Disclaimer: The Hobbit, all characters, places, and related terms are the sole property of J. R. R. Tolkien's estate, and Warner Brothers, New Line Cinema, Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer, and WingNut Films.

Author's Note: Fill for a prompt on the hobbit-kink meme.

Beyond Reach

Thorin and Dwalin were quietly talking about the next day's trek. Seated beside his brother, Balin attempted to pay proper attention and contribute to the discussion. Yet the dwarf found he was distracted, surreptitiously observing Bilbo who was sitting with the princes and Ori on the other side of the campfire.

"Eighty-one?" her voice, filled with surprise, drifted to the adviser.

"Aye. And Kili's seventy-seven," Fili said.

"I would never have guessed," she murmured, earning a chuckle from Ori.

"And how old are you, Miss Boggins?"

"It's Baggins."

"Ori thinks you're as old as Nori."

"But we suspect you are closer to Gloin's age," Fili piped in.

Bilbo stammered and fiddled with the end of her braid (a now familiar sign of embarrassment to Balin). "Oh, well. Um. Fifty-one. I turned fifty-one last fall."

Balin turned his head so fast he nearly got whiplash, his pipe falling from his hand. Belatedly he realized all the other dwarves were staring at their burglar in heavy silence. Bilbo gazed around the group in rising confusion as the silence lengthened. When her eyes rested on him, Balin could only stare back, stunned, his heart sinking.

"Fifty-one!?" Dori squeaked in a high-pitched voice, appearing as though he would faint.

"Younger than Gimli...a child!" Gloin exclaimed in Khuzdul, horrified.

"I'm going to kill Gandalf when he turns up!" Dwalin said under his breath.

"Is-is something the matter?" Bilbo asked worriedly, standing and clasping her hands together.

"No, Halfling," Thorin said shortly, causing the others to become quiet. Crossing his arms in front of his chest, he scowled darkly. "It is simply good to know such things," his tone was dangerously calm.

After that it was completely natural for Dori, Bombur, and Gloin to guard the hobbit fiercely like mother hens; for Bofur and Nori to back off on their teasing and pranking; for Thorin to fall into an even more brooding mood; for Oin, Bifur, and Dwalin to be less suspicious of Bilbo; for the lads often to stare at her.

And it was natural for Balin to avoid the lass. Thorin needed him close more than ever, to provide a listening ear and give advice. So now the white-haired dwarf spent the days hiking near the front of the line with his kin, no longer falling back to keep their burglar company and make sure she didn't fall too far behind. Nor did he any longer seek her out after the company set up camp for the night.

Because so many of the others had taken over his role of parental figure. (The lass did not need yet another dwarf fussing over her.) Truly, Balin viewed the lass in a familial light, nothing more. Even if his brother and cousin continued to give him the same knowing looks as they had before the revelation of Bilbo's age. Even if he blushed and his foolish heart fluttered whenever he caught her eye and she seemed about to approach before he beat a hasty retreat. Even if his smile was a tad forced while observing Ori and Kili vie for her attentions.

Really, it was for the best Bilbo's age had come out now, before something could have become terribly awkward or scandalous!

Still, that did not stop Balin from momentarily glaring when he caught sight of Kili holding both of Bilbo's hands in his, their heads bent close together after Thorin called a halt for the day. Mumbling something about firewood, the adviser marched off into the woods, purposefully ignoring the few quizzical gazes and callings that followed him. He just needed a minute to himself…

Eventually sinking onto a fallen log, Balin clenched and unclenched his hands in his lap. He sighed heavily. He was a fool, acting like a dwarfling caught up in his first fancy, rather than a grownup, mature, old dwarf. He needed to focus on the task at hand, think of Erebor. Firmly, repeatedly, he told himself the various reasons Bilbo and Kili would make a fine match.

A brush against his sleeve broke the dwarf out of his thoughts. Turning his head, he discovered Bilbo next to him. She gave him a small uncertain smile before ducking her head, a blush rising in her cheeks. It took Balin a minute to notice her lap was filled with yellow and pink flowers.

"Miss Baggins."

"You may call me Bilbo. I told you so before," she replied, glancing up at him.

All he could manage was a nod, feeling uncharacteristically nervous.

I think…," she frowned lightly and briefly shook her head. "I am past my majority, very much so," she said, words tumbling over each other.

"I-indeed?" Balin stammered once her words sunk in, his eyes widening.

"Yes." She nodded firmly.

"I see." His gaze dropped to the flowers in her lap. "Please, forgive me for thinking you were a child. I had not considered how hobbits aged compared to dwarves."

Bilbo placed her small hand over one of his and squeezed it gently. "There is nothing to forgive. I was equally at fault," her warm voice washed over him.

The adviser swallowed hard, feeling his heartbeat quicken, his stomach tie into a knot. She was considered an adult. Yet that did not change the fact he was too old, like a father to the hobbit. It would have to be enough. The smile Balin gave her didn't quite reach his eyes. Gently he patted her hand.

"You are a good lass, Bilbo," he said, and got to his feet.

She caught the cuff of his sleeve. Looking up at him, her expression was an odd mixture of nervousness, determination, and possibly sadness. "As a matter of fact, in the Shire I am middle-aged."

Balin froze and stared. "What?" he whispered.

"Hobbits do not have as long lifespans as dwarfs. I have about fifty years – sixty, if I'm fortunate – to live. I am not young at all!"

"Oh!" he gasped. Then that meant…

"Back home I'm considered an old maid."

"Surely not!" the dwarf burst out loudly, surprised. How? With her long honey-colored curls, deep green eyes, bright smile, and cute dimples. He repeated in a quieter, gentle voice, "Surely not."

For an endless minute they remained still, gazing at each other searchingly. Slowly Balin blushed underneath his beard. Bilbo's smile was shy, hopeful. His eyes twinkled as he was pulled back down onto the log. And his heart soared when the lass tentatively brushed her fingers through his fluffy beard.

When the two returned to the campsite hand in hand, their appearance was hailed with loud exclamations, double-takes, and arched eyebrows.

"What have you done to yourself now?" Dwalin asked with a bark of laughter.

"I believe it is an old hobbit custom, signifying the beginning of courtship. Charming little tradition actually," Gandalf explained before lighting his pipe.

Gaping, everyone took in the pink and yellow flowers weaved through Balin's beard, and the matching flower crown resting on top of Bilbo's head.

"Finally!" Dori cried, throwing his hands up.

The company broke into wild cheers and whoops. Bilbo blushed hotly under all the attention, while Balin puffed up and grinned, pulling his hobbit close to his side.

THE END