#bagginshield-tober

They were first served mulled wine and spirits of every kind. Bilbo was amazed at what his companions and their kin had managed to make or otherwise trade for only a year after retaking the mountain. Bilbo drank what his friends poured for him and his wonder was replaced swiftly thereafter by a jolly drunkeness that pinked his round cheeks and pushed him sideways into his seat neighbor.

Thorin laughed and held him to his side with a strong arm. "Best I fill your glass from now on. The first course is merely to warm the forges," he said. His voice was very near Bilbo's ear. "There is much yet to come tonight."

Bilbo sighed into the king's neck and straightened. "Consider my forge warmed," he said. His friend barked a laugh that ended in a cough.

"Good," he said, sounding strange. He reached over to pluck a platter from a passing kitchen hand and placed it in front of the hobbit.

"Here. The second course."

Before him were hard crackers, a square of soft yellow butter, and nothing else. He looked at Thorin quizzically. "Are we yet on the road? I thought I sat next to the King Under the Mountain, not a vagrant on a deer path." He hiccuped and reached for the butter knife anyway.

Thorin merely smiled. "If it is such a concern, perhaps you would allow me?" Bilbo shrugged and handed over the utensil. It was oddly heavy for a butter knife.

Thorin began to spread butter over two crackers, one for each of them. Bilbo felt an elbow from his right and looked over to see Dwalin grinning as widely as he'd ever seen at Thorin.

"Tell me, your Majesty," he said, much too loudly. "How does our hobbit like his crackers buttered?"

The king's lip twitched and he seemed to control his expression as he replied. "I was just wondering the same about Nori. Though, I hear you might not be the dwarf to ask." The smile dropped from Dwalin's face as he turned quickly to look at where Nori and Bofur were seated across the table, talking in low voices and sharing a knife.

Bilbo yawned and thought he must be mistaken. It sounded like Dwalin had made a rude suggestion, but then again he'd been drinking. It must be something dwarven he simply didn't understand. Looking to Balin and then to Dis, Bilbo noticed they were both looking back with warm expressions. He gave them a wave and then bit into a cracker.

The third course was sizzling potatoes and a hard block of cheese. Again, he tried to use the (excessively weighty) knife they provided and again it was gently maneuvered away from him by the dwarf at his side.

"I assure you, I am not so deep in my cups that I cannot operate a cheese knife," he huffed.

As if in answer, Thorin expertly sliced the cheese so thinly that it melted almost before he dropped it onto the potatoes. As they ate from their shared dish, Bilbo looked around to see most people had one platter before them, with some exceptions. Bombur and Gloin ate with their wives, Dis with her children. Dwarves he didn't know fed each other tenderly from the same fork.

Realizing he was sharing a plate with the king of Erebor and his dear friend, Bilbo clamped his teeth shut around his next bite. Although he knew he was not in the Shire, still he blushed fiercely. This was the kind of thing young hobbit couples did to show off to their friends. It was the kind of thing he rolled his eyes to see in the family dining room.

He swallowed thickly as servers took their dishes and brought out the third course, a small plate with a large pomegranate loose on top.

Tipsy and unable to help himself, Bilbo exclaimed, "What kind of a meal is this?" Nevertheless, he grabbed up the knife, heavier again than the last. He was about to slice through the flesh of the fruit when Thorin stopped him with a hand on his wrist, took the knife, and did it himself. The hobbit gave him a very unimpressed look to which Thorin merely returned an innocent smile.

Red seeds like jewels spilled from both halves of the fruit as he opened it. Thorin took one between his thumb and forefinger and regarded Bilbo.

"May I?"

He agreed before he realized he'd moved his head. Suddenly, Thorin's hand was cupping his jaw so gently. His rough fingers placed the seed carefully in the center of his tongue. For only the smallest fraction of a heartbeat, Bilbo thought he could taste the salt of his skin.

The seed burst cold and sweet between his teeth and he stared at his friend. Thorin stared back, gazing just as deeply into Bilbo's eyes. Dwalin's elbow found his side again but this time pushed him much harder than he must have meant to. The hobbit overbalanced and caught himself with a hand on Thorin's granite thigh. The dwarf inhaled sharply and placed his own hand over top of Bilbo's.

"Another?" he asked him. Again Bilbo nodded without thought. Although he hadn't had a drop more to drink, the hobbit felt drunker than ever. How was it so warm in the center of a mountain?

When the fruits were picked clean, the husks were taken and the final course served. Bilbo was hoping for something hearty for the sake of his rumbling stomach but was disappointed to see a only a few steamed mollusks on the plate when it arrived.

The knife was far smaller than the others, so it surprised Bilbo that it was also the heaviest. Unsure exactly how to use it, he was almost relieved when Thorin took it from him and began to pry the shells open.

Looking around, Bilbo felt something wild pulse in his chest. Across the table, a dwarf fed a dwarrowdam who was using her tongue to extract the flesh from the shell. Her eyes never left his.

Instantly, Bilbo reached for the half-shell Thorin had just pried free and held it up to Thorin's lips. For several seconds, the dwarf only looked at him with a stunned expression. Bilbo hardly dared to breathe until he saw his lips begin to part. In a delicate motion the hobbit would remember each night for the remainder of his life, the tongue of the king of Erebor swiped the oyster from its shell. It was pink and wet and gone again so quickly Bilbo bent forward as if to follow it before he caught himself.

Thorin's mouth turned up at the edges and Bilbo lifted his gaze to see the warmest look in the king's eyes. Without warning, he shouted down the table.

"To Mahal and his ever-green bride!"

"Kaminzabdûna!" The table itself rang from the answering roar of the dwarves.

Thorin leaned close to Bilbo's ear. "In the Shire, you don't celebrate the wedding of Yavanna?"

Bilbo shook his head. "We feast in her honor at midsummer. The dwarrow think she is wed?"

"She married the maker of the dwarves. You don't know the story." He sounded certain of this. His mouth was nearly touching the hobbit's ear now.

"Long ago, before Mahal first forged the seven fathers of our race, the green lady taught him to love. He loved with the sturdy attention of a dwarf, devoted and passionate. Whatever she asked of him, he would make for her. In all their courtship, she sought his craft only four times.

'Here,' she told him. 'The herds of the West give milk which churns so smoothly into butter. Make for us a knife to spread it, that we might take some together.'

Later she came again, this time with a heavy block of hard cheese. Again he made a knife.

Twice more she needed him and twice more he made for her a knife of unrivaled skill, each hardier than the last. With these knives she fed them both.

It was after the fourth knife was made that she ended their courtship and the two were wed."

Bilbo turned his head to see Balin and Dis watching with small smiles. Dwalin was grumpily staring as Nori and Bofur fed each other across the table.

"I'm only a hobbit," he said, feeling rather dizzy. "So I shouldn't like to guess about dwarven traditions." He licked his lips and watched Thorin's eyes follow the movement.

"But is there any chance you have been flirting with me this entire evening?" If Bilbo's voice quavered it was only from the drink. He felt his own certainty was reflected in Thorin's face.

Dwalin snorted rudely. "A chance?"

Thorin ignored him and said, "That depends."

"On?"

"How you liked the knives."

"Oh, they were fine. Very dependable."

"Fine?" Thorin's eyebrow lifted.

Bilbo tempered his smile and dropped his eyelids just a little.

"Well, I suppose they were beautiful. And strong. Handy to have around. I should like a set to keep."

A sigh came from Balin's end of the table. Dis patted the old dwarf on the back with what sounded like a sniffle.

"That can be arranged. I think I can get an audience with their maker."

The hobbit grinned toothily. "Why bother? A burglar may take what he likes for himself."

And with that, Bilbo Baggins grabbed the king of Erebor by the front of his tunic and kissed him soundly on the mouth as the dwarves of the mountain cheered with great approval.

Thorin Oakenshield found himself irrevocably attracted to 'Master Burglar' (he was still much too shy to call him by his name) since his cleverly devised plan aided their escape from the dungeons of Mirkwood.

He'd told only Balin, who had told Dwalin... who had told a couple others... and essentially everyone but Bilbo knew, and did their part too, whether it be recommending dwarven husbands, citing their merits, or praising Thorin in Bilbo's earshot. They dared not to try anything further for fear of coming off as the prospective lovers instead of wingmen.

Thorin did not seem to be doing well at all. He was too bashful to look at Bilbo without blushing as though he'd been painted red, leave alone talk to him.

However, silently, unnoticed, he did everything he could do to make Bilbo's journey more comfortable. After all, he wasn't obliged to go along, he simply did.

Thorin stopped short. Why was he going along with them? Surely it couldn't be out of affection for him. Perhaps (although Thorin shuddered to think of that contingency) he was in love with someone else.

Fili and Kili, who were following Thorin around as he looked around for extra grass or something he could give Bilbo for his bed, glanced at each other, grinning as they noticed Thorin's stopping. They knew immediately that their uncle was thinking about Bilbo.

For his part, Thorin decided to remain committed to courting Bilbo (from a distance). He snapped himself out of his anxiety induced trance and continued looking. Some searching later, he found some springy grass, which he quickly pulled and brought over to the camp. In the firelight, he began brushing off the dirt that he could see.

Suddenly, a loud swear caught him off guard, and he dropped the grass into the fire. He gasped and put his hands to his mouth as he watched the fire grow bigger, earning him a "Good on you, Thorin" from Balin who was turning to walk towards one of the beds.

Everyone was milling around it. Thorin realised it was Bilbo's bed and well nigh ran to it. He pushed his way past the ring of dwarves, and asked hurriedly, "Master Burglar! Are you all right?"

"Oh, what? Yes, yes, I'm fine, it's just a splinter. If you'd only not crowd around me, I would be able to pull it out."

"A splinter?! Quick! Take it out! Clean the wound! It could get infected if not treated immediately! They'd have to cut off your fingers!" Bilbo cocked his head. "Thorin, it's really just a splinter. Nothing will happen, you know?"

"Master Burglar, I have seen more of this world than you have. Now, please, for the love of Aüle, pull it out before it goes in further." He carefully took Bilbo's hand (which took everyone by surprise because it was the bravest thing he had ever done) and guided him to the fire, by the light of which he gently eased the splinter out.

He checked Bilbo's hand for any bleeding, and gently held his hand for a few moments before releasing it. Bilbo smiled up at him, and thanked him, which made Thorin blush, as he realised this was the first time he'd spoken to Bilbo properly since Mirkwood. Bilbo's smile widened.

In retrospect, it didn't seem all so hard as he thought it was, and he wished he hadn't wasted so much time in worrying. In fact, he began wondering if it was a good time to confess to Bilbo.

The ecstasy of having spoken to Bilbo gave him a new found courage, and hence, he began thinking about telling Bilbo his feelings.

Perhaps it was too early just yet.

---

Bilbo had just come out after his little misadventure with Smaug, and the dwarves were all congratulating him. Thorin decided it was time he told Bilbo. He wasn't sure why; it was just a gut feeling. Still, last of all, after many pats on the back and whatnot, Thorin guided him away from the others.

"Bilbo." Bilbo smiled as he heard Thorin referring to him by his given name. Extremely courageous of him.

"Thank you very much," he continued. "None of this would have been possible without your valuable assistance. If I may be honest, you have exhibited far more bravery than I expected."

Bilbo nodded slowly, trying to make out if it was a proper compliment.

Thorin hesitated. It was now or never. They could very well lose their lives in the coming days, and Thorin knew that he would regret it vehemently if he or Bilbo died before he could tell him.

Pretty morbid, but it was a possibility.

"Despite all of this, I have to ask of another favour."

He paused again, and continued when Bilbo nodded.

"Bilbo, I.. I am terribly fond of you." He took a deep breath, and with a sudden rush of adrenaline, spoke eloquently.

"Will you do me the honour of loving me back?

"Bilbo scrunched up his face in thought. "Wait, you're telling me this now?" Thorin looked at him blankly.

"I mean, it's just that... that night when you pulled out the splinter... that sort of reeked of romance, really. I thought.. that was a.. oh, confound it, I thought that was a confession. The way you took charge was very.. confession-y."

Thorin blinked confusedly. "What?" Bilbo nodded affirmatively. "In that case, you think I have been courting you for days now?"

"I'll admit it did cross my mind." Bilbo took Thorin's hand. "It is a rather silly situation, but... I believe it has answered you. Nothing would make me gladder than being with you, Thorin Oakenshield."

Thorin's bewildered expression turned into a smile, and he cupped Bilbo's face. Bilbo closed the gap between them, and they kissed softly, almost shyly.