Thorin looked up as Bifur sat down next to him.

"You care for the Hobbit," he grunted in Khuzdul. Thorin looked around, but Bilbo was the only one in camp besides the two of them, the others off gathering wood for the fire, scouting the area, and hopefully finding something for dinner. Thankfully, the Hobbit didn't speak Khuzdul, so Thorin and Bifur could have their conversation in relative privacy.

"I don't know what you mean," he grunted back, the words falling easily from his mouth in his native tongue.

"You care for the Hobbit," Bifur replied, unperturbed by Thorin's denials. "He's interested you since you first saw him, but you pushed him away because you felt he was too soft. He has proven himself worthy of you, my king. What is stopping you from telling him of your affections?"

"He won't return them," Thorin sighed. "I have been cruel to him every step of the way, crueler than necessary considering what he gave up to accompany us. Now he has save my life! How am I ever supposed to repay him?"

"The only repayment I require, Thorin Oakenshield, is your heart," Bilbo said, the Khuzdul flowing from his mouth easily. "It is a fair trade, after all, as you have mine already."

Thorin and Bifur both looked at Bilbo in astonishment.

"You speak Khuzdul?" Thorin asked in the common tongue. Bilbo shrugged.

"I have several books on dwarrows, and two described Khuzdul," Bilbo replied. "It only took a few days with you all to pick up the correct pronunciations."

Thorin just shook his head. The burglar would continue to surprise him.

"You already have my heart little hobbit," Thorin said in Khuzdul, "And you always will."

"I will hold you to that promise my king," Bilbo replied with a smile. He was quite pleased that his study of Khuzdul had proven so useful. He never would have known that Thorin cared for him, nor would Thorin know how he felt.