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“Y-you stupid, stubborn...” Just for this once, Bilbo allows himself to forget his manners. He doesn't care that the whole company is watching them with rapt attention or that his own relatives would certainly not approve of any kind of yelling at royalty. “Was being saved by me really so humiliating that you must now risk your life at every single opportunity only to prove your manliness?” The fact that Thorin is just standing there, glaring, but not saying anything, should probably scare the hobbit to death. Well... not today. “I swear to my great-great-great-great uncle Bullroarer Took,” Bilbo continues his ranting, “next time you try to pull off a stupid stunt like that again, I will forget that you're a king and I will... I will slap you so hard that...”
Some of the dwarves gasp for breath and Bilbo would swear he even heard someone yelp in surprise. That, finally, makes him shut up and think for a moment. Did he just threaten the leader of their little group with physical violence?
Thorin doesn't look offended, though. There is a mixture of shock and embarrassment in his face and before he lowers his eyes to the ground, he almost desperately glances over the company as if searching for help. Balin clears his throat, then, strides to the two of them and gently squeezes Bilbo's shoulder.
“Thorin will think about your proposal, laddie,” he ensures the hobbit. Bilbo doesn't understand a thing, though, and suddenly, he finds himself being led away to the fire.
“Think about... What? Look, I know that what I said wasn't very proper, but I only have his best interest in mind, I didn't mean to...” His tirade is interrupted by a quiet, but firm voice that stops Balin in his tracks.
“I... accept.”
***
“I DID WHAT?”
Dwalin sighs in exasperation and opens his mouth to say something, but his brother sends him a warning glance before the warrior gets any chance to make this situation even worse.
“Do you remember how Dwalin and I greeted each other in your house?” the old dwarf asks and Bilbo nods, looking more confused than ever. “Butting heads is for siblings or very close friends. Slapping, no matter how strange that custom may seem to you, is perceived as a way of proving your strength. You can only slap your intended once in your life – when proposing marriage to her or him – to show them that this is what you are going to do to their other suitors. It's merely symbolic now, but back in the old days, the harder you slapped, the more you cared.”
Bilbo recalls his own words, blinks and then collapses on the ground, struggling for air. Dwalin chuckles, but Kili and Fili promptly kneel down next to the hobbit, fanning him with their hands.
“It's alright, Master Boggins. Your proposal was impressive as it was,” Kili ensures him, genuine awe in his bright eyes. Fili hums in agreement.
“Yes. Uncle doesn't mind the lack of actual slapping. You will be a part of the family soon.”
Bilbo starts coughing.
“I... I need a minute.”
“You need go talk to Thorin, little one.” This time, Dwalin doesn't allow his brother to silence him. They have been coddling the hobbit long enough. “It is very impolite to ask someone to marry you and then run away.”
Yes, Dwalin is probably right, Bilbo is aware of that, but he didn't know, how come no one told him before? Look, halfling, these are dwarves. They like food, shiny things and beware of ever slapping either of them, because you might end up engaged to him! He breaths in. He breaths out.
“Right. I will go to him and tell him...”
Suddenly, the young dwarves jump to their feet and when Bilbo looks up, Thorin is standing next to his older friends.
“I will speak to Bilbo alone.” He looks just as emotionless and proud as ever, but when Bilbo's self-appointed advisors leave, his posture breaks and he leans against a tree, his eyes squeezed shut. “You had no idea what you said, am I right?”
Bilbo kind of wishes Thorin was mad at him, but there is no anger in their leader's voice.
“No. Balin explained it to me just a minute ago, I...”
“It's alright, halfling.” Thorin straightens up, never meeting Bilbo's eyes. “It was unbecoming and... quite silly of me to presume that you would be familiar with our oldest customs. I apologize. Consider this matter closed.”
Somehow, this sounds wrong to Bilbo's ears. The king makes a step forward, then another and the hobbit finally composes himself.
“So,” he snaps, because if Thorin doesn't want to get angry, then he will, “you have managed to find a rather easy way out, haven't you?”
Thorin turns around, confusion apparent in his face.
“Bilbo?” he chokes out.
“When Bofur told me about the dragon and I fainted, you gave me time and I eventually came around. When I was first confronted with the dangers of this journey, I failed, but then, if I may say so myself, I managed to prove myself to you and the others. I'm s-sorry if I don't do what you would want me to do immediately, I'm not a dwarf, I'm n-not a...” A thought briefly crosses his mind – he must look ridiculous with his vivid gesticulation and shaking hands, stuttering like a fool, but Thorin is not laughing at him, no, it's obvious that he doesn't understand a word of what Bilbo is trying to say, that old, daft, thick-skulled...
The smack is loud and clear and while Bilbo's hand is hurting like hell, Thorin disbelievingly touches the red spot on his cheek... and smiles.