

Well, not quite honestly …

But it was enough to extinguish the fire in Thorin's eyes, revealing a softness there that Bilbo thought he would never see. The Dwarf quickly looked down at his feet and back up at the Hobbit, regarding him now with hardness rather than the previous softness.

Bilbo bit back a sigh.

When the time is right …

You'll know …

I have a feeling that this 'challenge' Nori was talking about … it's about to begin …

Chapter Text

The Plot(?)

How in the heavens did we end up here?

As a ferocious Warg jumped up the side of the tree, its slobbering jaws lined with knife-like teeth narrowly missing his leg, Bilbo could not help but inwardly repeat that question in his mind. With his sword at the ready, its blue glow only slightly alleviating his dread, the Hobbit glanced in Thorin's direction. The dark-haired Dwarf stood on the highest branch of the first tree, dodging the dangerous, snapping mouths of those foul creatures and trying to maintain his balance at the same time.

In that moment, it was the glow of his ice-blue eyes that Bilbo wanted to see.

Really, Thorin, how did we end up here?

How did we get this far?

Suddenly, the Wargs silently backed away from the Dwarf-infested trees. They cowered as a larger, white-furred Warg came into view, upon which sat a hulking Orc with scarred, pale-white skin. A gleeful grin tugged at his sallow lips when Thorin saw him – the Dwarf king's face contorted in pure and utter shock: he looked as if he saw a ghost.

"Azog," Bilbo heard him whisper in disbelief, and the Hobbit groaned.

Thorin, for all that is mighty and sacred, please don't do anything stupid. There is no way you can fight this horrid creature and his canine by yourself, if that's what you're thinking. If only I was capable, I would help you … even though you've been acting rather brutish towards me for the duration of this journey … not that I've been acting any better …

But what can I do to help you? After all, I'm just a Hobbit …

There was no time to rest, not even a second to celebrate their escape from Goblin Town. Instead, Bilbo, Gandalf and the Dwarves were soon running once more, pursued by a pack of vicious-looking Wargs ridden by Orcs. The light was fading fast, and darkness was descending just as quickly. The Hobbit huffed and puffed, but never once did he allow himself to pause.

If Bombur can run fast, then I can damn well do the same!

Indeed, Bombur was running at quite a quick speed, without even needing Bofur and Nori to yell at him to keep up ("Save yer yellin' fer the bedroom, ye two!" the big Dwarf managed to snark). Bifur was running as fast as a bullet, clutching Óin's wrist tightly, whilst the healer made sure that Glóin was at his side ("Óin, how are you holdin' up?!" "Haven't been this tired since that caper in the flowerbeds with Bifur, but otherwise I'm fine!"). Balin and Dwalin flanked Dori and Ori, the eldest Ri holding onto his youngest brother's hand for dear life (how Ori can be pulled by Dori and be holding Dwalin's war-hammer at the same time, I won't even try to comprehend). Sprinting ahead of them were Thorin, Fíli and Kíli – the older Dwarf's voice was urgent, sounding almost worried, as he urged his nephews to move faster.

When he turned to look behind him, his eyes met Bilbo's own, and the Hobbit saw the ice-blue orbs flash with … concern?

Is he concerned about me …?

Bilbo, there's an Orc pack practically on your bottom right now, screamed the voice of his Took side inside his head, so now is DEFINITELY not the appropriate time to sort out your feelings. How about focusing on running?

Feelings? The voice of his Baggins side sounded highly annoyed. I do not have feelings for –

What you won't have left is legs if those Wargs get a hold of you, so you better RUN!

And he ran, not needing to be told twice by Gandalf – and also not needing the Wizard to tell him thrice to climb up into the trees (give me a second, Gandalf, it's not easy to pull a sword out of a dead Warg). He clambered up a tree just in time before any of the Wargs could snatch him by his ankles. He breathed a sigh of relief that the rest of the Company had made it, too; he couldn't help but crack a grin when he heard Nori yelling to Bofur: "Bof, if we live, I'm gonna marry you!"

"Ye make it sound as if ye weren't plannin' on it before!" came the peeved reply.

"Yeah, well, I didn't fink that far …"

Let's hope that we'll make it, then you ALL can get married, Bilbo thought, looking around at his companions fondly. As he glanced at each couple, careful to keep his ankles out the way of gnashing teeth, his heart warmed as he remembered the amount of effort he put into bringing these damned Dwarves – his damned Dwarves – together.

Dwalin showing his romantic, gentle side to Ori with the poetry … Dori finally able to get Balin alone and tell him his feelings when Balin braided his hair … Bifur being able to express his love for Óin through the language of flowers … Nori and Bofur finally admitting their love for each other after all this time … and some of them will never know that I helped them.

I can only pray that they shall live longer to enjoy their happiness. I wouldn't want my efforts – no, their efforts – to have come to nothing.

Fíli and Kíli are still so young – their end should not … must not … come tonight. They have a long way to go, I'm sure. No doubt Fíli will make a fine king someday, and Kíli will be just as important as one, bless his noble heart. Glóin will bring his beautiful wife and his little boy home to Erebor, and Gimli will surely grow fond of Bifur, his new uncle. Bombur's family will benefit greatly from his share of the treasure that lies in that mountain, and they will live like royalty, although poor Nori will have to get used to his numerous new nieces and nephews. Good grief, what huge family get-togethers these Dwarves would have! They'd clean out my pantry 20 times over!

And as for Thorin …

And so, as he watched the Dwarf in question, who was still comprehending the fact that Azog the Defiler was very much alive, Bilbo thought once more:

How in the heavens did we end up here?

Suddenly, the Hobbit felt himself falling. The sounds of snarls and growls of the Wargs clawing at the trees, which were rapidly falling and crashing into each other, and of his companions' yells as they leapt for their lives onto other branches, rang loudly in his ears. Bilbo jumped, the wind nearly knocked out of him as a particularly hard branch made contact with his mid-section. Only a few seconds later, they were all hanging in the last tree with Gandalf. Both Dwalin and Bifur nearly fell off, but Dori and Glóin caught them just in time ("If you so much as die on me, you'll be breakin' my brother's heart!" yelled Glóin to the axe-embedded Dwarf, whilst Dori exclaimed to the tattooed warrior, "No one's goin' to kill you except ME!"). Then, Bilbo found himself throwing flaming pine-cones down to the ground, which sent a few of those canine creatures running (I almost feel sorry for them … almost).

The Dwarves' cheers soon turned into that of terror-filled screams as the tree gave way beneath them (I think Luck has abandoned us). Bilbo felt his stomach drop violently as the tree swung over the edge of the cliff. With a Dwarf's arm wrapped around his shoulders, he closed his eyes and braced himself for the final fall …

Crash!

… and when he opened his eyes, Bilbo was amazed that they were still alive (praise Yavanna!). To his horror, though, the tree-top was hanging over the edge, with leaves and loose branches falling down into the ink-black abyss below. He uttered a cry when he saw Dori and Ori had fallen, the eldest Ri clinging with all this strength onto Gandalf's staff, whilst the scribe hung onto his leg. A horror-stricken Balin and Dwalin tried to move forward to help their Ones, but their movements disturbed the tree, making it slide ever so slowly towards the edge. They, and the others, could do nothing as the two Dwarfs struggled to hang on.

Bilbo gulped, blinking away the tears that threatened to fall.

The journey ends here …

The withdrawal of the arm around his shoulders and the slow, rising movement beside him jolted the Hobbit out of his thoughts. Gazing upwards at his protector, Bilbo nearly let go of the tree-branch in surprise.

Thorin … it's Thorin …

Indeed it was. Thorin, who had shown Bilbo disdain and rudeness, had saved his life again, holding him close as they nearly fell to their death … and still holding on although it was evident that they were (not yet) dead.

I hope this won't become a habit with him.

However, the dark-haired Dwarf paid no attention to him. Instead, a fierce expression dominated his face, and his ice-blue eyes were all but blazing with fury, fixed on the Pale Orc who watched him from a distance with an ever-growing smile. Slowly and carefully, Thorin rose to his full height, wielding his shield on the left and Orcrist on the right. The light from the fire illuminated his frame, making him look even more fearsome.

Striding off the tree in long bounds, Thorin, to Bilbo's horror, charged towards his enemy.

Unfortunately, it seemed all in vain.

In mortified silence, the Hobbit watched as Azog's Warg bound into the air and knocked the air out of the Dwarf king, whose body slammed to the ground.

No!

But Thorin would not give up. With the aid of his shield, he pushed himself back onto his feet, ready to lay the first strike. But Azog was quicker. Soon, Thorin was back on the ground after a spectacular hit to the face.

Thorin!

Before he knew it, Bilbo was on his feet, balancing precariously on the tree. Outrage and shock gripped at his heart as he watched the white-furred Warg sink its fangs into Thorin's flesh, causing the Dwarf to cry out in pain. The foul creature threw him to the side with one hit of its snout; the dark-haired Dwarf lay sprawled on his back, with Orcrist out of his reach.

Get up, Thorin … please …

But when one of Azog's henchman stepped slowly towards the Dwarf, a curved blade at his side, Bilbo, with sharp fluttering breaths, unsheathed his sword. Its glow lit his face in blue, and it lit his soul with hope.

Thorin, remember when I told you that I did care? That I wanted to help you as much as I can?

I was honest to goodness telling the truth … just not all of it.

No more Mister Nice Matchmaker.

The Results

"You! What were you doing? You nearly got yourself killed!"

Bilbo stared at him, his mouth agape. Yes, Thorin, I know that, because I somehow saved you from your worst bloody enemy, but why do you sound so angry?

This was certainly not the reaction he was expecting from Thorin. The moment that the Eagle deposited the unconscious Dwarf on the Carrock, Gandalf rushed to his prone form and somehow healed him and revived him. As Bilbo was dropped off by his respective Eagle (never AGAIN!), a shiver ran down his spine as Thorin whispered, "The Halfling", to which Gandalf smiled, replying in a soothing tone, "It's alright. Bilbo is here – he's quite safe."

However, as Dwalin and Kíli helped their king up, only for him to aim his angry words at him, Bilbo suddenly didn't feel very safe.

Thorin certainly looked angry as well. His fair face, scraped in different places, was contorted into a bitter expression, complete with a scowl and narrowed blue eyes. Gandalf and the others stood behind him, watching in silence as the dark-haired Dwarf stepped towards the Hobbit, practically spitting out his venomous words.

"Did I not say that you would be a burden?" he hissed under his breath. "You would not survive in the wild?"

Thorin stopped in front of Bilbo, who could only stare back in part-terror, part-embarrassment and part-disappointment.

"And you had no place amongst us?" Thorin muttered, glaring full-on at the Hobbit.

Bilbo looked down, swallowing twice, inwardly telling himself not to cry, before looking up again …

… to find that Thorin's hardened expression had softened. Worry and relief flooded his eyes, extinguishing the fire that burned there.

"I have never been so wrong, in all my life," he said, stepping towards a surprised Bilbo and wrapping his arms around him, pulling him into a tight embrace.

Sweet mother of mercy, I don't believe this!

He could hear the cheers of the Company, but they sounded so far away, so distant like a mountain. What he could hear clearly was the sound of his heartbeat ringing in his ears; the small, short bursts of breath as Thorin rested his head on his shoulder; the Dwarf's own heartbeat beating against the Hobbit's chest …

Really, I don't believe this, Bilbo thought, smiling in spite of himself as he patted the majestic Dwarf on the back.

Eventually, Thorin pulled back, running his ice-blue eyes over Bilbo's body, finding no apparent injuries. A small smile graced his lips, and that smile in itself served to make the Hobbit stare in disbelief at him (a smile! My goodness, will wonders never cease?).

"I'm sorry I doubted you," Thorin whispered, looking sheepish and apologetic all at the same time.

Guess they never will, I suppose.

"No, I-I would've doubted me, too," stammered Bilbo. He paused. "I'm not a hero, or a warrior …"

He looked up at Gandalf as he deadpanned, "… not even a burglar."

The Wizard chuckled at this. Once again, this little creature never failed to amaze him.

Thorin's smile broadened. His eyes glowed, staring straight into Bilbo's own orbs. Feeling his skin becoming warm, Bilbo turned away to see the Eagles departing into the new-morning sky.

His gaze immediately fell upon his Companions, who watched the birds as they flew away. Dwalin had an arm around little Ori's shoulders, pressing a kiss to his cheek (like when Ori first kissed him to accept his courtship). Fíli and Kíli gazed with child-like wonder as the Eagles left, but they also exchanged demonic smiles behind Dwalin and Ori's backs (oh, wait until they find their Ones, then they'll be teased for it!).

Dori and Balin held hands, their fingers intertwined – the advisor's other hand gently picked at a braid that came loose in his One's silver hair (another braiding session is in order, then - I'm sure they'll have plenty of time now).

Bifur had his arms around Óin's waist, resting his head on the healer's shoulder and whispering something in his ear (poor ear-trumpet. But whatever Bifur said, Óin looks rather delighted). Glóin rolled his eyes as his brother kissed the axe-embedded Dwarf's cheek in return, but he smiled nonetheless (looks like Glóin's warming up to Bifur now – quite a step-up from fainting).

Bofur and Nori leaned against each other, although the thief received a playful swat when his One noticed that his hat was no longer on his head but rather in the star-shaped-haired Dwarf's hands ("Never bloody again," Bofur muttered. Hmm, what did he mean by that, I wonder? Suppose he'll tell me some day). Bofur also laid a comforting hand on Bombur's shoulder, for the big Dwarf was sniffing with emotion, his heart gladdened that his older brother was now going to settle down with someone at last (Nori will definitely anchor Bofur down, and no doubt Bofur will sort out the mystery that is his One).

Otherwise, he thought, looking at his Dwarves with affection, an overall success. I do believe that my matchmaking days are over.

Whether they'll admit to their Ones that they sought assistance from me to help them in courting the others … well, that's up to them, I suppose.

Bilbo turned away, only to find that Thorin was (still?) looking at him with that smile. The iciness of his eyes had all but melted away.

"Thorin …?" the Hobbit whispered, feeling his heart constrict in his chest.

"You know, Master Baggins," said Thorin, lowering his voice, "in a way, you are quite the successful burglar as you are a successful matchmaker."

"Oh, so you recognise my success as a matchmaker rather than a trouble-maker, then?" was what Bilbo wanted to say: instead, he said, his curiosity aroused upon hearing the statement, "Oh? How so?"

The dark-haired Dwarf smile grew wider as he stepped closer towards the Halfling, who was altogether blushing at the close proximity of the leader's body. Without warning, he leaned in towards Bilbo, their faces only a few centimetres apart.

"Because," he whispered lowly, "you have stolen my heart."

Bilbo's eyes widened, and his mouth dropped in shock.

He. Did. Not. Just. Saaay …

You have stolen my heart …

Oh my sweet goodness, he did.

Thorin Oakenshield, who is so damn awful with his words and cannot express himself to save his life … just told me that he … he …

He loves me …

Thorin pulled away, amused to see two bright-pink spots appearing on the Hobbit's cheeks. His mouth opened and closed, then opened again and closed once more, reminiscent of a goldfish. The rest of his skin flushed a faint red colour. His eyes were as wide as his dinner-plates back at Bag-End.

"Are you alright, Master Baggins?" queried Thorin, unable to hide his amusement. "Please could you respond?"

"I … I …" stuttered Bilbo, still staring wide-eyed at the Dwarf, and still digesting the fact that Thorin admitted his love for him. "I …"

"You what?" coaxed Thorin quietly.

"I …"

When it comes to yer next theft … you'll know it when y'get to it, echoed Nori's prophetic words in his head.

"I …"

I love you.

"I …"

"Tell me," urged Thorin.

I LOVE YOU.

"I … but I'm a Hobbit," burst out Bilbo at last, unable to say what he wanted to say.

Thorin cocked his head to the side, grinning. A mischievous glint appeared in his eyes.

"What's being a Hobbit got to do with it?" he purred, before closing the distance between them and kissing Bilbo's soft lips with his own.

The Hobbit, initially surprised, melted into the kiss, smiling to himself as he kissed back. As the Dwarf wrapped his arms around him, pulling him into that close embrace that had their hearts all a-flutter once more, all Bilbo could think of was:

Indeed, what's being a Hobbit got to with it?

The Epilogue

"Check it out, Fíli. Uncle and Bilbo are kissing."

"So I see." A sigh. "Looks like we owe you a bag of coins each, right, Gandalf?"

A sly grin. "Indeed so. It just goes to show that you must never question a Wizard's intuition. When I said that everyone will be courting before we reached Erebor, you never believed me."

"Didn't think there was time – I thought they'd all get together after."

"It didn't help when you dropped hints to Dwalin about Bilbo being a master when it comes to – how did you say it, Fí? - the matters of the heart."

A shrug. "Thought I'd get a bit of an early start, Kí. After all, it's fun to tease Ori about it."

"S'pose." A sigh. "Didn't expect Uncle and Bilbo to court this early, though."

The sly grin broadened. "Never underestimate the powers of love, my dear Kíli. Now, where are my winnings?"

As the two brothers grumbled, Gandalf glanced in the direction of the king and the Hobbit and whispered fondly (and sneakily):

"Looks like my matchmaking days are over."