A/N: I'm back for another story! This is an idea I've had for ages but what with working on my story for the Hobbit Big Bang I didn't have time to get it down; now that that is coming along very nicely indeed I decided to write this. And it feels so good to be back! (For now, anyway.)

I hope you enjoy. :)

Perhaps the lover is the outlaw in ourselves we don't quite have the nerve to claim.

- Rosemary Sullivan

Bound

Thorin was not the superstitious kind, but he was certainly suspicious; when his neck began to prickle he knew he was being followed. He was certain of it. Forests were no friends to the dwarves, dark canopies and thick trees offering all manner of hiding places to conceal traps to trick unwary travellers, but Thorin had travelled alone enough to know when to trust his instincts. And right now, his instinct was screaming at him to grab his sword and fight; but without knowing how many of his potential assailants there were, he kept his pace, not looking around but listening to every snap of twig and rustle of leaves.

He kept a hand on his sword hilt for good measure, ready to swing it should the hidden figures attack; he didn't relax his grip even when the sounds seemed to die down. Thorin would not take any chances now he was alone, his guard scattered and his own way...lost.

When what little sunlight filtered through the trees began to dim and the shadows faded to grey on the mud track he kept an eye out for places to stop for the night – on the path, an easy target, or further in the forest, where there was no easy escape route? Either way he would be in trouble if he was attacked.

He found a spot a little deeper among the trees but close enough to the path, but it was the little brook that cut across the clearing that decided him. In the centre of the clearing he'd see anyone coming and no one could cross the stream without splashing. Satisfied, he set a little fire going as the dark deepened and the bright orange crackle of the flame reassured him. Not that he needed the light - he'd grown up underground, after all, in the dark corridors of Erebor - but it kept other predators at bay.

After a light meal he lay down to sleep, his sword still buckled to his waist and knives in his boots, as well as one clutched under the pack he used as a pillow. He lay awake, listening to the crackle of the fire and the quiet night noises of owls and little creatures of the trees and gradually was lulled into a semi-sleeping state.

He was started awake by a twig snapping – not the pop of fire-consumed wood. Keeping his entire body still he tightened his grip on his knife under his head, still alert even after a few minutes. Then he heard something else, the soft scrape of something against a tree - clothing, most like. He kept breathing steadily, however, trying not to make any hasty movements too soon.

It was only when he heard the grass by his ear being flattened that he sprang up, grabbing at the person's clothing and bringing a knife to their neck, cold metal against warm flesh - only to see nothing . But there was definitely something in his hands and he heard their soft gasps as he pressed the knife closer to the throat.

'Whatever magic you conceal yourself with, remove it now,' he growled quietly, making sure the captive in his grip knew he wouldn't hesitate to slit the blade right across their throat. ' Now ,' he repeated, pressing the blade closer, and he felt the person fumbling and then he saw who - what – it was.

The first thing he noticed was the head of fair curls, dirty and with twigs caught in amongst them. He took in the tattered clothes, once finely cut with buttons of brass still attached by a single thread, and...The feet.

His assailant was a hobbit .

A halfling. He'd seen these creatures before, having passed through the Shire on numerous occasions as he left the Blue Mountains - the refuge of the dwarves of Erebor after the sacking of their city by the dragon - and all they seemed to do all day was farm, eat and drink. So why was there a hobbit here with Thorin's knife pressed to his neck?

'Who are you and what are you doing?' Thorin asked, loosening his grip on the small creature but keeping his blade close to the soft flesh of the neck.

'If you let me go, I could introduce myself as a proper hobbit should,' the halfling said hopefully but Thorin only pressed the knife closer.

'A proper hobbit doesn't sneak up on sleeping travellers in the forest,' Thorin said cuttingly. 'Now, who are you and why are you here?'

The halfling sighed. 'That's true enough. I'm Bilbo Baggins of the Shire, and I was trying to steal your gold. And your food.' He twisted a little in Thorin's grip. 'Could you let me go now?'

Thorin made no reply. 'How did you conceal yourself?'

The hobbit hesitated but at the slight increase in pressure of the knife he let out an exasperated huff. 'Alright! I found this in the mountain passes when I was there last.' He held something out, something gold that winked orange in the light of the fire. 'Can you please take the knife away now? You'll cut me if you're not careful.'

'That is rather the point,' Thorin replied but he complied, removing the blade from this hobbit - Bilbo's - neck and taking the golden trinket he held out. He kept a firm grip on his arm though, to stop him running off. It was a ring, gold and heavy in his palm. Once, he might have been tempted by it; but with the memory of the dragon and grief for his father and grandfather still painful he felt nothing towards it other than curiosity.

'I do apologise for waking you - although it would have been better for me if you hadn't - but I'll just be going on my way now,' Bilbo was saying, trying to loosen Thorin's grip on his upper arm. 'You can keep the ring, if you like-'

'I don't want your ring,' Thorin growled. 'And you're not going anywhere. You think I'd let you go so you can thieve from other travellers?'

'I - wha-'

Thorin reached into his pack and pulled out a length of thick hemp rope and Bilbo's eyes widened; it would almost have been comical if he hadn't looked so terrified. He let out a little squeak as Thorin brought the rope towards him and started to struggle, but Thorin just caught his wrists together to stop him writhing.

'Stay still . I'm only binding your hands together.'

The halfling relaxed infinitesimally and Thorin was able to quickly tie the rope around his wrists tightly. But Bilbo began to struggle again and gasped as the rope bit into his wrists. 'How am I supposed to get by if I can't move my hands?' he asked angrily.

'I told you to stay still ,' Thorin told him sharply. 'The rope's not meant for tying up prisoners and you'll hurt yourself. And you're not meant to get by.'

'What do you mean?' Bilbo asked in a mixture of fear and anger.

'Last time I passed through the Shire, the Bagginses were a very wealthy family. Way I see it they'll pay good money to have one of their own returned to them.'

Gold was scarce even for the rightful king of Erebor, and while he felt a little twinge of guilt at using the halfling in such a mercenary way, the thought of putting hot food on his sister's table and warm boots on his nephews' feet was enough to quash it quickly enough.

'You're wrong,' Bilbo said quietly, but didn't elaborate. 'How do you know I won't run off during the night?'

Thorin gave a humourless smile. 'Because I'm tying you to a tree.'

Bilbo seemed to sigh and deflate and allowed himself to be led over to a large thick oak tree, around which Thorin tied the remaining length of rope. Bilbo didn't protest or struggle, which Thorin was grateful for; perhaps if Bilbo proved himself willing to cooperate Thorin wouldn't have to keep him tied up.

He put some more wood on the fire and sat by it, watching Bilbo.

'Do you want some food?' he asked and Bilbo shook his head. 'You're a halfling, of course you want food. You were trying to steal it in the first place.'

Bilbo got a haughty look on his face as he regarded Thorin. 'I don't accept food from kidnappers.'

Thorin had to laugh at that. 'But you'll happily steal from them?'

Bilbo looked away. 'A hobbit has to have some standards. And anyway, I can't eat with my hands tied.'

'I'll let your hands free if you wish to eat,' Thorin told him. Bilbo glared. So Thorin reached into his pack and started going through his food supplies, keeping up a running commentary as he did so. 'I'm on my way back from a meeting with the elves of Rivendell, and they were gracious enough to grant me some of their least mouldy scraps. Look, I've got cold peppered potatoes, or honey glazed ham; lemon chicken, or you can have the salad. I hate salad.' When he glanced up, Bilbo was looking at the food with interest but as soon as he noticed Thorin looking at him the halfling returned to glaring into the shadows of the forest.

Sighing, Thorin took him some of the potatoes and set them in his lap before adjusting the rope, keeping Bilbo secured to the tree but freeing his hands.

'I'd rather not have a dead Baggins to return.'

The halfling said nothing, so Thorin sighed again and returned to his spot by the fire. 'Well, I'm not letting you go just because you won't eat. Get some sleep; we've got a long way to travel tomorrow. I'll be happier once we get out of this damned forest.'

Again answered with silence, Thorin took one last look at the halfling before rolling himself back up in his cloak and letting himself relax, still keeping his blades within easy reach. He wouldn't be sleeping tonight, just in case Bilbo decided to make a run for it... But Bilbo stayed stubbornly still and silent and Thorin found himself drifting off to sleep, and the next thing he knew the sun was blinking down through the trees and fingers of smoke curled up from what was left of the fire. Bilbo was staring at him as he cursed soundly and Thorin felt uncomfortable at the unblinking gaze of those large eyes.

He glowered as he rooted around in his pack for some of the hard bread and ham he'd been given; he noticed that Bilbo still hadn't eaten the potatoes. He was hunger-striking, then.

'You should have woken me at first light,' he said sharply and he heard Bilbo snort in disbelief.

'I'm your prisoner , not your alarm,' he responded bitingly, and Thorin ignored him as he went about eating and clearing away the remnants of his camp.

'How did you cross the river so silently last night?' Thorin asked him as he untied the rope from the tree after re-tying Bilbo's wrists.

'You think I'll give up my tricks of the trade that easily?' was all Bilbo said on the matter, and Thorin only shrugged. It made no real matter to him, although he'd need to keep a close eye on the hobbit, in case he should try to cut his bonds and sneak away while he was distracted.

They set off not long after, Thorin tying the rope loosely to himself so that the halfling could not yank it from his grasp and make his escape. Bilbo resisted at first, dragging his feet so that Thorin had to pull him along, but eventually he followed. They walked in silence, Thorin just wanting to get out of this Mahal-forsaken forest, the trees looming over them ominously tall.

'Well, this is nice,' Bilbo said after a while. 'I always did like to go walking in the woods at home.' Thorin glared at him suspiciously, but Bilbo just looked at him with wide, innocent eyes. 'Although admittedly, I was never tied up when I went walking before.'

'Be quiet,' Thorin said gruffly. 'If you're just going to complain, don't talk.'

'I'm not complaining,' Bilbo pointed out. 'I'm stating a fact. In fact, it's rather novel, being tied up like this. Maybe you're not taking me home, maybe you're going to sell me to traders, or take me back to your mountain, or-'

'I said be quiet,' Thorin interrupted. 'I'm taking you to your family and that's that.'

Bilbo sighed and fell quiet, and said nothing until the sun was directly above them and it was time for lunch. Thorin had heard the growling of his stomach grow gradually louder, but the halfling was too proud to admit to it. When they did eventually stop, Thorin loosened the ties on his wrists enough that the hobbit could eat, although Bilbo eyed the bread and cheese he was offered suspiciously.

'In all the books, you should never eat your captor's food,' he said, glaring at it.

'What benefit would there be in me killing you?' Thorin sighed. 'Look.' He took a bite from the bread, to prove it wasn't poisoned, and held it back out to Bilbo.

'You could have just built up a resistance to it, specifically to trick me into eating it,' he said petulantly, but he accepted the food and ate it hungrily, eyes closing at the taste of the food. Thorin wondered when the hobbit had last eaten, and he gave him some of the potatoes he'd refused last night; this time Bilbo accepted them readily and his face was bliss as he ate.

He sighed when Thorin tightened the bonds on his hands again when it was time to move on, but didn't resist. Once again, they walked in silence for the most part, Bilbo walking in front of Thorin so the dwarf could keep an eye on him, other than when Bilbo started to whistle a tune once or twice.

'If you visited Rivendell,' Bilbo asked suddenly, his voice loud in the cloying silence of the forest, 'why are you by yourself? Everyone knows the dwarves hate the elves.'

'The feeling's mutual, I assure you,' Thorin muttered. 'It's none of your concern.'

'Oh, now really ,' Bilbo sighed. 'I was just trying to make conversation.'

'Then don't,' Thorin suggested, perhaps a little harsher than he meant to.

'I've realised I don't even know your name,' Bilbo complained, ignoring his comment. 'You know mine, but who are you?'

Thorin said nothing for a few moments, staring straight ahead, but when the hobbit gave a sigh he said shortly, 'Thorin.'

'Thorin,' Bilbo repeated. ' Thorin ...'

'Stop it,' Thorin muttered crossly, tugging on the rope. Bilbo looked back at him, vaguely annoyed.

'I've never met a dwarf before,' he said defensively . 'Your name is strange.'

'So's yours,' Thorin retorted.

'I'll have you know that my name is a very respectable one,' Bilbo said waspishly, as if Thorin had insulted his very honour.

'And mine is the name of a king,' Thorin snapped, annoyed, and grit his teeth when he realised what he'd just said. Although the look on the hobbit's face was almost worth it

'You're a king?' Bilbo asked, eyes wide. Thorin gave a curt nod. 'You don't look very much like a king,' he said uncertainly, and Thorin grit his teeth again. He ignored that comment and tugged the rope again, making sure Bilbo kept walking. There was quiet again for a moment until Bilbo started up a stream of commentary.

'That said, we don't have kings in the Shire. We have mayors instead, so I wouldn't know what a king looks like. Do they all wander through forests alone and capture helpless travellers? I wonder why you need money from my family if you're a king. Where are you king of, exactly?'

'Do you ever shut up?' Thorin exclaimed when Bilbo paused for breath.

Bilbo stiffened and glared at Thorin. 'That was rude.' He snapped his head forward, dirty curls bouncing with the movement, and didn't utter another word. Thorin felt a twinge of guilt as Bilbo walked, shoulders stiff and staring resolutely ahead of him, but he pushed it away. This halfling had been going to steal from him, leave him without food or the means to get more, so he owed nothing to him.

The silence was too loud, but Bilbo was sulking and Thorin was too proud to admit that his chatter was better than the forest's noisy quiet. So they trudged along, neither speaking, as the shadows began to lengthen and the sun no longer shone down through the leaves, the blue of dusk replacing it.

They found a small clearing to stay in for the night and Thorin tied Bilbo to the tree while he got a fire going. But just as he had set up the kindling and logs and was about to set his flint to it, Bilbo spoke.

'I need to go.'

'You're not going anywhere,' Thorin said, sighing over the woodpile. 'I've told you.'

'No, I mean I need to go. In the bush.' Thorin looked up at him.

'Can you not wait until I'm done?'

Bilbo shook his head and Thorin could see his legs jiggling slightly, feet tapping on the grass. 'Please?' Bilbo asked, tapping growing faster. 'I do really need to go.'

Thorin heaved a sigh of frustration, the fire still unlit, and walked over to Bilbo. Slipping the rope around his wrists, he untied him from the tree and led him over to where there was a thick covering of brush and bushes. 'Go then.'

'Turn around,' Bilbo commanded, forgetting his need to relieve himself in favour of being respectable. Thorin complied, stepping around behind a tree but keeping a tight hold of the rope in case he tried anything. He stood there awkwardly as the hobbit went about his business, wondering how he'd got to this point – a king of Erebor standing guard as a captive hobbit answered a call of nature…his sister would laugh herself hoarse if she could see him. Bilbo soon reappeared, nodded haughtily, and made his own way back to his tree, Thorin following and re-tying him.

Thorin heated some of the chicken he'd been given by the elves and gave some to Bilbo, who looked at it for a moment before deciding his hunger overcame his mistrust of Thorin.

'When was the last time you ate?' Thorin asked him, watching as Bilbo's hunger warred with his manners as he tried not to wolf it down. 'Before lunch today, I mean?'

Bilbo shrugged. 'I had some berries for breakfast yesterday, but you captured me before I could have dinner,' he threw an accusing look at Thorin. 'I managed to find some mushrooms two days before that, though, and that was a good dinner,' he said, smiling.

'Don't hobbits eat a ridiculous number of meals a day?' Thorin asked, surprised at how little Bilbo seemed to have eaten.

Bilbo scowled and looked offended. 'It's not ridiculous ,' he said crossly. 'It makes perfect sense. We eat so much when we can so that when we can't we've got plenty stored up. Hobbits used to be a wandering people, you know.'

Thorin was surprised. Now he thought about it, Bilbo wasn't as skinny as one might expect a wandering petty thief to be, although he was certainly leaner than the hobbits Thorin had seen in the Shire. 'How long have you been wandering?' he asked. 'Stealing from sleeping travellers?'

Bilbo's face hardened. 'Long enough.' He twisted in the ropes, but tied as he was to the tree he couldn't turn away from Thorin, so he settled for shifting around the trunk as much as he could and closing his eyes. 'Goodnight, Thorin.'

'Goodnight,' Thorin answered, studying the little creature until he opened one green eye and glared at him, and he hurriedly turned back to the fire and set up his own bed roll close to the flames. He'd hit a sore point there, but what? There was evidently more to this hobbit than Thorin had previously thought.

As he wrapped his cloak up tighter around himself, he thought that perhaps he'd set the fire up closer to Bilbo the next night.

A/N: More will be up soon, hopefully! Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed it :D