Work Text:
A Different Angle
Thorin helped Bilbo into a seat and settled him before indicating a table in between the circle of chairs.
‘Perhaps you should put the ring there, Bilbo,’ he suggested to his friend. Bilbo’s face went flat and hard and Thorin felt a twinge of worry. A worry that increased when Bilbo slid out of the chair he had taken only moments before and eyed Thorin with a calculating look Thorin did not recognise at all. A shiver went up the back of Thorin’s neck as he realised that he did not recognise Bilbo at all in this moment.
‘Bilbo?’ he queried quietly, half-fearing that loud noise might upset the balance of the scene.
He need not have worried about being quiet. The moment Thorin spoke Bilbo bristled angrily, gathered himself and leapt.
That, in itself, would have been no great problem.
The problem only truly began when Bilbo slipped the ring on mid-jump.
‘Oh damnit,’ Thorin muttered irritably as Bilbo’s weight hit him mid-chest, trying to assess the situation and fend the hobbit off at the same time. How on earth was he going to keep Bilbo from hurting himself when he could not even see him?
Thorin’s arms had come instinctively to grasp Bilbo, but without the help of his sight Thorin found it increasingly difficult to get a good grip. Bilbo squirmed like an angry toddler, only rather than trying to slide out of Thorin’s grasp he was doing his best to get into a position where his hands could get a hold on Thorin’s neck.
‘For Mahal’s sake, Bilbo, you are worse than the boys were when they were babies. Will you stay still a moment?’ Thorin grumbled. Bilbo had already been caught by the ring that Thorin wore on his right hand and Thorin knew his friend would have a cut on his arm. The last thing he needed was to leave Bilbo covered in bruises. Dwalin and the boys would have his head.
Bilbo’s response was to growl again and continue wriggling. Luckily the noise allowed Thorin a good idea of where Bilbo was currently positioned. It suddenly occurred to him that this would be easier if he let Bilbo do as he wanted. Then he would at least have an idea of which parts of Bilbo were where. Thorin relaxed his grip slightly and a second or two was all it took for Bilbo lock his hands on Thorin’s neck. Not the most comfortable feeling in the world, Thorin would admit, but sometimes small sacrifices had to be made.
‘Got you,’ Thorin said mostly to himself. Then he used one hand to seize Bilbo’s wrists, another to wrap around his waist, gave a fairly gentle tug and had Bilbo detached from him.
Galadriel, being an elf of good sense, immediately took the opportunity to find Bilbo’s hand, remove the ring, drop it on the floor and use whatever magic she wielded to jolt Bilbo back to himself. As soon as Thorin heard a small noise of horror coming from his friend he took a couple of steps forward and placed Bilbo gently in the chair he had begun in.
‘Oh no,’ Bilbo was saying to himself almost inaudibly. ‘No, no, no.’ He looked up at Thorin with wet eyes and another of those horrified noises escaped him. ‘Thorin, I’m so sorry. I can’t believe I did that. I’m so, so sorry.’
‘Hush, Bilbo,’ Thorin told him firmly. ‘It’s fine, there’s nothing to worry about.’
‘It is not fine,’ Bilbo said sharply. ‘I could have killed you!’
Thorin tried not to stare at Bilbo in amazement. He did not seriously believe that, did he? After a few moments of contemplating his friend, Thorin realised that Bilbo did. He truly thought that he had been about to kill Thorin.
Thorin could not help himself, serious though the moment should have been.
He began to laugh.
For several moments Bilbo just stared at him. Then he exploded.
‘What are you doing? Are you a complete lunatic?’ Then, when Thorin entirely failed to stop laughing, ‘It isn’t funny, Thorin!’
Thorin tried to stop laughing, truly he did, but the whole idea was just so ridiculous. He took several deep breaths, trying to suppress further chuckles and holding his hand up in an attempt to prevent Bilbo from ranting further. It took another minute or so, but soon he had himself under control.
‘Bilbo, it is fine,’ he managed between slightly gasping breaths. ‘There is nothing to worry about.’
‘Nothing to worry about?’ Bilbo almost shouted. ‘I tried to strangle you.’
‘Tried being the operative word,’ Thorin said, another burst of laughter escaping before he managed to subdue it once more. ‘I was never in any danger, Bilbo.’
‘Never in any danger?’ Bilbo repeated, apparently not realising that he was copying most of what Thorin said to him. ‘You had to remove my hands from your neck and that was no danger at all?’
‘Well, no, not really,’ Thorin replied incredulously. ‘I only had to let you get that far because I could not see you and I was worried I would grab you the wrong way and hurt you. You did not actually think you had overwhelmed me, did you?’
Bilbo made a noise like a kettle about to boil over, stared at Thorin for several seconds, then removed one of the embroidered cushions from Galadriel’s chair and, in a fit of bad manners that would normally have horrified him, threw it straight at Thorin’s face.
‘Dwarves!’ he shouted in disgust. He paused for a few seconds, seemingly waiting for something though Thorin could not have said what. When he did not receive it Bilbo gave another shriek of frustration, jumped out of the chair, stormed across the room and poured himself a glass of wine, muttering imprecations about arrogant dwarven kings all the way.
‘Bilbo,’ Thorin tried soothingly. He did not get any further than that.
‘I am not speaking to you,’ Bilbo insisted. ‘You are a horrid, horrid person and I am not speaking to you.’
Thorin caught Galadriel’s eye and realised that their hostess was having as much trouble as he was. They immediately broke eye contact, one tiny giggle escaping Galadriel’s lips before she regained control of herself.
‘All of you!’ Bilbo said loudly without even turning around. ‘You are all terrible and you may sort this mess out on your own.’
Thorin resigned himself to half an hour of pointed silences and irritated glances. Deciding he might as well be comfortable for that half an hour, Thorin took a seat and stretched his legs out before him. Giving Bilbo a fond look, he called out,
‘Could you get me some wine while you are there?’
Silence reigned for a few moments. Then Bilbo stomped back across the room, goblet in hand, smacked it down on the table nearest to Thorin’s chair and threw himself into his own, all without saying a word. Once seated he tossed back most of his own goblet in one gulp. Balin and Dori would be horrified. That was no way to treat good wine. Perhaps Thorin would tell tales when they got back to Erebor, as revenge for the bruises on his neck.
Or perhaps not. Then he would have to explain to Dís why Bilbo had been in a position to strangle him. That might include mention of how long Thorin had known that Bilbo’s ring was dangerous… no, perhaps he would just keep his mouth shut. Inter-family assassinations were always so messy.
‘Shall we move on, then?’ Galadriel asked diplomatically. Thorin gave an acquiescing nod. Bilbo huffed angrily.
‘Good,’ Galadriel responded, and the conversation returned to the ring and its evils.
None of which included the potential murder of dwarven royalty at the hands of their hobbit friends. Or their siblings. Sometimes Mahal was merciful after all.