#gift 7

Bilbo was wandering around Erebor, escaping from the noisy dwarves celebrating Mahal’s day. There wasn’t a lot of food —it was barely a few weeks after the battle, after all— but the wine was running freely. Nori had found an intact wine cellar, and Thorin had ordered for some bottles to be opened for the occasion.

  They had so many things to celebrate; First of all having survived the battle, all in one piece though not unscathed. Fíli still couldn’t walk, and Kíli had his arm in a sling. The other dwarves had sustained from hits and minor wounds, but the hobbit was the worst of them. Trying to save Thorin, he had confronted Azog, again.

  This time he hadn’t been as lucky as the first one. Though he had been wearing the ring at the moment, the Orc managed to stab him in the thigh, dangerously close to the femoral artery.

  He had been saved only because Thorin had seen Azog receiving a wound that opened itself on his leg. After finishing his old enemy, Thorin had looked for Bilbo and had found him. He had known about the ring since the hobbit had appeared repeatedly out of nowhere in front of him, in Mirkwood’s cells.

  Thorin had found him easily, following the blood drops that appeared on the floor. Even when the battle was not over, the King had grabbed the hobbit, after removing the ring, and carried him on his shoulder to the mountain, still fighting with his sword on the other hand.

  After three days of fever and delirious dreams, Bilbo Had pulled through, just to find himself again into the mountain, under the care of Dáin’s healers. Thorin was there, sitting at the food of the enormous bed.

  Bilbo hadn’t known what to expect then, after the last time they had talked. Thorin could as easily call him a thief and exile him as he could thank him for saving his life. Again.

  Thorin did neither, he just asked if he was well, as if he hadn’t been about to kill him for giving away the Arkestone.

  Trying to ignore the fact that the King seemed not have cleaned himself after the battle, Bilbo had answered with polite words, even when he was fearing Thorin’s reaction.

  The lack of trust was all on his side, though. Thorin had offered him new clothes, even when he was wearing the battle ones. Thorin had even talked about giving him a room close to his one, not asking him whether he was going to stay at Erebor.

  Bilbo had thought Thorin had forgotten what happened with the Arkenstone, but after days together, the dwarf was looking at him with such remorse, that it could only show his regret.

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    Dáin and his people were celebrating Mahal’s day too, before departing for the Iron Hills.

  Bilbo liked them, especially the dwarf Lord, but they were nosier, if possible, than his friends. So he decided to skip the last part of the celebration, retiring to his rooms. But before he arrived there, Thorin called him.

  “¡Bilbo! Are you well?”

  “Yes, yes, I am.”

  “Then, why did you go away before the end of the party?”

  “I’m just tired,” Bilbo lied.

  “ You’re still weak; you must not to walk without your walking stick.”

  “I’m not weak, thank you very much,” Bilbo said, infuriated.

  “Calm, my friend, I know you’re brave enough. But even Fíli knows the magnitude of his wounds. Would you go with me?” Thorin said suddenly, extending his hand to Bilbo.

  “Go with you where?” Bilbo asked, His voice filled with suspicion.

  “I had a Mahal’s day tradition, when I lived into the mountain. Don’t you want to witness it?” offered Thorin, with a kind smile and hopefully eyes.

  Bilbo gave him his hand, sighing deeply. He still didn’t trust Thorin completely, but he was always helpless faced with the dwarf’s smile.

  Thorin lead him up the mountain, not where Bilbo thought they were going, to the treasure hall. Instead, Thorin showed him a room in the part of Erebor not yet cleaned.

  Dust and ashes covered all the surfaces, but Bilbo could see a bed, so similar with the one he had in his room. In fact, close to the bed was a space cleaner than the rest of the floor of the room.

  “This was my childhood room,” said Thorin, startling him.

  “Then, my bed…” Bilbo knew his bed was small for a dwarf, though was perfect for a hobbit size.

  “Yes, it was my bed. This one was my brother’s,” he said, siting on it, not minding the dust of years on top of it. He signalled for Bilbo to sit by his side. The hobbit looked more proper for the small bed than the big dwarf did. “Frerin and I loved Mahal’s day. At midnight, our mother used to come here with Dís and she told us the story of how Mahal created The Seven Fathers of the Dwarves.”

  Bilbo was touched that Thorin had shared such an intimate memory with him. And so he told him.

  “It’s a beautiful thing to remember. I myself treasure some pleasant memories of my father’s tales. Thorin, why did you want to share this tradition with me?”

  “Because I treasure the moments I spend with you, halfling,” answered the dwarf, staring at Bilbo with expectation. “I didn’t ask for forgiveness, nor have thanked you for saving my life, again.”

  “No, you didn’t,” said Bilbo, astonished. He hadn’t expected these words, even though he wanted to hear an explanation about Thorin’s deeds.

  “Are you waiting for these things, before you return to the Shire?” Bilbo nodded without hesitation. He was eager to know what the king thought about him, if he still saw him as a thief or as a friend. “Then I’ll never say anything to you, for I don’t want you to go back to your home.”

  Hearing that, Bilbo first reaction was outrage. But then, he felt Thorin’s eyes on him, and he realised the dwarf was too close. In fact, the next heartbeat he felt Thorin’s lips on his own. That was really unexpected. And exquisite.

  “Your plan was to seduce me in your childhood room?” Bilbo asked with a happy smile in his face.

  “Maybe. Did I do it well?” Thorin said mockingly.

  “You did amazingly,” Bilbo asnwered, reaching again for the King’s lips.

  They kissed for a while, until they ended up lying on the old and dusty bed. Thorin finally told Bilbo his old mother’s tale about his forefathers, while he was absently caressing the hobbit’s hair.