Note: Okay, well I posted this last night as a complete story but when I looked at it later in context I realized that, holy crap, it was LONG. So I guess I really will be posting these as chapters, which will probably make it more enjoyable to read and you won't have to sit there staring at a screen for three days. Anyway, I used a combination of book- and movie-verse for this whole story. Any inconsistencies in the timeline, etc. are obviously my own. All characters and places belong to the ridiculously talented JRR Tolkien.

Also thank you, thank you, THANK YOU, to those who left a review to the original story, it brightened my day so much when I saw some people had already read it!

~v~

Ori still sketched the hobbit even after he was gone. He had dozens of candid pictures of their burglar hidden away in a chest at the foot of his bed. At night he would take them out and look at them, memorize them, and after they had been properly remembered he tucked them gently back into the chest.

Each night this ritual was repeated. Each night he tried to picture the moment as clearly as he could in his head. There was the sketch of Fili and Kili lifting Bilbo onto their shoulders so he could pluck an apple from a tree. There was the one of him sitting at the head of the Company one night, illuminated by the glow of the campfire, everyone laughing as he told them tales of his younger years. (It was that night that they finally learned why he was forever going on about Tooks and Bagginses.)

There was the picture of Bilbo and Thorin smoking their pipes, legs swung over the edge of the Eagles' eyrie after their rescue from the Carrock. He even had a sketch of Bilbo fishing, sitting alone at the edge of a stream near Beorn's garden, looking about as content as Ori had ever seen him. This was quite possibly his favorite picture, but his absolute favorite memory he did not have down on paper, to his everlasting regret.

It wasn't long after they had set off on their quest, just a few days before their run-in with the trolls. They stopped to set up camp in a small clearing as the sun began to set, and though the chance to eat and rest his weary soles usually cheered him, he did not sit by the fire with the other dwarves.

He was a very frustrated young dwarf that day. He had never been much of a fighter, had never had much skill for it and as a result was never given much of a chance. Of course his brothers loved him, and were as devoted to him as he was to them, but they often looked down on him. It wasn't something they did out of meanness, but it rankled when he knew he had just as much of a fighter's spirit as any of the rest of them.

So he wandered away from the Company- not far, mind you, but far enough away for some breathing room. It was there in the woods that he found Mr. Baggins sitting atop a rock, watching the moon rising in the east. The rock wasn't terribly tall but the hobbit's legs still did not touch the ground, and Ori found himself wondering how the gray wizard could ever have picked something so small and fragile for this journey.

And here you are judging someone for not looking the part of a fighter, he thought to himself. Until now, aside from Balin and Bofur, Fili and Kili, none of the dwarves had made much of an effort to accept the little halfling into their group. Perhaps it is my turn.

"Hello, sir," he said, startling Bilbo in spite of his timid voice.

"Oh! Hello, Ori."

"May I sit with you, sir?"

Bilbo smiled kindly at the young dwarf. "Just Bilbo," he said. "And of course." He scooted over to make room for Ori.

"Thank you."

Bilbo's brow furrowed, and he opened and closed his mouth several times before speaking. "You, um, seem rather down, Master Dwarf. I-if you don't mind my saying," he said, catching Ori by surprise. How perceptive this quiet little creature was!

"Actually, I am, Sir Bilbo," Ori confessed, and suddenly all the pent-up frustration of the day came spilling out. Bilbo sat listening, quiet and attentive, while Ori professed his disgruntlement with the other dwarves. It was only by the end of his ranting that he started turning red with embarrassment.

"Oh, goodness, I'm sorry, Sir Bilbo! I didn't mean to whine-"

But Bilbo waved away his distress. "No, don't apologize. I'm just glad you felt you could come to me," he said. Ori didn't miss the twinkle of delight in the hobbit's eyes and he felt warm at the sight.

"And, please, just Bilbo," continued the hobbit. "Sir Bilbo makes me sound like a knight."

Ori giggled. "Alright…Bilbo."

"Right," Bilbo said. Then he paused, a thoughtful look on his face. "So I noticed you carry a slingshot."

"Oh, yes! I'm a fair aim. Not as good as Kili, mind, but he was trained to use a bow. I learned all on my own," Ori said proudly.

The hobbit smiled. "Then why don't you and I have a little target practice? The other dwarves might think it silly, but I think it's sillier still to go armed with nothing."

Ori agreed eagerly, so Bilbo set to work looking for rocks. Once he'd gathered two piles- one for him and one for the dwarf- Ori readied his slingshot and waited for the hobbit to toss one in the air.

They continued in this way for a long while. Ori was pleased to say he hit most of the rocks the hobbit threw, and when he missed it was not by much.

"Well, I'd say you're a more than fair aim, Ori," Bilbo said when they had run out of rocks.

The dwarf ducked his head shyly. "Thank you, s- Bilbo," he said. "Hey, why don't you try it?"

Abruptly the hobbit looked more his fluttery, bewildered self. "O-oh, no, I can't-"

"Please, Master Burglar, all in good fun!"

Bilbo opened his mouth, most likely to object, but something in the dwarf's expression must have won him over because he let out a defeated sigh.

"Yes, alright. Only a few, though. The others are probably missing us."

Eagerly Ori rushed to collect their scattered targets while Bilbo sat on the rock, examining Ori's slingshot. Once he had restored the majority of their collection, the dwarf kneeled and grinned at his new friend.

"When you're ready, Master Hobbit!"

Bilbo sat quietly for another second. Then he wriggled his nose determinedly and nodded to the dwarf…

And hit the rock first try.

Ori blinked but said nothing as he tossed the second one in the air. The hobbit hit this one as well, and the next one, and the one after that. Ori shook his head.

"By my word…you've hit every one!" he said.

"Well, I thought that was the object…" Bilbo said, clearly embarrassed.

"But s- Bilbo, that's amazing! I didn't know hobbits had such aim!"

"Oh, well, I don't know about all hobbits…" he mumbled. It was too dark to tell, but Ori pictured him blushing from head to toe. "And I don't know that it's terribly amazing, for that matter, either, I've just…always had a knack, I suppose."

And so it was that Ori discovered Bilbo's hidden talent, just one among many, for truly Gandalf was right in saying that the hobbit had more to offer than appearances suggested. And though he didn't have a picture of this beloved moment, he still pulled it out to look at every night after he'd put all the other memories back in their chest.