Work Text:
My Heart’s on Fire
“I thought you’d be asleep at this hour, Master Baggins,” Thorin spoke as Bilbo entered into the living room. Bilbo had not been trying to sneak, but he jumped at Thorin’s unexpected voice all the same. Thorin frowned heavily at him, “Why are you shaking?”
“Because, it’s bloody freezing in this damn house,” Bilbo managed to say past chattering teeth. “The Master may have given us ‘the largest and most richly appointed dwelling in all of Lake-town’ – though I have my doubts about that – but he certainly gave us the draftiest. Everyone else seems to be too drunk to care about the chill, but there’s no way I can sleep upstairs. I hoped that it might be warmer down here.”
“Dwarrow are not so affected by the cold as Hobbits,” Thorin commented, his formerly stern countenance softening perceptibly. “Mahal made us to withstand extreme temperatures with ease, though I far prefer the heat of the forge to the bite of winter.”
“The lot of you are walking, talking furnaces all on your own, don’t think I haven’t noticed,” Bilbo huffed and then sneezed, “Oh, bother. Months without one and I still wish I thought to grab my handkerchief, you know.”
“I think there’s a better solution to your problem than curling up in one of these dreadful armchairs – they’re practically falling apart, the craftsmanship of Men is poor, indeed. Come with me,” Thorin instructed, holding out one of his hands for Bilbo to take.
Bilbo accepted the Dwarf’s hand gamely and let himself be led back upstairs, marveling at how Thorin’s gentle grip was enough to chase away the numb feeling from his fingers and warm most of his arm. At that point, Bilbo genuinely could not have said whether the heat stirring in his belly was a result of simple transference or a side effect of the ever-growing fondness he had for Thorin Oakenshield. What Bilbo did know was that when Thorin ushered him into the chamber set aside for the King’s use and over to the large bed that took up most of the space in the room, his heart began beating just a bit faster in anticipation as he realized how Thorin intended to chase away the chill that had been plaguing Bilbo for hours.
“Are you sure?” Bilbo asked softly.
Whatever the something was that had been developing between Thorin and him since that night in Bag End, when it had taken root in Bilbo’s soul without giving him any prior warning or attaining his permission – Bilbo did not want to say it was love, not yet – had only recently been given the nourishment it needed to blossom. That Thorin was his One was indisputable, but until the moment on the Carrock, when Thorin had pulled him close and admitted that he had been wrong to doubt Bilbo, the bond between them had been withering without ever having really sprouted. It had taken even more time and hard work before their connection to one another began to flourish, and Bilbo could at that moment say that he trusted Thorin Oakenshield above all others in Arda and he knew that Thorin trusted him as well.
Still, the most that they had shared physically speaking, up until that point, had been the kiss Thorin had given Bilbo upon exiting the cell the Elves had thrown him into and that had been a brief, thankful thing. Sleeping together, in any sense of the phrase, was a step toward more.
“I can hardly allow my Burglar to freeze to death,” Thorin returned, looking perfectly serious as he pulled the rust-colored covers of the bed back and toed of his boots.
“I didn’t realize that was part of the contract I signed,” Bilbo teased lightly, “I must have skipped over the ‘If the Burglar can no longer produce his own body heat then the King Under the Mountain shall do it for him’ section.”
“I’ll have Balin add in the clause on the morrow.” Thorin slipped into the bed and leaned back against the pillows, “Come here before you get sick.”
Bilbo obeyed, tucking himself into Thorin’s arms and then gasping in stark relief as the heat that radiated from the other’s body enveloped his own.
“Bilbo?”
“Warm,” Bilbo said succinctly, burrowing closer to Thorin’s sturdy bulk without an ounce of shame.
Thorin chuckled, a deep and melodious sound, and pulled the blankets up so high that they nearly covered Bilbo’s head. After a minute, he began to stroke up and down Bilbo’s spine, eliciting a contented sigh from the Hobbit. Being held by Thorin in such a way, like he was precious and beloved, was amazing and Bilbo felt the roots of his affection for the Dwarf twist ever deeper into his heart.
“Thorin?” Bilbo murmured after a bit.
“Hmm?”
“What was Erebor like? Before the Dragon came, I mean?”
Thorin exhaled heavily and then spoke with such clear yearning that Bilbo was utterly disarmed by it, “It was… it was wonderous. It was never cold, within the mountain walls, for the great forges kept everyone and everything warm even during the fiercest of winters. Golden light filled every crevice and alcove at all times of day and night, no one never had to fear they might step wrong in the dark. Meat and mead remained piled high in the Hall of Plenty and none knew the bite of hunger. There was color everywhere one looked and laughter could always be heard. The sharp sound of blades striking one another was nothing more than a comfort, not something to be wary over. The very stone of the Lonely Mountain sang to us, reminding us everyday how loved we were. It… life in Erebor was safety and peace.”
“We’re going to take it back,” Bilbo swore, blinking back tears. “Whether Smaug is dead or alive, we will take Erebor back.”
“It shall be no easy task to evict a Dragon from its nest,” Thorin replied. “I need the Arkenstone before we’ll even have a real chance.”
“I would like to take this moment to let you know how silly I find it that the Dwarf Lords won’t obey you unless you have a shiny rock in your hand, Thorin. Their refusal to help you is all but treasonous and borders on sacrilegious; after all, Mahal is the one who gave Durin I his crown. You rule over them all by divine right,” Bilbo determined.
“My grandfather’s madness did a lot to devastate the faith of the seven kingdoms in Durin’s lineage,” Thorin admitted, after pressing a kiss to Bilbo’s curls. “But I appreciate your feelings on the matter; you’re not wrong, by any means. Can I ask something of you?”
“Yes, of course,” Bilbo agreed.
“If we take Erebor back-”
“When,” Bilbo stressed.
“When,” Thorin acquiesced, “Will you consider staying? In Erebor? With me? I know you miss the Shire, and I certainly don’t begrudge you that, and if there was any way I could return with you then I would in a heartbeat, but as it stands-”
“Yes,” Bilbo interrupted.
“What?”
“Yes, I’ll stay in Erebor with you,” Bilbo clarified, beaming up at him. “I love the Shire, I always will, but I’ve realized over these past few months that I’m much happier surrounded by Dwarrow than I was Hobbits. Besides, you’re positively hopeless without me.”
“Aye,” Thorin conceded, looking as cheerful as Bilbo had ever seen him, “That I am, Ghivashel, that I am.”
THE END
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Translations (Khuzdûl)
- Ghivashel [Beloved]