Chapter Text
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Thorin did not close the deal with Thranduil that afternoon. There were too many details he was unsure about, and his mind was too distracted to properly assess what was missing. They had both left the meeting with a promise to return to a new one three days later.
In three days’ time, it should be okay. Thorin could focus sometime in three days.
“Thorin. Going out?” Dwalin asked him by the elevator.
“Hm? Oh. Yes.” Thorin responded, distracted by thoughts of his travel route to Frór Corner and questioning if it was a bad thing to bring chocolates to a date the other person probably brought chocolates to. It was probably okay. If they both brought chocolates, they would have enough chocolates for two. Surely there was no bad side to that?
“Thorin.” Dwalin stopped Thorin before he could enter the elevator, and Thorin watched as the doors closed, and the elevator vanished down, away from his office.
“Hm?” he hummed, looking over at Dwalin. “Did you need something, Dwalin? Sorry. I might be a bit distracted right now.”
“Is your match in town already?” Dwalin asked with a hint of a smile, then looked serious again. “Thorin. The deal with Greenwood Enterprises. Would you like me to handle it? I could bring Bard on board, discuss it with him and Fíli. Maybe check in with Kíli. Your youngest nephew has been travelling a lot to Eryn Lasgalen lately. He might know more about what to expect, what to offer and what to ask for in return.”
Thorin took a breath and forced himself to focus on his job. After considering it for a moment, he nodded at Dwalin. “Yes, please do.” he told his old friend and colleague. “I’m not at my best- Thank you.”
Dwalin smiled then; a crooked smirk of a smile. “Where are you meeting them?” he asked, and Thorin laughed.
“In the park, you snoop.” he replied, waiting for the next elevator to arrive. “Frór’s Corner at six.”
Dwalin frowned as Thorin walked inside the elevator. “Frór’s Corner?” he asked. “But that’s right by the-”
“I’ll be fine.” Thorin promised. “Dwalin. I promise.”
Dwalin was still frowning when the elevator doors closed, and Thorin could feel his own shoulders tensing at the idea, but it had been years. He should be fine. All he had to do was walk the other way at the end of the date, and it should be fine.
It was just a park.
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“In the early dawn of a broken night, we said goodbye in the morning light.” Bilbo sang, playing his guitar beneath the statue of Frór; one of the founding fathers of Erebor. A small group of people had gathered around the fountain before him, a few of them seated on the lip of the basin, eyes on him. “You had my heart, and I thought I had yours, but you became a star and I a wight. Tell me, how does it feel, to be up high? How does it feel, to play it all live? Thief of the dawn, where do you hide? Thief of the dawn, who was by my side, return my heart to me. Return my heart, to me, to me.”
Not his best work, but as Bilbo sang it through a few modulations, people had quieted around him, and as the final chords left his guitar and the final tones ran their course, there was a moment of silence… followed by cheers, and applause, and coins tossed into his guitarcase.
“Thank you! Thank you!” he declared, and bowed, then bowed again, and people kept applauding. As Bilbo straightened back up, he saw several cellphones shining in his direction, and he waved. “Thank you! I am Lucky Underhill, and this has been a pleasure! Thank you, bye-bye!” he told them and bowed, before packing his guitar, signalling the end of the impromptu show.
As people slowly scattered, Bilbo heard several excited voices talking about his performance and smiled. It was nice to play before an audience again.
“Excuse me, but do you by any chance know a Bilbo?” a deep voice asked, and Bilbo looked up from fastening the clasps of his guitarcase to see a tall, dark-haired, finely bearded man in a fine, pinstripe suit. Bilbo swallowed, and picked up his guitar.
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As the curly-haired man rose to his feet, guitarcase in hand, Thorin looked him over one more time. Brown vest and a guitarcase, a very nice build, weatherworn hands and an apple-cheeked face. The man looked like a finely polished pop star, but he had found none other nearby who matched Bilbo’s short description. As unlikely as it was, Thorin hoped the handsome man was his match.
“Thorin?” the honey-haired wonder asked.
Thorin offered his hand in a handshake. “The very same.” he confirmed, before realising his mistake and offering his other hand instead. Bilbo shook it with his free hand, guitarcase in the other. “A pleasure to meet you… Bilbo?”
The man smiled. “The pleasure is mine, mister Oakenshield.” he replied. “Bilbo Baggins, if you please. Bilbo amongst friends.”
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Bilbo did not know what to do, what to say. He knew he had had a plan, involving coffee, but as they stood there, face to face, he found himself knocked both daft and breathless, and idly wondered about Thorin’s haircare routine. The man's locks were shining.
“Bilbo.” Thorin rumbled, and Bilbo had never loved his name more. The dark-haired man smiled a white-teeth smile, and Bilbo wondered where the toothpaste-model had come from. “Please, call me Thorin. Oakenshield is something of a nickname from my younger years.”
“Right. Thorin.” Bilbo repeated, still feeling rather daft.
For a moment, they stood quiet. There was something in the air, as both waited for the other to say something or do something first, starting and stopping a few times before laughing.
“Bilbo, you mentioned a coffee shop?” Thorin finally said, smiling from their awkward laughter.
“I did.” Bilbo agreed, chuckling. “Right this way. Do you happen to like your coffee with steamed milk?”
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It was a nice, wood interior coffee shop, with nice, ceramic cups, and a large metal stove in the back. The barista looked like she could lift two hundred pounds with a single arm, but she also served from a fresh pot of coffee and drew perfectly even ferns on top of her steamed milk coffees.
Thorin still opted for a cup of black.
“You come from the Shire?” Thorin asked, tasting his coffee. It was surprisingly strong, but very well balanced. Good beans.
“Yes, from The Hill above Hobbiton.” Bilbo replied, nibbling on a bearclaw. “I… inherited my parents’ house a few years ago, and moved back.”
“Where did you live in between?” Thorin asked, perking up, eager to learn something new. “If I may ask.”
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Bilbo smiled. The question was natural enough. “In Rivendell.” he told the business man honestly. Thorin might work in an office, but the suit screamed business. Not a bad thing; a business office would be bigger, more private… Not that that was any of Bilbo’s business, just yet.
What had he been saying? Oh, yes. Rivendell. “I wrote songs there, made a decent living selling music, and touring.”
Thorin hummed into his coffee. The moment gave Bilbo a chance to ponder the sparkles of silver occasionally glinting from the man’s close-cropped beard. It took him a moment to realise, but Thorin had strands of grey running through his otherwise night-black hair.
The night-and-silver look suited Thorin very well, Bilbo thought. With any luck, Thorin would think similar thoughts of Bilbo’s honeyed curls, or maybe his nose. Bilbo did like his nose.
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They were only one block away. Thorin had made the mistake of glancing out the window, and found himself fighting the faint siren calls from his past.
“I'm sorry.” he said, turning away from the view of the park, back towards his date. “You worked with music. Like that song you played earlier?”
“Yes.” Bilbo replied, and something niggled at the back of Thorin’s mind. “It's one of my newer works, though I must admit I'm not quite happy with it yet.”
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“It was… heartwrenching.” Thorin told him, and Bilbo could only smile. Smile and nod.
“It was meant to be, but I think it can be better. Even stronger.” Bilbo explained, trying not to think too long on the inspirations behind the song. “But enough about me. What do you do? You work in an office. What kind?” Bilbo sipped his coffee and waited.
"Trading." Thorin said, sipping his own cup with a slight frown. Bilbo took note to dig slow. Thorin did not seem comfortable speaking of his work with him just yet. "We're currently in the middle of a rather large negotiation, as a matter of fact." Thorin added, and emptied his cup before requesting a refill. "I still have much to read, after our date."
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Thorin sighed. He could practically see Bard's lifted eyebrow and Dwalin's scowl at him talking about work during a first date. "But enough about work." he decided, and smiled at the curly-haired daydream in front of him. "How was your flight?"
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