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.

Dedicated: For Nemo_Aves.

Bilbo's Dwarf

Not for the first time Bilbo was grateful to be practically at the end of the line as the company slowly worked its way down the Carrock, so as not to draw attention to his clumsiness. It was strange, his feeling so light-headed, unable to stop his hands from trembling, struggling to focus on the simple task of placing one foot in front of the other. Once the group reached the bottom he would be able to sit for a few minutes, perhaps enjoy a cool drink from his canteen. That would be nice.

Then world started to tilt – grey shifting upward and blue curving down...

"Bilbo!"

The shout seemed dull and far off. The usually merry voice, pitched high and frantic, which had never called the Halfling that before, half succeed in snapping him back to the present. But before Bilbo could do more than try to lift his head, he stumbled, and everything went black.

Gradually, Bilbo grew conscious of lying down, wrapped up in something rough and warm. He became aware of the smell of firewood in the chilly air, the low murmur of voices floating around him. But it was the sensation of being gently rocked like a babe, a body warming him like a furnace while a voice sung in a tongue he did not understand which caused the small creature to groan weakly and fight to open his eyes.

There was a sharp gasp as the singing broke off, and suddenly a face entered his line of vision, a little blurry at first. Bilbo scrunched his nose, trying to bring it into focus.

"Berilac Bracegirdle!" Bofur broke out into a bright smile that rivaled the sun (though his face appeared pale in the light, and his eyes haunted). "Praise Mahal! Ye're awake!" There was so much relief and happiness in his smile that the hobbit felt himself swell up a little.

"Bofur?" he whispered hoarsely, squirming.

"It is alright," the hatted dwarf reassured, carefully tightening his arms around the Halfling cradled in his lap. "Ye should have said something about being hurt!"

"Oh," he murmured, memories returning: his head aching, his body slow to respond, his back and knee burning, the world spinning…

Bofur went on, "Oin has tended to yer injuries. Ye are to stay still and rest."

Bilbo frowned lightly. "What happened—?"

"Ye nearly fell over the edge." Bofur swallowed hard, a shadow clouding his face. "I managed to get ye in time," his voice cracked. Glancing down at the hobbit, the miner flushed under the other's wonderstruck expression.

"You saved me…you called my name," the hobbit suddenly remembered. "You shouted, 'Bilbo.'"

"Because ye scared me to half to death! Almost lost ye twice today. Never do that to me again!" the miner ordered sternly.

For a moment the two simply looked at each other, the hobbit curious and searching, and the dwarf angry and worried. Closing his eyes with a sigh, Bilbo burrowed closer to his companion. "Thank you, Bofur."

Exhaling loudly, the fight went out of the dwarf. Burying his nose in honey colored curls, he repeated quietly, "Never do that to me again, little hobbit."

A peaceful silence fell over the two for long several minutes, with Bofur resuming rocking his friend.

"Why do you call me Berilac Bracegirdle?"

Bofur tilted his head. "Ah, when I was a wee thing, I received for Yule a hobbit plushie. His name was Berilac Bracegirdle, and he was my best friend for years. You look just like him," he explained with a fond, reminiscing smile.

Bilbo spluttered, jerking in surprise. "You call me Berilac because I look like a toy?" he exclaimed, sounding affront and perhaps a bit hurt.

Bofur lifted his head to be able to meet the other's eyes. "No," he replied. "I call ye that because ye're my hobbit. Ye always have been to me." His tone was sincere, his eyes twinkling, a cheerful smile spreading over his face.

Bilbo's expression softened, his cheeks turned red. "Truly?"

"Aye."

The Halfling's eyes started to shine. "Does this mean you're my dwarf?" he slowly asked.

The dwarf chuckled. "Of course! I wouldn't have it any other way."

When Bofur gently tapped their foreheads together Bilbo couldn't help giggling, smiling shyly as he was hugged closer. His dwarf. He thought he could get used to that.

THE END