Work Text:
Thorin was, to put it bluntly, really ugly. It wasn’t something that other dwarrow dared to comment on, not eager to insult the young heir in any way, and with line of Durin's unfortunate genes of straight noses and big eyes, nothing else was really expected from Thrain’s, son of Thror, son. However, appearances did not deter countless courtship proposals in Thorin’s youth, as the heir to the rich kingdom of Erebor he did have other desirable qualities after all. Of course that all changed when Smaug came and lay ruin to his birthright and beloved home. And somewhere in the midst of his grief and the suffering of his people, Thorin wondered if he had lost all chances of love.
You could’ve done nothing more foolish, Baggins, than when you ran after this band of dwarves just the other day, thought Bilbo as he dismounted his pony for the evening. His backside was aching horribly, no hobbit bum was made for riding day in and day out. A growling reminded Bilbo that no hobbit belly was made for only eating three meals per day either. Before him, the company had already started setting up camp, busying themselves with gathering firewood, getting out cooking pots, and tying the ponies to some nearby birches, where they could munch on lichen and patches of grass. Thorin and Balin stood off to the side, mumbling about some technicality or other of their quest. The last rays of the sun made the dwarves' skin glow red, and Bilbo couldn’t help regarding Thorin’s eyelashes as they fluttered when he blinked in the light, framing those seemingly luminous eyes. It really was unfair, you know, the effect that Thorin had on the poor hobbit. He should’ve never left his smial, just what had Bilbo gotten himself into? Throwing himself after the first pack of dwarves that found themselves in his home and their handsome King, promising to face and steal from a dragon, and that’s after traveling more miles than his father’s ancestors had walked in all their lives combined. At least the dwarves seemed to have warmed up slightly to the hobbit’s presence now, the first few days had seemed hopeless as his only interactions with the rest of the company consisted of barked orders, shaking of heads, the more stoic of the bunch had even flat-out ignored Bilbo whenever he tried to start a conversation. Awfully rude, if you asked Bilbo himself. Awfully rude, their stoic leader was, what with his dark, flowing hair, fierce, icy gaze and-
“Everything alright there, Master Baggins?” Dwalin seemingly materialized from thin air to slam his hand on Bilbo’s shoulder, making him jump and jerk his poor pony’s head, as he’d apparently stood still for a while, just holding the reins. Distracted, some might even say.
“Yes, yes, I was just, erm- lost in thought,” said Bilbo. Lost in thought indeed, and suddenly he was very grateful for the descending sun, as it hid any eventual redness sneaking up on his face.
Dwalin narrowed his eyes, gaze flacking back and forth from the general area Bilbo had been staring at and back to the hobbit himself. “If you say so… Well, were you going to stand here all night? I think your pony might appreciate some time off, like all the rest of us.”
“What?” A beat passed while Bilbo’s brain took way too long to process the dwarf’s hint. Dwalin pulled his hand from Bilbo’s shoulder to rest it on top of his other on the hilt of his axe. “Oh yes of course, getting right on that. Of course.”
The hobbit hurried away, pony in tow, and tried very hard to distract himself from distracting thoughts. There was no way he was going to let himself fall for a dwarven king (who, first of all, Bilbo didn’t know preferred male, female, or both, ahem, interests), who only considered Bilbo a nuisance, a hindrance brought on his quest by a mad wizard. Really, this was all Gandalf’s fault, now that Bilbo thought about it.
Dwalin went back to his duties, mind full of his King. Some silent conversations with the others confirmed he wasn’t overreacting to Bilbo’s staring. Sure, Thorin wasn’t the prettiest dwarf in sight, but nothing that warranted the disgust Bilbo seemed to harbor towards their King. And Dwalin will be damned if he let this hobbit disrespect Thorin like that, his dear friend and King. That’s no way to integrate into their already closed off group, Dwalin thought, however much he knew some of the dwarrow were eager to make Bilbo’s acquaintance. With a sigh, he joined the others around the fire. Its warmth was appreciated as the night’s cold air crept ever closer.
Really, it was impressive all the creative ways the dwarves find to desecrate the elves’ hospitality, thought Bilbo. Maybe being a bad guest was just a dwarven trait? They were bathing in the sacred fountain! Completely naked! The indecency of it all! Bilbo shook his head, dwarves. His neighbours back in the Shire might’ve fainted on the spot.
Unfortunately, Bilbo was noticed where he stood on the stairs by a gleeful Kíli that stood on the very top of the fountain, pulling up his brother who was struggling to climb up the slippery stone.
“Oi, Baggins! Come join us!” Kíli shouted.
“Yeah!” Added Fíli, who had conquered the tallest peak by now, and was grinning awfully mischievously. “The water’s all nice and warm, I promise. Kíli will show you.”
Kíli barely even had time to look confused, before his brother had given him a rough push, causing him to slip and fall with a shriek. The prince’s splash was met with merry laughter and taunts from the rest of the dwarves, along with a victory shout from Fíli.
“Traitor! You filthy rat! I helped you up that fountain, you know. I shall have my revenge soon enough,” grumbled Kíli as he rubbed his back on which he had landed. Kíli tried to frown, a sight not unlike his uncle, but the joyful spark in his eyes broke the illusion. Bilbo tried to suppress a smile, he really did, he shouldn’t encourage the princes, but it proved to be a difficult task. It would be nice to get the grime off his clothes and skin after all, and Bilbo would not pass up an opportunity to be included in the dwarves’ tight-knit group, how indecent and un-hobbitish it might be. I haven’t been acting decent or hobbitish for a couple of weeks now anyways, Bilbo thought as he walked the last steps down the stairs and pulled off his shirt. The rest of the company cheered.
Well in the fountain (which waters were nice and warm, by the way), Balin smiled at him and handed him a soap.
“Thank you, Master Balin.”
“None of that now, Balin shall suffice.”
“Then it’s Bilbo to you,” Bilbo replied, and soaped himself up with a bit more joy than perhaps the task itself warranted. He scrubbed his back, and as he brought the bar of soap back over his shoulder, Bilbo stared confused at his empty hand. Where in Arda did it go? A certain thief of a dwarf chuckled behind him.
“Ye’d think the official burglar of the company would be more resistant to pick-pocketing than that, eh?” Nori said and threw the soap up in the air and spun it in his hand.
“Oh you sneaky-” Bilbo’s answer was cut short as when trying to turn towards Nori he lost his footing, and found himself under the water’s foamy surface. A pair of strong arms covered in black hair pulled Bilbo up on his feet again.
“Careful there, hobbit,” Thorin leaned in close and almost whispered in Bilbo’s ear, holding him a tad longer than necessary. Bilbo felt his neck hair stand up and eyes widen. He quickly turned and backed up to put some space between him and the cause of these unwanted reactions.
“Oh, yes of course, I just stumbled a bit, I’m fine, I was fine by myself,” said Bilbo. “Er- still, thank you, Master Thorin.”
Thorin quirked an eyebrow at the hobbit’s disheveled state, but said nothing more.
“For someone who talks a lot about their sturdy feet, you don’t seem to use them very well, Master Baggins” said Nori unhelpfully, the playful tone seemingly lost in the wind. Bilbo twitched his nose at the complete change of mood Nori and the rest of the dwarves went through, as they turned away from Bilbo and avoided looking at him. What had he done now, to offend the dwarves so? Surely Nori would know by now (especially with Ori, the curious and knowledgeable scribe, for a brother) that a hobbit's feet is like to a dwarf's beard, nothing to insult without reason. And Bilbo didn’t exactly miss the snide remark. His own mood soured, Bilbo started to wash his own hair with a huff, among the dwarves who brushed out each other's hair and beards with great care and love, brothers and friends alike. It stung just a little, that much he was willing to admit. Bilbo had thought that perhaps finally, he was becoming a part of the company instead of just being the company’s burglar. Seems like he’d been wrong.
Bilbo’s pulse must’ve been audible with how fast it beat, adrenaline from the fight not yet out of his system. He shivered from shock, anxiety and the ruthless winds way up in the air on the eagles’ backs. His hands were completely numb, but that didn’t matter now. Thorin mattered. The original plan of not falling for the stubborn dwarf had proved impossible, and Bilbo's had plenty of time to worry himself out of his mind since Thorin stupidly charged Azog a couple of hours ago. A quick look around the company who were jumping off their own eagles proved Bilbo wasn’t alone in his worries.
“Uncle, wake up!” Fíli’s voice was thick with fear, but he got no response from Thorin who lay still on the rock.
Óin rushed forward to check his pulse, but was moved aside by Gandalf who hummed unintelligibly with closed eyes, and moved his hands over Thorin’s chest in a slow pace. The King opened his eyes with a gasp for air that caused his upper body to lift from the ground.
“Where, hobbit?” Thorin managed to get out.
“Right here, and he’s quite safe, Thorin,” Gandalf smiled down at him.
Thorin had but a second to relax at the news, before he’d been assaulted by his nephews, throwing themselves beside Thorin to embrace him. Slowly the Durins stood up, and Thorin met several smiles and relaxed postures from the company. Bilbo’s anxiety melted from his bones, and he felt a strange urge to laugh. Thorin was safe, he was alive.
“You!” Thorin called out when he laid eyes upon Bilbo, who immediately sobered up. Bilbo clasped his stiff hands together and his eyebrow reverted back into their furrowed, worried state. The dwarf was yelling, at him? Why, what now? “Did I not say you would be a burden!?”
Oh. A burden. Bilbo swallowed nervously and looked down into the rock. He really couldn’t do anything right, could he? Perhaps Thorin was right way back then, Bilbo still didn’t have a place in the company. No matter how hard he tried, nor the sacrifices he'd made; he simply wasn't enough. Tears threatened to push forwards, and Bilbo willed them back. Thorin was still talking, but Bilbo didn't care to listen. He was so tired, exhausted from the fight, the adrenaline, hours of clambering fast on that eagle while his mind ran in circles. Suddenly, a pair of heavy boots entered his vision, and Bilbo couldn’t do more than stumble backwards before Thorin was right there, and Thorin was reaching for him and Thorin was-
Thorin was hugging him. That wasn’t at all what Bilbo had expected and his body stiffened, while his mind desperately wanted to melt into the embrace. Bilbo assumed he must've looked quite awkward, arms sticking out frozen on either side of Thorin, and his face expression changing every other second, ranging from teary eyes and red cheeks, frowning eyebrows yet a slight upturn of his lips. Hug him back, whispered the side of Bilbo that was very happy indeed, and so Bilbo did. And wasn’t that lovely, to hold Thorin in his arms at last, wasn’t it lovely to discover that the hobbit fit so nicely against Thorin’s warm chest? All of a sudden, too fast for Bilbo’s taste, the warm chest pulled back, and Thorin turned away. Just like that, the proud King seemed to almost curl into himself and avoided Bilbo’s gaze. Bilbo couldn’t deal with all of… this, right now, and he honestly just wanted a nap. Confound these dwarves, damn their mysterious motives and actions!
“Look, it's, it is...” Balin’s voice drew their attention up and towards the horizon.
And his brother, Dwalin, finished, “It is Erebor.”
His- the dwarves became entranced by the sight. The single, lonely peak bursting through the evening’s fog, far away yet, seemed to have an almost magical affect on them, and while Bilbo couldn’t ever hope to understand their emotions fully, he recognized the feeling well. The feeling of home. And as a thrush flew ahead before them, Bilbo saw the fighting spark light up in every single pair of eyes on the cliff, hands clenched around weapons and feet securely planted on the ground. The very air around them seemed lighter from all the fighting spirits growing in size on the cliff, pushing the atmosphere up, and up, and up. They were going to complete this quest whatever it takes, and may the Valar have mercy on those who would stand in their way.
...And this was really, really, not the time for things such as this. But for the record, Bilbo thought that Thorin, with all his cuts and bruises and messy hair, had never looked more stunning as when he looked out over their path forwards. The way his braids moved in the air, framing a face like it had been carved personally by Mahal from the most solid of stone, and the very spirit of Thorin was simply majestic. Thorin, the courageous, the stubborn, Thorin who persevered through all. It was almost scary, how much power the dwarven King held over Bilbo by doing nothing more than existing. And he himself knew nothing of it. He knew nothing of the way he was fracturing the little hobbit’s heart, crack by crack, day by day.
“We need to talk about the hobbit,” said Dori, one of the days the company spent at the shapeshifter Beorn’s home.
He and the rest of the dwarrow, sans Thorin, sat outside in the gardens, spread out over a patch of golden-green grass between lush flower beds and under hanging branches. Sunrays filtered through the leaves’ shadows, dotting the dwarrows’ faces, which were content and untroubled just a couple of seconds ago.
Bofur, who’d been resting back-to-back against Bifur, shifted towards Dori and replied: “D’ya mean the staring and all that?”
“Aye.”
“I think Thorin noticed as of lately too, and if it's becoming big enough even his Majesty the Oblivious can see it, it’s a huge problem,” Kíli said, scratching his arm.
Without any other royal attributes other than a name and a lineage, the princes had not been sheltered like Thorin to other dwarrows’ teasing and bullying in their childhoods. Kíli was well aware how much something could hurt even if nothing was said at all. Judging by his brother's squeeze of his other hand, Fíli was too.
“Did you lot see, how he recoiled there up on the Carrock when Thorn went for the hug?” Asked Bombur, and a chorus of ayes met him.
“Now, some folk don’t like physical touch, and that’s all fine,” said Glóin.
“Yeah, but Bilbo only acts like this around Thorin,” said Nori. “He’s fine with back pats and such from the rest of us. We all saw him back away like a scared bunny when Thorin helped him in the fountain way back with the tree-huggers.”
This made all of the dwarrow sink deep in thought. It was a stated fact and problem, now the only question remaining was how to fix it.
“Just so we’re all on the same page here, none of you missed Thorin’s, uh, inclinement towards the hobbit, right?” Dwalin said.
The dwarrow all shook their heads, some with small smiles. Their King was a lot of things, but subtle he was not. Anyone with eyes could tell how the King longed for Bilbo. Now of course that didn’t mean that Bilbo was required to return his affections, but Dwalin would sure appreciate it if the hobbit could handle the situation with more tact, and not act so visibly disgusted around Thorin. No one deserved that treatment.
“I think we need to talk to Bilbo directly. This clearly won't go away with time, or solve itself,” Balin, ever the voice of reason, said.
The rest sighed, of course Balin was correct, but that didn’t mean they liked it.
“Not it!” Said Fíli quickly, earning a few chuckles.
In the end, it was decided Fíli would be put on distracting-Thorin duty instead, and no one could say who had gotten the preferable job.
Beorn’s house and accompanying garden was enjoyed dearly by Bilbo. He walked around the gardens tending to those plants he could, visited the animals in their pens and sat for hours beneath trees and bushes, thinking. Yavanna knows he needed the peace and quiet after long weeks spent with rowdy dwarves, however much they had grown on him. A break was sorely needed, some thoughts needed their own time. Bilbo was sitting on a bench leaning against the porch, contemplating such thoughts, when a whole bunch of dwarves rounded the corner, looking as uncomfortable as can be.
“Good evening! How are all of you?” He tried to start a polite conversation, but the dwarves did not respond in an appropriate manner.
“Evening Bilbo,” said Ori with a shy smile.
Some of the dwarves were nervously stamping around on the ground, others were looking grimly into Bilbo’s eyes, and Bilbo himself was awfully confused.
“Is something the matter?”
“Actually yes, laddie. You see it’s, er-” Óin tried, but lost his courage. “It’s…well, erm...” By now the hobbit had grown from confused to troubled.
Glóin picked up on Óin’s trail: “Well, we’ve come to talk to you about Thorin.”
As soon as Thorin’s name was mentioned, Bilbo knew what this conversation was going to be about. And judging by the dwarves' either anxious or grim expressions, there was no good news to be had. Not that Bilbo had expected a love confession or anything, but he’d preferred if Thorin at least talked to him in person, instead of sending the others to do his dirty work. Embarrassed, Bilbo’s ears flushed red, and he hardened his face in irritation. Really Thorin, there was no need to subject Bilbo to the indignity of laying his rejection out for all to see, and not even attend the event.
“To put it frankly, we’ve all noticed the way you act around him, and it needs to stop,” Dori said.
Oh. It’s that bad? Perhaps there’s some secret dwarven law about royals and love, loving across races, or even loving one of one's own gender. The dwarves’ distant but hard expressions almost made Bilbo want to cry, irritation switched out for shame. Did his silly crush truly cause such an issue?
“I’m terribly sorry, I just-” Bilbo said through a choked throat. “From the first moment I saw him, I just-”
Suddenly, some of the dwarves softened their faces or even flashed quick glances of empathy, and Bilbo truly didn’t understand these dwarves or their actions. Why did everything have to be so confusing and secret all of the time? Really, Bilbo should make it all very clear to just get this over with.
“-I couldn’t help myself! I tried so hard not to, I truly did! His entire being just has this effect on me. You’ve all seen him, you know what- how he looks, all sharp lines and stubbly chins and- and silky-looking hair.”
The dwarves froze up again at his words, and some even furrowed their eyebrows together in what Bilbo could only interpret as anger.
“We’re well aware of Thorin’s appearance, but that’s no excuse for staring, or being rude behind his back. He can’t change it more than anyone else, and your disrespect is frankly unacceptable.” said Dwalin, one of the more angry-looking dwarves.
What? Being rude? Bilbo's mind ran through hundreds different scenarios of how a string of compliments could've possibly be interpreted as rude. Even with his upbringing, as a respectable hobbit educated in slight undertones and vocabulary changes, Bilbo came up blank.
“Really, Bilbo, I’m disappointed. I thought better of you,” said Kíli.
Now usually Kíli is the object of this phrase, and Bilbo the subject. How did it switch so fast? And many of the others were agreeing with the lad.
“I expected you to get over this repulsion, long ago. It cannot continue,” added Bifur in Iglishmêk, translated into common tongue by Bombur. What.
“I don’t understand...” said Bilbo, eyes running back and forth between the dwarves, trying to find someone to reason with. “You’re all acting like I’m throwing around insults, as if I were disgusted by Thorin’s very presence?”
A beat passed in silence, and at last the dwarves had the decency to look completely stunted as well.
“...Because you are?” Kíli said tentatively.
Bilbo’s jaw fell open, absolutely flabbergasted, here he’d stood prattling on and on about how gorgeous Thorin was, and somehow the dwarves drew the conclusion that Bilbo was repulsed by him?
“Wha- I’m sorry, what!?” Was the most eloquent way Bilbo could articulate himself.
The quiet continued, except for a loud thud from behind the corner, probably some animal which had gotten lost. More silence, as they tried to compose a single coherent sentence between the twelve of them.
“You said he had a stubbly chin! That he had silky-looking hair!” Accused Ori.
“Yes, and?”
Further silence, which was getting somewhat uncomfortable by now.
“Ah, perhaps I know what got lost in translation,” said Balin finally, looking a bit red in the face himself, “Bilbo, what would you describe as handsome?”
Bilbo pinched together his lips and blushed, suddenly unwilling to talk as he realized he would now have to admit his silly crush before these dwarves. The crush in question being their formidable King, of all people.
“Er- well. Sharp, symmetrical features, I guess. Bright eyes, heavier body types, with no or short beard,” Bilbo said. Balin's realization seemed to spread to many of the dwarves, and some (like a certain prince second-in-line to the throne) even had the audacity to smirk at him. “Silky, um. Silky hair,” he added, voice growing quieter.
“Sounds an awfully lot like someone we know, eh burglar?” Said Nori with shit-eating grin.
“Don’t you even, Nori, I’ve withstood quite enough today.” Bilbo closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead.
The dwarves were talking over each other about all of the instances where Bilbo, evidently, was less discreet than he thought he was. If Smaug himself were to come blazing down from the skies and swallow Bilbo right where he stood, that would be great, thanks.
“Oh, tha’ explains how back with the Elves-”
“And that time at the campfire-”
“-when Thorin helped you up-”
“This is great news actually, because now I’ll be spared-”
“-when he passed ye that soup, that ye spilled immediately, poor laddie!”
“-it wasn’t Thorin’s touch that bothered you, it was his touch, eh?”
“-from Thorin’s never-ceasing, constant, brooding pin- ”
Honestly, Bilbo should’ve learned by now that the best way to guarantee that something was done, was to tell the dwarves not to do it. He buried his burning face in his hands, willing the dwarves to go away, to go embarrass some other wretched creature!
“Wait, so then why would ye act so weird when he tried te hug ye up on the Carrock? If yer actions had, uh, different motivations than we first thought,” said Bofur.
Bilbo winced at the memory. “Well, uh. He’d just called me a burden and all that, right? Can’t blame me for not expecting a hug after that little show.”
“Bilbo, have you gone deaf?” Said Dori.
Bilbo looked up from his shielding hands and was met with equal amounts baffled and exasperated looking dwarves.
“Yer as bad as me!” Chuckled Oín, ear trumpet in hand.
"Lad, he said he’d never been more wrong in his entire life, if ye’d bothered to finish listening to him.” Gloín said, marking Thorin's words with air quotes.
Bilbo couldn’t help the shining smile that grew across his cheeks.
Dwalin sighed, “Honestly, what would ye two do without us... It’d do ye both a favor to learn some communication skills. Save a lot of pain that way.”
“And I mean, Thorin admitting he was wrong? Thorin? Publically? At that rate, he might’ve just as well confessed-” Kíli grunted as Nori swiftly and subtly elbowed him in the stomach. “...right there and then.” he finished in a high voice, doubled over.
The dwarves all widened their eyes and gave Kíli quick glances, all with the core essence of shut-your-mouth-so-help-me-Mahal. Those who stood closest to the prince began pulling him away, and it seemed all of the dwarves suddenly were in a great hurry to some errand or another. Checking on the animals, finding a lost belt-buckle, reporting to Thorin, and eating dinner, were all among the tasks the dwarves had instantaneously remembered. Bilbo would’ve thought it amusing if he wasn’t rooted to the spot, dumbfounded. Just what exactly had Kíli implied? The corners of his mouth twitched and he blinked several times, opened his mouth as if to say some last thing, then closed it again to settle on a face of absolute joy. What an emotionally turbulent evening this had been, and it had ended on the highest possible note. Perhaps he was worthy of someone like Thorin after all. Perhaps he really did have a chance.
To Fíli’s defense, Thorin was a very suspicious person, and Fíli was better at stabbing orcs than sweet-talking anyways. His attempts at distracting his uncle all foiled after a couple of minutes. First he tried to declare a crisis in the barn (which was revealed to be very empty and peaceful indeed), then by wanting to practice his fighting stance, and then, a last ditch effort at keeping Thorin away, by asking him obscure questions.
“Wait! Before you go, how are… um. How’re your ears, er, faring?” Fíli asked, desperately willing his expression into a neutral one with a polite smile, tucking his hands behind his back.
Thorin simply raised an eyebrow at this. Fíli resorted to a wide toothy smile, but Thorin turned to leave anyway.
“No more of this. I must return to my duties.”
“No, you can’t leave, wait! Hold on! Uncle!” Thorin didn’t listen, and Fíli hurried after his uncle, nearly avoiding a stumble that would've sent him falling head first.
That’s how, a couple minutes later, they’d ended up awfully close, far too close, to the sensitive conversation that certainly was not for Thorin’s ears to hear. A conversation that was happening just around the corner, actually.
“-acting like I’m throwing around insults, as if I were disgusted by Thorin’s very presence?”
Fíli was holding back Thorin by his coat, tugging hard, trying to walk the complete opposite direction Thorin going in. Thorin stopped at the sound of Bilbo’s voice, and Fíli could see his eyes sink down in confusion. Oh no, this was exactly what was not permitted to happen. Fíli would not see his uncle sit here and get hurt. He tugged harder, trying to convince Thorin in low whispers to leave, but the other dwarf was like stone, unmovable and solid.
“...Because you are?” They heard Kíli say.
Thorin’s face steeled, a strange shine in his blinking eyes the only sign of inner turmoil. Oh damn it all, this was not happening on Fíli’s watch. He tugged harder. Thorin must’ve lost all his determination to stand still, because the prince managed to jerk them both back and they fell heavily onto the ground, on top of each other.
“Wha- I’m sorry, what!?” Bilbo’s voice again.
They rose slowly to a sitting position. Fíli scrunched his nose and rubbed his aching head, which had bounced against the ground when they fell.
“You said he had a stubbly chin! That he had silky-looking hair!” Ori’s voice said sharply.
Thorin winced at the sneers, and Fíli wanted to comfort him but didn't know how to. All he had to offer was a sympathetic look to the older dwarf, where they sat eye-to-eye as they listened.
“Yes, and?”
Frankly, Bilbo could be vicious sometimes, and Fíli didn’t know what to feel. At one hand was Bilbo, beloved company member and a good friend, at the other was his uncle who Bilbo hurt so. It wasn’t like him at all.
“Ah, perhaps I know what got lost in translation,” that was Balin’s voice, “Bilbo, what would you describe as handsome?”
Huh? Thorin and Fíli wrinkled their foreheads at the same time. What was Balin getting at? It took Bilbo a moment to answer:
“Er- well. Sharp, symmetrical features, I guess. Bright eyes, heavier body types, with no or short beard.” Silence, loud silence. “Silky, um. Silky hair.”
Thorin’s mouth hanged open, and his steely face melted. Fíli almost wanted to laugh, truly only their hobbit could compliment someone with insults.
“Sounds awfully lot like someone we know, eh burglar?” Nori voiced Fíli’s exact thoughts.
If asked about it later, Thorin would surely deny the blush that took over his face, and the slight wetness in his eyes. Perhaps he would disclose the tiny smile that had replaced his usual frowning, but enough was enough.
“Come on now, uncle, it's not polite to eavesdrop,” whispered Fíli, who now had an easier time leading an incapacitated Thorin away, while the dwarves around the corner listed several incidents that had kept Thorin up at night sometime or other. Fíli had never seen his uncle this dazed before, and he bit down a smile. Thorin deserved a lot more happiness in his life than he had gotten, and Fíli was very glad that the universe had balanced itself out a bit more.
"As if you and your brother haven't been eavesdropping since you could walk and talk," said Thorin.
Fíli's toothy grin made a reappearance and he did not deny the accusation.