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.

Her Place

Ori really could not understand it. Whenever he spoke to or caught the eye of one of the three Durins, the scribe was treated to a fierce glare. It went on for days. The glares progressed to him receiving them even when he wasn't looking at or speaking to them. Their stares were intense, heavy, and thoroughly displeased. Poor Ori was at a loss for what he had done wrong, how to make it right.

One thing he noticed (and found even more confounding) was that the dwarves' glares seemed to be at their worst when Ori was with Bilbo. Whether they were silently riding side by side, seated next to each other during dinner, or discussing various art crafts, the young dwarf felt three pairs of eyes boring into him. It was a bit nerve-wracking, causing the lad to stumble over his words or stare at his boots. It had a dampening effect on his time with the hobbit lass, too.

He and Bilbo had become friends early on during the quest, both having a passion for reading and curiosity about each other's culture and customs. They bond had strengthened, with Ori looking up to the hobbit, and Bilbo trying her hand at knitting under his guidance. It became common for them to walk together, as well as to be paired up when it came to assigned tasks and keeping watch. No one grumbled or frowned on their friendship. Even Dori, so protective and suspicious on his little brother's behalf, approved.

So then it was terribly confusing to account for the abrupt change. Since the company had left Beorn's home, Thorin, Fili, and Kili now scowled and glared whenever Ori and Bilbo were together. To make matters worse, they started to separate the two. The scribe lost count of the number of times one of the princes nudged his pony between Ori's and Bilbo's and drew the lass into conversation; the way their burglar was all but manhandled to sit with the Durins during dinner; how the lads butted in while he was deep in conversation with her, and he meekly watched them whisk her away; Thorin calling the Halfling to his side more than usual, having words with her too quiet to hear. No longer were the friends paired together for work or watch. Now it required a great effort for Ori to spend any quality time with Bilbo, before being cut short by the dwarves interrupting, or the scribe being cowed by their intimidating glares.

Another two weeks passed. And Ori's nervousness, worry over the situation was rapidly transforming into frustration. Really, what right did the Durins have in meddling in his own affairs? He and Bilbo had been friends for quite some time. Why now their sudden disapproval? What did they want? The dwarf was feeling quite put out with all the hobbit-stealing. He enjoyed her company, was dismayed at how it had dwindled so.

Bilbo, too, seemed to notice something was off, though she was as lost as he. She now did not as readily go off with the princes. When interrupted while riding, she attempted more to include Ori in the conversation. She'd sigh heavily and slowly answer Thorin's summons. Often she glanced back at the scribe over her shoulder. At times it seemed she meant to return to the dwarf's side after leaving the dwarven king, only to be intercepted by the princes.

Ori had had enough.

Thus, tonight he refused to be affected by the glares directed at him while he and Bilbo sat upon a log on one side of the camp, sharing childhood memories; he basked in the lass's wistful smile and quiet laugh. He had missed this.

"We start early tomorrow." Thorin announced to the group in general while his eyes focused on two in particular.

Ori echoed Bilbo's sigh, the two exchanging disappointed smiles. Together they got to their feet.

"Sleep well, Miss Bilbo."

"Good night, Master Ori." Tugging on the legs of her breeches, pretending she held a skirt, the hobbit curtseyed gracefully.

The dwarf reacted from reflex and good manners, capturing her hand in his, lifting it and placing a light kiss on the back of her hand. His lips lingered when he glanced up in time to see Bilbo blush and her whole face soften. Butterflies erupted in Ori's stomach. Oh. He watched in fascination as her happy expression changed to shock, as though realizing he was looking back at her, embarrassment and fear flitting across her face.

"To bed!" Thorin's voice boomed.

If looks could burn… Oh!

Eyes widening, Ori had the presence of mind to tighten his hold on Bilbo's hand when she tried to back away. Mind whirling, belatedly fitting the pieces together, the only thing the dwarf knew for sure was that he wasn't ready to let her go yet.

"I'm sorry—" Bilbo stammered, her tone defeated, head bowed.

"May I see you safely to your bedroll?" Ori spoke over her. Heart pounding, he prayed he hadn't misunderstood.

Wide green eyes met his brown ones. Easily he saw the surprise, uncertainty, half-frightened hope, and tender awe pass through them. Blushing, the scribe steadily held her gaze.

"You may," she replied in a bare whisper.

Impulsively, he kissed her hand again before offering his arm. If glares followed him as he escorted Bilbo to her bedding set up by the Urs, Ori did not notice. Instead his focus was solely on the lass. He lingered only to see her settled comfortably under her blanket.

The smile he shared with her was full of understanding and promise.

THE END