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Hobbits are known by few. A small thought in the back of most other races' minds. They are known for their quiet lives, their short stature, their voracious appitites, and their odd appearance. None more odd then their feet. Hobbit feet are known for being large, hairy, naked, and tough. With thick leather-like bottoms, that are able to walk on just about anything.
But Bilbo Baggin's feet hurt.
He moves slowly across the mountain terrain. It is still quite early in their journey, and they are facing their first mountain. Really something like this shouldn't be too difficult for a Hobbit, but Bilbo has been walking for so long, and the terrain just keeps getting rougher. The ponies long gone as well.
At least the view is...truly something. Breathtaking really. A wide expanse of rolling hills, a dawning sun, scattered woods, and impossibly large mountains. He almost cannot stop himself from staring out at it all. A slightly shameful thought tells Bilbo that these views are better than that of the Shire. But Bilbo is quickly punished for his lack of Hobbit Pride.
"Eyes where ya going Lad!" A deep voice scolds from ahead. "Unless you Hobbits have eyes on your feet, as well as fur." Ah, so it was Dwalin. The large figure of the Dwarf paused to survey the company. Clearly wanting to keep everyone on track as well as accounted for. Almost always at Thorin's side, and doing what lip work their brooding leader wasn't up for.
Bilbo feels his eyes roll before he can stop them, then focusing back on the ground ahead. At least Shire folk were more polite. Warmer, though sometimes it was fake. Dwarfs were just about as honest as they were brutal, and certainly had a fondness for the brutal kind of honesty. Many were upfront about their distrust and dissatisfaction with their Burglar. The few who didn't seem to actively dislike Bilbo still mostly kept it to themselves. Mainly the younger ones in the company. The nephew princes and the, eager to prove himself, Ori often settling next to Bilbo or including him in discussions on things they didn't know and didn't want to ask their elders. It was nice, often almost feeling like company or companionship. But when a space elsewhere opened up, or their curiosity was satiated, they moved on quick. Bilbo tried not to take offense. He was a stranger. An outsider. And they were just boys, by Dwarf standards.
Then there was Bofur.
Bilbo found him, perhaps the best word was odd. He left nothing unsaid for the sake of politeness, but also never seemed to aim for cruel with his words. He spoke to Bilbo like he did the others. Maybe with a bit less familiarity, but he mainly just teased the Hobbit where others aimed to embarrass. It must take restraint, seeing as Bilbo has often times made himself into an easy target; despite his very best efforts to seem competent.
"Fur is it?" As if he knew Bilbo was pawing him around in his head. "You got that anywhere else?" Bofur threw a smile over his shoulder.
"Mister Bofur!" Bilbo yelps, his ears growing warm. "I'd hope you Dwarfs would know that rude to ask!"
Bofur simply laughs heartily. His hat flapping a bit with the movement. "My my, seems our Burglar has less of a prudish mind then I had thought." Then he saddles Bilbo with a gentler smile. "It just that these following...well weeks, will prove a nasty cold. Maybe you'll fair better then us. If you do indeed have more of that there fur."
"Oh." Bilbo's cheeks now an embarrassed red as well. A few of the Dwarfs chuckle amongst each other. "Well, I still find it a bit rude." He mutters, unwilling to swallow anymore pride on account of Dwarfs. Then he thinks. "How cold?" An unwelcome feeling creeping up from his memories. Bilbo has known Cold.
"Like a cold you likely never have known before. Mountains are unforgiving places. Takes the strongest of creatures to tame them." Balin says from behind Bilbo. "Though, they are never truly tamed." Then he nods a head at Bofur. "Some fur would do you a world of good."
"We have a little bit more, fur," Bilbo hesitates at the word. It makes him feel more animal next to them. "But Hobbits actually struggle greatly in the cold. Even worse in the snow. With our height and all. But I'll be sure to pull my own weight-!"
He is quickly spoken over. Many of the Dwarfs groaning if not fully barking words of irritation.
"Gandalf!" Thorin throws the name at the wizard like a stone. Only, it seems the wizard isn't there to hear it. Thorin only grows more irritated. Bilbo tries to tell himself its just the stress of traveling. "And now our blasted wizard has disappeared once more." Bilbo could swear he hears the teeth in his mouth grinding away.
"My boy, why did you come?" One of the oldest Dawrfs asks. But Bilbo doesn't notice who. His head is down, waiting for this most recent bout of scolding to subside.
He doesn't really have a good answer anyways. Bilbo's stomach twisting. Honestly, why did he come?
Twin bumps to his shoulders pull him out of it. He already knows it's the princes. They give him slanted smiles, clearly agreeing with the others but wanting to spare him any pain. Kili gives him a clap on the shoulder as well. Fili's smile turning more sincere, more of a frown. They move on quickly however.
Bilbo puts his head down once more. His eyes burning into the ground. He wonders, bitterly, if it makes them feel big. It must. Being around something like him must make them feel like Men must. Bilbo regrets the thoughts, even as he has them, and even as the Dwarfs still shoot looks at him that he can only feel. He hears one ask a mortifying question.
"You don't suppose we'll have to carry him, do you?" It's Ori. Likely meant innocently. His head tilted up at Nori.
The older brother shrugs. "More likely than not, I suppose." There are a few more groans, but no more biting words. Simply a pleading for their gods to help them.
Bilbo feels an aching for the Shire stronger than its ever been. His thoughts chiming in with their own groanings of regret for ever meeting a Dwarf.
But Bilbo is quickly punished for his lack of respect for Dwarfs.
The ground shifts awkwardly underfoot, a slated chunk of rock giving way atop the grass. Bilbo finds himself yelping in surprise as the pack on his back yanks him down and to the side. His ankle moving in a way that feels unnatural and very painful. His arms jut out to stop himself from shredding his face, but one of his wrists pays the price. He feels a tendon jerk, his palm bleeding before he can even pull it protectively to his chest.
"My boy!"
"Lad!"
"Burglar!"
Almost all of the Dwarfs call out in surprise and flock to him. Heavy boots rumbling down or up the hill to get to him.
"Move!" Thorin barks, parting them and stepping forward. "What did master Dwalin just tell you!" His eyes flicking all over the crumpled Hobbit. Through his anger, there is still concern. But Bilbo doesn't see it.
"I was looking!" Bilbo shouts back. "A rock slipped out from under me. I thought it was fine!" Bilbo throws off the straps of his pack aggressively. "Blasted thing!" He looks to his hand. As soon as he does, a thin but rushed trickle of blood slides down his wrist. It's swelling too.
"Oin!" Thorin throws over his shoulder, loud enough for him to pick up without the horn. "Would you please make sure our Burglar won't succumb to his most gravest of wounds." Then Thorin is stomping away a few feet.
"I'm fine!" Bilbo shouts again. His teeth then clenching and his face twisted. He feels a telling lump forming in his throat.
The old Dwarf is already there with a piece of bandage and a caring eye. He looks over Bilbo's hand and wrist. It doesn't take long with the blood already jellying and the swelling settling. "It's definitely been upset." Oin mutters. "Try not to use it. It'll heal quick."
"Thank you." Bilbo bites out. Only as loud as he needs to to still get it across. His face feeling so hot it almost hurts worse. Then all but directly into the horn and quiet. "It's my ankle too."
The healer nods in understanding. He takes the Hobbit's foot in hand, gentling his hold when Bilbo hisses softly. There's less good news this time around. After a moment Oin is shaking his head with certainty. "Oh no, he most definitely can not walk on this."
"Oh for the love-" Dwalin forces out through a twisted frown.
"Are you sure?" Gloin adds. "Maybe some stess testing would do the Lad some good."
Oin shoots a look to the rest of the company. The no-nonsense kind.
Bilbo doesn't say anything. Mouth shut tight, and tears threatening incessantly to spring forward. It's becoming a extremely difficult fight for Bilbo to keep his composure. The only thing keeping him present is the knowledge that crying in front of these Dwarfs is a death sentence. He'd keel over from the shame. That and the gentle touch of Oin's hands on him. One on his foot, the other at his back supporting him. It's the most he's gotten in so very long.
"Carry him then." Thorin doesn't bother turning around. He begins marching onwards.
The other Dwarfs jump to follow, leaving Bilbo on the ground and at the mercy of whoever isn't fast enough. Only Ori and Oin remain. Oin doing what he can for Bilbo's ankle, and Ori worrying from above.
"Are you alright?" Ori asks.
"I'm fine, Ori. Really thank you." Bilbo holds up a hand. A frustrated lit in his tone despite himself.
If Ori takes offense, he doesn't show it. He shifts from foot to foot. Clearly assuming correctly that he's been left holding the bag. Or in this case, the Baggins.
"Go on lad. Go join your brothers. I'll see to our Burglar." Another voice joins in.
Bilbo jumps a little and looks up. Bofur stands above him, at his back so Bilbo hadn't seen. He looks down with a pitied smile.
"Took a bit of a tumble, ay." Bofur says. "Don't worry. When these lot were but pebbles, they too had their fair share of spills. Don't let them get to ya."
"Ay" Oin adds before stepping away. Then to Bofur directly. "Don't let him use it, and mind the rocks. They'll try to jump out an' bump it." Then he's taking both packs away and moving on to toss them at the princes. "Pull your weight, pebbles." Fili and Kili only huff out half hearted protests. Mainly at being called pebbles.
"I may not be a pony, but I'll get you there." Bofur says before manhandling Bilbo onto his back, using Bilbo's good arm to help pull him up. "See? You're not but light as a feather."
Bilbo barely makes a sound. He worries the next words will come out hitched or worse a sob. Which only brings him closer to tears as he scolds himself for being not only too soft but now a literal burden. He presses his forehead into the back of Bofur's coat. Taking a moment to breathe and to try and compose himself. Part of him worries deeply that Bofur can tell he may cry. But a larger part is focused on the way his body is making him suck in hurt breath after breath.
"It's alright." He hears Bofur murmur quietly when they finally get settled with each other and begin moving. "I cried my first adventure."
"Different" Bilbo grits out between sharp inhales. "Dragon had just attacked."
"No sir." Bofur shook his head. "That wasn't my first adventure. Though it was definitely the most painful one."
"Oh." Bilbo says. His face now pressing into the fur he finds there. Bofur certainly isn't making this easier for him.
"I'll tell you about it." Bofur says as he carefully adjusts Bilbo on his back. Then much quieter. "Nows your chance. We'll be behind the others for awhile. They won't see."
"But you'll know."
"That may be, but I won't hold it against ya none." Bofur turns a bit, giving what little of Bilbo he can see, that same cheeky smile he saves to tease him.
So Bilbo let's himself have a little cry. While Bofur tells him about the time his mother dragged him all the way out of their home, down many stairs and streets, out into the wild, and straight into a stream. All because he'd played in a pile of soot after directly being told not too.
"That woman loved her tub. And no misbehaving pebble was going to ruin it. Nor her good linens." Bofur chuckled to himself through the whole story. "It was good for me ya see." He starts towards the end of his laughter. "I needed to learn many things that day. And because she loved me, she took me, and she taught me. And despite all her scolding, she never once made me feel less-than. Not for my ignorance, for my tears, none of it. She told me I would make a fine Dwarf too, by the end of it. I had had my first adventure." There was a long pause. "But I guess your right. That was diffrent than this."
"Because you were a crying child, and I'm a full gr-" Bilbo chokes out before being softly stopped.
"You've been made to feel less-than."
Bofur leaves it at that, and they continue on with only the sounds of Bilbo's sniffles ebbing off and Bofur's occasional grunt of effort.
-----
They walk on for hours. Bofur never once letting Bilbo down, or passing him off to another Dwarf. The others don't stop him, as they all march ahead of the two. They definitely slow though. Which causes Bofur to slow. He makes sure they stay a good distance in the back. Even after Bilbo has long stopped crying against his shoulders.
"Would you look at that view." He occasionally wonders aloud, always glancing over his shoulder to see if Bilbo is looking.
"Hmm" Bilbo hums quietly from behind. "You don't have to keep saying that."
"I know. I just want you to enjoy your rest." Bofur says as he twists a bit to take them between two boulders. He's been very mindful of Bilbo's injury through the whole ordeal.
"I am, thank you. I'm sorry you're stuck dragging me around." Bilbo's voice still soft and scratchy.
"You don't have to keep apologizing." Bofur cheekily throws some of Bilbo's words back at him. "I told you, lighter than a feather." And to prove his point, he boosts Bilbo up a bit. Causing the Hobbit to let out an excited cry. Bofur does it again. Bilbo can't help but laugh. Some of the other members of the company turn to look back. A few with raised bushy brows. Bofur pays them no real mind, focused on the Hobbit. "Don't mind me lads, seems my pack has a squeaky buckle." He does it once more, tilting his head to get a good look at Bilbo's face. The Hobbit is smiling, almost bashful.
Then he is moving forward at a faster pace. Passing five other members of the company. They make questioning noises, watching as they are easily overtaken after hours of being comfortably ahead.
"Now what's all this?" Dori says.
"This pony wants better views. Better smells too." He says the second part in a hushed voice near Bilbo's ear, side eyeing the others.
Bilbo leans in close, Bofur's hat tickling his cheekbones. "That's a good gal, Myrtle. I've seen enough Dwarfish behind for a lifetime, I think."
Bofur laughs, moving on passed the remaining members. Then the King himself. Thorin gives a warning growl. "Bofur..."
The cheerful Dwarf simply gives a deep bow, Bilbo sliding up his shoulders with the jostling move. Leaving the Hobbit clinging to him and suppressing another excited yelp. "No worries my King, we'll stay close."
"Within ear and eye." Thorin responds, clearly unaffected by Bofur's playful attitude. His eyes lingering over Bilbo. "We'll be making camp soon. Make yourselves useful and find a spot."
"Ay, will do."
Bofur turns and continues forwards.
"Looks like we lost them then."
Bilbo leans his head against Bofur again, the ride settling back down to an easy pace again. His fingers threading themselves into Bofur's coat. "Seems so." He pauses. "I, hm, I wouldn't want to get you in trouble..." Bilbo trails off.
"They know how I am." Bofur dismisses his concerns. "They won't mind me being soft on ya Lad."
"I still would hate to 'other' you from them." Bilbo tries again.
"You aren't. In fact, the way I see it, I'm just faster at sensing a change of winds. They'll all come around to you soon. A few already are. We Dwarfs are just stubborn and keep to ourselves and-"
"You don't say." Bilbo interrupts.
"Hey now, I'm not really a pony. I take offense to that, Burglar." Shoots him a narrowed look, but his smile is even bigger.
Bilbo just laughs. Although it trails off a little sad. They don't speak much after. Bilbo rests his head, and watches the scenery change. It grows more aggressive as they continue on. The incline finally revealing itself. Bilbo can tell Bofur is now actively looking for a place to stop. The wings of his hat bumping Bilbo as he looks around.
Eventually the hills even out again, giving the company a wide range to settle on. Looking ahead reveals a nasty, steep climb ahead. Bilbo decides to ignore it for now.
"What say you, Burglar? Does this spot suit your fancy?"
"It'll do." Bilbo can't help himself, he pats Bofur's chest. "That's a good pony."
The Dwarf says nothing else before he's gently setting Bilbo down on a rounded boulder. He takes a moment to stretch out his back, then he's clearing a spot for the fire. The other Dwarfs are still a good few paces behind.
"Thank you, Bofur." Bilbo offers yet again.
"Don't mention it. It really was no trouble." Bofur answers as he gathers what wood he can find scattered around.
"You're being very kind to me."
"And why shouldn't I be?" He snaps a large, dead branch in half.
Bilbo doesn't respond. Instead taking a moment to think over the words, and then inspects his ankle. The rest of the company finally joining them. Thorin looks over the site. He must deem it suitable, because he doesn't say anything before he's shouldering off his own pack. The others follow his lead. Bifur depositing Bilbo's bag at his feet with a tight nod. He sees Bombur go to do the same for Bofur, but is stopped and a hat nods towards Bilbo's direction, then continues breaking branches. Bombur drops the pack near Bilbo with his own deeper nod. The Hobbit slides carefully down the rock, and rests on the ground. He makes quick work of taking out both bedrolls and fluffing them as much as he can.
The fire is started soon after.
Bilbo finds himself absent-mindedly watching Bombur cook. The fire licking up at the large pot hanging from above. Bifur works around him, helping out his cousin. Many other Dwarfs meander about, looking for prey and foes alike. Some sharpen their tools and weapons, mainly Dwalin and Thorin. Some simply chat amongst themselves. Bilbo watches on, thinking quietly to himself. It could almost remind him of the Shire. Like on a market day. Hobbits bumbling about, speaking loudly, and searching with sharp eyes for the best cheese, produce, or ale.
Bilbo's heart quivers.
He thinks of the way the Hobbits would touch each other. Hands along shoulders to squeeze by. Mother's tugging along their children. Old friends meeting and hugging tightly. Two sweethearts pressing strawberries or peaches to each other's lips. There was always so many different kinds of touches happening all at once. All freely given. Looking around once more, Bilbo doesn't really see any of the Dwarfs sharing touches. Well, except for Fili and Kili bumping into each other as they hurriedly head down the hill, hands clasping each other's shoulders. That, and Oin and Balin sitting pressed close together, side to side as they read an old scroll.
Bilbo pulls his coat tighter around himself, his body getting run over by a powerful chill. He misses the warmth of Bofur's back. That was the most contact he's had in....well, years actually. Being an elusive bachelor, it comes with the territory. A deep tiredness washes over him as he places a hand on his chest. He lets it make a few circles around his heart. Then he leans back against the bedroll. His eyes droop, and his legs cross tightly together. The hurt one on top.
What he wouldn't do for a good hug. Like a real hug. The kind that isn't awkward or uncomfortable. Lasting a good twenty seconds or more. Both people's eyes shut softly. Maybe one humming out a pleased sigh. Like the kind his parents used to give him and each other.
Oh to be a lonely Hobbit amongst a gaggle of Dwarfs.
Bilbo must drift off, because he is startled by Bofur settling down next to him.
"Sorry to wake you." He says very quietly. "Thank you for making my bed." Bilbo cracks an eye open, watching Bofur sit down criss-cross. He notices the bowl of stew he holds. "I brought you supper. Swiped it before the other's could finish it off, or steal all the good bits."
"Good bits?" Bilbo perks up.
"Yes sir, Fili and Kili were able to catch a fine hare." Bofur helps Bilbo sit up again, then offers the bowl. "Nice and juicy chunks if meat on the thing."
"Thank you, Bofur. I didn't realize I'd even fallen asleep." It's strange, Bilbo still feels exhausted. "What about you?"
"Oh, I've already had my share. Ate with the lads, talked, ya know. Figured I'd let you rest a bit." Bofur explains.
"Oh. I really slept then." Bilbo mutters as he reaches for the wooden bowl. Then remembers his hand and goes for it with his non-dominant one. He realizes a new problem when he goes for the spoon with the same bandaged hand. "Umm." Bilbo looks between the spoon and his injured hand. Maybe he can set it on the ground and use the spoon in his good hand?
Before he can try, Bofur gently takes the bowl back. "That's what I thought."
"Mister Bofur?" Bilbo says, slightly scandalized. "Mister Bofur!" He says once more, even more scandalized, as Bofur takes the spoon and offers him a mouthful. "You are not-...not-..feeding me!" He finds the words, hissing them out quietly. He looks around the camp hurriedly.
"Why not? You can't bend the hand. You don't have three arms. Let me help, no one will see. And if they do, so what. I don't mind, and neither should you." Bofur holds the spoon out.
Bilbo isn't tickled to see that he's right. Many of the Dwarfs are already trying to sleep, and the rest are quietly, sleepily, chatting. No one even spares them a glance in the long minute Bilbo watches.
"Come now. It's dripping." Bofur gestures with the spoon.
Bilbo hesitates. It drips a drop of broth. Bilbo's stomach growls. Then he's accepted the offered bite. He could cry it tastes so good on his very hungry tongue. The meat adds another layer to the mostly watery stews they've been eating. The elves had been kind enough to send them with some non-perishables and some vegetables, but that only goes so far, they've been rationing. So Bilbo happily chews through the fatty chunk of rabbit.
"See, nice isn't it?" Bofur interrupts Bilbo's moment of bliss.
He hadn't realized he had closed his eyes before he's opening them to a pleased Bofur.
"Yes." He quickly gets out. "It is very nice." Bofur goes to scoop another small bite. "Now, wait. If you'll just hold the bowl, I can feed myself. Or I really don't mind setting it on the ground!" Bilbo tries again.
"Nonsense. Let me do this. It'll go quicker, and then we'll go to sleep." The Dwarf argues back. Showcasing the very same stubbornness that he claims is offensive to point out. Bilbo is just about to say as much, before Bofur lowers his voice a little. "Come on, you've had a rough time lately. Let me do something for you."
Bilbo worries a lip, ignoring the way his stomach flips emptily. Of course Bofur doesn't understand the significance of what he's offering to do. But still, Bilbo flushes in embarrassment. He thinks once more of the happy couple sharing fruit at the market from his memories. It's an age-old tradition that two Hobbits looking to make a match feed each other. Normally it's a homemade meal, or a signature family recipe. But whatever the offering is, the act means the same. Let me care for you, provide for you, let me show you that I love you. It is something akin to a passionate embrace, or a slow dance.
But Bofur is insistent with that spoon.
"Alright fine." Bilbo relents. "But please, if the other's stir or look or call for you or someth-"
"Okay, okay, I'll hide it or throw the bowl or something." Bofur says in an exasperated tone, but Bilbo knows it's meant playful like most else about him. "Your reputation as a man will not be smeared by me." Ah, so he thought Bilbo's masculinity was hurt. Bilbo decides it best not to correct him.
Then Bilbo finds himself being hand fed by a Dwarf. Between bites Bilbo looks away from Bofur. His eyes sliding to the side as the spoon pulls away, only watching it when Bofur offers him his third bite. He's sure to be careful to keep his face clean, avoid the few drops that fall, and chew politely. They find a rhythm, and it soon becomes almost hypnotic, which surprises Bilbo a bit out of the rhythm. He's heard other Hobbits talk about feeding each other, heard that it's special. This feels like drunkenness. Bilbo's skin humming, just barely. Warm.
"You really needn't do this." He mutters.
"Shh." Is all he gets back.
Bilbo chances a glance at Bofur. Brown eyes watch him back. For once there is no smile on Bofur's face, instead a more passive expression as he continues to feed Bilbo from the wooden spoon.
"You..." Bilbo lets out a huffy breath, his eyes narrow on Bofur slightly. "You really don't mind all this, do you? Don't mind me." His voice a bit harder than it's been since they crashed his dinner so many nights ago. "Like, carrying me and now feeding me. Spending time with me, instead of your Kin. You actually don't mind?" Bilbo presses him. Head tilted and voice still suspicious.
Bofur doesn't answer with words right off. He instead gives a minor shake of his head, a just as passive smile, and then an insistent nod to and gesture with the spoon. Bilbo narrows his eyes even more, gives his own shake of the head, mutters about stubborn Dwarves, and accepts the bite. "I'm telling you laddie, I really really don't mind. I enjoy your company." He says while Bilbo chews. The wooden spoon scrapes quietly against the bottom of the bowl as Bofur makes up another bite. "Sure, I find you a little silly or fussy sometimes;" He ignores Bilbo's glare, but chuckles at his irritated, food-puffed cheeks. "but you've got fire in your belly. I see it." Bofur gives Bilbo the next bite, very obviously to keep him from denying it. "You're small but fierce...Almost like a Dwarf, but scrappier. And by the gods are you clever." Bofur smiles even wider at the words. "Don't think I've forgotten about them Trolls."
Now Bilbo finally does deny. So hurriedly in fact, that he makes the uncivil choice of talking with his mouth full, just barely raising a hand across his mouth in time to argue. "I got us all caught by those trolls!" He then chews quickly, swallowing down the bite well before it is ready. The lump straining his throat on the way down.
"That wasn't your fault." Bofur corrects.
"Yes, it was! I got caught. You all almost got eaten." Bilbo grimaces at the memory of the Company all glaring at the Trolls and him alike. Throwing down their weapons slowly and angrily. The panicked cries of the Dwarfs first up on the spit, rolling over and over as the fire licks up at them. Bilbo packs the thoughts down, as well as the small realization that this is the first time he's admitted his guilt. Bofur wormed it out of him.
"Not the way I see it." Bofur shoves another spoonful at Bilbo with a stern look. The Hobbit takes it with a scowl. "You shouldn't have been sent into that. What should of happened, what Dwalin and Thorin made sure to scold into those boys, was you being sent back to get the rest of us. They made an impulsive plan, despite their good intentions, on empty stomachs, with little experience of the real world. They may be good fighters and even gooder boys, but they made a poor call. And that call put you, and later other's in trouble. At least that's how I see it." Bofur holds up a finger, spoon still in hand. "Rule number one, everyone in the Company needs to be accounted for at all times. No one left behind, no one left alone."
"Ah, so this is about honor, all this." Bilbo gestures to the two of them. His jaw tightening, and hands slowly pulling into loose fists.
"That's not what I'm saying and you know it. I was on that spit, Bilbo. I remember the heat of the fire." Bofur's voice turning serious, before settling back again. "Let's say it was all your fault. Even then, you bought us time. You used that clever Hobbit head to keep us out of those Troll's filthy mouths."
"Gandalf saved us. Not me."
"Maybe he took care of the Trolls in the end, but without you I would no longer have a brother." This gave Bilbo pause. They had been about to eat Bombur raw. Bofur's voice dipped seriously again. "Without your fast thinking, I'd no longer have my brother by my side." oh. Bilbo thinks back to Bombur's deep nod to him. To the extra half-scoop that the Dwarf would occasionally sneak into Bilbo's bowl with a look that told him to keep quiet and a glance around the camp. Bilbo is snapped out of his head when Bofur taps his bottom lip lightly with the empty spoon. "I do not take that lightly, Burglar. So don't think that I do. That any of us do. They may not say it, they may still be hard on you, but all Dwarfs understand that kind of action. Actions are how we show ourselves to each other. I know you Hobbit's are....gentler, I know we are too rough. But we do recognize what you did, even those who would never admit it. Some may even be angry at you for it, angry it was you and not them who stepped up." Bofur seems to have said most of what he wanted because he is leaning back slightly. When had they gotten so close? Another spoonful is at Bilbo's lips before he can finish digesting the words.
"So, no, Bilbo. I really don't mind. Any of it." Deep brown eyes meet Bilbo's. "And I'd really like to be your friend, if you'd have me." Bilbo's face must soften into something truely pitiful, because after a long moment of silent affection, Bofur's face is cracking and a harsh laugh busts out of him.
"Bofur!" Bilbo pulls away. But thankfully the Dwarf rights himself, as best he can, soon after. Not giving Bilbo enough time to feel betrayed.
"I'm sorry!" He whispers out harshly between defeated laughter. "I'm sorry Bilbo. I just- I just cannot with you Lamb-faced Hobbits. My poor soul will give out. Such gentle features. No wonder we made so little at the Shire." The last part is spoken to himself.
Bilbo makes a curious noise. Bofur offers him the last bite of stew, and as Bilbo takes it, he finds himself...happy. His body having grown comfortable, and all the tension leaving him. But maybe that was just how Bofur made others feel.
"Oh, it's just when Bifur and I once went to sell toys. Too many soft cheeks and tiny little hands. Far too small children all running around in awe. Wide eyes and cute, bumbled noses twitching." Bofur's smile turns softer than Bilbo has seen yet when Bofur reminisces about the Hobbit children. Then he smirks again. "And far too many clever Hobbit Sirs and Ma'ams talking us down on our prices. We were made fools by you lot."
Bilbo smirks as well, more apologetic. "Yeah, that tends to happen. Not many traveling merchants come back to the Shire, well, unless they know what to expect and can remain strong."
"There was one mother, she was the worst." Bofur eyes Bilbo. "She actually reminds me a bit of you."
"Really? Did you catch a name?"
"No. But I remember my encounter with her often. She had four children, all young and full of a devil's spirit. She also had a brooding husband slinking around after her, not helping. All he did was bark that the toys were a waste of time and money. She just spit at him and smiled down at her kids, ushering them to look."
"Well, that sounds...lovely. I'm glad you see her in me." Bilbo scoffs softly.
"Well I'm not done." Bofur continues on. "The kids were truly unable to pull themselves away. Between meeting Dwarfs for the first time and the toys, she was pleading with her children to come home so she could finish her chores. The husband had stalked off after only ten minutes, leaving her alone for the other...I'd say forty. She looked so tired from taking care of, I assume everything, that I couldn't help myself. I told her I'd keep an eye on them, and that she could run along and do what she needed. I had played with those sweet little Hobbit pebbles for-"
"Faunts" Bilbo offers the word gently. Slowly maneuvering himself into his bedroll during the pause in the story.
"Well how about that. Faunts. Close to little deer." Bilbo shakes his head as Bofur makes a saccharine face at the new word. Then he continues, taking a moment to put aside the dishes and also lay back in his bedroll. "I had played with those faunts for a few good hours. When their mother had come back she looked satisfied. Cleaner too. She probably had snuck in a bath without a child on her hip for once. And by that time, I had given each of those faunts a little toy. Bifur didn't get it, not really, but he let me." Bofur's voice growing tired. "That mother had cried and cried and cried. Then she wiped her eyes, and smacked her little faunts upside the head for not saying 'Thank you'."
"And this all reminds you of me? It's a nice story, but I must admit I don't see myself in it." Bilbo mutters the words, his eyes already closed. That is, until Bofur's hand moves to rest atop his.
"She was strong willed and cared so much, but at some point she just needed someone else to take care of things for a bit. Not to mention your gaggle of unrully pebbles, and brooding, skulking husbands." Bofur's sleepy face breaks into a wide grin as he gestures first to the younger, and then older members of the Company.
They both laugh sleepily for a moment. Bilbo meeting Bofur's deep, gentle, brown eyes for a final time before bed.
"I'd like to be your friend too. All of you Dwarfs, if I can." Bilbo worries a lip. "Thank you Bofur, truly. For all of it. I still don't think I belong here, not really. But you've made me," he pauses, looking for the right word, but falling short, "happy. You've been a gentleman. A friend." A deep breath of fresh air.
"Goodnight, Bilbo. I'll be right there to lift ya up in the morning."
"Goodnight, Bofur." With less hesitation then there should have been, Bilbo carefully shifts forward and aims a light kiss on Bofur's jawline. The cheek feeling to chaste, and the lips feeling like far too much. As soon as he's done it, lips pulling away from skin with a light sound, he fears it a mistake. But as he frantically debates how to lie and turn it into 'just something Hobbit's do, don't think too much about it!', Bofur takes Bilbo's cheek in hand and presses their foreheads together for a long moment. His eyes closed and his thumb rubbing the cheek still a little tacky from tears.
"Now, goodnight, Bilbo." The Dwarf tries again.
"Goodnight, Bofur." The Hobbit murmurs. As he falls asleep, he wonders if it will clear the drunk feeling, and if Bofur will bring it back.
Unbeknownst to the pair, a few of the members of Thorin's Company still lay awake, listening carefully to the hushed words. And unbeknownst to Bilbo, Bofur planned to get the word out to those actually asleep. Their Hobbit responded well to a more....delicate touch. It's only right for them to try.
Perhaps a Dwarvin King would one day stoop so low as well; with a hug.
By Bofur's beard, that Hobbit would find a home with them. Perhaps even in a mountain, away from that warm but lonely house. If only for a short time.