The Tale of the Formerly Respectable Hobbit

Well, this is it, final chapter!

I would like to thank everyone who read, reviewed, followed, or favorited this story. I hope the end doesn't disappoint! :)

Although their avoidance had been natural and mutual, now that Bilbo was looking for him, Thorin seemed to have become greatly adept at disappearing, as though he had a magic ring of his own. He'd had no choice but to go to his chambers one evening, and a (great) part of him was dreading a second rejection so much that he almost gave up, but then he figured he wanted to stop feeling like that, and the only way to achieve that would be to go forward. So he did. He knocked. Twice. And waited. For what seemed like an eternity. Thorin finally opened his door and although his eyes narrowed in surprise and his whole body tensed, he stepped aside to let him in. They then proceeded to stare at each other in silence for a few minutes, both obviously hoping the other would go first.

"This is ridiculous," Bilbo muttered as he rubbed his eyes. "Look, I'll try to make it as quick and painless as possible. And the only reason I'm even bringing this up again is because the others have been dropping me subtle hints, and I've got an update for you: Dwarves can't do subtle!" he informed him plainly.

"'The others'?" Thorin repeated with a frown. "Do you mean my nephews?"

"Including but not limited to," Bilbo replied with a dismissive wave of the hand. "That's not important. The question is this: did you really turn me down because you're the King and I'm a Hobbit?" he asked plainly.

Thorin opened his mouth to reply, most likely to confirm this, but Bilbo narrowed his eyes at him, silently warning him not to lie, and he closed it. Letting out a long sigh, he shook his head. "No, indeed not. That was just a convenient excuse," he finally confessed.

Bilbo openly gaped at him, as he'd expected this to be much more akin to pulling teeth. "But then why…?" He couldn't even properly word his question as he gestured between them.

They were back to a staring contest, and Bilbo was ready to ask his question again or perhaps threaten him when Thorin finally spoke once more. "The gold-fever…I am afraid of what I might do in the future should I let my weakness overcome me once more," he admitted with much difficulty, intensely disliking breaching this subject, for obvious reasons.

"I swear to you, Thorin, you'd better not be saying you're pushing me away to protect me from a potential relapse," Bilbo warned him, doing his best to keep his tone quiet and non-confrontational as he took a tentative step closer. "You know how I feel about people trying to protect me behind my back."

But Thorin was not about to yield on this. "I held you above the battlements, with every intention of letting you fall to your death!" he needlessly reminded him. "How am I to look you in the eyes and claim to care for you when I did such a thing? How can I ever hold you and get past the memory of grabbing you for a completely different purpose?" he demanded, shaking his head as it seemed impossible to him.

"Because I'm willing to!" Bilbo interrupted him calmly. "I'm willing to let that go – it's done. It's over, and I won't let things of the past control my future – neither should you!" he insisted earnestly.

Thorin's eyes widened and then narrowed as he raised a hand towards him. "I do not deserve you," he said brokenly as he pulled his hand back at the last second.

"Oh for the love of—I want you!" Bilbo finally exclaimed in exasperation as he'd reached the limits of his patience – and clearly, the dwarf had an uncanny talent in that regard, he had to give credit where credit was due! "Enough with your misplaced guilt and self-imposed punishments, Thorin! If you truly wish to insist on feeling that way, then as the offended party, the final word should come from me – and I. Want. You," he enunciated clearly, leaving no room for doubt as he held Thorin's – definitely wide-eyed – gaze. The Baggins in him bristled at the thought that he was yelling at the King Under the Mountain – that just wasn't how proper Hobbits should act. The Took in him however told the Baggins in him to sod off or keep quiet, thank you very much, he was busy setting things straight with the Fool Under the Mountain. "Although I'm really starting to question my sanity on the matter," he added, because that was true. It was probably the dwarvish ale – a sly, slow-burning poison it was.

Thorin's eyes narrowed before he looked to the side, still not convinced as he shook his head. "You would—"

"Only one thing is relevant to this discussion, Thorin!" Bilbo starkly interrupted him as he fisted his hands in the rich furs lining the front of the dwarf's coat. "Is that mutual? Do you want me?" he questioned bluntly as he held his gaze.

Thorin choked on a chuckle as he shook his head in disbelief at being asked something so obvious. "You doubt this?" he asked him seriously, looking a mix between baffled and insulted.

"I wonder why," the hobbit replied dryly, clearly not moved and not letting up in the least bit.

"You will never cease to confound me, Master Hobbit," Thorin mused as he raised a hand to ghost his fingers over the other's curls.

"And you still haven't answered my question," Bilbo insisted, undeterred, as he neither let go of him nor leaned into his touch. Thorin leaned down towards him, his intent clear in the way he looked at him, but the hobbit narrowed his eyes and leaned away, although he still didn't step back. "That is not an answer, Thorin," he informed him smartly.

Thorin's frustrated growl did nothing to mask his aggravation, but a smile finally appeared on his face despite this. "You will be the death of me," he muttered as he moved his hands to the sides of Bilbo's face.

"A bit melodramatic, don't you think?" Bilbo quipped with a playful roll of his eyes.

"And yet undeniable," Thorin maintained with a raised eyebrow. "You obviously bring out the masochist in me, Bilbo Baggins, for I want you, regardless," he finally replied. When he leaned in this time, the hobbit didn't stop him, but rather tightened his grip and pressed back against him to respond to his kiss. "I want you," he repeated against his lips, barely stopping long enough to let out the words.

"Then have me," Bilbo replied with a sound that was between a moan and a chuckle – a sound that instantaneously became Thorin's favorite and one goal – while his hand had moved up to run through the king's long hair as the other kept them close.

"You make it sound so simple," said king breathed out as he moved his hands down to take a possessive hold of the other's waist.

Bilbo huffed at that, resisting the urge to roll his eyes once more as he pulled back to look at him. "It actually is, you big oaf. You're the one who's been making this complicated all along," he stated pragmatically, firm in his beliefs.

Thorin opened his mouth to protest indignantly (both at the accusation itself and the thinly veiled insult), but was interrupted without delay as Bilbo determinedly set to prove to him that yes, it actually was that simple.

In retrospect, his behavior that night had been all but kingly, and extremely improper – possibly even more than all the times he'd pretended not to notice as his nephews played pranks on unsuspecting (self-)important visitors.

He honestly couldn't bring himself to care.

"If anyone dares say to my face that Hobbits are gentle, proper, innocent creatures ever again…" Thorin mused much later as he distractedly watched the embers as they died in the fireplace in his bedchambers. Every so often the burnt wood crackled and more embers were propelled into the room, flying about until they vanished. One or two had gotten dangerously close to his shirt – Bilbo had thrown it surprisingly far from the bed once he'd gotten it off of him, he thought with a smile – and he wondered if he should get up to move it away, but he was presently very comfortably settled into warm furs with an armful of hobbit, so he decided against moving; that shirt and any other clothing in the immediate vicinity could burn for all he cared.

Next to him, Bilbo chuckled at that. "Oh? Is that so? What would you say Hobbits are, in this case?" he asked mock-seriously as he absent-mindedly studied the beads that were in his lover's hair.

"Overbearing, devious, and positively mind-boggling," was the immediate reply – and really, the speed at which he said this just showed that Thorin had been thinking about that for a long time, and he owed up to it.

"Wow," said overbearing, devious and positively mind-boggling character replied unimpressed as he teasingly tugged on a braid. "Truly, Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thráin, son of Thrór, King Under the Mountain, they will write songs and tales of your prowess in the field of romance," he mocked as he pushed himself up on the dwarf's chest to look down at him with a raised eyebrow.

"I seem to have forgotten to mention their blatant disrespect for kings," Thorin continued unfazed as he still watched the dying fire. "I am very well aware that you have on several occasions referred to me as the Fool Under the Mountain," he quickly interrupted him with a smile and a raised eyebrow as he saw him sputtering indignantly, turning his head to look up at him. "Not very proper now, is it?"

Bilbo chuckled and propped his chin in his palm, nonchalantly stroking Thorin's beard with his other hand. "Undeniably not proper, indeed – but nearly always said with extreme fondness," he assured him as he pressed a kiss to his lips. "And if anyone else ever calls you that, I'll set your nephews on them – after having introduced Sting to their bums," he added absently as an after-thought.

"You would defend my honor," the dwarf noted in amusement, trailing a hand up the other's back.

"Why, yes, of course. See? This is me being romantic – to help you give some shine to those afore-mentioned songs and tales," Bilbo drawled as he pointed to himself, raising an eyebrow in silent challenge.

The snort that Thorin let out at that was foreign even to his own ears, but he really did not care as he moved his hand to tangle it through his burglar's curls and pull him down into a kiss. He wasn't a man of many words, he'd always preferred to let his actions do the talking – and in true dwarvish fashion, this more often than not involved violence and so got him into trouble, but not this time. Presently, Bilbo clearly didn't seem to mind as he rolled onto his back and pulled him along. No, his Hobbit was definitely not a tame and innocent creature.

Thorin had never made a more enticing and satisfactory discovery.

0o0o0

When he awoke the next morning, Thorin wasn't even confused for a second to find the hobbit in his bed, although he did raise an eyebrow at his appearance. "You are already clothed," he noted quietly instead, voice still laden with drowsiness.

Bilbo's grin widened and he nodded. "Indeed – and may I just say: your powers of observation will be mentioned in legends," he assured him from his seat on the bed next to him.

"It's all for the sake of romance," Thorin replied confidently as he sat up so he'd be on eye-level with him. "Which brings us back to my question of why, exactly, are you clothed?"

"Because believe it or not, it's actually quarter to ten – I was supposed to meet Ori in the library almost an hour ago, and I'm fairly certain you most likely have some kingly duties to see to," Bilbo informed him, smile never diminishing.

"Well…" Thorin drawled as he moved a hand to run it into his lover's hair. "I suppose we did finish quite late…" he noted modestly.

"I'd say it was rather really early," Bilbo corrected smugly as he leaned back into his touch – and consequently, into his arms.

Thorin closed his eyes at this, merely enjoying the moment, once more noting how wrong he'd been and fortunate he'd turned out to be. It really was his luck that Bilbo was persistent and confrontational even when pushed away.

"I really should be going," the hobbit noted quietly, although he made no move to actually leave. "I'm quite hungry, and poor Ori is either worrying about my safety or blushing like mad because he figured out where I might be," he said in amusement.

Thorin chuckled deeply at this, letting him go. "I would have never guessed I would one day be turned down for young Master Ori of all people," he said mock-teasingly.

"If we are going to work, Thorin, you'll have to get used to being turned down for many things – including but not limited to breakfast, second breakfast, elevensies, luncheon, afternoon tea, dinner, and supper!" Bilbo informed him practically. "And maybe ensuring your nephews don't send themselves to an early grave," he added as an afterthought.

"Then you might also want to ensure they don't die of smugness," the dwarf huffed fondly. "For I have a feeling I will need to contend with much, much smugness coming from them," he noted ominously.

"Most probably, and it'll serve you well," Bilbo replied with absolutely no compassion before pressing his lips to his.

Thorin sighed contentedly as he deepened the kiss, feeling grateful that 'the others' had mingled after all. But not that he would ever admit to it.

Meanwhile, going back in time just half an hour, one could have found Ori toying with his scarf nervously as he poked his head into the kitchen. "Bombur, have you seen Bilbo today?" he asked him quietly.

"I don't think he's up yet," Bombur replied with a shrug as he thought about it. "Better check his room," he offered.

"I did…" Ori mumbled as he walked to the common room, turning to Bofur. "Bofur, have you seen Bilbo today?" he repeated his question.

"Can't say I have," the toymaker replied as he finished his breakfast.

"What's the matter, Ori?" Nori asked with a frown.

Ori shook his head as he tried to dismiss it. "Nothing, I just…Bilbo was supposed to meet me in the library half an hour ago, and he's usually never late…"

"The poor lad's allowed to oversleep every once in a while," Balin noted easily as he sat down next to Dori.

"But he's not in his room…" Ori insisted, visibly preoccupied.

"Not in his room?" Bofur echoed with a frown, looking up as he was also starting to worry. "You don't figure…he could've left, do you?" he wondered despite himself.

"Now don't go jumping to conclusions," Dori gently chastised them.

"Yeah, he probably overslept at Kíli's again!" Nori added with a sly grin, drawing much laughter around him because apparently everyone knew about that incident.

As if summoned, the princes walked into the dining hall jovially but quickly paused as they felt the strange atmosphere. All gazes had pointedly turned to Kíli, and Fíli raised an eyebrow at this. "Is something the matter?" he asked carefully.

Bofur sighed and shrugged in a 'what-the-heck' fashion before asking, "Been keeping a certain Hobbit in your chambers again, Kíli?"

Kíli sputtered indignantly at this, looking at them all in turn. "What the—no! I'll have you know my sleeping quarters have remained Hobbit-free ever since that one-time incident – during which, I would like to stress, nothing happened!" he replied as he crossed his arms over his chest, noting the names of all who smirked so he'd be able to deal some subtle (or not) payback later.

"What brought this on?" Fíli asked in amusement.

"Bilbo's nowhere to be found," Bofur helpfully supplied.

"What do you mean 'nowhere to be found'?" Kíli exclaimed.

"He was supposed to meet up with Ori, but he never showed up, and he's not in his room," Dori explained patiently, quite used to speaking to dwarflings and calming their over-working imagination down. In theory.

"He wouldn't leave without telling us, would he?" Kíli asked his brother fearfully as he grabbed his arm.

But Fíli never got a chance to reply as Ori buried his face in his arms on the table. "What's the matter, Ori?" he asked worriedly.

"It's all my fault!" the younger dwarf cried out. "Last night we were talking about Dwarvish customs, and I started talking about courting, because I wanted him to know that we all support him and that he's more than worthy of Thorin and then I said that once Thorin's recognized as King by the Blue Mountains, he'll most likely get loads of courting proposals and now Bilbo's gone and it's all my fault!" he insisted. "What have I done?"

Nori and Dori were by their brother in an instant, reassuring him that he hadn't done anything wrong and that on the contrary he'd been right to talk to Bilbo.

"Now wait just a second…" Nori started as he narrowed his eyes. "Has anyone seen Thorin this morning?" he asked slowly, hand never stopping its soothing circles on Ori's back.

They all exchanged glances at this and turned towards Balin.

"Well, I haven't, but that doesn't necessarily mean what you all seem to be thinking it means," Balin replied, never one to jump to conclusions.

"Well where else could he be?" Kíli asked excitedly.

"He could be gone! And it would be my fault!" Ori said with a cracked voice.

"Of course it wouldn't be your fault – it would be Thorin's," Dori reassured him gently, ever the voice of reason, as he handed him a handkerchief to blow his nose.

So caught were they in their debate that no one noticed the hobbit in question as he walked by the hall to go towards his quarters. When he emerged with clean clothes a short while later, he strolled into the dining room quite naturally and grabbed a plate for himself. He quickly realized something was wrong though. They'd all stopped talking in favor of staring at him, for one.

Then Ori had thrown himself at him begging him not to go all the while apologizing profusely.

The plate he'd been holding cluttered to the ground (luckily it was made of metal), and in the silence it echoed loudly as Bilbo gingerly pat Ori's back. "What's going on here, exactly?" he asked the others with a frown. "And why does he think that I'm planning on leaving?" he wondered as he shrugged his head towards Ori. No answers came as all eyes studied him carefully, before they all huddled closer and started whispering to each other animatedly, and he contemplated the possibility that it had finally happened, and they'd just all gone completely bonkers.

"You don't think…" Kíli started as he turned to his brother with barely contained excitement.

"Oh, I definitely think!" Fíli confirmed, nodding slowly as he stroked his moustache.

"By my beard! About time!" Bofur drawled with a wide pleased grin.

"I told you so!" Nori insisted matter-of-factly.

"So you're not leaving?" Ori asked Bilbo as he pulled back to look at him hopefully.

Bilbo's confusion only grew at that. "Would someone please start making some sense?" he asked in exasperation.

"Where were you last night, Bilbo?" Dori asked him bluntly with the practiced behavior of an older brother – to Nori, no less, so he was really practiced.

Bilbo finally understood what they were going on about, and although he desperately did not want to give them the satisfaction, he couldn't really fight off the smile that pulled at his lips – it was physical. "I do believe that is none of your business," he replied lightly before gently prying Ori off of him. "And I am not leaving," he reassured his friend.

But then the room erupted in loud and happy exclamations, and Fíli and Kíli threw themselves at him, with poor Ori caught in between, and Bofur couldn't think of anything better to do than throw himself on them all on the ground. The onlookers briefly worried that one of them could have gotten wounded, but no cry of pain had sounded out, so they figured it was all good and kept cheering.

"So it's finally happened!" Dwalin bemoaned from where he stood by the door, having heard enough to deduce what they were on about.

"Not to worry, brother – at least the farce is finally over!" Balin assured him with a smile as he walked by him and pat his shoulder. "And it was about time…" he added to himself. And since Thorin should undeniably be in a good mood, it would be the perfect time to discuss those more…sensitive issues that the king's dark mood had prompted him to hold back for as long as possible.

All good things come to those who wait, after all. And Balin had always been patient.

0o0o0

When lunchtime came about, Bilbo figured he'd best warn Thorin before he found out by having everyone looking at him knowingly once he'd reach the dining hall. Taking in a deep breath, he walked into the throne room where the dwarf was discussing with Balin and other advisors. He gave him a light smile when his presence was noticed but then just busied himself by studying the carvings all around – and trying his best not to look down, as even after a few months he still wasn't completely comfortable with heights. Balin and the others left not long after, with his friend giving him a wink as he did so. Clearing his throat, he turned back to Thorin, who was looking at him expectantly. "Hello," he said eloquently.

"Hello to you as well," Thorin replied in amusement with a warm smile. "What brings you here?"

"Well…I thought you should know – I thought I should tell you – the others know. Long story short, they all noticed we both…ah…overslept this morning," the hobbit informed him.

"I figured as much when Balin gave me this look," Thorin mused as he crossed his arms over his chest. The 'look' that meant something along the lines of 'I never thought this day would come'. He honestly still didn't know whether to be offended or embarrassed. "So everyone knows…" he repeated.

Bilbo nodded as he wriggled his nose. "By now I'd wager so, yes…is this…is this alright?" he then asked with a frown, because while he most certainly did not regret anything, he didn't want to cause any issues for Thorin.

"Why wouldn't it be? I did not expect to be able to keep this a secret, and certainly not from our friends," Thorin replied matter-of-factly before narrowing his eyes as he stepped closer to him. "Unless…you would have rather they didn't know?" he asked seriously – and slightly apprehensively.

"No, of course not," Bilbo replied without missing a beat as he pointed a finger at him. "I just meant to warn so you won't end up thinking they've gone crazy! Or…well…crazier than usual," he conceded.

"I believe that to be a perpetual state of mind for some of them," Thorin commented as he reached for Bilbo's shoulder with one hand to pull him closer. "Shall we go then?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.

Bilbo chuckled as he looked at him, leaning up to snatch a kiss. "Let's," he agreed.

Thorin smiled against his lips and moved his other hand to the hobbit's waist to keep him close. He meant to kiss him again but a badly concealed chuckle drew their attention and they turned to see Fíli and Kíli by the door, promptly hurrying back out when they saw they'd been spotted.

"Remember, they're your sister-sons and you love them," Bilbo reminded him smartly.

The king merely raised an eyebrow at this. "But you can kick their shins all you want," he noted off-handedly, smile widening at the hobbit's innocent grin. "I like the way you think, Master Baggins," he praised, leaning down to kiss him one last time before they'd leave.

Fíli and Kíli, to their credit, looked every bit the innocent dwarflings they wanted others to believe they were. But their genuinely happy expressions betrayed their involvement, and despite his grumblings Thorin appreciated that. Their friends gave them knowing looks when they joined them for lunch, but he took it in stride, and they were also supportive to the last Dwarf – even Dwalin had merely grunted noncommittally instead of criticizing his bad taste as he'd supposed he would. Thorin knew that the rest of Erebor would likely not be impressed with his choice for a mate, but he truly couldn't have cared less – there was nothing on Middle-Earth that would make him give up on Bilbo, now that he had him. Still, Dwarves did not openly display their affections, and so for some time, no one out of their group knew. But with the caravan from Ered Luin growing ever closer, bringing with it prospective suitors, Thorin knew he had to make his lack of availability known. And he had just the plan…

0o0o0

Ori truly enjoyed his work in the library. Granted, his official function was 'Scribe to the Royal house of Erebor', tasked with recording decisions and events for posterity, but the library was still his favorite place to be in. Making an inventory of their books, reorganizing them…to many it was a tedious, boring and inglorious job, but to him it was captivating. Having a friend and assistant sharing his love of books in Bilbo surely helped to liven his days, in all honesty. And he'd been really, really, really glad for his friend when he and Thorin had finally worked things out – even as he'd been really, really, really worried whether he'd overstepped his bounds. Still, there was one thing he hadn't counted on when he'd tried to give Bilbo a nudge into the king's arms…

…It was that said king would then regularly visit the library.

Not that they did anything, what with him being around – even if more often than not, he found himself using that excuse to go have a walk. But the library was his thing – he was the King of the Library, or well…in his head he was…

At least Thorin was much happier these days, and consequently much easier to be around. He always greeted him with an amused smile, a dignified not and a, "Master Ori," to which he always put up his best front, nodded back and whimpered out a, "Your Highness," and bit back a formal request for him to stay out of 'his' library.

The life of a scribe was never an easy one…especially amongst Dwarves! Dwalin raised an eyebrow at him as he walked out of the library, and as usual they exchanged a nod, wordlessly acknowledging to each other that they'd rather be a good dozen places elsewhere, but were stuck being good friends.

Oh, the sacrifices one did for friendship…!

Bilbo grinned as he shook his head in amusement at Ori's antics, turning to Thorin with his arms crossed over his chest. "We must stop driving poor Ori away – this is his place," he reminded him needlessly as he didn't climb down from the stepping stool he was on.

"I'll think of a way to thank him for his patience, one day," Thorin promised mock-solemnly as he wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled him down into his arms. "Although I am slightly jealous he gets to spend so much time with you," he teased against his lips.

"You're welcome to spend more time in the library, provided you do some work," Bilbo answered right back matter-of-factly.

"Or you could spend more time in the audience hall with me," the king offered with a raised eyebrow.

The hobbit grimaced at this, not liking the idea and not pretending to. "It's not really for me – there's nothing for me to do there, whereas here, I feel useful!" he argued. "And beyond that, I enjoy it."

"I know that you love your books," Thorin replied good-naturedly.

"Besides," Bilbo added mischievously as he stole another kiss, "we see each other aplenty at night," he stated off-handedly.

"That is true," Thorin was unable to deny, quite satisfied. He then decided to breach the subject he'd been skirting around for weeks. "That part would be made all the easier, if you'd agree to move into the Consort's chambers," he offered as he held his gaze.

Bilbo's first reaction was to frown. "But I'm not the Consort," he replied simply.

"One day you will be – or so I hope," Thorin said, undeterred. "Is the thought so terrible to you?" he wondered with a curious frown.

"What, marrying you?" Bilbo asked back with a frown of his own. "No, absolutely not – that thought is about as far removed from terrible as possible," he assured him factually. "I'm just…not sure I want to move into the Consort's chambers right away…I rather like my actual quarters…" he admitted. They were very lively, that much couldn't be denied.

"I will respect your choice on the matter – for now, a least," Thorin assured him with a smile, visibly relieved. "But then I must think of another way to make it unequivocally obvious to others what my intentions towards you are," he thought out loud.

"Well…what would you do if I were a Dwarf?" the hobbit pondered curiously.

"Declare my intent to your family. Although, as we have told mine, we are, in fact, betrothed," Thorin replied as he thought about it. He then slowly smirked as he revealed the scheme he'd hatched on the matter. "It is my belief however, that with a few carefully placed words here and there, the news could spread on its own."

"Oh, I'm sure Nori, Glóin or Bofur would be happy to help with that!" Bilbo surmised with a happy grin.

"Surely, yes," Thorin mused before his eyes trailed to his lover's chest. "Dáin actually assumes that we've been courting for a long time, ever since he realized that I gave you the mithril shirt," he informed him.

"Oh, so that's why he was always looking at me like I was the funniest thing he'd ever come across!" Bilbo finally realized, glad to have solved that mystery. "Then…do you think everyone in the Iron Hills assumes the same?" he wondered.

The dwarf shook his head at that. "No, Dáin would not declare this without my affirming it to him."

"Well, there's our way of letting the Iron Hills know," Bilbo pointed out easily.

"Indeed…I shall send a raven with all haste," Thorin noted as he pressed another kiss to his lips, very satisfied. Just a few well-placed rumors with the help of their friends, and all of Erebor would know, and just a raven to his cousin, and all of the Iron Hills would know. This ensured that when the caravan from Ered Luin would finally get there, it wouldn't take them long to hear from one dwarf or the other about their King's engagement. Problem solved!

Nori, Glóin and Bofur were, in all honesty and as could be expected, thrilled to be given this opportunity to accidentally let words slip and give birth to new rumors that caught like wildfire. Ah, the power of gossip! All they had to do was sit back and enjoy as soon enough, every Dwarf under the mountain and quite a few Men of Dale talked only of how Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thráin, son of Thror, was betrothed to the Burglar-Hobbit Bilbo Baggins of the Shire.

Despite an initial slight backlash born primarily of disbelief, the reactions hadn't been as extreme as they'd feared – Fíli had been right in saying that Bilbo was more than just 'a Hobbit', everyone knew his role in reclaiming the city and respected him for it. Not to forget the immense deference they had for Thorin, not just for having given them back their homeland, but for everything he'd done for them since they'd lost it in the first place. And since he already had heirs in Fíli and Kíli, effectively there wasn't much for the Dwarves to really complain about. So it didn't really change things much. Except that Bilbo made an effort to go to the audience hall or Thorin's study equally, and Ori happily got his library back – most of the time.

All was well in Erebor.

Then the caravan arrived and the city came to life in a whole new way.

Naturally, another feast was planned.

"Dreadful tradition, really..." Bilbo mocked happily as he walked around the busy halls.

"Oh, yes!" Bofur snorted next to him. "Dreadful prospect for you, I'm sure!"

"Oh well...no way around it, I suppose," the hobbit noted with perfectly faked resignation.

"Nope," his friend agreed. "I bet I can peel more potatoes than you!" he then challenged off-handedly.

Bilbo chuckled darkly as turned to look at him. "I will make you eat those words, my friend," he warned him sweetly.

Bofur sighed as he pressed a hand to his heart and wiped an imaginary tear from his face. "You've grown into such a Dwarf!"

The hobbit could only laugh at this.

All was ever-so-well in Erebor.

0o0o0

In the days following the Caravan's arrival, Bilbo found himself the subject of many discussions and the center of observation for the recently settled dwarves of the Blue Mountains – as they'd surmised. The frenzied voices only dropped in volume when he turned to look at the gossipers, but the talks themselves never stopped. At least, they were just words. Sideways glances and pointing fingers he'd already gotten used to, the only real novelty was that now, Dwalin was following him around, and he very honestly wasn't sure which one of them was the least pleased with that arrangement. They'd managed to go the first day without ending up in each other's faces, so that was a good sign – even if Ori had spent every moment dreading such a confrontation. But it was hard to say who was happiest about dinnertime finally rolling by.

"After you," Bilbo said smartly as he stopped by the door to let Dwalin through. At the tall dwarf's annoyed glare, he rolled his eyes. "We're here, it's dinnertime, I'll be safe, and I need to walk a few steps without feeling your eyes glaring daggers in my back!" he stood his ground.

Dwalin made that noise where it was obvious he was holding back an amused snort, and simply looked down at him as he walked by imperiously, all the while muttering about 'blasted Halflings'.

Bilbo just grinned smugly as he followed him, stopping in his steps at the noise that suddenly assaulted his ears as Glóin beckoned him closer.

"Ah, there he is – there's our Hobbit! Come along Bilbo, come along!" Glóin said jovially, clamping a hand on his shoulder once he was close enough. "This is my lad, Gimli!" he presented proudly as he turned to show a young dwarf who half nervously stood up.

Bilbo wondered what the others could have possibly told him that he'd be nervous in front of him. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Gimli," he said warmly anyhow as he held out his hand to him. "Your father has told me a great deal about you!"

"It's an honor, Master Bilbo! I have heard so much about you!" the dwarfling replied excitedly as he shook his hand energetically.

A shiver of dread ran through the hobbit at this, as he knew very well the predilection for stories spun out of hand that his friends had. "Not all of it's true," he replied for good measure, nearly stumbling as Glóin laughed heartily and clapped his back.

"Modest as ever, our Bilbo!" Nori mused as he wiggled his eyebrows at him – not very reassuringly so, since Nori was after all the biggest story 'improver' of them all.

"You're the one whose tales have the least bit amount of truth in them, Nori!" Ori boldly told his brother – friendship pulled out his brave side.

"Hey now, these accusing words hurt me inside, little brother!" Nori replied among the laughter.

"It's called 'truth', Nori, you might as well start getting used to it – you'd only be a century late!" Dori said next to him as he shook his head at him.

"How was the journey, Gimli?" Bilbo asked as he turned to Gimli in favor of ignoring the bickering brothers.

The dwarfling sighed wearily before shrugging. "A caravan moves at a slow pace, the journey wasn't very exciting," he replied simply. "It was surely nothing compared to yours!" he added as he looked at them with barely concealed envy and respect.

"You're safe and well, lad, and that's what's important!" Óin told his nephew as he clapped his back.

"Aye, and you're still young – you'll have plenty of time to go on adventurous journeys later on!" Glóin added as he passed the ale around.

"I hope so!" Gimli replied with much enthusiasm.

Bilbo winced at this – as if they needed another reckless dwarfling to give the princes bad ideas! As though summoned by this thought, Fíli and Kíli nearly burst through the door as loudly as they always did, as though it was their mission to be heard all over Erebor. Bilbo was only half-surprised to find he didn't even wince anymore.

"Oh, Bilbo, I almost forgot! I've got a new coat ready for you to try on – for the feast!" Dori said excitedly as he caught his attention.

"New coat? The feast?" he repeated in confusion.

"The big feast – to celebrate our reunion with our kin," Bombur helpfully supplied, smiling serenely as he mentally anticipated it.

"Oh, yes, I'd heard about that," Bilbo remembered as he twisted his mouth. "But what's this about a new coat? The one you made me last time is still in excellent shape, I assure you!" he said with a frown.

Dori shook his head at him as though he was missing the point – sorely so. "You're betrothed to the King now, you must look the part!" he told him quite simply.

"But—"

"You must."

"I don't—"

"You must, Bilbo," Dori insisted sternly, to the others' great amusement. "I've made it a bit more dwarvish in style, this time," he then informed him.

"Uncle will love it!" Kíli replied with a wide grin, the insufferable troublemaker that he was.

"Not to forget the last time you wore that other coat, you ended up in Kíli's bed – not the finest reminder!" Fíli added, obviously choosing not to be wise and untroublesome.

"Alright, you asked for it!" Bilbo said simply as he kicked Fíli's shin with all his strength. He then realized, amidst his satisfaction, that Kíli was too far for him to hit as well. "Ori, shins!"

Ori's eyes widened for a second before he understood the message, and he didn't even need to think about the implications too hard as he kicked Kíli's shin. "That's for all the pranks you've played on me!" he said simply, reaching a hand across the table to shake Bilbo's.

"Beware the librarians!" Bofur exclaimed as he roared with laughter while the princes stared at Ori incredulously – and at Bilbo ruefully.

Dwarves were obviously such a bad influence!

0o0o0

Over breakfast the next morning, Dori reminded Bilbo to stop by his shop to try his jacket before he left, and the hobbit sent a pleading look to Ori. "Please don't leave me alone with him," he appealed to his better side half-seriously.

"Alright, alright…" Ori replied easily – after all, the weariness of Dori was something he could very well relate to.

They finished their meal while talking animatedly with the others, and then made their way to the commercial district to Dori's cozy shop. It wasn't very big, and having seen it empty, Bilbo was still surprised by the amount of fabric that fit in it. Dori had apparently been a weaver and tailor of certain renown in Ered Luin, and even though he – like all members of the Company – did not really need the money, he enjoyed his work and had elected to have this small space to create custom requests. (His brothers however remained his main victi—recipients.)

Dori promptly abandoned the button he was sewing on a tunic as they walked in, and beckoned the hobbit closer before handing him his newest creation with the instruction to 'try it on with all haste – if you'd please'.

Bilbo shared an amused look with Ori but did as he was told. Dori was talented, that much he could not deny. The jacket was beautiful, and the rich fabric felt light when he shrugged it on. It was still a hobbit-like jacket the likes of which he'd always worn, but indeed as Dori had said there was a dwarvish influence in the cut and patterns, particularly the linings and collar. "It's beautiful craftsmanship as always, Dori," he praised his friend honestly.

Dori nodded his head modestly even though he reveled in the praise. "Oh, the Durin blue does suit you very well! Now it just needs a fine cape thrown over it and the look will be complete!" he added.

"Durin blue?" Bilbo repeated in confusion.

"It's the color of the House of Durin's line," Ori replied as he turned around him to look at the garment. "It really does suit you!" he said with a smile.

"Thank you," Bilbo replied automatically before frowning as he thought on his words and turned to the other dwarf. "But wait…the other jacket you made me is also that blue, but back then I wasn't…Thorin and I weren't…"

Dori cleared his throat at this as he seemed slightly embarrassed. "Well it…I might've been a bit…overly optimistic, shall we say?" he asked self-consciously.

"And everyone but me knew about the color's significance I take it?" the hobbit wondered with a raised eyebrow, thinking back on that evening and all the Dwarves who'd pointed at him, remembering that even Thorin had complimented the color – he'd have a word with him on that, later on.

Ori grinned at this as truly, his older brother being so flustered was a very rare sight.

"Thank you, Dori," Bilbo replied simply, putting his friend's mind at ease.

"Oh, it's my pleasure, my lad," Dori immediately assured him as he returned to studying the jacket critically. "The collar still needs a final adjustment – I keep forgetting how thin a neck you have! – but that shan't take long. I promise you'll have it well on time for the feast!"

Bilbo reiterated his thanks and then he and Ori were all but shooed out of the shop by a still flustered Dori. But true to his word, the dwarf worked fast and by the time they'd started getting ready for the feast, he'd received the final version of the jacket and had happily put it on, thanking his friend once more. He'd felt slightly self-conscious as he entered Thorin's quarters, now that he knew he was essentially parading his color, but the king's appreciating look as he saw him dissipated this immediately.

"Dori insisted I needed a new jacket," the hobbit informed him as he played along and turned around on himself. "He is good though, that can't be denied," he then added fairly, because he really didn't want to sound ungrateful.

"Indeed not," Thorin agreed as he smiled to himself before walking to him and reaching for the clasp that held his cape over his shoulders. Wordlessly, he removed it and then secured the fabric back in place with his own pin.

"That's your brooch," Bilbo noted unnecessarily. "People will know," he stated matter-of-factly.

"Good," was Thorin's smug response as he made sure it was correctly fastened, smoothing the cape over his shoulders once he was done.

"For your sake, I really hope you're not likening me to a possession," Bilbo said seriously with a raised eyebrow.

Thorin's smile widened at that. "Of course not. But staking my claim is not overstepping my boundaries, is it?" he asked casually.

"Tread carefully, Thorin Oakenshield," Bilbo warned him simply as he tilted his head up to snatch a quick kiss. "Tread very carefully."

Thorin reached to pull him closer when a loud knock on the doors resounded. Sighing at his nephew's usual impeccably bad timing, he called for them to come in.

"We're not interrupting, are we?" Kíli asked with the widest arse-faced grin there ever was.

"If we said yes, would you leave?" Bilbo asked back unfazed.

Thorin could have kissed him at this. Actually, he did. It was a bit disappointing that Fíli and Kíli just cheered instead of leaving though, but it was also quite heartening, in a way.

Bilbo grinned at him as he pulled back, and as he glanced at the princes he frowned as he noticed something was amiss. "Kíli, your cape's inside-out!" he noted exasperatedly as he walked to him to fix this.

Fíli laughed at his brother's embarrassed face and then noticed Thorin shrugging his head to the side, motioning for him to join him. "Yes, Thorin?" he asked curiously as he reached him.

Thorin seemed to be unsure what to say – or how to say it, really – for a short moment before he realized that simple and honest was the best way to go. "I owe you an apology, for the way I reacted to your most generous offer, some time ago," he started as he held his surprised gaze. "It was unworthy of me, and I would like you to know that I am both extremely grateful and proud that you offered," he finished as he tilted his head in a subtle bow.

Fíli's eyes widened and he cleared his throat to catch his composure, smiling brightly. "I…well…thank you," he replied, visibly at a loss and speechless – for once!

In the background, Bilbo was still fussing over Kíli because apparently he hadn't only messed up his cape.

Thorin's grin widened at this, before he placed his hands on Fíli's shoulders. "I know your father would also be proud of the Dwarf you have become."

"I may not have many memories of him, but I do remember you threatening him – regularly," Fíli recalled with a raised eyebrow.

"Well, after all to me he was always only the dwarf who was after my dear sister's virtue – a goal that he did reach, despite my many attempts to scare him away; it was my duty as brother to make sure he understood the risks and consequences," Thorin reminded him, staying serious for all of a second. "And yet for all my grievances against him, I have never denied that he fathered two worthy sons – with a little help from Dís, naturally. My life would have been much different without the two of you in it," he said quietly as he held his nephew's gaze.

Fíli smiled at this, truly touched as he rested his hands on his arms. "It's always been an honor, Uncle," he replied earnestly.

"The honor is all mine, Nephew," Thorin assured him as he touched his forehead to his.

Bilbo smiled to himself as he watched them, grinning as Kíli crossed his arms over his chest next to him. "Now I feel left out," the dark-haired prince said with a pout.

"Don't look at me, your uncle's the one being unusually affectionate tonight," Bilbo dismissed with a shrug.

Kíli merely raised an eyebrow as he turned to look at him seriously. "You're my uncle too, now," he remarked casually with a small grin.

Bilbo chuckled at this, looking at him with much amusement as he never ceased to surprise him. "I'm younger than you," he reminded him.

"I'm a young Dwarf," Kíli started unfazed as he pointed to himself. "You're a middle-aged Hobbit," he continued as he pointed to him. "And you're involved with my uncle – face it: me and Fíli are your adorable nephews now," he finished matter-of-factly.

"Fíli and I," Bilbo absently corrected, his smile turning fond as he looked at him, all smug about his spiel. It was impossible not to give in. "Alright, but don't call me Uncle – that's Thorin's privilege and I know for a fact he's rather fond of it," he replied as he pat his head.

"Yes, Bilbo!" Kíli replied dutifully before he moved to gently tap his forehead to his. "For now let's get to the feast! They can't get started without the Royal Family after all!" he commented as he rested his hands on his hips and struck a pose that he somehow envisioned as 'royal'.

Bilbo decided to go the diplomatic approach and silently humored him.

"Not to mention some might riot in famine if we take too long," Fíli added as he and Thorin walked back to them. "Or eat it all without leaving anything for us!"

"Come on Fíli, we should sneak by the kitchens to make sure they haven't been assaulted yet!" the younger told his brother as they went ahead.

Bilbo grinned as he watched them go, leaning back into Thorin's arms with a contented sigh as the dwarf pulled him closer. "What was that about?" he wondered absently as he idly placed his hands atop the ones around his waist.

Thorin smiled to himself as he looked down to meet his gaze. "I was simply giving Fíli proper credit for something he did some time ago. In my pride, I did not properly acknowledge him for it the last times we spoke," he replied quietly with an air of mystery. "And what was that about with Kíli?" he then asked teasingly.

"He called me a middle-aged Hobbit," Bilbo informed him with a twist of his mouth before grinning. "And then he proclaimed Fíli and himself to be my – and I quote – adorable nephews."

"And what are your thoughts on his words?" Thorin asked him as he moved a hand under his chin to tilt his face up and back so he could see him better.

"That I am a middle-aged Hobbit," the burglar replied with a frown before quickly moving to steal a kiss from his King. "And that I couldn't ask for more exasperatedly lovable nephews," he murmured against his lips. "Their uncle's not so bad, either," he then added as though it were an after-thought.

Thorin chuckled at this and gave his waist a last squeeze before reaching for his hand. "I have a feast to get started – and then we can go back to further discussing your last statement," he offered suavely with a raised eyebrow.

"Perfect. Couldn't have said it better myself," the hobbit agreed as he let himself be led away. Once they left the Royal quarters, he pulled his hand back and was surprised to see that the brothers had opted to wait for them by the hall's doors.

Fíli gave him a gentle nudge with his elbow, and winked at him as he turned to him questioningly. "You look great, Uncle," he compliment with a warm grin. "Nice brooch," he then added teasingly.

"Thank you," Bilbo replied innocently as he shook his head in amusement and absent-mindedly reached to rearrange one of the prince's loose braids that had escaped its spot. "And so do you, Nephew," he replied softly before shrugging his head towards the stairs so they'd get going. "Don't dally now, I'm hungry," he mock-ordered. He then let the Royal family enter on their own as was proper – and smiled widely at the way Thorin had looked at him with much promises for later when they'd be on their own.

Promises that the King naturally honored (twice) as soon as the feast was over. His breath winded and his face split by a bigger grin than he'd thought possible at his age, life felt good, and since Thorin's disheveled appearance clearly mirrored the way he felt, well…then life was just perfect.

"So what happened with Fíli, really?" he asked after a moment, his hands distractedly stroking Thorin's hair.

Thorin grinned but didn't move his head from its place on his chest. "Mentioning another while we're in bed – now correct me if I'm wrong, but that should count as treason," he teased gruffly.

Bilbo snorted at that, surprised as he felt his grin widening – he hadn't thought it possible. "Yes, because Fíli of all people is definitely a threat to you," he deadpanned.

"Oh? Good to know, then! How about Kíli? Since you already spent the night with him once," the insufferable dwarf goaded, his tone making it obvious that he wasn't serious.

The hobbit groaned as he pulled his hands back and ran them through his own hair. "How did you even—I'm going to kill that rascal—we said we'd never—why do I even put up with the sons of the line of Durin?" he wondered as he glared in the general direction of Kíli's room as though he could somehow get him to fall from his bed or stump his toe against something – or choke on his hair, alternatively.

"It's probably because you can't resist our charm," Thorin replied modestly. "And as to how I know, aside from the fact that I saw you leaving Kíli's chambers quite early in the morning, do you really think anything happens in my kingdom without my knowing? Particularly when it happens in my youngest nephew's room?" he asked with a raised eyebrow as he pushed himself up on his forearms and moved to hover above his face.

"I have nothing to say in my defense, your Highness," Bilbo replied as he leaned up to kiss him before letting his head fall back into the pillow. "Kíli's definitely more my type though – tall with dark hair and all that," he started off-handedly.

"Right," Thorin said, unimpressed.

"Oh, absolutely. But then Fíli's got those eyes – I've something of a weakness for blue eyes," Bilbo continued contemplatively before looking up at him as though in surprise. "Hey, yours are similar!" he said as if he'd just realized this.

"You are evil, Bilbo Baggins," Thorin insisted as he smiled at him, leaning down to kiss him.

"You brought this on yourself, Thorin Oakenshield," the hobbit mumbled smartly against his lips. "So. Fíli?" he asked again with a raised eyebrow.

"Relentless as ever. Very well…" Thorin gave in as he took in a small breath and stroked the side of his face. "Back when…I let you believe that I was pushing you away because of our respective stations and races—"

"Fool Under the Mountain," Bilbo interrupted teasingly. "You were saying?" he asked innocently with a curious frown, effectively silencing Thorin's retort.

Thorin shook his head fondly but did continue as though he hadn't been interrupted. "Fíli offered to take the throne earlier, so that we…would not need worry about what others might say."

All playfulness left Bilbo at this and he glanced towards Fíli's room, feeling incredibly touched. "He did…?"

"He did," Thorin confirmed. "My response in that original conversation was not as appreciative as it should have been," he confessed as he absently trailed his fingers on his chest.

"Let me guess: where did you get such an idea, you aren't ready to be King, don't meddle into other people's private affairs, who even told you, that won't be necessary—" Bilbo started listing matter-of-factly.

"Yes, you obviously…know me well," Thorin gently interrupted him with a raised eyebrow, amused despite himself. "I just felt it necessary to set things right. Tell him how much his support means, and how proud of him I am – how proud I've always been."

Bilbo smiled at this, brushing a strand of hair behind his ear. "Sounds about right," he murmured contentedly as he moved his hand to the back of his head and pulled him into another kiss.

When he saw Fíli the next day, he could not resist drawing him into a hug. The prince seemed confused for all of a second before he deduced the reason and smiled modestly, trying to deflect the praise. Bilbo didn't let him.

And then he gently cuffed his head, berating him about having tried to put other people's happiness before his own. Fíli almost pouted. Almost. But they just grinned at each other in understanding.

They were family now, through and through.

0o0o0

If you've ever been to the Shire, you would know of their quaint houses dug inside hills. Holes in the ground, but not filthy, and not dark and damp, but bright, homely and unique. One such hole in particular, with its green door, stands at the top of a lush green hill and bears the name of 'Bag-End'. And if you were to ask the Hobbits about the owner, they would inform you that it used to belong to a Master Bilbo Baggins, a formerly respectable Hobbit once of good family who followed a group of rowdy Dwarves on an adventure. (Dreadful, nasty business.) Upon request, they would happily tell you tales about it. These tales (gossips) equally grant him either a happy ending or an untimely demise in tragically heroic circumstances, depending on the weather and the daily moods.

In reality, the hobbit in question merely hasn't had an opportunity to correct his former kinsmen yet, for he already had enough to contend with trying to keep his dwarvish friends and their own love of rumors in line.

For in truth, by many accounts a formerly respectable Hobbit he may have been, but he was also (and mostly) one who ran off with a Dwarf to become Consort Under the Mountain.

That was the real adventure.