I might as well join the fun and write a Hobbit fanfiction, right?

Disclamir: I OWN NOTHING! All rights belong to J.R.R. Tolkien, not me.

It had started out like any other day on this blasted journey to reclaim the thirteen dwarves' home; too early and not enough food, though to be fair, Bilbo thought he was handling this very well, all things considered. He had gone from eating seven meals a day to two, sometimes three and was glad he had started the journey with a bit of extra padding as he had lost almost all of it. A stray hair fell in front of his face and brought him out of his thoughts of food.

With a huff, Bilbo brushed the fly away hair from his eyes and turned his gaze to his companions. Oin and Gloin seemed to be having some sort of heated debate, though the yelling could be because of Oin not using his ear horn. Bombour was busy preparing dinner for the Companion, something that Bilbo was pleased about. Continuing his look around, he watched Bifur and Bofur speak in Iglishmêk, something Bilbo thought he would never truly understand, but the two seemed to be enjoying themselves. Drifting his eyes away from the pair he watched as Fili and Kili tried to rile up Dwalin, who was on self appointed guard duty.

Bilbo was going to stop the pair from bothering the poor dwarve, when he spotted Thorin out of the corner of his eye. He watched with interest as Thorin ran his fingers through his beard, grooming the thick hair that inched along his jaw and around his mouth. It was embarrassing to say that Bilbo had never really seen someone with a beard, except Gandalf, before he joined the Company. Hobbits didn't really have the ability to grow facial hair, not that they had trouble growing hair on their feet though.

He examined the well groomed beard and its slightly peppered hair and couldn't stop his mouth from uttering the words from his observations, "You're beard is quite lovely."

The whole camp seemed to stop and stare at Bilbo, whose face flushed a brilliant red. Thorin's harsh gaze bore into him and Bilbo winced at the intensity. "Do you mean that, Halfling?" Thorin asked, his body leaving its seated position and striding toward Bilbo.

Bilbo's body tensed and he began to quiver in fright. "Y-Y-Yes, I did, b-but I-I-I meant no offense," he argued, his eyes widening at Thorin's continued approach.

Thorin now stood in front of Bilbo and gazed into his eyes. Thorin reached his hand up and Bilbo clenched his eyes shut, waiting for the impact. Instead of a flash of pain, his cheek was caressed by thick, callused hands. His eyes opened wide as the hand drifted and pet his right ear, causing a shiver to run down his spine.

"Then I, Thorin Oakenshield, Son of Thrain, son of Thoror, King Under the Mountain, accept your courtship, Bilbo Baggins," Thorin said firmly. Bilbo's eyes widened further at the statement. "I will court you as well, have no fear, your feelings are reciprocated."

Bilbo nodded his head weakly as cheers erupted around him. He had to force himself not to glare at Thorin's beard. How was he supposed to know that a complement to a dwarves' beard meant courtship?

I hope you all enjoyed that and please review if you have the time!