#at least that is until a handsome dwarf king and his kin stepped through his door

[bitterseaproduction]

I’ve been seeing lots of posts about Thorin & Bilbo being into each other since Day 1, and that had me contemplating a scenario where they weren’t at such odds with each other at their first meeting (i.e. cranky at a bunch of invasive dwarves + wizard vs expecting the burglar to die within .2 seconds and cause problems in the process).

It could be something very mundane or AU-y, but for something closer to canon, what if Thorin was dragged into accepting he has to work with/trade with/fight along some elves? And even if the intent is there, both sides just keep making a mess of it? And Gandalf’s suggestion when he hears of it is to hire a mediator. Say, perhaps, a person of neither race, but one well acquainted with elves and likely open to dwarves? Someone of good standing, educated, and who is naturally diplomatic?

Seems iffy, but still Thorin allows himself to be guided escorted by Balin and Dwalin and his nephews right into the heart of the Shire and to the door of some gently-bred halfling Gandalf recommended, who will likely prove to be just as standoffish and finicky and soft as the rest of the people Thorin’s encountered—

Then the round green door opens, and his mind goes blank as equally round green eyes stare back at him. Then the halfling bearer of those eyes stumbles back while stumbling over his words, and Thorin should logically be doubting the stranger’s appropriateness for this mission, but he’s too distracted by something to consider the matter.

And his cousins and nephews are initially just baffled by the pair of them, but by the time they close negotiations and leave the Shire, Dwalin is asking his brother what happens if the elves think their king is ‘fraternizing’ with their negotiator before they’ve even held a meeting. The boys think it’s hilarious, but Balin doesn’t find the question droll in the slightest.

Fast forward, and by the time they reach Rivendell they are ALL sweating a little when they suspect the ‘fraternizing’ isn’t a joke at all.

Long story short, the biggest challenge the alliance of dwarves and elves faces is not the question of Thranduil’s betrayal, nor the gems he covets, nor any age old point of spite between the two races. No, it is the exiled dwarf king accusing Lord Elrond of trying to tempt HIS hobbit into staying in Rivendell when Thorin has made it PERFECTLY CLEAR to any dwarf he intends to install Bilbo in Erebor as soon as it is reclaimed.

No one is more taken aback by this claim than Bilbo Baggins himself, but that isn’t to say he is, ahem, ‘unamenable’ to the idea.

(Some would later, however, accuse Bilbo of playing up his reluctance to abandon Bag End at all, as the effort to coax the hobbit into relocation and outright, openly proclaimed consortship quite soundly and conveniently distracted the king away from accusations that might have caused a complete and utter dissolution of the alliance. But truly, if it were true? Well. The hobbit was quite the diplomat.)

[lindirs-gaze]

#5. “Wait a minute, are you jealous?” for Bagginshield

here ya go!

The hall was crowded and filled with light, and Bilbo was exhausted.

Mind you, he was enjoying himself tremendously. This was the first real celebratory feast he’d experienced in Erebor, and like everything else in the dwarvish kingdom, it was almost overwhelmingly ostentatious. There was food and music and a roaring fire, intermingled with laughter and stomping feet. Bilbo had tried more new, delicious foods than he could count, and he had met a number of interesting and friendly dwarves besides. It was all very enjoyable, but after a few hours, he was thinking more and more of slipping away and crawling into bed.

“And you say hobbit houses are built beneath the earth?” the dwarf next to him asked, shaking him out of his thoughts.

“Oh, yes. So I suppose hobbits and dwarves are not so different after all, at least in that regard,” Bilbo said with a smile. The black-haired dwarf, Grómi, seemed rather eager to learn more about Bilbo and his people. They’d run into each other quite a few times over the course of the night, enough that Bilbo no longer considered it coincidental. Not that he minded--he was quite happy to make new friends, being a bit of a stranger under the mountain, in more ways than one.

“Not so different, indeed,” Grómi said with a smile. “I have heard also that hobbits are able to hold their liquor.”

“I suppose so.” There was plenty of ale to go around, but Bilbo had not partaken in much.

Grómi leaned in conspiratorially. “If you’re wanting some of the good stuff, you should come to The Crystal Spear. It’s a tavern nearby.”

“I will certainly keep an eye out for it.”

“Aye. Perhaps I’ll see you there.”

Bilbo nodded. He had a feeling this was not the last time he would run into Grómi. “Well, it was lovely talking to you. If you’ll excuse me...”

“Have a good night, Master Baggins.”

He stifled a yawn and made his way towards the side doors leading out of the hall. It was a wonder the rest of the dwarves were still just as energetic as they had been at the start of the feast.

“It’s all about that classic dwarvish endurance,” Bofur had said when he’d commented on it earlier. Then he’d waggled his eyebrows in such a ridiculously suggestive expression that ale had come out of Ori’s nose.

As Bilbo neared the doors, he spotted Thorin standing near the wall, arms crossed. He’d been more subdued than most of his kin throughout the night, though Bilbo supposed that was just Thorin being Thorin. He’d also caught him scowling occasionally when no one was looking, and was beginning to wonder if he simply didn’t like feasts, and was only here to keep up appearances.

But Thorin seemed to perk up slightly as he caught sight of Bilbo. He nodded to him, then moved to meet him at the doors. “Are you leaving?”

“Yes, I think I might turn in,” Bilbo said with a slightly apologetic smile. “It’s been a long night.”

“I’ll walk you back to your chambers.”

“Oh.” Perhaps Thorin had been looking for an excuse to leave. “All right, then. Thank you.”

They stepped through the doors together, the sounds of the feast immediately fading as they shut behind them.

“I hope you enjoyed yourself,” Thorin said softly as they walked.

“I did.” Bilbo smiled. “Quiet different from a Shire party, but the food was quite good. And I met a number of friendly dwarves.”

“Aye,” was all Thorin said, a slight edge in his tone.

Bilbo glanced at him, but Thorin’s expression had turned stonily impassive. “Is everything all right?”

“Of course. You are free to spend your time with whomever you please.”

He blinked at the strange answer. “Well, yes. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I--” Thorin frowned slightly. “There is no reason...” He cleared his throat. “I misspoke. Forgive me.”

Bilbo wasn’t quite ready to let it go, however. He thought back to the feast, to his conversations with Grómi and Thorin’s glowering expression... “Wait a minute, were you jealous?”

Thorin turned to him, his eyes widening slightly. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I saw the way you were looking at me,” he took a deep breath, sincerely hoping he wasn’t off course with this one, “and the dwarves I’ve been speaking with. I thought you were only in a bad mood, but...”

Thorin looked away. “I hope I did not offend you.”

Bilbo let out a short sigh. Up until recently, he had been under the impression that dwarves were supposed to be straightforward. “So, were you jealous or not?”

After a long moment of silence, Thorin said quietly, “I was. But I do not want my feelings to...to hinder you from any relationship you may choose to have with another.”

“Oh.” Bilbo blinked rapidly, trying to come to terms with what Thorin had just said. Here was this mighty dwarf king, one of the bravest and most handsome people he’d ever met, getting jealous because another dwarf had asked him to a tavern. He almost laughed at the prospect, but stopped himself at the last second to spare Thorin’s feelings. “Well, I don’t think you’ll have to worry about that.”

Thorin’s gaze was tentatively hopeful as he asked, “What do you mean by that?”

They both stopped walking--they’d reached the door to Bilbo’s chambers.

With a smile, Bilbo reached out and took Thorin’s hand. “Would you like to come inside for a while?”