Chapter Text
When Thorin entered his home that evening after a particularly trying day of work, all he wanted to do was grab a beer and watch television for the better part of the next three to four hours. The rest of the company was coming over at eleven, Hobbit included, to go over the details of the internship and form a plan of action for the next couple of weeks. None of them knew exactly how close Bilbo would be getting to Smaug, so they needed to formulate a plan based on where Bilbo was station.
But - when Thorin did close the door to his house and heave a sigh of relief, his relief was short lived, as he heard a bustle of commotion coming from the kitchen. A tick of annoyance grew on his brow as he distinctly heard his nephew’s voices, and knew that they had to be the reasons for such a commotion. Hopefully Thorin could run in, grab a beer (or five) from the fridge, and hi-tail it out of there before the boys caught his scent.
He didn’t even make it to the kitchen.
A brunette head of hair popped over the doorframe leading to the dining room, Kili’s brows knit together in worry until he spotted his uncle’s face, before his eyes widened in realization, “Uncle!”
“Kili.” Thorin greeted shortly, and was about to politely incline as to what was going on, when his nephew darted forward quickly, wrapping a strong hand around his forearm. Be it because of Kili’s urgent look or the way the boy seemed particularly insistent, but Thorin made no move to continue his previous plan of heaving for the TV. He knew that even if he did brush off Kili’s insistent tugs, he’d feel guilty about it later. Ugh, nephews.
When Thorin entered the dining room, blinking at the sudden onslaught of light and commotion, he wondered absently how they had fit twelve dwarves and a wizard in his dining room. He didn’t even have the breath to get annoyed that they were three hours early.
What did warrant his attention, above all else, was the small Hobbit that sat directly on his dining room table, comfortably in the middle. The dwarves all surrounded him, yelling and shouting, pointing and gesturing, but Thorin paid them no mind. All he could focus on was the Hobbit, and it wasn’t even the fact that Bilbo was shirtless.
It was the solid red burn-print of a hand going down Bilbo’s shoulder blades.
He was shocked speechless, as he often was when Bilbo was involved, his hands clenching in unwarranted fury. Concern bubbled in his stomach, but above all that, was a teeth-wrenching anger.
“Thorin’s here!” Kili exclaimed to the room, releasing his hold on Thorin’s arm and darting over to the table where his brother sat, Fili gently applying burn-salve to Bilbo’s back. They were both distract with worry, despite Bilbo’s frantic attempts to reassure him that it didn’t hurt and that he was fine.
The room went relatively silent, all the bantering and arguing coming to a halt for their leader, sure to be continued later.
Slowly walking forward, Thorin took in the burn on the small Hobbit’s back, inadvertently feeling concern. It looked painful, despite what the Hobbit was saying, and might even leave a scar, despite how much work his nephews seemed to be doing to stop it. The hand print was large, most likely from a human or someone larger.
Thorin only knew one being that could cause such a burn, who stood at such a stature.
“Smaug did this.”
The other shuffled in agreement, looking particularly off-put by the mere mentioning of the dragon. It must’ve been the subject of their arguments, as some of them looked particularly eager to get back to yelling and screaming.
Thorin gently raised a hand, pressing his fingers over the edges of the burn, pulling his hand back instantly when he saw the Hobbit flinch with a small gasp. It definitely hurt, and Thorin felt the foreign emotion in his gut swirl and knot. Blinking slowly, Thorin lowered his gaze to his nephews, “How did this happen?”
“We were just taking Bilbo to his interview.” Fili answered a bit absently, nearly all his focus on gently applying salve to Bilbo’s back, as painlessly as possible, “He came out, looked freaked, and all the sudden we saw the burn on his back. Went straight through his shirt.”
“It didn’t feel that bad at the time.” Bilbo put in, lowering his head as he hissed when Fili brushed a particularly tender spot, “Smaug interrupted my interview, saying he was surveying the applicants.”
“Sneaky little rat.” Off to the side, Dwalin spoke with a tone thick with disgust, “Do you think he knows we’re up to something?”
“He couldn’t possibly.” Balin answered, standing forward and planting his palm flat against the table, “This was an unfortunate coincidence.”
Kili leaned forward towards Bilbo, taking a bit of the ointment and helping his brother in the process, his usually light and happy face pursed in concern, “Are you sure it was just a coincidence? What possible use could Smaug have to hurt Bilbo so?”
“You forget, this is Smaug we’re talking about.” Balin continued, trying to ignore the uncomfortable shuffle that went through the group, “This means he’s interested. He’s known for being isolate, he wouldn’t touch anyone with a ten foot pole. But he seemed interested in Bilbo, he placed his whole hand on Bilbo’s back.”
Bilbo flinched at the reminder, whimpering pitifully when Kili was too rough at one of the finger-marks. With a whispered apology, the brother continued.
“We should continue as planned.” The others agreed with the eldest, nodding and concurring, despite their earlier disputes.
Though, the instigator of the argument decided to step up, his hands clenched as he nearly shook at the sheer audacity of what the others were talking about.
“Bofur...” Bilbo’s eyes widened as said dwarf stood abruptly from where he’d been seated close to Bilbo’s side, slamming his hands down on the table and sending the room into a still silence.
“You can’t honestly be considering this, can you?” Bofur fought to keep his voice even, but it was difficult, seeing as he’d been in a particularly bad mood ever since he’d seen Bilbo exit the building earlier that day. His best friend had looked as if he had seen death itself, eyes wide and breath frantic. The brother’s had helped him console Bilbo, but when they’d shifted their hands to rub at Bilbo’s back, they had felt the large hole burnt in the Hobbit’s shirt. But it had been Bilbo’s shocked cry of pain that made Bofur see red.
Bofur looked at them all, trying to find someone on his side, stopping particularly long on his brother and cousin, before moving to Thorin, “Smaug has hurt Bilbo. We saw the danger in the situation before, and this only confirmed it. We can’t send him back there. We don’t know what Smaug’ll do next.”
Despite their previous excitement at the Hobbit’s willingness to go along with the plan, Kili and Fili felt their shoulders inadvertently droop in agreement. They were truly torn, their eyes traveling over the Hobbit’s back with trepidation. They were fiercely loyal to their uncle, they would stand by his side through thick and thin. He was, for all intents and purposes, their father.
But Bilbo was different. They hated seeing him hurt so.
“You are finally close to your goal.” Gandalf spoke up for the first time that evening, looking upon Thorin with downcast eyes, leaning forward and looking very old as he rested his elbows, “I do not like the idea of putting Mr. Baggins in danger, but there is no other option. We would have to wait another year to try again.”
“We do not have another year.” Thorin muttered angrily, his hand clenching into a fist as he took one more long glance at Bilbo’s back. His anger rose in his chest the longer he looked at it, his posture going stiff and his mind full of the creature that had taken his birthright and what was rightfully his, “We will continue.”
Bofur looked as though he were about to argue once more, but a calming hand on his shoulder stopped him short. He swiftly brought his own hand up to cover the smaller one, looking down at Bilbo with a tight expression, his breath heaving in worry. He hated to see his friend in pain, and this whole experience was just another testament to how this was much too dangerous for their little Hobbit.
Bilbo, on the other hand, found this all rather irritating. Sure, he was aware of the conversation going on around him, but never once did they stop to ask his opinion. He was the one with the hand print on his back, for goodness sakes! Bilbo tore his gaze away from Bofur before leveling it to Thorin, glaring at the back of the man’s head, “Don’t speak as if I’m not here.”
Bofur’s hand tightened over his, and Bilbo took it as a great comfort. He could only glance over his shoulder to spy Thorin, but he kept his eyes trained, not faltering even when Thorin slowly turned to face him.
“I’m the one who had to speak with Smaug today. I’m the one you’re putting in danger.” Bilbo gulped, trying to keep his confident front, but finding it more and more difficult to do so as Thorin’s glare grew deeper with every word, “Smaug was...he was terrifying. What if I am put in more danger and then truly lost to Smaug’s will?”
Thorin clenched his teeth at the notion, wishing more than anything else that he could be away from this conversation at that moment. He didn’t care for the Hobbit, he kept trying to tell himself, that this Hobbit was nothing more than a burden. It was hard to look at the Hobbit with anything other than contempt.
“You’ve been lost ever since you left home.” Thorin growled, sending one more scathing glare at the Hobbit before turning and exiting the room, sending one more glance over his shoulder, “We will continue with our plans.”
Bilbo winced, turning his eyes downcast as he clenched his hands. He truly didn’t mean to get on the other’s nerves so, but it seemed that everything he said got under Thorin’s skin. But it was true- he had been truly scared today of the man who was supposed to be a dragon. He was dominating in every sense of the word, and had looked at Bilbo like one would look at a slice of meat.
Feeling a comforting weight on his head, Bilbo looked up towards Bofur, smiling weakly and bringing his other hand to fully incase the Dwarf’s. Bofur’s fingers gently sifted through his hair, rubbing calmingly, a motion that always succeeded in soothing Bilbo greatly. Sighing, he met Bofur’s distressed eyes, “What do you think I should do?”
“You already asked me that question.” Bofur smiled, but it was strained, his hand tightening over Bilbo’s hands in his distress, “You already have my answer.”
Bilbo sighed, nodding and absently leaning his head into Bofur’s hand that was still tangled in his hair, seeking out the warmth of a familiar hand. His mind was reeling, his face pinched in distress, as he thought about what to do. Thorin was right, Bilbo had been lost this entire time. He was being bullied for the first time in his life, alienated in all the classes he didn’t share with Kili and Fili, and constantly double-guessing himself on this whole thing, way back to when he decided to attend Erebor U. He was grateful to have met Kili and Fili and everyone else, but in the long run, he missed the Shire.
Maybe Thorin was right.
“Are you alright, Bilbo?” Kili peeked over the Hobbit’s shoulder, pressing one hand calmly on his shoulder blade, careful to avoid the burn, “I didn’t press to hard? Does the salve hurt?”
“No, it’s okay Kili,” Bilbo shook his head and glanced over his shoulder to smile sweetly down at the boy, “Just stings a little.”
Fili pressed a gentle hand against Bilbo’s side, sighing, “are you really okay? We would understand if you wanted to back out.”
Bilbo couldn’t say that the option didn’t sound tempting. He wanted to go running home, drop out of his classes and head back to the Shire, where he could live out the rest of his days. He’d go to a small local university, perhaps major in agriculture, and live out the rest of his life in Hobbity solitude.
But when Bofur gently continued to rub at his hair and stroke at the back of his knuckles, and he felt the boys continue to gingerly rub his back and side while applying more ointment, he knew he couldn’t leave these guys.
“The first meeting to go over the details of the internship is on the first, that’s when we’ll figure out how close I’ll be working to Smaug.”
-------
The first of September creeped up on them faster than they could imagine, barely giving them time to meet and plan out every possible scenario. During those sparse times when the company was together, all crammed yet again in Thorin’s dining room, Thorin avoided Bilbo like the plague. Their eyes never met and they never sat closer than ten feet of one another. Even turing the many times when the discussion was heated and everyone spoke, Bilbo and Thorin always found a way to never directly speak to one another.
All Bilbo wanted was to be on the same level as those around him in Thorin’s eyes, maybe even become friends with the man. That goal seemed more and more bleak as the time went on, seeing as with every word Bilbo said, the deep and dark look on Thorin’s face grew more and more gloomy.
Sighing, Bilbo straightened his tie, pulled at the bottom of his suit jacket, and tried not to wince when his undershirt rubbed at his still healing burn. He was only slightly bummed that no one was able to come with him this time, and he was at the faces of the enemy by his lonesome. Thorin had forbade anyone to accompany him, even to the door of the Dean’s building, for too many people waiting about the door would raise suspicions. It was plausible, but Bilbo would have at least liked Bofur to come, but no, he had to hoof this one by himself.
Stepping into the room the second time was surprisingly easier than the first, seeing as Bilbo already knew Thranduil hated him. It was a great weight off his shoulders, to not feel the anticipation and pressure to do well in this meeting, seeing as little would sway the elf’s opinion of him. He had a stable position in this internship, wether he wanted it or not, and one elf’s opinion of him would do little to change that fact.
He just hoped to all that was above him, all that may or may not have been watching over him thus-far, all deities and lords above, that he would not see Smaug again.
Bilbo’s hopes were dashed as soon as he stepped through the door into the meeting room.
“Ah, Mr. Baggins.” The silky velvety voice swarmed over him like a bad winter chill, making his stomach drop down to his toes and his spine go ram-rod straight.
The room was the simplest of conference rooms, white walls, projector set up on the ceiling, large round table in the middle with one or two other interns already seated around it. Thranduil sat at the head, tapping away quickly at his laptop, not even sparing the Hobbit a glance.
The once large room seemed incredibly small as the looming tall figure strode towards him, the customary smirk already forming on Smaug’s lips. It was with little comfort that he didn’t try and touch Bilbo this time, instead standing close enough that his eat seemed to eat Bilbo alive.
Leering down at the small being, Smaug tilted his head and leaned forward just a bit, “Just the Hobbit I wanted to see. Come, sit next to me.”
Bilbo wanted to scream in agony at the heavens. What had he done in his past lives to deserve this? Just the man’s presence near him made his skin crawl with discomfort, and he was now in an almost constant state of terror that the man’s skin would somehow touch him again, burning him more than he already was.
There was, as per the regulation of the internship, a representative of every species at Erebor U. The more humanoid species of Middle Earth were the ones that Erebor U catered to, as there were specialty colleges for Trolls and Giants. There was an elf, tall and elegant, long blonde hair flowing down his back. He had stunningly beautiful features, but soft with what Bilbo took as kindness, if the polite smile he shared with Bilbo was anything to go by. There was a Dwarf, of course, and Bilbo didn’t recognize him, but he looked crude. A human sauntered in after a moment, his looks almost regal as he held himself high, five-o-clock shadow and long unruly hair almost endearing, if Bilbo wasn’t so terrified.
Bilbo almost thought more people would scurry in, perhaps duck their heads because the time was nearing where they’d be late, but no one further entered the room. It was the solitary four interns, the secretary, and Smaug himself.
“Pass this around. Don’t bother introducing yourselves, I already know your names and I doubt I’ll see you enough to care after today.” Thranduil handed each of them a thick stack of stapled papers, folding his hands together afterwords, looking at each of them, “This, of course, is Dean Smaug.”
They all dipped their heads respectively, all except for Bilbo, who was still terrified. When he’d taken his seat, Smaug had slowly sat next to him, his long legs bending under the table and his knee pressing against Bilbo’s. It was a human table, so Bilbo was having a hard time finding purchase on the chair and still managing to see over the table, none the less squirm away from Smaug’s touch.
“Nonsense.” Smaug’s voice demanded attention, his eyes soaring over them all, before landing on Bilbo and sparking something deep, shining even more yellow then when they had first met, “Let’s all introduce ourselves. We’ll be working together for quite some time, after all.
Thranduil couldn’t be caught sighing, but if his breath left his lungs with a bit more force this time, he couldn’t blame himself. The eccentricities of his boss were a gift and a curse, seeing as Smaug was almost as fearsome as himself, but when the large dragon-man caught something in his sights, he honed in on his pray like a literal dragon hoarding gold.
And now, Thranduil could almost feel bad for Bilbo Baggins, seeing as Smaug had targeted him the second he laid eyes on the small Hobbit, and now -- it was like a fish in a net. There was little Bilbo could do to escape from the Dean.
Letting his laptop come closed with a light snap, Thranduil sent a glance toward Bilbo, “well?”
“I’m Bilbo Baggins, from the Shire.” Bilbo gulped, wondering if he had to say any more about himself, scared of revealing too much to Smaug that the man could use as leverage, “I like to garden and cook. I’m majoring in Culinary Arts.”
The human and elf had enough tact to nod politely, while the others looked at him with such contempt. Smaug, on the other hand, looked positively tickled, his eyes wide with mirth as if he had just figured out the treasures of the earth.
“Aragorn Strider, from Gondor. I am majoring in Business, minoring in Engineering.” He tilted his head, before leaning back in his chair and looking rather uncomfortable, despite the confidence he exuded. He seemed like quite a nice man, confident, strong, and friendly.
Their eyes shifted to the elf, who regarded them politely, eyes lingering on Aragorn for an extended moment, before meeting Smaug, though not quite looking him in the eye. He was a smart elf, and while he wasn’t intimidated by Smaug, he knew of his power, “I am called Legolas Greenleaf, I hale from Mirkwood. I am double majoring in Archery and Geography, minoring in Language Studies.”
Bilbo could only hope and pray that the Dwarf said something simple, for Bilbo was starting to look horribly under qualified and rather stupid, sitting here with such obviously intelligent men, while he had said culinary arts. What was he kidding?
“I am Buldumin, I am from the caverns of Moria, it has always been a dream of my family line to attend Erebor University.” He started regally, looking rather proud with his long head of chocolate-brown hair that was braided cleanly away from his face and down his chin, creating an intricate weave of braids around his chin. He was of a more slender breed of dwarf, nowhere near Kili or Fili’s stature, but not quite as broad as Dwalin or Thorin, “I am double majoring in metal Working and Swordsmanship, double minoring in Mining and Khuzdul.”
Oh, dear Mahal, Bilbo was pathetic. No wonder Legolas had been so cordial before, anyone would have felt bad for the tiny Hobbit that got into this internship on a loophole! And Aragorn? He had yet to say a word, and was probably laughing internally at Bilbo.
He was going to be crushed.
“To begin, I will place you all within the Deans department, and you shall work under myself and Thranduil, despite his earlier words.” Smaug had stretched back during their explanations, rolling his shoulders and bringing his hand up to rest on the back of Bilbo’s chair, fingers curling over the rim and brushing against Bilbo’s shoulder. His smirk widened, “You will be compensated for your work, the starting rate is in your paperwork, and shall be lowered or raised on the basis of your performance and work ethic.”
Well, Bilbo thought morbidly to himself, at least he was getting paid for this.
“I have chosen one of you to work directly under myself, in the Deans head office to be my personal secretary, as Thranduil will be working more closely with the other interns.” Smaug’s eyes locked on Bilbo once more, giving the Hobbit a sinking feeling.
Oh, dear. Bilbo gulped. He had a sinking feeling that he knew exactly who Smaug had picked.
------
When Bilbo sauntered into the dining room of Thorin’s house for their usual meeting, he was more than welcome to the customary embrace Kili and Fili offered him, holding them tightly back much to their shock.
“Bilbo?” Kili’s lips pursed in concern as he shot his brother a look, both of them already having an idea of what had spooked their little burglar so much, “What happened?”
“Smaug happened.” Bilbo shuddered, allowing himself one more moment of comfort before pulling back, his face downcast and his lips unconsciously pulling into a frown, “I’ll tell you all about the plans.”
His gait was heavy as he made his way to the table, all the gazes of the company locked on him and his truly miserable expression. As soon as he sat next to Bofur, said dwarf instantly slid his chair close and rested a comforting hand on Bilbo’s knee, leaning in with a question already forming on his lips.
“We were introduced to the group, it was a general meet-and-greet.” Bilbo shrugged, taking Bofur’s hand quickly and glancing over as Kili and Fili pulled chairs close in on his side. He didn’t dare meet any of the other’s gazes, but inadvertently he found his eyes meeting Thorin’s.
Looking away quickly, he shifted from looking at the boys to looking at Bofur, “Then Smaug went on to the general details. We would all be appointed under either himself or Thranduil for our internship, that it was a paid internship, you know, things like that.”
“At least you’re making money....” Kili added, an attempt at a smile starting on his lips, but failing quickly as he was met with only a sad smile from Bilbo.
Bilbo sighed, hanging his head, “Then Smaug went on to say that there was a special position available for one of the interns. That intern would work extremely closely with Smaug, working as his personal secretary while Thranduil’s attention was divvied out for the interns.”
This piqued their interest, all of them leaning forward simultaneously as they hung on Bilbo’s every word. Thorin, in particular, even went so far as to circle the table from where he stood at the head, coming towards the Hobbit and slowing to a stop directly behind the chair.
Unanimously, there was a thrill of excitement. At the very mentioning of this opportunity, there was literally nothing more perfect. If Bilbo got this special position with Smaug, then they would be four more steps into their plan with little effort. This could be it, the chance they were waiting for to get close to Smaug.
“And...he picked me.” Bilbo sighed, frowning deeply despite the cheer that erupted around him. Even Kili and Fili were inclined to celebrate, slapping Bilbo on the back excitedly as they jumped to their feet. There were congratulatory slaps on the back and handshakes, but Bilbo was inclined to disagree with their excitement.
Sighing dramatically, he looked up and couldn’t fight the smile growing on his face at everyones joy. Just because he was terrified of Smaug and felt as though the man might snap at a moments notice and eat him whole, didn’t mean he had to bring down everyones happiness with him.
Tightening his hand momentarily over Bofur’s, he stood and allowed himself to get swept up in Kili and Fili’s arms, expecting the twirls and twists as they laughed boisterously. The plans couldn’t be going better, this was exactly what they needed, and Bilbo could see that things were going stupendously. His comfort was a small price to pay to get these Dwarves' home back.
Thorin tried desperately to join in their merriment, as much as he’d allow himself. He offered others a shake of the hand and a pat on the back, but he couldn’t bring himself to smile or join in their impromptu singing. Their joyous voices wafted over him happily, singing to the gods loud and happily, but it offered him no comfort.
When Bilbo had entered the dining room, it had looked as though he had seen a ghost. He was scared. He had tried to voice his opinions on the matter, and while Thorin knew that Smaug was a very dangerous creature that shouldn’t be treated lightly, Thorin had thought before that the Hobbit merely needed to steel his spine and keep with the plan.
But Bilbo was terrified. He was white as a sheet, and even now, in his embrace of the boys and singing, his smile held a forced edge to it. Bilbo was terrified of Smaug, be it because of the stories the dwarves had told or the mere physical presence of the man, Thorin didn’t know. It was most likely a combination of both, for Thorin already knew that Bilbo’s mind had a way of running away with the Hobbit. Smaug -- he stood dominant and powerful over all his subjects, his presence a fiery beacon of death and dismay. He didn’t mock the Hobbit for fearing Smaug, for it was smart of him to do so.
Once something caught Smaug’s eye and gathered his attention, nothing would get in his way from getting what he wanted. The mere thought sent a surge of anger through Thorin’s chest, the image of Smaug wanting and dominating over their Hobbit. For the dragon’s eye had locked on Bilbo.
And for that, Thorin feared.