I'm sorry that it took so long for me to update this. For quite a while I wasn't sure how I should continue writing the next chapter, but then it just sort of wrote itself :) So, here you go! And once again, thank you for following, reviewing and adding this to your favourites! I repeat this everytime I update, but I really do feel grateful!

Hope you enjoy this one!

IV

The meeting with Beorn went better than anyone had expected. After hearing their story he had gladly accepted them as guests, and even Thorin with his usual royally cold and arrogant attitude didn't seem to bother him. Their host had left them to eat, drink and rest while he himself left in a rush; Gandalf guessed that he had gone to check his borders for any orcs or goblins that might have followed them.

Now when he was laying in his bed, these soft sheets reminding him very much of his own bed back at Bag End, sleep seemed to avoid Bilbo. Had he not dreamed of this? Had he not hoped to be able to sleep on something softer than bare ground; had he not wanted to rest his head on a real pillow, something he hadn't been able to do ever since they had left Rivendell behind? And now when all his dreams and wishes were turned into reality, the hobbit still failed to find peace within himself. He was warm and comfortable, his stomach full and clothes clean. Even his hair was clean and no longer smelled of goblins, and yet something still felt very wrong.

Maybe that was it? Maybe he was so used to sleep under the stars that now it proved to be impossible for him to sleep indoors? Or maybe it was just that this felt too good to be true and Bilbo subconsciously waited for something bad to happen? But nothing did. Minutes passed, they merged together into hours and the hobbit was still tossing and turning. He sat up swiftly and with a quick look around he counted twelve sleeping forms scattered around the big room that Beorn had left for their use. The hobbit had been the first one to go to bed and now it seemed like he was the last one to remain awake. Well, apart from the one missing dwarf. He didn't even have to take another look to see who that was.

Thorin had disappeared right after Beorn. Fili and Kili had made an attempt to follow him, but a look and a quiet „Let him be" from Dwalin stopped them. They had continued with their meal without him, but on several occasions Bilbo thought that he could perhaps slip away from the others and check on Thorin, and every time he stopped himself. Who was he to have the right to express his worries for the dwarven king? Yes, he had just saved his life recently, but did it give him the right to get all concerned and caring? His own answer was always a no. He was still nothing more than just their burglar, his burglar.

If Bilbo was being completely honest with himself, he had to admit that Thorin's absence was disturbing him more than it should have, and probably was another reason why the hobbit couldn't sleep. Ironically, it had also been the reason he had gone to bed early. Well, that worked out just fine, he noted bitterly in his mind and decided to take a walk. Maybe some fresh air would cool him down. Or maybe he should just walk around until his body was so tired that it would pass out on its' own. The idea did seem appealing.

As Bilbo quietly walked out of their room, he realised that there actually was a legitimate reason for him to be worried for Thorin; the dwarf seemed to be acting somehow weird ever since they had escaped those orcs. Obviously meeting an enemy that he had thought to be dead would be stressfull. And so would the prospect of being beheaded, but if Bilbo thought he knew something about Thorin that he was absolutely sure of, it was his dedication to the task he had ahead of him. There shouldn't be much that could throw him out of his concentration and prove to be an obstacle. Quietly Bilbo hoped that it wasn't him who was perhaps making Thorin uncomfortable.

Yesterday he would have thought that Thorin was simply not quite comfortable with the fact that he had acted on an impulse and hugged their burglar. Today however, nothing in his behaviour acted as a proof for that. They had talked, Bilbo had even made a few attempts to joke. He wasn't expecting Thorin to laugh maniacally of course, the hobbit felt very well off with the few little smiles he had gotten. Nothing indicated that the dwarf was mad or upset with Bilbo for something. He had felt almost at ease with him, yet somehow his behaviour seemed weird.

At one point, and Bilbo couldn't say if that really had happened or was just a fruit of his tired and messed up imagination, but he was sure he had almost experienced another hug from the dwarf. He was now cursing himself for ruining that moment by calling Thorin out of his musings; he wouldn't have minded for the dwarf to continue the movement of his arm and pull him, Bilbo, into an embrace. At that moment such a need to feel Thorin close to him had arisen in his gut, the hobbit wasn't sure he could trust himself not to act on it. Hobbits were prone to touching, and if an opportunity presented itself to touch Thorin, Bilbo knew his hobbity senses would make him go for it. And a quiet voice in the back of his head told the hobbit that Thorin wouldn't really object.

Being quite lost in his own thoughts, Bilbo didn't even notice at first that he was already out on the porch. The cool breeze caressed his face and cooled his head. Summer nights had always been his favourite. The hobbit closed his eyes and leaned against a support beam, allowing the night to envelop him in it's warmth and quiet. It sure felt better than the bed that had turned into an oven during the hours he had spent there. Maybe he should just go fetch his pillow and covers and come sleep out here? He doubted there was any danger and the night would surely provide him with much better sleep. Plus, he could actually spend the night without having to jump up from his sleep when an occasional extra loud snore escaped one of the dwarves. If his countings were correct, Gloin was the current champion, his snores were loud enough to wake Oin, and that was something.

Just as he made the move to return and grab his covers, Bilbo heard a sharp hiss from somewhere around the corner. He turned to his left and noticed that the porch seemed to go around the whole house. And it sounded like someone on the other side of the house was in pain. A quick panick shot through his spine, but the hobbit calmed himself down right away. There weren't many options who that might be. Just the one, in fact.

He slowly went towards the corner, not sure if he should impose. But his instincts seemed to ignore his mind right now and soon he was peeking around the corner. The sight that greeted him seemed to amaze and mortify the hobbit at the same time.

He saw Thorin sitting on the ground, the upper part of his body was naked and the dwarf was slowly removing bandages from his injured side. His arm was already bare and Bilbo flinched at the sight of red gashes that seemed to cover every inch of the skin. The hobbit gulped painfully and looked back to Thorins left side, it was almost completely exposed to the cool air and Bilbo could see black and blue bruises that seemed to be very painful. A part right under Thorin's left shoulder and armpit was still bandaged and the dwarf was obviously struggling with untying the knot since his left arm wouldn't lift as high as he needed it to.

Without stopping to think Bilbo rounded the corner and saw Thorin look up at him. „Let me help you."

If Thorin was startled, he didn't let it show. „I can handle it." He then moved his injured arm too quickly to prove his point, and suddenly went pale. For a moment Bilbo thought that the dwarf was going to pass out. Luckily Thorin proved him wrong. The hobbit took another step closer.

„Clearly you can't." He gave Thorin what was meant to be a reassuring smile. „Come on, I won't hurt you more than you will hurt yourself if you keep this up."

Thorin was still glaring at him, not convinced. Bilbo tried again. „It's not that easy to break a dwarf, remember?" This time the smile was supposed to be amused and with a sigh Thorin nodded.

„Fine."

Bilbo also settled for a nod and came closer, now not being quite sure how approach the dwarf. Thorin obviously noticed that. „Just come and sit here on my left. There's a knot I cannot seem to reach. Apparently Dori really wanted this one to stick."

„Right." The hobbit mumbled, getting on his knees next to Thorin. „Let me just.. um, take a look." He was suddenly very unsure what to do. He wasn't that confident anymore that he could do this without hurting the dwarf. „Um, the knot, yes, it seems to be quite, um, tight. Let me just try and untie it." He proceeded to work his quick fingers on the knot that was located right beneath the juncture of Thorin's shoulder. It proved to be a difficult task since Bilbo was extra careful no to touch the dwarf. Partly because he didn't want to hurt him more than necessary, but more importantly because he wasn't sure how his body would react to skin-to-skin contact.

He was suddenly very aware how close they were to each other. And how naked Thorin was. Bilbo forbade himself to look anywhere else, just the damn knot and hoped desperately that the heat that had risen up his neck would stay there. The knot finally gave away and the hobbit helped Thorin get rid of the bandages.

What he saw underneath left him wishing that he had stayed away and let Thorin deal with this. He saw two deep parallel cuts that began just beneath his collar bone and went along his ribcage to end somewhere on his back.

Bilbo heard himself gasp. „And you didn't think to ask Dori to check these for you?" The hobbit asked, trying to look away from the blood that had clotted around the edges of the cut.

„Obviously I did not. Beorn provided me with some ointment and clean bandages. I can handle the rest."

„Yes, I saw that." Bilbo replied sarcastically. He wasn't an expert on how to treat these kinds of wounds, but he was pretty sure they would at least have to be clean.

„You stay put." He told Thorin and stood up. „I'll be back soon." And without waiting for an answer he went back to their room and found a bucket of clean water that Beorn had left fot their use. The hobbit looked around for a clean cloth, but could see none. He then noticed his own shirt, one that he was hoping to mend in the morning, and decided that it would have to do. He quickly went back to Thorin. The dwarf had apparently listened to him and hadn't moved and inch. Or maybe he was simply in too much pain to move.

Bilbo crouched down on his previous spot and placet the bucket next to himself. He then proceeded to rip the shirt apart. If he used the cloth carefully, he could maybe save some for the future. These cuts would need some time to heal. He ignored the voice in his head that kept asking him why he was so sure to be the one to treat Thorin's wounds in the future.

Being quite concentrated on his task, the hobbit didn't notice the large hand that was suddenly atop of his and stopped him from ripping the shirt any further.

„What are you doing, burglar?" Thorin asked and raised an eyebrow at Bilbo.

„What?" The hobbit was suddenly lost in the depth of two very blue eyes just inches away from his. If he leaned in closer, he would probably drown in them.

„Is this not your shirt?" Bilbo was sure Thorin's voice was deeper than it had been a moment ago.

„Um, yes. But it's too damaged for me to salvage, anyways. It should make a decent washcloth." He forced himself to look away. Look anywhere else than those eyes that were more appealing to him than second breakfast. And for a hobbit that was something.

„You shouldn't have." The dwarf's voice was still rasp.

„Well, do you have anything that would do?" Bilbo asked. And when Thorin said nothing, he added, „That's what I thought. Really, it's just a shirt." He took a risk and looked at the dwarf. The look in his eyes was unreadable.

When Thorin didn't say anything else, Bilbo ripped the shirt into pieces that vere enough to do their job, he proceeded to soak the cloth in the water. Carefully he drained the extra water and looked at the dwarf with a small smile.

„This will probably sting." He said apologetically and waited fot Thorin to acknowledge him. The dwarf settled for a curt nod and Bilbo proceeded to wash the cuts. He tried to be as gentle as he could, but the very first touch of the wet cloth to the exposed flesh earned him a sharp hiss of pain from the dwarf. He quickly drew his hand back and looked at Thorin again. the dwarf was grinding his teeth, his right hand was clenched into a fist, knuckles white as chalk.

„I'm sorry." Bilbo whispered. „Maybe I should really get Dori? He is much more capable not to hurt you than I am."

„I'm not that weak, burglar." Thorin's voice was suddenly harsh. „You won't hurt me more than that damned warg already did. So either do it or leave it to me."

Bilbo nodded quietly and returned to wash the wounds, trying to ignore the hissing and clenching of fists. Thorin's left hand was clenched into a fist as well, and the hobbit hoped that he wouldn't punch him instinctively.

A few very long moments later Bilbo was done with washing of the wounds, without the old blood they didn't look as bad. He pushed the bucket that now contained red water away from him and looked at Thorin, awaiting further instructions.

„I'm no expert, but I think they are not that bad once clean." He smiled at the dwarf, hoping to remedy for hurting him. „Anything else I could do?"

„Well, there is that ointment that Beorn left me. It's supposed to have some healing abilities, but dwarves heal easily on their own." He said and looked at Bilbo as if challenging him to disagree.

The hobbit smiled back, not falling for it. „But I'm sure it wouldn't do you any worse, would it?"

„I guess not." Thorin sighed and pointed with his head to his right. „It's there, on my coat."

Bilbo nodded and made a move to get it. It only then hit him that he had not gotten up, he had simply leaned over to get the ointment, and currently found himself leaning over Thorin's lap. He concentrated his eyes on the small jar that was indeed placed on Thorin's heavy leather coat. When his fingers finally managed to grab it, he got back into his previous position and hoped that the dwarf wouldn't notice his blush.

With numb fingers he opened the lid, avoiding Thorin's gaze that he knew was concentrated on him. When the jar was open, he had nothing else to do but to look back at the dwarf. The unreadable look was back in those eyes.

„What now?" Bilbo found his own voice being deeper than usual.

„You have to apply it. On the wounds." Thorin said, not breaking the gaze.

„Are you sure you want me to instead of doing it yourself?"

„Yes." That one little whisper of word sent shivers through the hobbit as if he was suddenly hit with a cold breeze. He slowly nodded and proceeded to dip his fingers in the sweet smelling substance. He scooped enough and applied in gently to the wounds.

Actual skin-to-skin contact sent another round of shivers through him. Bilbo slowly proceeded to work on every wound he could see and suddenly wished that Thorin had more. Not that he wanted him to hurt, but the idea of touching more of Thorin was too appealing to resist. He looked for more injuries he could treat and saw a cut on the dwarf's cheek. It was a simple scratch but the temptation was too great and without much thinking Bilbo reached out and covered the small cut with the paste. He smoothed over it a couple more times to make sure he had gotten enough.

He was about to smooth over it once again when a low gluttural sound stopped him. He looked at Thorin and realized that the sound had come from him. Apparently Bilbo had gotten carried away. He looked at his hands and pretended to look for something to clean his hands with. When he found nothing, he simply proceeded to rub his hands together, the paste that was obviously made of beeswax could do some good to his cut and aching hands.

Bilbo once again had to force himself to look at Thorin. He tried to ignore the weird feeling in his gut when his gaze reached those piercing blue eyes, that now seemed to have a hint of fire in them. Or maybe it wasn't fire, but Bilbo was awfully aware of how hot he suddenly felt.

„I, um, shall I get the bandages?" He asked, his voice unusually rasp. All he got in response was a nod.

The hobbit then stood up and this time went to get the bandages that were also on Thorin's coat, instead of leaning over the dwarf again. His legs felt weird and foreign, and Bilbo tried to convince himself that that was due to crouching for a long time and nothing else.

When he got the bandages, the hobbit put all of his concentration to applying them, not allowing himself to look at Thorin's face. He wasn't sure what would happen if he did, but he knew he was eager to find out and would probably not be responsible for his further actions. So he had to concentrate on the task, and so he did until a warm hand on his wrist stopped him.

Startled, Bilbo looked at Thorin and all his concentration went to hell. He turned his hand so that now he was also grasping Thorin's wrist. The hobbit wasn't sure if there was a pull from Thorin or if he leaned forward on his own accord, but he was very aware that the dwarf's face was slowly moving closer to him. Or was he moving closer himself? At this point he couldn't even tell if he was still breathing. Bilbo was spellbound, he couldn't look away from those mesmerizing blue eyes that seemed to get darker by the second.

When there was a mere inch between them, Bilbo felt his tongue instinctively lick his lips. Thorin's gaze followed the sudden movement and the hobbit would bet on his best dressing gown that his eyes were now darker than he had ever seen them. The dwarf then let his gaze move back and meet Bilbo's. The hobbit felt his wrist being released from the previous grasp and with a corner of his eye he saw that a large hand was being raised and moved towards his cheek. He closed his eyes in anticipation of the touch that never came.

When a hand landed on his shoulder Bilbo opened his eyes just in time to see the fire in Thorin's gaze fade away, his eyes going back to their normal colour. The dwarf lowered his head and since they were still pretty close together, a strand of his hair found it's way to caress Bilbo's cheek. The hobbit was very tempted to inhale the scent of it, being sure that it would be musky and smell of fresh earth, just like Thorin always did. But instead of doing that he chose to lift his left hand and place it on the larger one that was still on his shoulder. With his right hand he removed the soft hair from his face and placed it behind Thorin's back, making sure his fingers grazed over the dwarf's naked skin as he did so. The small touch once again sent shivers through him, and Bilbo had to wonder what would it be like if the contact was bigger. A hand on his cheek, his hand against Thorin's chest, the dwarf's hand in his hair. Before Bilbo could continue his musings, he felt his shoulder being squeezed lightly and heard a quiet sigh from the dwarf. He was not sure what to make of their current situation and as much as he didn't want to move away, he realized that there was no way of knowing how Thorin felt. And therefore he should not make any rash decisions and it would probably be for the best not to give this situation too many thinking.

„Thorin?" The dwarf looked up upon hearing his name, his eyes now sharp and aware. Bilbo tried to make his tone gentle and not as rasp as it had been earlier. „I should probably finish with the bandages, right?" The dwarf nodded.

„Good then." His hands were shaking while he tried to apply the bandages as well as he could. At some point Thorin had removed his hand from Bilbo's shoulder, and the hobbit felt a sting of sadness for the loss of contact. He quickly tied the last knot and was unsure what to do next. Thorin had lowered his gaze again and Bilbo didn't know if he should disturb the dwarf since he seemed to be deep in thought. But he couldn't just sit there either.

„Well, all done." He tried to sound cheerful. „I guess I'll be going then." When no answer came, Bilbo simply stood up and began to walk away.

His feet felt numb, but he trusted them to get him to his bed and let his mind wonder. What happened was not simple gratitude for saving one's life. He had already gotten that gratitude from the dwarven king, and this seemed to be something else. Something that he hadn't just made up in his head, Bilbo was sure. The hobbit tried to sort through his own emotions, but they were currently a bundle of raw nerves and he couldn't reach them without getting confused. The only feeling he could decipher though, was affection.

Sure, he felt affection for Thorin. Hobbits were affectionate creatures and Bilbo Baggins was no exeption. And even if the dwarf had not been on his nicest behavior towards him, Bilbo knew by now not to dwell on it. He felt affection towards the other dwarves, too, he reminded himself. Yes, but he had never had the urges to touch them. And he had never been an inch away from kissing them.

Voicing the thought in his head made him blush. Bilbo was not unexperienced when it came to showing off affection for others, in his relativey short and respectable life he had had his share of flirting and kissing, and occasional physical intimacy. It wasn't unusual for the hobbits to lay with others before they settled with their mate. But he had never been attracted to another male. Let alone a dwarf.

He knew emotions and was pretty sure that Thorin felt the same way. His eyes alone had expressed more than he could ever say with words. But until the dwarf would act on it himself, Bilbo would stay away and make no first moves. A part of him still thought that he could be wrong, and he wasn't too eager to confirm it. Another part of him simply told him that he shouldn't rush Thorin. He knew the dwarf well enough to realize that he would get what he want if he wanted it. The hobbit blushed again at the thought that Thorin might actually want him. But he would have to wait. There was no way of knowing how the dwarf would respond to his hobbit ways of showing affection.

Bilbo climbed under the covers, hoping that he would find some rest after all. It was nearly dawn and his body was in desperate need of at least a couple hours of sleep. He closed his eyes and tried to remember the way Thorin's earthy smell had enveloped him when they embraced on top of the Carrock. He tried to imagine how it would feel to touch Thorin's hair and let his hand slide through it. He couldn't stop himself from imagining the dwarf's arms reach out and pull him close, their faces mowing towards each other, but this time without an interruption. His last conscious thought was of feeling Thorin's breath on his lips as he guided his to meet them.

The hobbit was unaware of the footsteps that followed him into their room and didn't hear the quiet whisper of „Thank you" as the leader of their company settled for sleep.

There is something about Bilbo treating Thorin's wounds that I couldn't resist :) All kind of feedback will be highly appreciated!