Hello

Bilbo sat with his back against the carved wooden headboard while Thorin lay on his side with his face nestled against Bilbo. A large hand rested casually on the hobbit’s thigh.

"You should have seen those fireworks, Thorin," Bilbo said softly, absently running his fingers through Thorin’s thick, dark hair and brushing it away from his forehead. "You know how Gandalf gets on my nerves, but he’s such an extraordinary wizard. He possesses such tremendous power and yet doesn't hesitate to use it to create something as trivial as fireworks meant to entertain insignificant halflings like us. I was very young, but I remember the joy of the people of the Shire when all those colors exploded into magnificent creatures." 

Bilbo paused in his tale, smiling as the memories came back. After a moment, he asked, "Come to think of it, I wonder: Do you dwarves use fireworks for your festivities?

"Hmm…"

Unable to tell if the dwarf was answering yes or no, Bilbo gently shook his thigh and asked, "Hey, Thorin, are you listening to me?"

"Yes, Bilbo. I’m listening," Thorin mumbled. He snuggled closer to Bilbo with a contented sigh, burying his face deeper into his thigh.

The halfling looked down at the dwarf. A tender, affectionate smile spread across his lips as he watched the mighty warrior, who had faced dragons and armies of orcs, turned into a sleepy, docile lump.

"What was I talking about, then?" Bilbo asked playfully, just to tease him.

Thorin replied, his voice muffled by Bilbo’s thigh, "Gandalf… fireworks… "

Bilbo let out a soft chuckle as he saw that his dwarf was already drifting toward the shores of sleep. It was a rare and precious sight, one that he didn’t feel he had the right to disturb. He was delighted to see Thorin Oakenshield, the King Under the Mountain, lay down his weapons and armor and rest peacefully beside him.

Careful not to startle him, Bilbo slid down the headboard and moved from a sitting position to lying on his side. He embraced Thorin, pulling him close against his chest and wrapping his arm around his waist. Bilbo tenderly cradled the dwarf’s head and pulled the thick woolen blanket up over their entwined bodies to shield them from the night’s chill.

He pressed a tender, lingering kiss to Thorin’s hair and whispered, "Good night, my love."

For a moment, he thought Thorin had fallen asleep completely. But then, a large hand moved, groping blindly in the darkness until it found its way under Bilbo’s tunic to rest on his bare hip. Finally, the dwarf placed a soft, warm kiss on Bilbo’s chest, on the patch of skin just above the hem of his tunic.

Thorin murmured, his voice already heavy with sleep, "Keep talking. I want to fall asleep to the sound of your voice."

This honest and heartfelt request touched Bilbo deeply, taking his breath away. He was so accustomed to seeing Thorin do everything on his own, never asking for anything or demanding anything, that seeing him ask for something as gentle as a voice to guide him to sleep moved the hobbit far more greatly than even the most solemn declaration could have.

He tightened his embrace and smiled in the dim light before resuming his story. He went on, recounting memories of his childhood in the Shire in a soft, rolling voice.

As he spoke, Bilbo felt the tension gradually leave Thorin’s body, muscle by muscle. The stiffness born of the constant burden the dwarf bore finally began to fade. The heavy hand resting on Bilbo’s hip grew heavier still before sliding gently onto the mattress. Thorin’s breathing deepened and evened out, taking on the peaceful rhythm of true rest.

Bilbo smiled in the darkness and let his voice fade to a soft murmur before falling silent. Little by little, he, too, felt sleep calling him, so he pressed one last kiss into the dwarf’s hair. The only reaction he got was a sigh of contentment. Then he gently rested his chin on Thorin’s head.

He was humbled to see that this great king could surrender himself like that in his arms. Yes, he might sometimes resent Gandalf for pushing him to his limits on more than one occasion, but his gratitude toward the wizard outweighed that resentment. Without Gandalf, Bilbo probably wouldn’t have known the infinite happiness he felt at that moment. The happiness of holding someone so precious in his arms.

He let out a long sigh of contentment as the fire crackled one last time before settling into a bed of glowing embers.

After one last drowsy embrace, the hobbit closed his eyes, letting the peaceful safety of their room envelop them both until morning.

_________

Still not beta'd (because I want it so)

Still not my native language

Still hoping you'll enjoy this story  🥰

Still thanking you for bearing with me 😝