Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The sky had already darkened to black by the time he arrived. The rune carved on the green door glowed in the darkness.

How the wizard could do that, he was not sure. More so he couldn't be sure the Hobbit who resided here was trustworthy.

Dwalin didn't trust others easily. Not because he was distrustful by nature. No. Being the head of the Palace Guard, a mercenary, and a member of the Erebor Army, trust was something he learned not to give out freely.

He pounded his fist on the door three times and glanced around. The cobblestone walkway was nicely kept free of moss and the lawn was neat and the little hill covered in various flowers.

This was a burglar they were meeting, wasn't it?

Well, so long as this was the place and there would be food, Dwalin decided to overlook the flower garden.

The door opened. The small creature before him blinked. His hair was curly and the shade of copper. His eyes were blue like the sky. The ears were pointy like an Elf's (Thorin's going to love that). Like the rest of his race, he seemed fairy-like, save for his large, hairy feet, the same shade and curl as that on his head. He wore trousers and a shirt. Hanging off his shoulders was a bathrobe.

This was the burglar the wizard said would aid them?

Impossible!

"Dwalin," he said, bowing to the Hobbit, "At your service."

The hobbit pulled his robe around him and tied it shut. "Bilbo Baggins, at yours."

Dwalin straightened and stepped inside, tossing his cloak to Bilbo Baggins. "Is it this way, Laddie? Is it over here?" Dwalin looked about.

"Is…what?"

"Supper," he said. "He said there'd be food and lots of it."

The hobbit furrowed his brow, following Dwalin into the kitchen.

"Who said?"

Dwalin did not answer, sitting down at the small table and digging into the fish and what ever else was there. Well, he didn't know if the Hobbit was a burglar, but dang, he could cook!

A few minutes passed and the plate was empty.

"Very good this."

"Thanks," Bilbo mumbled.

"Is there any more?"

Bilbo gaped at him. "Oh. Um. Yes. Here."

He placed a platter of bread rolls before Dwalin, his hands behind his back. Dwalin stuffed two in his mouth at one time. The journey left him more famished than he thought.

"It's just…um…I wasn't expecting visitors—"

The door bell rang.

"That'll be the door."

"I'm well aware," Bilbo sighed, going to the door.

While the Hobbit went to see who was at the door, Dwalin spotted a jar filled with brown biscuits. He stared at the bread rolls before him then at the treats he had long sought for days! Rolls left abandoned, he picked up the jar and tried to fish out a biscuit.

"Oh-ho!"

Bugger.

Dwalin looked up, feeling like a child caught by his Mum. Balin approached, grinning. The guilt passed. At least it wasn't Thorin or he'd never live it down.

"Ev'ning, Brother," Balin greeted.

Dwalin set the jar down. "By my beard," he said, "You're shorter and wider last we met."

"Wider. Not shorter. Sharp enough for both of us still."

That is a lie, Dwalin thought, setting his hands on Balin's shoulders. He could name many a time he had outsmarted Balin with or without Thorin (and Frerin when the younger son of Thrain lived).

When he was younger, he'd point out as many times as he could at besting Balin.

Being older than he was the last he saw Balin, he let it slide for now.

They slammed their heads into each other, a sign of brotherhood.

"Um, I'm sorry to interrupt, but I wasn't expecting any visitors until tomorrow morning, as I discussed with Gandalf earlier," Bilbo said. "You see, I've nothing ready."

"That's fine, there's still time until everyone else gets here, Laddie," Balin sad, clapping the Hobbit's back. Bilbo stumbled, his legs buckling under him. He fell to the floor, banging his knees "You all right, Lad?"

"Yeah. I'm fine." Dwalin picked him up. Bilbo's feet dangled off the ground. "Could you, um, put me down, please?" Dwalin set him down on his feet.

"Where's the pantry?" Balin asked.

"What?"

"Well, didn't Gandalf tell you how many were coming?"

"No—no. Don't you—hey!"

"Found it," Dwalin said.

Bilbo stared at them and threw his hands up. "I give up. Please excuse me a moment." He walked down the hall. Balin and Dwalin watched him go.

"You think this is the right house?" Dwalin asked.

"It has the mark, don't it?"

"Yes."

"Then it's the right house. Not sure what Gandalf's thinking, though…bit scrawny for a burglar and doesn't seem all too kind…then again he did say he was expecting us in the morning."

"Are we early, then?"

"No. Gandalf said tonight. I know he said tonight."

Bilbo returned, dressed in day-clothes. "I don't mean to be rude," he said, "But I really wasn't expecting anyone until nine o'clock tomorrow morning."

"We're to be off long before then, Laddie," Balin said. "Perhaps Gandalf wasn't clear with you, then?"

"He said nine o'clock. He didn't say it would be at night. I had said I'd meet with him and the others tomorrow. So…"

"There'll be thirteen of us."

"Oh, Eru…blasted Wizard! Help me get the dining table out and after which I'll need some help in the kitchen." The door rang again. Bilbo paused. "I'll be back in a moment." He headed to the door. Balin and Dwalin looked at the dining table. How were they going to fit everyone in? They'd have to move the table into the hallway.

"Mr. Dwalin," Kili greeted, "and Mr. Balin."

"Need another pair of hands?" Bilbo asked. No one answered. "Okay, I'll start dinner—no one goes into the pantry."

The doorbell rang again. Dwalin spied the hobbit huff and storm to the door again.

"YOU COULD HAVE TOLD ME THEY WERE COMING TONIGHT!"

"I was perfectly clear on the time, Bilbo Baggins," Gandalf snapped defensively. "It's not my fault if you have wax in your ears."

Bilbo turned to the newcomers. "Who can cook among you?"

"That'd be me," Bombur answered.

"Come help me then. Four hands will feed fifteen mouths faster than two."

"Master Boggins is quite hospitable even if he seems a bit on edge," Kili said.

"It's Baggins," Balin snapped. "A little respect, boy, for the host."

"I'm sorry, I really did think it was Boggins!"

Dwalin rolled his eyes and watched the others familiarize himself with the smial. He had not seen anyone else, save his own kinsmen, in the Hobbit's house.

"Do you know if he has any family?" Balin asked. "You were here first."

"I have seen no one."

"Bilbo is single," Gandalf informed them. "I wouldn't choose a husband or father. They already have responsibilities to heart and home."

"While that's true…" Balin said. He looked at Dwalin, who slumped his shoulders. This would be a problem.

"Oh. I had forgotten that," Gandalf said.

"This sets us back further than we already are," Balin sighed. "Even if he is available to go, he can't if he has no family to go with him."

"He is not a Dwarf," Gandalf said. "Your customs and rules ought not to apply to Bilbo."

"We'll discuss it when Thorin comes," Dwalin said. Balin nodded, agreeing to the suggestion.

"Where is Thorin, by the way?" Gandalf asked.

"He's coming from a meeting with our kin from Ered Luin."

"That's what Bilbo Baggins hates!"

Dishware flew through the air. The poor Hobbit chased after his dishes, screaming about their fragility. Balin shook his head.

"All of them act like children. Some of them are children."

"Well, they got to grow up sometime," Dwalin reminded Balin. "This venture might give 'em the kick in the arse they need."

Chapter Text

No one spoke for the longest time.

The signed contract stared at them.

The Hobbit had excused himself for the time being and the Company took the moment to begin discussing his lack of family to travel with him.

"Well," Gloin began. "Bombur and I are already married, so we're both out." Bombur nodded his agreement.

"As am I," Balin interjected. "I could keel over any day now. And Kili and Ori are out, saying that they are still underage."

"We're almost of age," Kili protested.

"Not for another few years and that won't help our Burglar," Thorin reminded him. "By our laws he must travel with family, which he does not have. He wishes to go," Thorin pointed at the contract. "Meaning he has to wed someone among us. So other than those who have already backed out for the obvious reasons, who is willing to take him as their spouse? There are eight of us who are eligible."

"Why not just let him choose?" Dwalin asked.

They looked at him.

"We may uphold our own laws and if he is to come, he will be subject to them, but not at the cost of his freedom."

Gandalf smiled at him.

Dwalin ignored the Wizard. He only said what he believed true.

Dwalin considered himself an honest dwarf and a noble warrior. He couldn't, in good conscience, let Bilbo be forced into a marriage he did not want.

"Send for the Halfling," Thorin ordered. "And let him choose."

"There'll be no need for sending anyone. I'm right here," Bilbo said. He bit his lip and he looked at Dwalin. "If marriage be the only way I can offer my services, minimal as they are, then I'll marry Mr. Dwalin, if he does not object."

The room stared at him. Even Dwalin felt taken aback.

"Dwalin?" Balin asked, breaking the silence. "Excuse my rudeness, but why my brother?"

"Yeah, why not Fili?" Kili added.

Fili spun his head around to his brother and slapped the back of his head, blushing.

"Or Dori?" Ori chimed.

Dori choked on his tea.

"Or perhaps Bofur?"

Bofur blushed, pulling his hat further down, trying to hide his face.

"None of you thought to ask my opinion on the matter until Mr. Dwalin suggested it!" Bilbo snapped at them. "I thought if, as he is kind enough to ask what I thought or who I would choose, he would perhaps be the better choice among the lot of you! At least he doesn't try to make decisions for me!"

Thorin turned to Dwalin.

"Well, I've no reason to decline," Dwalin said, "If the Hobbit will marry me."

Thorin looked at Bilbo again, waiting for him to change his mind.

"Very well," he said when no further objections came to light. "Balin, if you would compose a marriage contract for Dwalin and…Master Baggins…that will suffice for now until a proper ceremony is performed."

"If I could get a scrap of parchment, I will do so immediately."

"I'll show you to the writing desk," Bilbo offered. Balin followed him.

Thorin sat beside Dwalin. "Are you sure you're comfortable marrying the Halfling?"

"A little shocked he chose me," Dwalin admitted with a shrug. "Not unlike the rest. I've nothing to complain of. It's his choice."

"But is it yours?"

Dwalin shrugged. "I'm not particular either way. He wants to go. I'll help any way I can. Personally, I think he's safer here."

"He'll be bound to you by our laws. Not his. It is unusual for a marriage of convenience to happen."

Dwalin looked at Thorin. He smirked. "You and I know that. So does Bag—Bilbo, I wager. At the very least he understands it. He wants to go and he will be subject to our laws if he does. This is just the first he'll have to adhere to."

"Dwalin," Balin called. "Thorin, you might as well come to…and Gandalf."

Thorin and Dwalin walked side by side. Gandalf followed them, ducking under the banisters so not to hit his head.

"Now, everything is in order, and an official ceremony will take place once the mountain is reclaimed," Balin said. He looked at Bilbo and Dwalin. "Last chance, lads," he said. "Once it's signed, that's it. No backing out."

Dwalin glanced at Bilbo. He seemed a little pale, but other than that he was resolute.

Dwalin took the quill first.

From hereon forth, by the Law of Durin the Deathless, and by Thorin II Oakenshield, the Son of Thrain the Son of Thror: King under the Mountain, the two named are hereby wed.

He signed his name. He handed it to Bilbo. Bilbo read the contract, perhaps for the second or third time before signing his name.

The quill passed back to Balin, then to Gandalf, and lastly to Thorin, who sealed it with a wax insignia.

"Congratulations on your marriage," Thorin said, though he sounded far from joyous. He left the room.

Balin patted Bilbo's head. "Welcome to the family, Brother."

Noise built up again slowly as the others came to congratulate them and celebratory music began to pick up.

Dwalin felt hands on his back. Bilbo shouted protests at the Dwarves pushing them toward Bilbo's room on the other end of the hall.

"Enjoy yourselves, lads," Bofur said, grinning. He winked and the door closed.

Dwalin growled, crossing his arms. Bilbo sat on the bed, pale and tense.

"Relax," Dwalin said. He made no move from where he stood. "They mean well, but this isn't a normal marriage by any standards."

"So…same-sex marriages are odd?"

"No. It's not that. Dwarves rarely marry for convenience, as is the case with you and me."

"Oh. I didn't know same-sex marriages were…appropriate."

"Would we have wed if it wasn't?"

Bilbo chuckled. "I guess not."

"Look, laddie, we don't have to complete everything tonight. We're married now and that means we are equals. I'm not going to make you do anything you don't want to do so if you don't want to consummate the marriage tonight, we won't."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Oh. Good. I'm not sure I'm quite…ready for that just yet. My head's spinning from the insanity enough as it is now. I mean," he managed a small smile. "I'm going on an adventure…with a group of Dwarves. And now I'm married to one. All in one night…" he leaned forward, placing his head between his knees. "I'm fine."

"Are you going to faint again?"

"Maybe. How are you not keeling over yourself?"

Dwalin shrugged. "I'm used to it, I guess. Life's always been fast paced for me and my brother. We're soldiers. We learned that we have to be ready to fight at any moment. Sometimes that means running out into the night in just your johns."

Bilbo laughed. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"I wasn't sure I made the right choice in a husband. It's an odd law, but you are right that I'll have to obey Dwarfish laws if I want to go. And I really want to go…Eru above! Husband…"

"Yeah, it'll take some getting used to."

"How are you not panicking?"

"No room for it," Dwalin said, finally sitting down in the chair on the other side of the room. "Like I said, I'm a warrior. I can't let things get to me. Otherwise, I'd be as chalky as you are now."

Bilbo blinked, looking up. "Am I really that pale?"

"Yes."

Bilbo groaned, leaning down again. "I think I was too rash."

"You all right?"

"Yeah…just…give me a moment."

Dwalin stood and approached the bed.

Bilbo jumped.

Dwalin raised his hands and reached into a pouch. "You're hair is a bit short, but not so short I can't manage one braid. They'll expect one in your hair and in mine in the morning." He pulled out two beads. "Would you rather I braid your hair now or in the morning?"

Bilbo looked at the beads. "Now."

Dwalin sat beside him and weaved a braid in the curls, clasping it together with one bead. Bilbo reached up to touch it. He pulled his hand away from his hair. "I can't say my braiding skills are great…I've never had reason to braid anyone's hair before."

"S'easier than you think," Dwalin assured him. He taught Bilbo how to weave the braid in his beard and how to clasp it with the bead. "See? Easy."

Bilbo nodded, dropping his hand from Dwalin's beard. He wrung his hands, as though eager for something in them. "Are you packed for the journey?"

"Yes. I almost forgot my pocket-handkerchief!" He chuckled. "I guess that sounds a little silly, doesn't it?"

"A little," Dwalin admitted. He stood and returned to the chair. "Try to sleep, Bilbo. We leave before daybreak."

Bilbo nodded, lying on the bed. He shivered a little, not daring to pull the covers over.

Dwalin approached after a while of watching. He tugged the blankets from under him and lay them over Bilbo.

The little guy wasn't half bad, pointy ears aside.

Chapter Text

"I'll do fine without—whoa!" Bilbo silenced, scowling on top of the pony. He sneezed and pressed his handkerchief to his nose. Dwalin rolled his eyes, earning a glare from Balin.

"Try being a little sympathetic to the lad."

"I am being plenty sympathetic."

"Be more sympathetic than usual, then. He's your husband, for goodness sakes, Dwalin! At least act like it!" The ease Balin had with throwing the word "husband" left Dwalin scowling worse than before.

Bilbo continued to sneeze through the day. It was truly miserable to behold. His nose had inflamed before the night's end. He spoke with Oin that night on what could be done about his allergies, enunciating more than needed due to the nasal congestion messing with his voice.

Dwalin watched from his place by the fire, an empty bowl in hand.

"How are you feeling?" Dwalin arched an eyebrow at Thorin. Thorin shrugged. "Forget I asked."

"I will." Thorin may not have seemed it to anyone else, but Dwalin knew him long enough to know when there was mirth in his eyes. Right now, Thorin was laughing. His mouth curved in a smirk and his eyes were alight.

Fili and Kili tackled Bilbo, who screamed.

"Shouldn't you go defend him?" Thorin asked.

"He'll be fine from whatever mischief they try."

Thorin frowned. "Are you sure you're all right with this…setup?"

"No. I'm not, but he made his choice and that choice was me. I'm doubting. It's only expected given the swiftness of everything."

"True. But you're still honor bound—"

"If he was in any real danger, then I'd be there."

Thorin snorted. "I love my sister-sons, but I do consider them real trouble, Dwalin."

"He's holding fine on his own. See." Bilbo chased Fili and Kili around the campsite, yelling at them in Hobbitish…or whatever he calls his native language. "No need for me to get in the middle of it all. We aren't going to run into trolls, orcs, goblins, or spiders, Thorin. The greatest danger we'll have on the road is Elves."

"Don't remind me," Thorin growled, standing and walking toward his nephews and Bilbo. "Fili! Kili! Leave our Burglar in peace, or so help me…"

Bilbo slipped away and circled around back to the fire.

"Feeling all right, Brother?" Balin asked, clapping Bilbo's back. His nose was still inflamed. But he nodded.

"Fili and Kili are bore rang-bunk-jus fan I fought. Fat's all." He held up a steaming mug and drank. "Oin was ferry helvful dough. He said I should be breeding better in a couple ov days."

Dwalin covered a laugh with a cough.

"Good. Good," Balin said, patting Bilbo's head. "Isn't it, Dwalin?"

Dwalin didn't trust himself to speak, so he nodded his affirmation instead. After feeling composed enough, he stood. "I've first watch. Sleep well, Brother. Bilbo."

Bilbo nodded.

Balin furrowed his brow. You said let him choose. Not his fault you're the unwilling party, his gaze seemed to say. And perhaps that was exactly what Balin was thinking at Dwalin. And he could have said, "No."

Dwalin wished there was something to distract him on watch. The night hours were long and nothing save the sounds of his companion's snoring (be they light or heavy) were in the air. Well, not entirely, if the owl's call had to say anything about it. He didn't dislike Bilbo. The little one is annoying, but he wasn't intentionally so. Dwalin couldn't fault the Hobbit that.

You said let him choose. Not his fault you're the unwilling party.

Unwilling, huh? He hadn't thought of that when he suggested letting Bilbo choose who to marry. Still, he wasn't thinking about the Dwarf who would be chosen. He especially didn't think it'd be him.

Like the others, he thought he'd choose Fili or Bofur or Dori. Aule's Beard, even Nori and Thorin were up for grabs! True, he and Thorin were the same age and he was available too…

He didn't think, even once, that Bilbo Baggins, their amateur burglar and Hobbit, would choose him. He gave his reasons. Dwalin took his opinion into consideration and based his opinion as a spouse based on that?

Did the Hobbit know anything about Dwarves? Did he know that Dwarves were a jealous group? Did he know that he had, in a way, tied himself to one of the gruffest, meanest, strongest warriors of their age?

Did Bilbo know anything beyond his home?

Dwalin had not been jesting when he doubted Bilbo's abilities earlier that night.

Everyone who spoke against his going had, in some way, grown attached to the fussy little hobbit in those few short hours. And still Bilbo had insisted on going.

Dwalin wondered if he was touched in the head.

You accepted his proposal. You didn't have to.

Dwalin rubbed his hands over his bald head, growling.

"Something bothering you?"

Dwalin reached for his ax, turning around to the speaker. He paused and lowered his hand. Bilbo stood at the base of the rock Dwalin sat on, wrapped in a fur blanket.

"No," he lied. Bilbo tilted his head to the side. His hair moved with him and Dwalin could note the pointed ear was slightly larger than an elf's.

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Okay. May I join you? I can't sleep."

"Sure."

And that was the extent of their conversation.

Bilbo climbed on the rock, adjusting the blanket as he could and sat beside Dwalin. He pulled the pelt over his head to keep it warm.

"Why couldn't you sleep?"

"Balin snores."

"Ah."

Conversation two: done.

Dwalin slouched, wishing there was more he could say to Bilbo. The fact was, he had nothing to ask him, nothing to talk about, and nothing that remotely interested him about his…husband.

"Why did you decide to go on this adventure?" Bilbo asked, looking at him.

"Thorin and I grew up together and he is my king. Balin came for the same reason: he used to watch us when our parents couldn't. We are here out of loyalty to Thorin."

"And the law that one must never travel without family?"

"An old law and one that every Dwarf you meet adheres to. You never travel alone and you cannot guarantee that a friend will watch your back. Family, however, will always have your back."

"I guess that makes sense. But Thorin is traveling alone."

Dwalin smirked. "Fili and Kili are his sister-sons."

Bilbo spun around to look at the camp. "I never would have guessed," he said. "They are nothing like Thorin."

"They are a lot like Thorin. He just got old. Why did you want to come? Not out of loyalty to anyone here, surely."

"No. Lack of contentment is my motivator," Bilbo said. "I was outside having a smoke when Gandalf came. I was a little surprised at first, but then I thought about it and I could only say, 'Well, why not? The Shire is grand and all, but dreadfully dull once you get to the bones of it.' I never have been quite…content with my life there. It was proper by Hobbit standards, but to me I wanted—needed something more. This adventure, I hope will do that."

"You aren't afraid?"

"No. I'm terrified," Bilbo said, smiling. "But I'm not going to let it get to me. I can't. I needed out. Now I'm out. For which, I have to thank you. I understand if you want to terminate our union once the quest is over. I don't expect our current arrangement to be permanent."

Dwalin blinked. Terminate? Marriages could be terminated? This was as unusual as the way they had married! Most Dwarves married their One, so a marriage terminated was almost unheard of—

"Dwarves don't value divorce, do they?"

"It's never been done as far as I've been alive. Or if it has, I've never heard tell and it would be talked about."

"Dwarves are as gossipy as Hobbits then?"

"I doubt that. Too much work t'do to bother, but somethin' like that would be talked about, I bet."

"You slur when you're nervous," Bilbo noted.

"No. I don't."

Rather it was the opposite. When he was comfortable he let his speech slide to a slur. Balin and Thorin both used to tease him for it. Not anymore, though Fili and Kili did wonderful impersonations.

Bilbo shrugged, deeming it wise not to press the issue.

Conversation three: check.

"Not interrupting anything, am I?" Bofur asked, approaching. He yawned, scratching his belly.

"No," Dwalin said, standing. He looked at Bilbo. "Coming?"

"Oh. Yes." Bilbo slide off and followed Dwalin, still wrapped in the blanket like a bread roll. Bofur grinned at them, wagging his eyebrows. Dwalin sneered at him and he scrambled on to the rock, not implying anything more.

Dwalin turned to Bilbo. "Fair warning: I snore too. Best get used to it."

"Okay," Bilbo replied.

Chapter Text

"My mother's side of the family is where I get my thirst for adventure," Bilbo told Balin.

Dwalin tried not to look curious, despite the various questions he wanted to ask. He figured they'd be answered soon enough as Balin had been asking Bilbo questions about his family all morning. "My mother, Belladonna Took Baggins, is the ninth child of the Old Took, and his first daughter."

"Ah, must have made her a favorite until the next daughter."

"From what I understood, yes," Bilbo said. "The Took Family is usually considered a bit off because of our curiosity for the outside world. Runs in the family, and whichever family a daughter marries into, I guess."

"Must be, otherwise you wouldn't have come along. But why you?"

"I am...well...was unmarried," Bilbo said. "My other cousins on the Took side and those related to the Tooks in the Brandybuck Family are all married. Some have children now, I think. And the others are still underage."

"Hmm."

"To be honest, lately, I was screaming," Bilbo admitted. He smiled at Balin, "Not really, of course. But I was losing my mind. The Baggins family is one the most respectable families in Hobbiton, so, while I loved my father dearly, he worked a lot to snuff that need for adventure. For a while, I thought he had succeeded. But before you came, I felt like I was clawing at the walls of a cage. And then Gandalf came and offered to go on an adventure. It was a blessing! It was my chance to get out and away from everything and all the bloody responsibility that comes with being a Baggins."

Balin grinned. "I bet you weren't expecting to get married as a part of it."

"No. I wasn't. But I needed out of the Shire. I was willing to do anything if it meant getting out of for even a little while."

Dwalin rode ahead.

Thorin glanced at him.

"What?"

"Everything all right?" Thorin asked.

"As all right as it can be. Do you know anyone who would willingly leave everything they know behind to aid people they do not know?"

Thorin turned around to look at Bilbo. "No. I don't."

"It's mad."

"That it is. Though…everyone here is willing."

"We're going to reclaim our home. To take it back from a Dragon because it's better than living as refugees. He's simply going for the bloody thrill of it!"

Thorin sighed. "I understand your concern—"

Dwalin glared at him, "He's going to get himself killed. Like I said, this is no quest for gentlefolk who can't fight or defend themselves."

"He's your husband. It's your job to make sure that doesn't happen."

"I really wish everyone would stop throwing that word around. It feels like a label that I can't wash off! I'll keep my eye on him, but I can't keep my eye on you and him at the same time."

"I'm capable of keeping an eye on myself," Thorin assured him.

Dwalin bit his tongue. "It still doesn't sit well with me."

Thorin shook his head. "Gandalf!" he called, riding over to the Wizard.

#

"I don't like the view of those mountains," Dwalin announced to Thorin after Gandalf had stormed off.

Thorin glared at him. "If you wish to join the Wizard, by all means, go!"

"That's not what I mean. I've a bad feeling about this." Dwalin said, crossing his arms. "How do we know what destroyed this house is not out there anymore? How do we know it's long gone? Or do you think my intuition is off?"

Thorin exhaled. "While I do trust your judgment, Dwalin, we can't relocate now," he said. "The night is closing in on us. We'll just have to wait it out—"

"TROLLS!" Fili shouted. The camp silenced. "Trolls caught Bilbo! Kili stayed behind to help!"

Dwalin didn't bother to wait and think. He seized his war hammer, and followed Thorin, muttering curses under his breath.

When they arrived, Kili fell to the ground, catching Bilbo in his arms.

Dwalin glanced at him once, to see that he still lived before attacking. Bilbo climbed off Kili, avoiding the fray and wobbling a little, but otherwise he was okay.

The fight to bring the trolls down was short-lived. Thorin called them off when he spotted Bilbo held up by his arms and legs by the Trolls. Dwalin's hands shook as he lay down his hammer.

They were siezed and tied in sacks, save a few who were stripped to their onesies and tied to the spit. The Trolls discussed what they wanted to do with them while turning the spit.

"Wait!" Bilbo squirmed off the pile on to his feet, jumping toward them. "You're making a terrible mistake."

"And what do you know about cooking dwarves?" one of the trolls snarled.

Bilbo scoffed. "Haven't you smelt them? You're going to need something stronger than sage before you cook this lot up."

He jumped away from the furious Dwarves close by. Dwalin fumed. Why that little-

"Oh?"

"Yes. You see the secret to cooking dwarves is to...to…" he glanced at them. "Give me a moment…um…oh yes! It's…too…skin them first!"

That little rat! Dwalin thought, shouting promises of vengeance at Bilbo with the others. The trolls didn't buy it. One hoisted Bombur into the air over his mouth.

"NOT THAT ONE!" Bilbo shouted. "HE'S INFECTED!"

The trolls paused.

"Yeah…he's got…parasites in his…tubes." The Troll dropped Bombur. "In fact, they all have," Bilbo said. "Terrible business. I wouldn't risk it."

"We don't have parasites!" Kili shouted.

For the love of Mahal, Boy, you're going to get us all killed.

Thorin kicked Kili and soon everyone was shouting they had parasites.

"What would you have us do then?" one of the trolls asked, smarter than he looked. "Let them all go?"

"Well…"

"You're not fooling me! This little ferret is taking us for fools!"

"Ferret?!" Bilbo shouted indignantly.

"Fools?!"

"The dawn take you all!" Gandalf shouted.

"Who's that?"

"Don't know."

"Can we eat him too?"

Gandalf slammed his staff on the rock he stood upon and Dwalin was blinded by sunlight. The trolls shrieked as they turned to stone.

After they were released, Dwalin approached Bilbo with his arms crossed. "Skin them first?"

Bilbo bit his lip. "I admit that wasn't the brightest idea I've ever come up with, but it distracted them for a bit, didn't it?"

"That is beside the point."

"We're alive aren't we?" Bilbo snapped. "I'm sorry I came up with something that was so offensive, but I was fighting against time. No one else was doing anything but waiting to be eaten! I know what I said was unpleasant, but it did what I hoped it would!"

Dwalin and Bilbo glared at each other.

"We're going to the cave," Thorin shouted. "Dwalin, Halfling, come on!" They stared at each other a little longer before Bilbo stormed after the others. Dwalin followed, hoisting his war hammer over his shoulder.

Dwalin followed Thorin into the cave while Bilbo waited outside.

The cave smelled something foul! Dwalin tried not to choke on the air, same as the others. "Dwalin, Nori, Gloin, Bofur, keep watch!"

"Be careful what you touch."

Gandalf and Thorin walked off, talking in hushed whispers. He stood, leaning on his hammer while the others dug a hole. He glared at them.

"We're making a long-term deposit," Gloin stated, grinning. Dwalin rolled his eyes. Didn't Gandalf say to be cautious about the items in the cave? Well! If they bring a curse on themselves, Dwalin decided he'd laugh at them if that happened.

"All right, let's go," Thorin said, carrying a sword in his hand. Dwalin followed. "Bofur, Gloin, Nori, what are you doing?"

"Nothing," Bofur said, standing and following.

"Sure," Dwalin muttered. "Digging a hole is nothing."

"It's just a hole. Like doilies."

Dwalin shook his head, striding away. He glanced at Bilbo once. He held a dagger in his hands. Another wizard showed up and went to speak with Gandalf in private.

He glanced at Bilbo, who examined his dagger curiously. It was thicker toward the tip, coming to a point, and thinner at the hilt. For a moment, Dwalin thought to thank Bilbo for his quick thinking. He had been a tad ungrateful—

His thoughts are interrupted by a howl.

"Is that wolf?" Bilbo asked.

"No," Bofur said, his voice quaking.

A warg jumped at them, snarling and gnashing its teeth. When killed, Gandalf turned on Thorin, demanding to know if anyone else knew of them.

Hunted.

The word hung in the air, sucking the warmth out of everything.

"We have to get out of here," Dwalin said.

"But we can't!" Ori replied. "The ponies bolted!"

"I'll draw them off," the brown wizard said.

"These are Gundebad wargs," Gandalf snapped. "They'll outrun you!"

"These are Rosgabel rabbits," the brown one grinned. "I'd like to see them try."

Chapter Text

The field is open and Brown Wizard is having more fun than he should leading the Wargs and Orcs on a wild chase.

Dwalin grasped Bilbo's shoulder, keeping him close.

"Ori, no!" Thorin shouted, pulling the scribe caught Ori, squeezing the scribe's shoulders. They pressed against a rock and held their breath. Dwalin heard sniffing and growling.

Kili readied his bow, coming out of hiding and shooting the Warg.

It fell, screaming.

Dwalin embedded his ax into the warg. The warg-rider attacked, but was overridden by the others.

"Run!" Thorin demanded when the wargs and orcs shifted their position to surround them.

Though they raced, the wargs quickly surrounded them.

"This way, you fools!" Gandalf shouted, popping out from behind a rock.

Dwalin shoved Bilbo into the passageway before following.

Balin helped him up, dusting Bilbo off.

"All right?"

Bilbo nodded. "I'm fine…just a little shaky."

Once everyone was inside, Dwalin looked about.

"I can't see where the pathway leads," he said. "Do we follow it or not?"

"Follow it, of course!" Bofur shouted.

Bilbo broke away from Balin's grasp and followed the others.

Dwalin stared at the valley before them. It was a scene from a fairy tale, or so he thought. The trees were green and plenty, there were waterfall in the distance, creating a rainbow reflecting off the water.

The triangular roofs and marble architecture did not exactly spell "homely" to Dwalin.

Bilbo looked entranced.

They descended the cliff they stood on, following Gandalf into the Elven City.

Greetings, rude introductions, and food is offered before they are dismissed for bed.

"How have things been with you and Bilbo?" Balin asked.

Dwalin glanced at him, sitting by the fire they made on the veranda. Bifur was roasting a cluster of lettuce over it and Bofur was rolling a cooled, boiled egg in his hand. Bilbo sat between them, staring at the fire.

"As well as can be expected, I guess," Dwalin sighed, crossing his arms. "I don't know what you expect, Balin. And don't you dare bring up anything about my marriage to him—"

Balin frowned. "Dwalin, he's in love with you."

Dwalin opened his mouth to reply. A crash interrupted him and he looked over at the group to see Bofur fall over, laughing. The table Bombur sat had collapsed under him. Bilbo stared at Bofur indignantly.

"He wouldn't have asked you in the first place if there wasn't a bit of attraction."

"I don't know what's gotten into your head to make you think our Burglar is in love with me, but my marriage to him is one of convenience. He's not in love with me. I'm not in love with him."

"Dwalin—"

He strode away from Balin, muttering threats under his breath.

Bilbo is in love with him?

Impossible!

Dwalin entered the room given to him during their stay in Rivendell, closing the door behind him.

He's in love with you.

Dwalin paced the room, deep in thought. The marriage to Bilbo was only one of convenience. Love was not involved at all in his relationship with Bilbo. How could it be?

He collapsed on the bed, staring at his hands. If Bilbo is in love with him, then it was a sort of emotional transference or illusion due to their relationship as spouses.

It was not real.

It couldn't be real.

Someone knocked at the door. It creaked open cautiously.

"Dwalin?" Bilbo stepped into the room. "Are you awake?"

"I'm awake."

"Why's it so dark?" Dwalin didn't answer, letting Bilbo pull the curtains back. Silver moonlight cast the room in a white glow. Bilbo walked to the bed, peering at Dwalin. "Is something wrong?"

"No."

Bilbo climbed up on to the bed. "Dwalin? If…if you want to talk about things bothering you, you can always talk to me. You know that, right?" His fingers barely brushed Dwalin's arm.

Dwalin swatted his hand away. Bilbo blinked, eyes wide and mouth parted slightly. He held his hand, reddening slightly. Dwalin glanced at his offending hand, still armored in knuckle busters.

"Bilbo, I'm—"

Bilbo jumped off the bed and ran, slamming the door behind him.

Dwalin closed his eyes, rubbing his head.

This is a right mess.

Though rare, Dwalin liked his conversations with Bilbo to an extent. But since Rivendell, their talks had become nonexistent. Bilbo avoided even looking at him. Balin had inquired many times before they reached the Mountains what had happened. Dwalin refused to tell him anything. Thorin sent them both nasty looks, demanding answers to why their burglar and his best warrior were not acting like themselves.

And then the storm hit.

When they had escaped the giants and Bilbo clung to the mountainside, Dwalin felt his heart stop—

Thorin jumped down and pushed Bilbo up to safety.

Dwalin caught him and pulled him up. Words of gratitude were forgotten when Thorin yelled at Bilbo. He glanced often at Bilbo, memorizing the dark glaze in his eyes, infuriating him more each time he looked at him.

Once in the cave, Dwalin pulled Thorin aside. "You've no right," he hissed. "It is not his fault he almost fell."

"I know. I'm sorry. I just…" Thorin silenced, looking away.

"Just what?" Dwalin demanded. Thorin ignored him. Dwalin seized his shoulder and pulled his around. "What?" Thorin winced. Thorin never winces. Dwalin's gaze hardened. "Are you in love with my husband?"

"It's not as though you love him in return," Thorin snapped, glaring back. "Until now, you wouldn't even call him 'husband.'"

"He chose me."

"That doesn't mean anything, though, does it? You don't love him. You didn't marry him for love—"

"Would any of us have at the time?"

"All right. You have a point there. But that doesn't change anything. You never show him any affection. You rarely speak to him. And then at Rivendell, before we left, you dared to hit him."

How did Thorin know? "That was an accident."

"An accident? Dwalin, he—" Thorin clenched his teeth. He stared at the ground. "What hurts most is I can't act on it. I never can."

He walked away. Dwalin crossed his arms, watching him go. Thorin called to Bofur, putting him on first watch and Balin on second.

Dwalin stared at Bilbo, curled in the corner toward the back of the cave. He approached and lay beside him. Transference or an illusion brought about their relationship, huh? Dwalin wrapped an arm around Bilbo, pulling him closer. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "Bilbo, I'm sorry."

Bilbo whimpered, burrowing closer to Dwalin and turning around. He buried his face into Dwalin's jerkin. His shoulders shook and his breath felt ragged against Dwalin's skin.

Dwalin petted his hair.

Why did it take almost losing him to make me see?

Time went on and the storm calmed outside.

Bilbo drifted to sleep, lax in Dwalin's arms.

Thorin glanced at them from where he lay, and Dwalin held Bilbo tighter. He hoped it was a loud enough statement. Thorin turned away, scowling.

Dwalin heard creaking. The ground beneath them shook. A blue glow emitted from Bilbo's dagger."Wake up," Dwalin shouted. "Wake up!"

Bilbo started, grabbing his weapon. "Dwalin?"

Dwalin hoisted him to his feet and the ground gave way beneath them.

Goblins surrounded them, grabbing them, pushing them—they were whipped, herded, and beaten. Dwalin tried to get an idea where Bilbo was, but he was gone.

And Dwalin had no idea where.

Chapter Text

Dwalin looked around frantically, trying to catch sight of coppery blond curls. He felt sick when he thought that perhaps Bilbo had fallen when they were caught or perhaps he was stolen away—or fell off the cliff to his death.

Dwalin forced down the worry feeding off of him as they were restrained. They were all trying to push the goblins off them as the goblins drove the torture devices closer. A goblin shrieked, pushing Thorin's elfish sword away.

The goblins screamed and backed away from it. The Goblin King shouted demands to forgo the torture and to kill them.

Two goblins restrained Dwalin, whipping him with chains as they were the others. White light blinded him, blasting the Goblins off.

"Take up arms!" Gandalf ordered, "Fight!" Dwalin reached for his ax, handing Ori his war hammer. The lad couldn't fight off this foe with just slingshots.

They ran, cutting down as many goblins as they could.

"Post!" Dwalin shouted, wrenching a wooden log from its bindings. Fili, Kili, and a few others stood behind him and helped him carry it, knocking down goblins in their way.

They were close. Almost out—the goblin king cut them off, mocking Gandalf.

Gandalf slew the giant, fat, horrifically ugly goblin. The path out of Goblin Town was close, but they had to run. Once out, Dwalin searched. Now in the open, he could see that Bilbo was indeed missing.

"Where is your hobbit?!" Gandalf demanded. His gaze went straight to Dwalin.

"We can't go back for him. It'd be suicide!"

"How could you leave him behind?" Gandalf demanded. "What happened to him?"

"Oh I'm sure he's fine!" Thorin shouted, snarling. "He's thought nothing of his warm hearth and bed since we set out!"

Dwalin doubted it. It did not sound like Bilbo at all. Still, his doubt that Bilbo left gave way to doubt that he still lived.

"No." Bilbo smiled at them. "Sorry. I fell behind. I'm okay."

"How did you get away?"

Bilbo shrugged.

"What does it matter?" Gandalf said, appraising Bilbo.

"It matters," Thorin hissed. "I want to know why you came back."

Bilbo stared at him. "I know you doubt me and always have. I know you question my abilities. And you are right: I do miss the Shire more than I thought I would. But that's why I came back. I have a home, but you…don't, so I'll help you get it back if I can. Besides," he crossed his arms. "What sort of person would I be to leave my family like that?" he asked. He shifted his gaze to Balin and Dwalin.

Balin approached him, clapping his back. "We're glad you're all right, Brother."

Dwalin wasn't sure what to say. I'm glad you're all right. Don't scare me like that again. Are you okay? Are you hurt? There were too many possibilities to what he could say and he couldn't voice bring any of them.

Warg howls bit through the silence. They ran. The night was coming and who knows what would happen next. They ran to the edge of a cliff surrounded by weathered pines.

They climbed up to avoid the Wargs. Dwalin searched for Bilbo, relieved to find him in a tree.

"Azog," Thorin whispered. Dwalin spied the Pale Orc. His blood ran cold.

"Impossible. This is impossible!"

"Why is he alive?"

The wargs attacked the trees, uprooting them. The others jumped to the next tree, which fell over, like dominos. Only one tree was left standing with all of them. Bilbo was on a branch higher up.

"Throw these," Gandalf demanded, handing out flaming pinecones. They lit the ground before them, and managed to hit a few wargs, who ran for water. They felt victorious, but only for a moment. The roots broke and the tree fell, hanging only by a single, strong root.

They hung for dear life, fire burning the dry ground on the cliff. Thorin stood and ran at Azog, knocked down by the white coated bitch Azog rode upon.

Dwalin tried to get off. The branch under him broke and he scrambled to get a hold again. Naked feet, covered in fur, ran past him.

Bilbo pummeled into one of Azog's henchmen, stabbing him in the chest until he died. He stood between Thorin and Azog, the small dagger aglow.

Thorin did not move, strength giving out to the pain.

Azog growled something to the others. Dwalin ran after him, the others following as they could. They rammed into the Orcs and the Wargs.

Dwalin felt claws grab him, dropping him off the cliff and landing on the back of an eagle. Certain of his own safety, he looked about for Bilbo and Balin. Seeing them alive, he sighed.

They flew all night, landing on a rock high above the forest.

"The Halfling?" Thorin demanded.

"Bilbo's here," Gandalf assured him, "He's all right."

Thorin struggled to his feet, staring at Bilbo. "What were you doing?"

Dwalin growled, taking a step toward Thorin. Balin held him back, shaking his head. Dwalin would have to yell at Thorin later—

"I've never been so wrong in all my life!" Thorin embraced Bilbo.

Dwalin sighed. Jealousy burned inside him, though he bit it back. Thorin released Bilbo and they looked at the distance. Any negative emotions Dwalin felt melted away when they spied Erebor in the distance.

"Where exactly are we going?" Dwalin asked when they reached the ground floor.

"To Beorn's, Master Dwalin," Gandalf said. Thorin limped beside him, wincing. "Beorn is a friend of Radagast's. We should be welcomed, I expect."

Bilbo ran to Dwalin's and Balin's side, walking between them.

"What should we expect from him?" Bilbo asked.

"If all goes well, we will have food and shelter."

"And if not?" Leave it to Bilbo to voice their fears.

Gandalf glanced at him, face dark. "We will deal with it if it becomes unfavorable." He smiled. "I have a plan that will make sure this meeting goes in our favor, Master Baggins."

Dwalin sure hoped so.

As the peace of having escaped their predators filled him, he began to wonder what had gone on in Bilbo's head during the Orc attack. Bilbo had not said anything about it. He had not said anything about what happened in Goblin Town, or on the cliff.

He didn't know how to approach it. Straightforward could put him on the defense, and he didn't want Bilbo to pull away from him any more than he already had.

They met with Beorn, the bear-man, who had too much fun calling Bilbo a bunny, which Bilbo huffed at indignantly. He fed them, gave them rooms, and commanded they stay inside while he investigated their story.

Dwalin's curiosity burned and as night came closer, he finally decided to ask.

"So, what happened?" Dwalin asked. He pulled off his knuckle busters. They clattered on the table.

"I got away from the Goblins and found a way out before catching up," Bilbo summarized. He folded his coat, laying it on the chair.

"I meant after all that, with the Orcs. You could have died."

"But I didn't and someone had to help Thorin. He was about to be killed!"

"So you decided to put yourself in danger instead? You're not a warrior, Bilbo, so tell me why you decided to help?"

"It was a spur of the moment decision!" Bilbo snapped. Dwalin backed away, hands up. He had not meant to put Bilbo on the defensive. "Someone had to do something! Most of us were still stuck in the blasted tree! I was small enough to get out of it fast enough and I just…" Bilbo slumped his shoulders, looking at the floor. "I don't know what I was thinking then, Dwalin. I'm sorry I worried you. I just acted."

Dwalin sat on the bed. "I think we need to talk."

Bilbo tensed. "I told you that if you like we can terminate the marriage after the mountain's reclaimed."

Terminate.

Two, almost three months ago, that word was just a word and held no weight.

Now it seemed like a knife plunging into Dwalin's chest.

"That isn't what I want to discuss," Dwalin assured him. "Will you look at me? Or are you still upset about Rivendell?"

Bilbo did not answer, only tensing more. He did not shift his gaze.

Dwalin stood and approached him.

"Bilbo?" Dwalin placed his hand on Bilbo's shoulder and gently turned him.

Bilbo still gazed at the floor.

Dwalin tilted his head up to meet his gaze. Tears streamed down Bilbo's cheeks. "Why are you crying?"

"Does it matter?"

"It matters. What's wrong?"

Bilbo bit his lip, averting his eyes from Dwalin. "I…just…I…" Dwalin brushed away the tears with his thumbs. "I love you," Bilbo whispered. "I don't know when I…before Rivendell…but…"

Dwalin sighed, lowering his hands from Bilbo's face, resting them on his shoulders. "I love you, too." Bilbo blinked. "I was so scared when you almost fell off the mountain, Bilbo. I've never felt that kind of fear before. Then I spoke with Thorin…I got jealous…you don't need to know what we spoke about, but know that our conversation that night…That was when I realized I loved you."

Bilbo stared at Dwalin. "What?"

"I love you, Bilbo. That is what I wanted to talk to you about. I love you. You've no idea what that means for Dwarves. My people…they love strongly and fiercely. We're possessive of what and whom we love by nature. Bilbo, you're brave. You're strong. You're quick on both feet and in mind. And I'm honored to call you my husband. So this time, I ask you if you'd be my husband."

Chapter Text

Seconds felt like minutes.

Bilbo raised one of his hands shakily to Dwalin's beard, lacing his fingers through coarse hair. He leaned in, tentatively pressing his lips to Dwalin's. Dwalin pulled Bilbo closer, returning the kiss. Encouraged, Bilbo wrapped his arms around Dwalin's neck. Dwalin lifted Bilbo into his arms, rising to his feet. He moved to the bed. Bilbo straddled his lap.

Dwalin pulled away. "I take that's a yes?"

Bilbo smiled. "Why wouldn't it be?"

"Are ya sure?"

"I am more than sure, Dwalin."

Dwalin studied Bilbo, feeling nothing short of amazement.

He memorized the lines of Bilbo's mouth, the curve of his nose, and the slant of his eyes. He ran his hair through the copper curls of Bilbo's hair, brushed his fingers over Bilbo's pointed ears, his cheeks and jaw.

Dwalin kissed Bilbo, coaxing his mouth open with his tongue. He slid a hand over Bilbo's waist, pulling at the fabric of Bilbo's shirt.

Bilbo moaned at Dwalin's touch, closing whatever space remained between them—

"Dwalin? Bilbo?" Balin called, rapping the door. Bilbo pushed himself away, staring at the door. Dwalin snarled. "Dinner's ready."

Bilbo turned back to Dwalin. "Hungry?"

"Are you?"

"I'm a Hobbit. I'm always hungry."

Bilbo smiled all night. It was a beautiful sight. If I could see it always…Bilbo looked at Dwalin, noticing him staring. Dwalin returned the smile before Bilbo continued his conversation with Bofur.

"Well this is a pleasant turn of events," Balin said, catching the glance between them. He smirked at Dwalin. "Did something happen?"

"No." Dwalin thought Balin should mind his own business. Nosy brothers shouldn't have so much free rein.

"Looks to me that you're finally accepting you're a married man. Soon you'll be refusing to leave your room and won't let our burglar out either."

"That's not your business, Balin. Keep your nose from where it's not wanted."

"Well fine. Be that way. Just trying to be friendly, brother."

"You're trying to be an annoying busybody, brother." Balin shrugged, turning back to his dinner.

Dwalin caught Thorin's gaze. He motioned to the deck outside before dismissing himself to go outside.

"Thorin wants to talk to you about something?"

"Probably important," Dwalin said, standing. Balin followed. "It's not that important."

"You know what this is about? Not the quest?"

"Not the quest," Dwalin assured Balin, patting his shoulder. He went outside and approached Thorin. "What do you want to talk about?"

Thorin didn't answer. Not immediately. "He seems happier tonight."

"I thought you let this go."

"I said I can't do anything about your marriage to him, despite how much I want to," Thorin hissed. "I never said I wouldn't do what I can—"

"You don't trust me?"

"I don't want to see him hurt, Dwalin."

"Why are you convinced I'll hurt him?"

"You already have! I never want to find him crying in the hallway in the dark hours of the night, Dwalin, not like I did at Rivendell!"

"Rivendell was a month ago."

"So you dismiss it? Do you deny hurting him?"

"No, I don't. I never will deny that. But you have no right to question my marriage! I love Bilbo."

Thorin appraised him, eyes dark and furious.

"So it took me a while to figure it out. But I do love him. And for whatever hurt I put him through before I figured that out, I intend to make it up to him. I know my marriage is unconventional, but that doesn't mean it won't change and it has changed. Honestly, I know now I was scared—"

"And you're not anymore?"

Dwalin scoffed. "I'm terrified," he admitted. "Of all the things I faced, the battles I fought in…nothing has scared me so much as how I feel for Bilbo. I love him. And he loves me."

"Really?" Thorin asked. "Then tell me what it feels like to have your love returned, because to know it's not and to know the one you love belongs to another…" He turned around and headed back inside.

Dwalin pulled him back. "I don't expect it's easy for you, Thorin. By right as the King you can take him from me. But you haven't and I thank you for that, and for being honest with me."

"A king who abuses his power in that way has no right to be king at all." Thorin pulled out of Dwalin's grasp. "Besides, you're my best friend. All I can do is be honest with you, Dwalin. I don't even want to be honest to you at this point, but I'm trying to make the right decisions—"

"Thorin, I appreciate that and I really do understand it's not easy."

"Just stop. Leave me be." He entered the house, doors banging behind him.

Dwalin crossed his arms. He dared not go back inside. Not yet. He found the feelings rolling through his mind difficult to decipher.

He was in love with his husband (nothing wrong about that). His best friend was also in love with his husband. Dwalin wasn't sure what he ought to do about it. He refused to feel guilty about marrying Bilbo and falling in love with him.

Bilbo stepped outside. "Dwalin?" Dwalin turned to him. "Everything okay?"

"Yes," he assured him.

"Beorn said we should stay inside."

"Aye, he did." Dwalin followed Bilbo back inside and they returned to the room they had been given. The door closed behind them.

"Dwalin," Bilbo began. "W—" he clamped his mouth shut, shifting his gaze to the ground, blushing.

"Yes?" Dwalin asked, laying his fur overcoat on the chair.

Bilbo swallowed. He looked up and met Dwalin's gaze. "W-when we were married back in Bag End, you said we were equals."

"We are. What is this about?"

"I think the same, so if you do not object…could we…" his blush returned. "I'm not a virgin."

"Nor am I."

"What I mean is I'm embarrassed for feeling embarrassed asking my husband to have sex with me," Bilbo said, running a shaky hand through his hair. "You've every right to refuse, if you don't want to…"

Dwalin approached him, pushing him toward the bed. "You're sure you want to do this now?"

"Do we know when we'll have another chance?" Bilbo stopped, back resting against the bedpost.

"No, we don't," Dwalin said. He cupped Bilbo's cheek.

He understood Thorin's attraction to their burglar. Perhaps the qualities Dwalin loved about Bilbo Thorin also admired.

Dwalin had known Thorin since they were children. They studied together in warfare, politics—Dwalin could name many times he and Thorin had pulled a fast one on Balin as children.

They fought together at Azanulbizar. Dwalin mourned the loss of Thror, Thrain, and Frerin alongside him.

Dwalin stood by Thorin as he led their people west to Ered Luin, the only mountain pass large enough to hold the Refugees of Erebor who did not have families anywhere else.

How strange it is that two people—two best friends—loving the same person could turn them against each other. He let his hand fall.

"Is something wrong?" Bilbo asked, frowning.

"I don't—"

"Dwalin," Bilbo stomped his foot. "Tell me what's wrong? I know we haven't been together long, but we should at least try to know each other a little better and talking to me about what's bothering you is a good place to start. I know what you like and such, but I want to know everything. I wan to know about the things that bother you also so I can help, if I can." He took Dwalin's hand in both of his. "We can worry about consummating our marriage later."

Dwalin sat on the bed, head bowed. Bilbo sat beside him.

He started in Rivendell, explaining his doubts about Bilbo's love for him, as he did not understand how love can come into a marriage of convenience. He told Bilbo about his conversation with Thorin before Goblin Town in the caves and the one he recently had outside on the patio.

For a long time, Bilbo was silent. "He did well trying to push me away. Now I know why and I can't help feeling grateful."

"Grateful?!"

Bilbo stood on his knees, kissing Dwalin's cheek and locking his arms around his neck. "It may not have been intentional, but would you have realized you loved me back if not for this journey? Would you have kept pushing me away if he said nothing or avoided getting you angry? I'm not saying I like what he's said to you. I don't. If I had confidence enough to dare it, I'd throttle him."

Dwalin smirked. "That'd be interesting to see."

"You're as angry about it as I am, aren't you?"

"Just a bit," he laughed, pulling Bilbo on to his lap. "So I can rest assured that you're mine."

"Indeed you can. And I am quite confident that you are mine as well, Love."

Chapter Text

The smell of fresh, wet pine felt refreshing in Dwalin's lungs.

He laid on his back, an arm behind his head, and the soft mattress warm beneath him as the quilt above. His second arm pinned down by Bilbo's torso.

Bilbo lay half on top of Dwalin, on his stomach. His arm splayed over Dwalin's chest and his head used Dwalin's broad shoulder as a pillow.

Dwalin stared at the ceiling above him, counting the rafters. He stroked Bilbo's back lazily through the cotton shirt he wore.

Bilbo moaned in the back of his throat, snuggling closer to him. He kissed Dwalin's collarbone.

"Are you awake?" Bilbo asked.

"Yes. Don't want to get up, though. These beds are sinfully comfortable."

Bilbo peppered more kisses on Dwalin's chest.

"We don't have to get up."

"For now, no," Dwalin agreed. "But I think, sooner than either of us is going to like, Balin or some other nuisance will be coming to find us and drag our asses out of bed."

"Not if their beds are as sinfully comfortable as ours," Bilbo pointed out, kissing a white scar on Dwalin's ribs. "And if not, I would like to take advantage of—"

"Breakfast is ready!" Beorn boomed, banging on the doors.

"For the love of Mahal," Dwalin growled.

Bilbo groaned, crawling back to the pillows.

"Do we have to get up?"

"Dwalin! Bilbo! We're having poached fish and eggs!" Balin shouted. "Are you two up yet?"

"Looks like it," Dwalin sat up, stretching.

Bilbo flopped on to the bed, wrapping the blankets over him until he was a lumpy ball. "I'm not getting up," he stated. "You'll have to drag me out of bed."

Dwalin smirked, pulling on his breeches. He reached for his jerkin.

"I'm quite content to stay here all day," Bilbo announced.

"Are you, now?"

"Yes." Dwalin pulled the quilt over Bilbo, who squeaked. He tried to steal the quilt back and hide under it again. Dwalin wrapped an arm around Bilbo's waist, lifting him off the bed. "Put me down!" Bilbo demanded. "Dwalin, put me down now!"

"Not until you agree to get ready," Dwalin promised. "And come eat."

Bilbo glowered. "Fine, I'll get ready and have breakfast."

"Good."

"But after which, I'm returning to this bed…until lunch at least."

"Might as well get up then," Dwalin suggested.

"I don't see why," Bilbo stated, staring out the window. "It's dreadful outside! I've not seen rain like this since we climbed the mountain."

"It's not that bad."

"No, it's not, but I'd rather sleep in a warm bed when the weather is this unfavorable."

Bilbo pulled out of Dwalin's arms to dress.

"In Hobbiton, rarely anyone went out in weather like this unless they had to. And never without a cloak! I loathe thinking how I'd fare without one!"

"Probably worse than you already do."

"I had not expected it t be as rough as it is, honestly. I've never been on an adventure before now."

"Clearly," Dwalin laughed.

"I'm sorry," Bilbo huffed indignantly, "but Hobbits aren't accustomed to travelling so far. Erebor may be the farthest a Hobbit's ever gone in his or her life and we've not gotten there yet!"

"You didn't have to come."

"No. I didn't. But I think I would have anyway. And to think how that would have gone! Who knows what I'd forget in the race to catch up!"

Dwalin shrugged and opened the door, pushing Bilbo out while he tried to fix his near-button-less vest. He eventually gave up and let it hang open, fixing his coat over it.

"Bilbo, I'd also like to start teaching basics of combat to you so you can work around that letter opener of yours better."

Bilbo hummed. "I think that'd be wise. I might not get so lucky again."

The others were already gathered around the table, eating eggs and fish, and drinking Dori's tea.

"Good morning, brothers," Balin greeted, smirking at them, "Late night?"

"Shut it," Dwalin snapped, sitting beside him.

Bilbo sat between Dwalin and Kili, selecting a smallish, smoked haddock and an egg to begin with. He noted the muffins and grabbed the bread basket, taking one and passing it to Dwalin.

Dwalin thought on teaching Bilbo how to properly use a sword. Oh, he knew where to begin and how to go about teaching him. He trained many Dwarrows entering the army in warfare. He simply didn't know when to begin training his Hobbit.

Ideally, they'd practice outside where the room was best and the terrain ideal. They wouldn't be fighting indoors, after all, not on the road. However, he didn't want the first lesson to be out in the rain. That would be unpleasant.

Dwalin chewed his food contemplatively.

"A copper for your thoughts?" Balin asked.

Dwalin shrugged.

"Nothing of import."

Teaching Bilbo to use his dagger was actually rather important. He simply didn't want Balin interfering.

Bilbo cleaned his mouth of crumbs with a napkin, more awake than before and smiling, telling Kili a tale of his own youth. Something about pulling a fast one on his cousin Otho or Otto or some other name beginning and ending with an O.

Kili clutched his middle and slumped in his chair, laughing a little too much.

Bilbo giggled as he recalled Otto limping home and rubbing his backside. "Couldn't walk straight for days," Bilbo finished. "The hiding I got from my dad for it was worth it, honestly."

"Oh that's nothing! One time, Fili—"

Dwalin tuned Kili out. He could name a number of humiliating and funny stories involving both brothers. It wasn't anything new.

"You're relationship with Bilbo seems improved," Balin said, attempting to start another conversation.

"It is."

"Well, that's good. Just don't get too sappy, brother. I may be old, but I'm not that old to get disgusted knowing my little brother—"

"Balin, shut up."

"I'm just saying I don't want to see any goo-goo eyes. It'll make me choke something awful."

Bilbo spun his head around to face them. "What in the name of the Valar are you talking about?"

"See, Balin," Dwalin snapped, "this is why you're not allowed to talk."

"Of course I'm allowed to talk. Especially since you two are my brothers. I can mess with the both of you as often as I like."

Bilbo shook his head. "Is this normal?"

"Normal?" Kili asked. He shook his head. Fili walked by them. "It's acceptable. Brothers are nuisances."

Fili paused and glared at Kili before smirking and wetting a finger in his mouth before sliding it in Kili's ear. The younger screamed and Fili ran off, cackling, while Kili chased him, promising many injuries to Fili.

Bilbo watched them, mouth agape. "Really now! Can't they act their age?"

"Have you met a pair of siblings ever able to do so?" Balin asked, grinning. "To be fair, it's a good vengeance when the younger brother grows out of annoying us elder brothers."

Dwalin rolled his eyes. He admitted he had been quite mischievous as a child, especially if it meant riling Balin. He liked to think he grew out of it, though Balin was rather adamant that his current attachment to his brother was a form of vengeance.

It might be.

Bilbo gave him a sympathetic look. "Glad I don't have brothers then," he stated, drinking his tea.

Chapter Text

Going deeper into the forest only caused more trouble for them than Dwalin believed necessary.

They had exhausted their food supply soon after entering and it had caused them much misery. Bombur was not helping any.

Thorin was no better: he was snappier than usual and easily irritated.

Bilbo kept his mouth shut, though his own misery showed.

The deeper into the forest they went, the worse the grumbling. Even Balin had begun to grumble about the lack food and began having the same hallucinatory dreams Bombur had of wondrous feasts.

Thorin took it on himself to yell at both.

"Must they cause us nothing but misery talking about food?" Bilbo mumbled, resting his head between his legs. "It doesn't make the light-headedness or the journey any easier. Besides, whose fault is it we're out of food?"

"Don't start too," Dwalin snapped. "We're all hungry, so keep your mouth shut. The light-headedness will pass."

Bilbo lifted his head as though it was a heavy weight and turned to Dwalin, mouth open and an argument on his tongue.

"What was that?"

"Fires?"

"Perhaps food—"

They snuck closer to find a feast being enjoyed by Elves. But there was food.

Thorin stepped out first, too hungry to cater his prejudices. The elves gasped, staring at him. "Please," he began, "my company and I—" The fires died and all went black.

Dwalin felt something seize him. He tried to break away from the restraining grasp. He felt some sort of sticky rope threading around him, restricting his movements. He felt himself lifted upside down and left to hang. Bilbo…Where's Bilbo? He could not bring his question to voice and lost consciousness.

#

Old fat spider spinning in a tree!

Dwalin thought he must be going mad. He wasn't anywhere near Bilbo and the blood rushing to head must have made him think he was hearing Bilbo taunting spiders. After all, why would Bilbo be foolish enough to draw Spiders off with such a stupid tune?

Old fat spider can't see me!

Yes, Dwalin decided he had finally lost his mind. Shrieking hurt his ears and scurrying passed him.

Attercop! Attercop! Won't you stop, stop your spinning and look for me?

Dwalin wriggled.

Old Tomnoddy, all big body, all Tomnoddy can't spy me!

Attercop! Attercop!

Down you drop!

You'll never catch me up your tree!

The silly nursery rhyme continued. Dwalin wished it'd stop. The lyrics were rather insulting—

Dwalin felt the bonds around him cut and he fell, groaning. "Mahal! What the hell was that for?" He looked about.

Bilbo grinned. "This isn't a good time for sleeping, Love," he said, helping Dwalin back up. "The spiders will be back soon. Can you stand? Can you run?"

"I'm hungry," Dwalin snapped, "not weak." He dusted himself off. "Tell me you weren't singing such ridiculous…"

Bilbo chuckled. "I couldn't come up with anything else fast enough. One was about to eat Bombur."

Dwalin shook his head. "Calling spiders Attercop…that was stupid."

"Like you said: we're all hungry. Besides, it got their temper flaring and themselves away from here—"

"They're back!"

Bilbo winced. "That was faster than I had hoped." He chewed his tongue, brow furrowed. "Okay, everyone get in the clearing and grab a rock to throw. Aim for the head, if you can. I'm going to disappear for a moment and draw them off. You need to run in the opposite direction when you get the chance—"

Dwalin seized his shoulder. "What the bloody hell are you—"

"We don't have time to fight about this!" Bilbo shouted, pulling a ring from his pocket. He slid it on his finger and vanished.

"This way!" Balin shouted, leading the group away into the darkness. They picked up stones and threw them at the furious spiders spurred on by Bilbo's insults. Dwalin heard a clicking sound and turned around to see a spider advancing on the three young ones.

"Fili, Kili, Ori!" he shouted, brandishing his war hammer, "Duck!" The boys obeyed and he swung, bashing the screaming spider away.

"Run!" Bofur shouted, pushing Ori ahead.

The rest followed in suit, breaking through the branches. Dwalin skidded to a halt, looking behind them.

"Brother, we can't delay!"

"Bilbo—"

"I'm here." Bilbo appeared on their left. His dagger brandished in his hand. "Keep going! We've almost lost them." While the others ran, Dwalin did not, his hammer gripped in his hands.

Another spider approached and Bilbo brandished his dagger at it. It paused and the others behind it chittered. Bilbo stepped forward, the spiders backed away, crouching. He slashed the air and the spiders ran.

Once sure the spiders would not return, Dwalin seized Bilbo around the waist and ran. Bilbo clutched the dagger tightly in both hands.

"Thank Mahal!" Balin said. "I thought we lost you."

"Well, you didn't," Dwalin huffed, setting Bilbo down.

He sheathed his dagger and stretched. "Is that a count of two or three times I saved your arses?" he asked cheekily.

"Rather than taunt," Dwalin snapped, "Rid yourself of your adrenaline by hacking a tree with your letter opener."

"Sting just saved us all, so shut up. My sword isn't a letter opener," Bilbo snapped back, heading to the nearest tree.

"Or you could tell us about your disappearing act," Balin suggested.

Bilbo paused. He turned around and blinked. "Erm…well…" He began his tale in Goblin Town, falling off the edge and surviving the fall, engaging a seemingly cannibalistic creature he had dubbed Gollum in a game of riddles and winning the ring as well as having the vile creature lead him the way out.

After the tale, everyone silenced and some were drifting to sleep. Dwalin pulled Bilbo aside. "Why didn't you mention this before?"

Bilbo bit his cheek. "I forgot..."

"Forgot?"

"Well, after I found you all again, we were a bit busy running from Orcs and trying not to get eaten by Wargs and then I was trying not to die in I don't know how many ways, and then I was holding on for dear life atop an Eagle and then everything calmed down and...yeah, I think forgetting is a reasonable thing to happen. It's good I remembered I had it, though..."

Dwalin sighed. Irked though he was, he was glad for the ring's existence. Satisfied with this explanation, he did a quick headcount and frowned. "Where's Thorin?" he asked.

Those drifting woke again, looking about for their missing leader.

"I swear I got everyone!" Bilbo shouted at them when they accused him of leaving Thorin behind. "I swear it! I didn't see Thorin anywhere with the Spiders—"

"What about the Elves?" Bombur suggested. "Maybe he's with them."

Which, if one thinks about it, is a worse fate. They decided to not assume anything until they found Thorin. Dwalin pulled Bilbo aside. "You're sure he wasn't with us?"

"I'm sure I got everybody who was with the spiders," he assured him. "If Thorin was there, I would have gotten him down to." He silenced, his eyes staring past Dwalin. Dwalin turned around to see an arrow pointed at him, strung to the bow held by an Elf guard. When Dwalin looked next, Bilbo was gone.

Again.

Chapter Text

They had each been pulled away from each other into different cells.

Time in this small cage is unnumbered. Dwalin thought he'd die of boredom, since hunger is sated. The Elvenking was kind enough for that at least.

"Which dwarf are you?" Dwalin perked up staring at the door. "It is a Dwarf I speak to and not some other unfortunate prisoner?"

"Bilbo?"

"Dwalin!"

Dwalin approached the door and peered out the bars. "I can't see you. Your ring?"

"You don't expect me to not wear it in this place, do you?"

"I suppose not. Tell me you know how to get us out."

"I'm afraid not. Besides, I haven't found everyone yet. Just six of us. It's been about seven or eight days now, Love." Only a week!? Dwalin had guessed a year! "Dwalin?"

"It's really been so short a time?"

"I would think it'd be a long time," Bilbo said, "More than I could handle."

"I'm going a tad mad here," Dwalin admitted. He felt an invisible hand against his cheek.

"I'm going to get us out. I don't know how, but I will get us out as soon as I know where everyone is. And we'll find Thorin after we do, if he is not already here."

"Bilbo, be careful."

"I will be." His hand slipped away.

The days were less boring with Bilbo coming to check on him.

The hours did not seem so long when Bilbo was with him. Dwalin snuck him food from his own meals, though he was sure Bilbo probably had found the kitchens by now and had a merry time driving the cooks off the walls stealing food.

Bilbo would come and go, ever invisible to prying eyes. Not even around Dwalin, for fear of someone coming, did he remove his magic ring.

"I found all of them," he announced on the thirteenth day. "Thorin is here as well. He's fine."

"Have you a way to get us out?"

"I'm working on it as fast as I can. I'd like to see you sneak out thirteen dwarves and most of you aren't that tiny or have items that make you invisible."

"No need to gloat."

"I'm stating the obvious. Not gloating. You'll know when I'm gloating, Dwalin."

Dwalin sighed. "Can we not fight? It seems to be the only thing we do since we entered the forest."

Bilbo was silent for a long time.

"You're right. I'm sorry. It's been quite stressful. Everyone's been asking what my bloody plan is and blows up in my face when I tell them I don't have one yet."

"You'll figure it out."

"Before Durin's Day?"

Dwalin remained silent. He wasn't sure he should give him false hope. "Well…it'd be preferable…"

"Your confidence is overwhelming."

"I'll just shut up, then."

"I'm not angry," Bilbo sighed. "But I am afraid I'm stumped at what to do and the days have not been kind so far."

Dwalin wished he could see Bilbo. He wished he could hold him and kiss him. But as it was…

"In battle," Dwalin began, "using your brain is as necessary as your strength. That is why when favor turns against you, you pull away and regroup. War is often avoided by selecting champions to fight for the king instead of risking the lives of thousands of soldiers. But when it cannot be avoided, you have to fight to the last man and sometimes that means stopping to think first. And when that happens, every soldier needs to be as alert as possible. With this in mind, take a few hours to rest, Bilbo. When you are as rested as you can possibly be, try again. You may have better luck."

"You're sure?"

"I'd rather you rest than be strung as tight as you are."

He felt a hand touch his cheek again.

"Thank you, Dwalin. I'll be right here against the wall. I can't remove the ring at the moment, but…"

"I understand. Sleep."

Dwalin shared his breakfast with a more amiable Bilbo the next morning after it had come.

Bilbo's only complaint was a tingly and chilled butt and a sore back, but otherwise, he was awake and far less stressed than before.

He did not see Bilbo again that day. Or the next. Or the day after.

Dwalin began to worry when his door swung open. Balin stood in the door with Fili, Kili, Nori, Bofur, and a very visible Bilbo.

"Come on," he said, grinning, "Hope you like water."

Dwalin followed, getting the gist of the plan from Balin and briefly thought Bilbo had lost his mind.

They set free Bombur next, then Oin, Nori, Bifur, Gloin, Ori, and finally Thorin.

"Okay, is that everyone?" Bilbo said while Thorin took a head count. "Good. Now, unless someone has a better idea, we're escaping via barrels."

They stared at him.

Yep, Dwalin thought, off his rocker.

"You're trying to kill us again," Nori accused.

"We'll get battered on the rocks!"

"Well, fine!" Bilbo shouted, glaring. "Then let's go back to your cells and you can wait there until someone comes up with a better plan, but maybe I won't be so kind in getting us out next time. Think on that."

With no other option available, they followed Bilbo. They passed by two out cold elves. One was the captain of the guard. Bilbo returned the keys, smirking mischievously as he did.

Getting into the barrels was not fun (Dwalin's shoulders were quite cramped and the hunching could not be good for his back), but each dwarf managed to fit in one. Dwalin only hoped Bilbo managed to get in one of his own.

He heard mumbling and rolling. Then he was rolling. He heard a splash and felt chilled all over as little streams of water seeped through the otherwise tight barrel.

Dwalin did not know for how long they were in the water. It seemed like hours to him. He felt his barrel caught and dragged ashore. He heard more mumbling and groaning. He had half a mind to join them. His barrel was leaking and the de-leaking was slow if at all. He was cold and cramped.

It seemed like hours more before his barrel opened and he crawled out. Balin had fared no better, his hair and beard curled and tangled evilly. Dwalin figured his beard was in a similar state. Balin had sprawled on the ground, grumbling at the chill.

"Get up and help!" Thorin snapped wrenching another top off a barrel and helped Bifur out.

"Help yourself," Balin snapped. "Leave this old man alone."

"Dwalin!"

"I'm more inclined to agree with my brother, thanks."

Thorin sent an exasperated look in Bilbo's direction as he pulled Fili out. Fili sprung at another barrel to release Kili, also annoyingly dry, and Dwalin growled at the boy's dryness.

He glared at Bilbo.

"Don't look at me like that!" he snapped. He was wet, slowly drying, but still very wet. And shaking. Dwalin felt he was looking at a cold, wet pup. "We're out and alive, aren't we? And your complaints are ridiculous. I couldn't get in a blasted barrel, so consider yourself lucky."

Most of them were water-logged and shaking. Bombur was out cold. Dwalin stood, managing to pull a sneezing Bilbo into his arms in hopes of warming him.

"Even if the journey was less than favorable," Thorin began, "We do owe you our lives again, Bilbo."

Bilbo sneezed again. "You're welcome."

"Where to now?"

"Lake-town," he suggested, sniffing. Bilbo leaned into Dwalin's chest, searching for more warmth.

Thorin looked about for any other suggestions. Finding none, he turned to Fili and Kili, calling them to him. He turned his gaze to Dwalin and Bilbo. "Master Baggins, would you care to join us, seeing as you are as well as us."

Bilbo sneezed again. "If I must, but I'm not sure I'm as well as you three."

Chapter Text

Dwalin carried Bilbo away from the feast. Bilbo was shivering against him, though Dwalin had him wrapped in two cloaks.

"Sorry," he mumbled.

Bilbo's voice sounded clogged and a little nasally. He hadn't sounded like this since the beginning of their adventure when he was beset with allergy induced colds.

Dwalin opened the door to their room and set him down on the bed.

"Try to get some rest, ghivasha."*

Bilbo sniffed again and turned on his side, breathing through his mouth.

Dwalin waited for Bilbo to fall asleep before leaving. He closed the door behind him and returned to the feast.

Thorin met him at the end of the hall.

"How is he?"

"He's sleeping."

"I'll send Oin up later with medicine for him."

"Thanks."

They returned to the feast. Everyone interested in Bilbo's wellbeing asked after him. Dwalin assured them he'd be fine. It was just a cold.

Bilbo fared no better the next day. Or the day after when the cold became a nasty fever. Oin insisted on Bilbo drinking chamomile tea and chicken broth which Dori brewed for him. Dwalin would give him the herbal tea and soup when he woke. Bilbo would often go back to sleep after.

Heavy, labored coughing often escaped his throat. Sneezing left him complaining of his poor, pounding head.

The fourth day, though his throat and nose still revealed how much he had left to recover, the worst was over. "Cab I had sub borridge?" he asked Dwalin that morning. "I beel boats bedder ab I'b humbry."

Dwalin kissed his forehead.

"Of course. Be back soon."

He left, heading to the kitchen to fulfill Bilbo's request.

"How's he doing?" Balin asked, munching on bacon.

Dwalin grinned. "He wants to eat."

"Wonderful! The people have been mighty curious about our Hobbit. I'm sure they'll be glad to hear Bilbo's doing better."

Dwalin nodded, setting the hot bowl on a tray with a cup of tea.

"You know, I never thought to ask. What will you and Bilbo do when the quest is over and the ceremony is made official?"

"I'll leave that to him," Dwalin decided. "If he wants to stay here, then we'll stay. If not, we may return to the Shire instead."

Balin hummed. "I had thought that might be the case. I had hoped you may join me in the attempt to reclaim Moria, but I understand you wouldn't want to do that."

Dwalin turned to him. "We haven't gotten Erebor back yet and already you're thinking of another campaign there?"

"Why does that surprise you?"

"Balin, it is folly. Khazad-Dum is lost. Let it stay lost."

Balin frowned. "You're married. You are content with your life, Dwalin. I am glad that you can feel that. I cannot. It will not be immediate, but I would like to look back and say that though Azanulbizar was a disaster, the second attempt gave us the victory we hoped for."

"We almost died there. Thousands of our kin died there. I do not want to hear my brother has died in another fool attempt to reclaim Moria. It is too close to Gundebad and Gram. I am asking you as a brother. Not as a soldier. Give it up."

Dwalin left, carrying the tray to his room. Bilbo opened the door for him, dressed in trousers and a shirt. Though he looked better, his nose was still very red. "You're supposed to be resting."

"I fink free bays ov dad iz ebnuff," he said.

Dwalin set the tray on the table.

Bilbo jumped on to the seat ands shifted to make himself comfortable.

"Fanks for bvrekfist."

"You're welcome." Dwalin replied, fixing his knuckle dusters on his hands and fastening his cloak. "I suppose asking you to rest more is out of the question."

"Id iz."

"Then don't stress yourself, Bilbo."

"I cab do dad."

"Good. I'm going to town with Thorin and the boys. Would you like something?"

"Orbges wood be bise."

"Oranges. Got it." Dwalin kissed the top of his head. "I'll be back soon."

"Dake care."

Dwalin closed the door, heading back downstairs. Thorin snapped at Fili and Kili, telling them to settle down. He glanced at Dwalin. "I thought you'd stay behind with Bilbo, since he's doing better."

"He'd probably kill me if I coddled him too much. Besides," Dwalin grinned. "I've been told to buy oranges."

"Ooh," Kili said, "I know a good fruit stand by the river: best apples I've tasted!"

"I said oranges."

"If their apples are good, then so will their oranges."

Dwalin rolled his eyes at Kili's logic, but it wouldn't hurt to take a look.

Inside the inn was fairly lit and their rooms were fairly cool. Outside, the late summer sun-kissed pale skin tan. The streets were hot with bodies and loud with voices. Dwalin let Kili show him the stand. After sampling an orange himself, Dwalin bought five more for Bilbo.

"Uncle has been different for a while," Kili said.

Dwalin glanced at the youth, wondering what had possessed Kili to bring that up.

"I thought you might know why. Fili says it's just the stress of the journey but I'm not so sure. Uncle looks fine when he's around us, but I've caught him alone before. He looks sad, Dwalin. I thought I'd ask you on what to do. I'm worried." Kili blinked at him innocently.

Dwalin doubted Kili knew anything. He wasn't a child anymore, but he was old enough to still be a little naïve and forgiven for it. It helped that Kili had a tendency to have his head in the clouds. "I'm afraid there isn't anything that can be done except leave him alone. You're uncle's going through a rough patch which only time can ease, Lad."

Kili bowed his head and pouted.

Time, and Bilbo and I leaving after this journey is over, Dwalin thought. He wondered if he could live in the Shire. Or would Bilbo object to going further to Ered Luin?

"I hope you're right, Dwalin," Kili said. Fili waved him over and he parted ways with Dwalin to join his brother and Ori.

Dwalin returned to the inn. Bilbo seemed not to have moved from the desk, though the tray Dwalin had brought up was gone. "I'm back," Dwalin set the oranges down.

Bilbo glanced at them. He turned to Dwalin. "Danks," he said, and then returned his attention to what he was doing.

Dwalin peered over his shoulder at the journal. "What is this?"

"I'b dinking ov documending our churny. So I ab. Dough I don't dink I can gif id duh sabe chustish Ori cab, id'll be good ebnuff for hobbitsh. Ab b'fur you say I shood be reshting, I ab—" Bilbo covered his mouth to block his still very awful cough. Dwalin poured him a glass of water. "Danks…" Bilbo sipped the water, his voice sounding croakier than before.

"Go back to bed."

"I hab slept ebnuff. I'll be fine, Dwalin."

Dwalin sighed. He picked Bilbo up, despite his protests and set him on the bed. "Please don't make this any more difficult. I don't know how long we'll be here and I'd rather you be fully recovered when we make for the mountain."

Bilbo glared at him, but obeyed, lying down on his side.

Dwalin kissed his forehead, lying beside him. Bilbo tried to push him away. "I don'd wand you cashing by colb," he said in his defense when Dwalin pulled him back. He coughed again, though not as violently.

Dwalin rubbed his back. "I haven't caught a cold since I was a lad, Bilbo. I'm rather confident in my immunity."

Bilbo mumbled incoherently, falling back sleep with face buried in Dwalin's chest. His breathing did not seem so labored now, despite still being rather nasally.

Chapter Text

Bilbo hid his head under his cloak, trying to keep warmer by nestling into Dwalin's coat. Rain beat down over them, rendering their cloaks nearly useless.

"Of all the days we could have left, the weather couldn't have been favorable?" Bilbo muttered.

"Seems not," Balin tutted, "but rain is rain and dreary though it is, we won't let it stop us."

"It seems determined to stop me at least, then."

They docked on land and mounted their ponies.

Bilbo was reluctant to leave the nest of Dwalin's warmth, and Dwalin just as reluctant to release him, but he kept a steady eye on him and Balin as they lead the pony bearing their provisions.

Another cold and dreary day passed when they finally arrived in the ruins of Dale.

They paused there, as night was closing in around them again. They took shelter in an abandoned house when another drop of rain bore the warning of another shower.

Crows flapped and cawed ominously outside.

Bilbo drove his own lack of spirit away by reviewing the maps Thorin had brought. He found some comfort in them, judging from the small smile playing on his lips despite how much he shook from the cold.

Dwalin kept a wary watch on Bilbo as he did so.

Thorin smoked his pipe in the corner, hunched against the wall. Dwalin approached him. "You look ill."

"Too many memories," Thorin answered. "I am back and yet I am afraid to go back into the mountain. What will happen when I do?"

"I cannot say."

Thorin looked at him. "Do you think I'll go mad like my grandfather? That madness is in me. It's in my whole line and I've never been more frightened of it than I was before this moment."

"I think that is on you, Thorin. That sort of madness cannot be inheritable. If it takes you, it is because you let it take you."

"Then I must not let it take me."

"For now, I think it wiser to worry about the dragon. Not dragon-fever."

It was three more days until they reached the mountain.

Fili, Kili, and Bilbo went in search of the door. Bilbo led the way. He returned to beckon the others with them, though Bofur and Bombur were left to guard the ponies.

They waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Dwalin was beginning to despair as much as the others and Bilbo kept examining the stones, frowning. He dared not to ask what had caught his husband's attention, not able to bring himself to care.

"Perhaps we should try the front," he suggested to Bilbo. "You're small enough to enter."

"No," Bilbo said. "We will find a way in. If I'm not mistaken, Durin's Day has not yet passed."

"No, it hasn't, but at this rate..."

"If we have truly missed the day, then I will try the front gate, but even if I am small enough, I am not very keen on it. And if you haven't noticed," he crossed his arms. "I have become the company's temporary wizard and even then, my efforts are little appreciated—"

Crack! Crack! Crack!

They turned to the door.

A large thrush, black with a yellow speckled chest beat a snail against the rock.

The sun dipped lower.

"Get Thorin," Bilbo said.

Dwalin did so, waving at them to come.

Thorin took the key out, ready to find the lock. When the last glimpse of sunlight shone over the keyhole, he jammed the key into the slot. The door snapped open, scraping into the passage when they pushed against it.

The entrance was darker than any cave they have yet been in, and what lay within was more dangerous than any goblin they have faced.

Bilbo stepped inside. "I'll be back soon," he said, entering the dark cave.

Balin and Dwalin kept watch while the others waited.

Bilbo returned after a good half an hour with a gold chalice in his hands. It passed from hand to hand. "Now what?" he asked, shaking slightly. "I would like to sleep a little, personally."

"As you should," Balin said, clapping his back. "You've earned it, Brother."

The cup passed its inspection by Dwalin before he passed it to Bofur, enveloping Bilbo in his arms. The mountain rumbled beneath their feet. "What was that?" Bilbo asked.

"Dragon!" Gloin shouted.

"Bofur! Bombur!" Bifur shouted.

"Get them up," Thorin shouted, "And get into the tunnel! Now!"

Once everyone was inside, they hid there, mourning the loss of their ponies (again). "Now what?" Bilbo asked.

"We have no choice but to wait out his wrath."

"And whose fault is that?" Gloin asked, giving Bilbo a scathing look.

Dwalin gnashed his teeth.

Bilbo narrowed his eyes. "I did what I had been hired to do. So keep your griping to yourself, Mr. Gloin. I'm only one and I'm hardly able to slay a dragon, but I'm sure a number of warriors here are quite capable to do the deed." Rightly reprimanded, Gloin bowed his head.

"Now what?" Thorin asked Bilbo.

"I've no idea, but I can perhaps check to see if there's a way to get rid of Smaug. Though I don't think there will be much other use I can do as there's no possible way for me to smuggle the rest of the treasure out."

The others agreed to this plan for the time being. Dwalin glanced at the end of the tunnel leading into the treasury. "I'm not sure I like that plan of yours, Bilbo."

"I don't like it any more than you. But if you've any suggestions, feel free to speak them," Bilbo said, kissing his cheek. "I'll be careful. Promise."

Bilbo returned, sprinting out the door, covered in sweat and his legs shook beneath him. A few burns covered his legs and arms.

"Are you all right?"

"Remind me never to end any kind of interrogation with a dragon by laughing at them."

Dwalin fought down his relieved laugh, though he knew he should be furious. He should have guessed the adrenaline rush that would have overcome Bilbo down there would have led to something not smart.

A few minutes passed, as they waited for Smaug to leave again and attack. When he did, they trapped themselves in the tunnel. They rested there, beginning to despair again as their new stash of rations dwindled.

Bilbo stood, while the others despaired. "I'm going down again. I think you should come with me this time, gentlemen." Dwalin arched an eyebrow at Bilbo, but they followed one by one, guided only by the Hobbit. The passage was completely dark. A few minutes of walking passed until Bilbo slipped, gasping.

"Bilbo?" Dwalin whispered.

"Careful!" Bilbo grunted. "Watch your step. I think we're here. Can anyone make a light?"

A few more minutes passed. Dwalin and the others stepped carefully down into the treasury. When light finally lit the hall, glittering on the gold, Dwalin felt his breath stolen away at the vast treasure.

Had there really been this much before?

Dwalin caught Bilbo pocketing something, but then he went of deeper into the catacombs and winding passages. He decided to ask him what he found later. Thorin seemed to have a glimmer in his eye which left Dwalin uneasy as Thorin dove into a pile, scraping away at it with his hands. "Thorin?"

"I'm fine," he said, sounding far from assuring. "I'm home. I'm—" Dwalin seized his arm, a chainmail shirt clutched in Thorin's hand. It wouldn't fit either of them. Thorin examined it and handed it to Dwalin. "For your husband. It'll fit him better than the rest of us here."

"Are you sure you're all right?"

"Huh? Yes! Yes, I'm fine."

Chapter Text

News of Smaug's death the next morning met them with great rejoicing. Four more days led to travelers from Mirkwood and Laketown.

Dwalin watched the encampment below with Balin. "What do you think they want?" Bilbo asked, approaching them.

"Gold," Balin said. "What else? And not theirs to take either."

"Well, I understand why the Elvenking has no claim to it, but don't the men of Laketown need a little gold to rebuild what Smaug had destroyed in his latest attack? Maybe even to rebuild Dale? Make it inhabitable again?"

"That is not for us to decide," Balin said. "But for Thorin."

"Thorin has gone mad," Bilbo snapped. Balin rounded on him, glaring. Dwalin kept his gaze fixed on the camps below. "They need the money. What has possessed him to not give it? Has all charity he once had, little though it may seem to me, fled? Or is greed really the way of Dwarves?"

"What would a Hobbit know?" Balin shouted. Bilbo backed away slightly, startled. "Thorin is our king and I trust his judgment."

Bilbo drew himself up to full height. "I beg your pardon, Brother, but Thorin is your king. Not mine. I owe him no allegiance outside the quest which is over." Dwalin tensed. "Tell my you have not seen him acting off. He keeps digging around the gold like a man possessed! Surely you both have more reason than that. He trusts your word more than mine. I had tried to reason with him already and he would not hear me. He has lost his mind!" Balin strode away. "Balin!"

"Let him be," Dwalin said.

"Why would you let him trust in Thorin when Thorin has all but lost his mind over searching for that damn stone?" Bilbo asked. He stood beside him. "Dwalin, please explain to me what is going on? You've seen it too, haven't you?"

"I have."

Bilbo touched his arm. "Dwalin, look at me and tell me everything is okay. Try to tell me to my face that everything is all right." Dwalin ignored him, pulling away. "Dwalin?"

"Thorin is my king and best friend. Even if you owe him no loyalty, I do."

"I am sorry if you think I've spoken out of turn, but even if I was loyal to Thorin as a subject is to his king, must I also keep my mouth shut when something is clearly wrong?"

"This is normally done, yes."

"Do you feel that if I am not loyal to Thorin, then I am not loyal to you? Nothing could be farther from the truth!" A moment passed in silence. "Dwalin, at least look at me when we're talking." He kept his gaze on the camps below. "Look at me, Dwalin," Bilbo begged. "You think I haven't noticed? Dwalin, look at me! Do you even see me anymore? It's been two days, Love. I'm not wearing my ring, so why…" Bilbo took his hand in both of his. "Is it the gold? Or is it Thorin?" he asked. "Dwalin? I'm sorry if I upset you. I would never ask you to choose between me and Thorin. I love you, but you haven't so much as given me the time of day."

Dwalin still did not comply.

Bilbo released his hand and left.

The next morning, they stood behind Thorin as he again argued with Bard, who presented the Arkenstone.

"How did you come by it?" Thorin demanded.

"We did not steal it," Bard assured him.

"I did," Bilbo piped. "I gave it to them." The words hit the company as a tidal wave breaking the shore. Dwalin stared at Bilbo as if he was really seeing him for the first time. "It seemed like the right thing to do," he said, "Considering no one would listen to reason when I tried to present it."

Thorin seized him, shaking him. Bilbo kicked and thrashed, tearing at Thorin's hands. "You rat! You—you undersized—burglar!" He held Bilbo over the wall. "I WILL THROW YOU TO THE ROCKS!"

Dwalin could not move. For shock of Bilbo's betrayal or fear of his demise, he could not say. He felt as though the very bones in him had frozen to ice.

Thorin did not do as he had threatened, on behalf of the wizard below. Bilbo left without another word. Thorin paced the treasury, face scrunched in anguish and his hands shook. He turned on Dwalin, slamming his fist into Dwalin's cheek.

"Thorin!" Balin shouted, trying to restrain him.

Thorin pushed him off and hit Dwalin again. Dwalin clenched his fists and his jaw, and allowed Thorin to hit him. Several others tried to pry him off, but Thorin tore out of their grasp and continued to slam his fist into Dwalin's cheek. Dori pulled him off, locking Thorin's arms behind his back.

"Why are you here?" Thorin shouted at him. "Why do you stay here when I threatened the life of your One? Why do you not threaten my life for what I did?" His voice calmed to a sort of choking sound, thick and heavy. "I almost killed your husband, so why have you not left?"

Dwalin looked at his feet. "I don't know."

"Did I not tell you I would make you rue it if you dared hurt him again?"

"I'm not the one who hurt him this time," Dwalin spat. He sighed. "At least…I'm not the only one who hurt him…" Dwalin left the treasury, leaning against the wall outside. He still felt numb from all that had passed.

Look at me!

Why do you not go to him?

Dwalin closed his eyes, hiding behind his hand. Without another word to anyone, he left the mountain. Night closed around them by the time he arrived in the camp. "Halt!" He did so. The guards approached. Dwalin held his hands up to show he had no weapons and slowly brought them to his hood. "You are one of the Dwarves in the Mountain."

"I was. I would like words with the Hobbit."

"And what words would you exchange with him?"

Dwalin gnashed his teeth. Men were not kind to same-sex relationships. They did not like what they did not understand. "Words of peace," he said. "I mean only to apologize on my King's behalf, and on my own."

"It's all right. Let him in." Bilbo stepped closer. "Your king would do well to give his apologies himself, but I will listen to yours." Dwalin approached.

Bilbo's eyes are red rimmed and puffy, but it was unnoticeable in the dark. He led Dwalin to a tent, empty save for a cot piled with blankets. No words came. Not yet.

"Bilbo—" A cup flew at him, Dwalin ducked.

"How dare you come here! How dare you! Go back to the Mountain and leave me alone!"

Dwalin seized Bilbo's wrists. Bilbo tried to pull out of Dwalin's significantly stronger grasp. Dwalin pulled him closer, kissing him despite the pain it gave from the forming bruises Thorin gifted him.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry, my treasure. I'm so sorry," he whispered, afraid to let Bilbo go. Dwalin fell to his knees. "Forgive me, though why should I be forgiven for ignoring you as I did?"

Bilbo had stopped struggling, opting to glare at Dwalin instead. "I'm still waiting for your case, Dwalin. As you have said, why should I forgive you? Have I ever once been disloyal to you? Have I done something to justify your actions of late?" Bilbo's voice shook. Perhaps from rage. Perhaps from sorrow. Dwalin thought it was most likely both. "Thorin was about to kill me and you just stood there and watched! Earlier, I begged you to look at me because you had not done so for days! I had thought we had gone back to where we began before the Thunder Battle!"

"Bilbo, I was horrified when he did that. I could not move and I regret not doing something. As for before, I have no justification for that. I do not know what came over me."

"I DO!" Bilbo screamed, pounding his fists on Dwalin's chest. "IT WAS THE BLASTED, THRICE-ACCURSED GOLD! I AM YOUR HUSBAND, FOR THE LOVE OF THE VALAR! I THOUGHT THAT MEANT SOMETHING TO YOU! OR WAS I THE ONLy…the only one who…who…" Bilbo pressed his face against Dwalin's neck, his small body convulsing and broken sobs escaping his throat. "I loved you," Bilbo wept. "How could you?" Dwalin's throat felt constricted. "I thought you loved me too."

"I do love you," Dwalin said, pushing him back so he could look at him. "I do love you, Bilbo. I want to make it up to you, if I can." He wiped away Bilbo's tears with his thumbs.

Bilbo pulled away again, shying away from Dwalin's touch. Though he wanted to pull him back into his embrace, Dwalin let him escape. Bilbo crossed his arms, staring at the floor. More tears stained his flushed cheeks and his deep red lips gasped for air that would not come easily. Mucus dripped from his nose.

Dwalin sighed. "You are angry. I know you are angry You have every right to be angry. I have not been a good husband from the start of this journey, though I have tried. Bilbo, I have tried and I will always try to do better than I have been. I cannot promise to be perfect or ideal. But I am in love with you and you hold my heart. You have been far more careful with me than I have been with you…" He felt he was ranting. Would anything he said reach Bilbo or did it fall on the deaf ears of his furious husband? "I am sorry I did not stop Thorin. I am sorry I ignored you. I am sorry I took so long to follow you. I am sorry I let you come on this quest. I am sorry you—"

"I chose you. So don't say you're sorry I married you. I chose you, Dwalin, and then I fell in love with you. I don't even know if I would have fallen in love with you if not for our marriage. Or do you know if we'd be here now if we were never wed?"

Dwalin could not say they would. If they had not wed, Thorin would have felt free to pursue Bilbo and probably would have. Thorin would have been here instead if he was able to swallow his pride long enough to grovel at Bilbo's feet.

Which, being Thorin, didn't seem likely…

"I should have married someone who I could trust with my heart," Bilbo spat.

Dwalin's chest felt it had been fitted in armor far too tight. His blood felt cold. In two strides, he could be close enough to seize Bilbo and—

He schooled his rage. "Do you regret marrying me?" Why am I digging this hole?

"Right now, yes," Bilbo admitted. "You chose Thorin over me when he could not be trusted. You chose gold over me. How can I trust you love me as you say you do when you have proven more than once that words have no meaning when they come out of duty?"

Dwalin approached, seizing Bilbo's shoulders. Bilbo gasped, looking at him with wide eyes.

"Bilbo Baggins, I have not lied to you once!" he barked. "My marriage to you was not out of duty! I easily could have said no! I easily could have kept my mouth shut! I have been nothing but honest about how I feel for you! I love you! I am honored to call you my husband! More than I thought I would be!" His grip slackened. "I'm here now," he said softly. "I know forgiveness is a long ways away, but I am with you. I will not and cannot say I never felt regret, but as I am now, I can't regret our marriage at all. I have changed in ways I had not expected to change. Bilbo," he released one of Bilbo's arms, cupping his cheek. "Let me fix what I broke. Will you let me make it right again? I don't want to lose you when I'm still learning all there is about you."

Bilbo leaned against him, whimpering. Dwalin picked him up and sat on the cot, rocking Bilbo in his arms.

Chapter Text

Dwalin woke the next morning to sunlight pooling through the tightly woven holes in the tent.

Bilbo still slept beside him, one arm tucked under his torso and the other resting on Dwalin's chest. His chest rose and fell easier than it did the night before, though the skin around his eyes were still noticeably puffy.

Dwalin ran his hand through Bilbo's coppery curls. His thumb brushed against the pointed pinna of Bilbo's ear. Bilbo groaned, mumbling under his breath and pressing closer to Dwalin's torso. His hand moved down to Bilbo's back, lightly stroking it.

Bilbo opened his eyes, only to close them, groaning again.

"Awake?"

"Sadly, yes. Wish I weren't. I'm still mad at you."

Dwalin figured as much. He traced circles in Bilbo's lower back. "It was difficult enough getting you to stop yelling. Gives me an idea of how long it might take to get back on your good side."

Bilbo's hand grasped at Dwalin's jerkin, his knuckles white from the tight hold. Dwalin pried his hand off and kissed his fingers. "Do you intend to return to the mountain?" Bilbo asked.

"No," Dwalin promised. "Belated or not, I'm here to stay. I'm not so easy to get rid of."

Bilbo sat up, his hand still grasped in Dwalin's. He stared at him, as though trying to read his mind and sift truth from lie. He leaned down, pressing his mouth to Dwalin's. He slipped his tongue out to beg entrance which Dwalin obliged—

"Bilbo?" The flap flew open and Gandalf stepped in. He paused, staring at them. "My apologies," he said, moving back out. "We'll discuss our tactic later." The flap fell back down.

"Tactic?" Dwalin asked, getting up. Bilbo followed. They left the tent. "Wizard, what do you mean tactic?"

Gandalf harrumphed.

"Thorin is still being stubborn," Bard sighed, crossing his arms.

"His pride is wounded," Dwalin snapped. "Of course he's going to be stubborn. It will be a long time before he decides to dare attempt anything close to peace talk."

"We do not have time. Dain has already arrived," Thranduil said. Dwalin glared at him. Thranduil shifted his gaze to him. "Perhaps you could make your companions see reason?"

"You're mistaking me for my brother, Elf." Dwalin crossed his arms, snarling at Thranduil. Bilbo grabbed his forearm, urging him to relax.

"What does that mean, Dain's arrived?"

"It means we are facing a battle for the gold," Thranduil answered.

"I beg your pardon, your majesty, but what is your stake in the claim?" Bilbo asked.

Thranduil studied him. "You are who bested my prison?"

"I am."

The Elvenking did not move for a long time, appraising Bilbo. "My forest is dying and nearly dead, Hobbit. My people cannot stay there. We make for the forests of the West and South. Already my son resides in the halls of Elrond and I mean to join him. However, I have longed for Valinor. Their call is strong and it is best I go now. The journey is long and, like the Dwarves of Erebor many years ago, our home is robbed of us. We need the gold to provide for ourselves. We are a proud people—"

"Our people," Dwalin snarled, "called on you for aid and you did not grant it."

"I did not help rid the dragon. Had your people come to the Greenwood instead of go a-wandering, I would have been quite willing to give them aid. We are sensible. Not cruel."

"Throwing a company of starving Dwarves in prison—"

"My people are frightened!" Thranduil barked. "A Dwarf, even a company of thirteen Dwarves, put them on edge when spiders had been stealing our families from their homes, draining them of blood, killing them…what would you have had me do? What would your king have done? I am not your enemy. I never have been. Had your kings swallowed their pride and think that through, we would not be having this conversation at this moment when there is a battle imminent!"*

Bilbo patted Dwalin's arm. "He's got a point, Dwalin. No one is fool enough to face a Dragon. Well, except a Hobbit and thirteen vagabond Dwarves."

"And Bard," Gandalf said.

Bard shrugged, smiling. "I am here, am I not? Clearly it's not that foolish or undoable."

"No. Clearly not." Gandalf walked away.

"Where are you going?" Bard asked.

"To see if there is anything to be done that will stop this madness before it escalates to war."

Bilbo shrugged. "Not the first time he's walked off. Honestly, I hope he can stop it. I gave the Arkenstone to you to stop this battle. Load of good that did."

Bard shifted his gaze to Dwalin, frowning. Dwalin glared back. Their fight the night before had not been as quiet as it had been.

Thranduil squeezed Bard's shoulder. "Let them be," he whispered. "Your thoughts on the manner of their relationship will only make it worse." Bard walked away, returning to a tent where a table and map resided. Thranduil spared them a final glance and joined Bard.

Bilbo headed back to his tent and Dwalin followed. Once inside, Dwalin wrapped his arms around Bilbo, pulling him close. He hoped, even prayed, Bilbo would forgive him sooner than he might at this moment. "Are you hungry?" Bilbo asked a moment or two later, pulling out of his embrace to pick up his coat.

"I am, but I think there are more pressing matters at hand."

"There are, but what use would it be to discuss those matters on an empty stomach?" Bilbo fixed the coats clasps. "Once we eat, we can talk."

Dwalin decided it would be unwise to argue. He carried his cloak in his hand, following Bilbo out of the tent again to find something to eat. Those who had overheard them last night shied away from them. Those who didn't welcomed Bilbo, giving Dwalin curious glances. Despite the conversation and merry laughter, breakfast felt far too somber where Dwalin stood. Bilbo ate silently, without a word, eyes cast on his plate and almost lifeless.

Dwalin reached out to take his hand…

The horn blew. Bilbo looked up. "What was that?" he asked.

"Dain's arrived," Dwalin answered. "Battle is here, whether we wish it or not."

Bilbo set his utensils down. "Best ready for war, then." He stood, walking out.

Dwalin sighed. Of all the rotten luck. He followed Bilbo back.

"We need to talk and I refuse to go to war without being somewhat reconciled!" he barked back in their tent. "I know you are angry. I do not blame you for being angry. Bilbo, I will fight. I don't know if you will, but I will not go and face death again not knowing if I will see you again or not being at peace with you."

Bilbo stared at him. He sighed. "I was thinking the same and I intend to go to battle as well, and yet I do not know if my heart is ready to grant any peace. It had only been a scant few hours since I was afraid for my life—and of someone I believed was my friend." Dwalin sat on the cot. Bilbo wet his lips, eyes glossy. "I couldn't find it in me to scream, I was so afraid. The whole time I wondered why you were doing nothing to stop Thorin and I thought I must mean so little to…to you…to Balin…to…to everyone if they were willing to stand aside and let Thorin…I really thought you were all going to let him kill me."

Dwalin closed his eyes, bowing his head. "I cannot change what happened," he began, daring to look up at Bilbo again. "It is done. And I thank all the forces of good in this world for Gandalf staying Thorin's hand. I failed you. I know I failed you. I felt a fear I never felt before seeing the one I called my best friend threatening your life. Were Thorin a foe, I'd have killed him. I love you and I love Thorin. He is my shield-brother and my king. What would have had me do?"

"I do not know, but I would never ask you to kill Thorin," Bilbo said. "I know the two of you are close and I would not ask that of you. I would not ask that of anyone. I do understand, or I try to understand, why you could not move. But I thought I was valued more than that."

"You are. Bilbo, you are."

"But I'm not, am I? No matter what I've done. No matter how many times I've proven my worth, I'm not what any of the Company wanted in a burglar and now I've done something that everyone has deemed worthy of banishment. They call me traitor and deceiver and thief…" Bilbo's hand reached for the braid in his hair, petting the strands between his fingers.

"Sanâzyung," Dwalin began, standing. He approached Bilbo and took his hand in his, kissing it. "Sanghivasha. Sankumath. You always ever only meant well. And we have known that for a long time. The journey has been hard on all of us. You more than the rest of us and you have been the bravest of us, Sanmizim." Bilbo did not lift his head. Nor did he make a move to distance himself from Dwalin. "I love you, Bilbo," Dwalin kissed Bilbo's hand. "I love you, Ghivasha, my One."

"I know," Bilbo said. He bit his lip. "I love you too, which only makes what happened hurt so much more than it would have otherwise. I want to be reconciled with you, but I cannot…I don't know if I can forgive you or anyone in the company for this. Not this time and certainly not this soon."

The horn blew again. The battle would begin at any moment.

"We should get there before the battle starts."

"Bilbo—"

"What would you have me do?" he asked, lifting his head to look at Dwalin. "Say I forgive you and that all is in the past? Any other misdeed, any other wrong, and I would have forgiven you immediately! But this?! How can I forgive this?! How can I find reconciliation with any of the Company? With Thorin? With you?! I loved you! I still love you! And yet you ask me to do what I cannot in good conscience do! Not at this time! I know you do not want to go to battle unforgiven, but how can I grant any forgiveness when my heart is so heavy with the betrayal I feel?"

Dwalin stared at Bilbo. "Then we must survive the battle," he decided, "Because I refuse to die with the present dilemma unresolved."

Bilbo nodded, averting his gaze. They focused on something beside the cot. He pulled away from Dwalin and seized his dagger, glowing in blue light.

Chapter Text

Dwalin looked back only to see whether Bilbo was well armored. Satisfied, he ran to join the Dwarves. Orcs and goblins scaled over the hills racing for them.

The enemy raced toward them, ramming into their lines. Dwalin swung his ax high, landing it into the back of an Orc. He pulled it out to behead a Goblin, screaming a battle cry as he did. Foe after foe charged and fell.

Dwalin felt someone ram into his back and turned. He steadied his ax and Thorin his sword. "Is all well?"

"No," Dwalin snapped. "We'll discuss it later."

"Agreed. Duck!" Dwalin did so, swinging his ax into the legs of an Orc which was also pierced in the chest by Thorin's sword.

They turned back to back, fighting together as they did best side by side. Orc after Goblin fell around them.

"Azog!" Thorin shouted. Dwalin turned around to see the Pale Orc, riding his Warg. Thorin brandished his sword, snarling. The rest of the company joined behind them. Azog smirked at them, as he rode closer.

Another Orc joined him. He spoke to the Orc, who grinned and leaned down atop his Warg. With a roar, he raced at them.

"Hold the line!" Thorin shouted. The Warg was hit by an invisible in the neck, falling to the ground. The Orc jumped off his fallen steed, roaring, searching for his invisible attacker. His head was pulled back and his throat slit.

Bilbo.

The company charged Azog, fighting as one force. Azog seized Thorin, pulling him away from the battle. Dwalin raced after them. The White Warg yelped, blood spilling out its back as it fell. Azog roared, dropping Thorin as he fell. Thorin groaned, coughing. Dwalin pulled him up.

"What just—what—"

Azog stood, eyes searching. He relaxed, sniffing. He smirked and spoke. What he said could not be heard. He raised his mace and slammed it into air—which screamed.

Dwalin roared, jumping in front of Azog, ax in his hand. He felt too much fury to do much else but gnash his teeth and growl.

Kili knelt where Bilbo fell, searching for his hands. He pulled the Ring off. Bilbo's hair was matted with thick, wet blood. Kili looked up at Dwalin for instruction.

"Kili, get him to the healers," Thorin ordered. "Fili! Ori! Go with him." Kili wrapped Bilbo in his cloak and lifted him.

Fili cut down any who approached while Ori slammed Dwalin's hammer into their skulls if any dared approach. Azog stared them down. "Dwalin, I know your claim on his life, but this is my foe," Thorin growled.

"I'm just in line in the event you do not succeed," he agreed. "Thorin, you better succeed."

Thorin stepped forward, brandishing his sword. Dwalin joined the group in keeping back any who would aid 's gaze was blinded by red and black blood which stung his nose. His hearing was deafened by the screams of the dying. His sole thought was to live this fight and be reunited with his husband. He heard a scream he did not want to hear. Dwalin spun around. Thorin crawled away, clutching his arm. Blood seeped from it and he spotted a splinter sticking out of the flesh.

Dwalin raced to aid him. Balin joined him, sword held high. Thorin pushed himself back up. "Stand aside," he growled. "He is not yours yet. You do not yet know if your kinsman is dead. Mine are!"

"Save the long-winded speeches for when we've won!" Dwalin shouted. "For once, let us fight together truly!"

Azog snarled. He swung his mace. Dwalin and Thorin stepped to the side, letting the weapon land on the earth. Balin thrust his sword into Azog's side. Azog screamed as the sword was pulled out. He turned on Balin, who backed away. Dwalin swung his ax into Azog's leg, crippling him. Azog looked around at the trio, trying to process what was going on. Since when did Dwarves work together like this?

Thorin stuck his sword in Azog's neck. The wide broad blade passed through the thick neck.

"For the lives lost in Azanulbizar," Thorin hissed in Khuzdul. "For the lives you stole. For the horrors you caused." He drew his sword out and the head rolled off, hung by a string of flesh.

And thus was the end of Azog the Defiler.

The day was clear and beautiful, albeit the littered bodies over the field before the gates of Erebor. Dwalin hobbled into camp after making sure the rest of the company had survived. The younger ones were shaken, and rightfully so. War was never something to take lightly.

Dwalin made his way to a tent with Fili and Ori guiding him. An Elven healer stepped out and stopped them.

"The Hobbit is alive," he assured them, "And is responding to our medicine."

"Can I not see him?" Dwalin asked.

"When he is awake," the healer promised, "but you and your companions should have your own injuries tended to. You're husband would not like to see you injured, I believe."

Dwalin furrowed his brow. How did the Elf know Bilbo was his husband?

"I told them you might come and who you are," Fili explained. "Come on. You look like Orc puke." He let Fili drag him to a tent. Thorin screamed, swearing as his bones were reset and splintered.

"By Mahal! That hurts!"

"You've only to blame yourself," the healer, a Dwarrowdam snapped. "Given all your stubbornness and tomfoolery, Thorin Oakenshield, you are blessed you have friends who care for you deeply. I've a mind to slit your throat for the dangers you put Fili and Kili in!"

"Yes, Sister," Thorin mumbled, properly cowed.

Dwalin did not blame him. If anyone could bring Thorin to humbleness, it was Dis. She turned on Dwalin. "Shed your armor, wash up and wait for a bed." Dwalin had not the heart to disobey. Not that it'd be wise.

"How is he?" Thorin asked. Dwalin looked up. "Is Bilbo going to…"

"He'll be okay. Still unconscious when I went to him. The healer sent me away. When I am done here I will go to him. Or when he wakes."

"You will go when you are done here whether he wakes or not," Dis snapped, pinching his ear. Dwalin winced.

"Yes, Ma'am."

She released his ear and picked up a jar, spreading salve on to his wounds and bruises. "My boys told me most of what happened," she said. "Your husband seems a strong sort. I am glad for you, Dwalin." She set the jar down to wrap his torso. "When he wakes and is well enough for visitors outside you and Balin, let me know. I would like to meet and thank him on behalf of my idiot brother."

Dwalin nodded. It was doable. Still, he wanted—needed—to have settled the wrongs that the company had done to Bilbo after reclaiming the mountain.

He returned the next morning to Bilbo's tent and entered.

"Is it well that I may enter?"

"It is," the healer said. He stepped aside and bowed, leaving.

Dwalin approached the cot. Bilbo's head is wrapped in linen. His breathing was light and easy. Dwalin knelt, taking Bilbo's hand again in his. Bilbo groaned, opening an eye. "Dwalin?"

"Awake now."

"I wish I wasn't. My head is on fire!"

"You were hit on the head," Dwalin said. "Fili, Kili, and Ori brought you here before too much time passed."

"So I see," Bilbo said, tightening his grasp on Dwalin's hand. He swallowed. "I was too hard on you before. I'm sorry."

"Too hard? For not stopping Thorin?"

"Funny how a battle shifts your priorities. I don't know why I find fighting so…therapeutic."

Dwalin smiled. "It can be. I know well it can be. I'll keep that in mind next time."

"As will I," Bilbo smiled. He kissed Dwalin's fingers. He closed his eyes. "I don't want to fight anymore, Dwalin. I want to go home."

"And where do you call home?"

"With you, but also the Shire."

"So you're not screaming anymore?"

"Not screaming anymore for now," Bilbo corrected. "I feel different. A good different. Not…relaxed or soothed, but calm all the same, despite the aches and pains." Dwalin stood. Bilbo grasped his sleeve. "Don't go."

"You need to rest."

"I am resting. I'll have the rest of my life to rest if I wish it. Please stay."

"I'm not going anywhere," Dwalin promised, sitting down again. Bilbo pressed his forehead to Dwalin's hand. "Bilbo?"

"I was afraid. I dreamt. You were gone. I was in darkness and I couldn't see. I couldn't speak. All I could hear were screams."

"It was just a dream. And a common one. Often dark dreams haunt war survivors. One grows accustomed to them over time?"

Bilbo looked up. "Do you dream them?"

"Not like you have, but yes. I have." Bilbo kissed his hand. "We will stay only long enough to heal. Then we go home."

Bilbo nodded. "I like that plan," he said. Bilbo released his hand and groaned, sitting up. He gasped, clutching his head. Dwalin steadied him. "Oh…I feel woozy."

"Lie back down."

"I'll be fine. Just give me a moment."

Dwalin nodded. "All right. Just a moment then."

Chapter Text

The fields are cleared of bodies. The dead of the enemy are piled and burned. Pyres and tombs are built for the dead of their allies.

Dwalin entered the temporary quarters he shared with Bilbo. His bandages are being changed. He hissed at the healer's touch, wincing. The bandages are replaced and the healer left. "You'll have a fine scar," Dwalin announced. Bilbo chuckled.

"My relatives will faint at the sight of it."

"Let them," Dwalin said. "A fine warrior you'd make if Hobbits had the disposition for it."

"Sadly, most of us do not," Bilbo said, standing. He approached Dwalin and pushed himself up on his toes to kiss Dwalin. "Either way, it'll get the neighbor's to leave me alone for some time. That's a good thing. Trust me."

Dwalin hoisted him up into his arms. Bilbo rested his hands on Dwalin's shoulders. "If that's what they think of you running off for an adventure and returning with a flesh wound, what do you think they'll say to you returning with a Dwarf on your arm?"

"Oh, they'll keel over. But it'll be funny, at least."

"Funny to watch your relatives and neighbors fall to the ground from a heart attack?!"

Bilbo shrugged. "I've always been a little morbid."

"I'm well aware," Dwalin said. He sat on their bed, "And a good thing, too. Otherwise you'd be fainting left and right all over this journey. And we'd have been eaten by Trolls not a month in!"

"Well, I don't think I'll be fainting as often as I used to." Bilbo wrapped his arms around Dwalin's neck, grinning. "Besides, I'm sure I'm more morbid now than I was before."

Dwalin laughed. "I get the feeling you will be. Hopefully not too morbid."

"Of course not! Such things can and ought to be taken in moderation," Bilbo agreed. He kissed Dwalin again. They broke away at the knock. Bilbo jumped off Dwalin's lap to answer the door.

"Evening, Brothers," Balin said, clapping his hands behind his back. "Ready for the big day tomorrow?"

"Will it be all right?" Bilbo asked. "With our injuries still on the mend?"

"Thorin thinks it's better for it to be sooner than later. Way he goes about it, one would think he wants you gone."

Dwalin hummed. Bilbo looked at the floor. Thorin had lifted the banishment on Bilbo, but he still wanted them to leave as soon as possible. He had regained his wits and with it his heart sickness twice-fold. The knowledge of knowing Bilbo would not be his added to what he had done to him in his madness grieved Thorin strongly. He could not dare to look at Bilbo without shame. So, while he provided rooms, healers, and whatever else they wished, Thorin did all he could to hasten their return to the Shire.

"Is there something I don't know?" Balin asked, looking from Dwalin to Bilbo.

"Yes," Dwalin said. "And I'd rather you not know, Brother."

"Why not?!"

"It is ours to handle," Dwalin said. "And we have handled it as well as we could."

"But the banishment on Bilbo has lifted!" Balin said. "There is no reason for either of you to leave Erebor. Why not stay?"

"Thorin is not the only one who wishes we return to the Shire," Bilbo said. "We agreed ourselves to return."

Balin frowned. "I see. Is there no way I can convince you two otherwise?"

"No," Dwalin said. "It may well be time for me to hang up the sword anyway."

"Claims the battle hardened son of Fundin."

"You say the same, Balin."

"And even then, I grow restless in my old age."

Dwalin frowned. Bilbo looked from one to the other. "I urge you not to go that path, Balin. Let the lost lands remain so. They are fallen into ruin and not in a thousand years can they return to glory."

"And there we will stay at odds, dear little brother," Balin said. He smiled. "Dinner is served, if either of you are hungry."

#

Dwalin found Thorin standing out on the veranda, hands clasped behind his back. "You come here often?"

He turned around, staring at Dwalin somberly. "I should not. I keep replaying it in my mind, hoping it was a nightmare. A demon in the darkness." He swallowed. "But it was not and I do not think I can bear the truth."

Dwalin sighed. "Brooding over what has happened will not change anything."

"I know."

"Then stop focusing on it, or Bilbo will kick you in the shins. I wouldn't put it past him to do it, King or not."

Thorin managed to smile. "It wouldn't hurt. Tickle maybe, but no threat."

"No, but do you wish to risk it? Personally, I don't."

Thorin leaned against a pillar, favoring his broken arm. "You are both welcome to return to Erebor when ever you like. You will always have a home here, Dwalin. Both you and Bilbo," Thorin said.

"Thank you. It means much, but we might not return for a long time yet," Dwalin clapped his shoulder. "You handed the conduction of the ceremony to Gandalf."

"I did," he said. "After all, have I any right to attend? Or to be there? I am in love with him. You know this. To be there alone would be torture enough. To conduct it…"

"You're right," Dwalin said. His gut clenched. "I am sorry." Dwalin turned to leave.

"I wish you eternal happiness, my friend," Thorin said, his voice breaking.

"Even though it is given half-heartedly?" Dwalin asked, frowning at him. Thorin did not reply. He refused to meet Dwalin's gaze. He hid his face in his hand, shoulders convulsing. Dwalin turned away to leave him to whatever peace and solace Thorin might find.

#

Bilbo pleaded for simplicity, and Dwalin was happy to oblige. Only the company, save Thorin, attended. Dis stood in Thorin's stead. Gandalf performed the wedding. The braids they wove were taken out and remade.

In the morning, they would begin the journey back West, a cart loaded with provisions prepared for them. Thorin watched them leave from the mountain, the royal family beside him. By nightfall, Erebor, though still near, was far behind them. Bilbo hummed under his breath that night while he smoked, writing something down.

"What are you thinking about?" Dwalin asked, smoking his pipe.

"Nothing in particular," he said, "just…what do you think of this: Roads go ever, ever on,

Over rock and under tree,

By caves where never sun has shone,

By streams that never find the sea;

Over snow by winter sown,

And through the merry flowers of June,

Over grass and over stone,

And under mountains in the moon.

Roads go ever, ever on

Under cloud and under star,

Yet feet that wandering have gone

Turn at last to home afar.

Eyes that fire and sword have seen

And horror in the halls of stone

Look at last on meadows green

And trees and hills they long have known."*

Dwalin blinked. He was never much of a poet, always a warrior. "It's nice."

"Just nice?" Bilbo frowned.

Dwalin shrugged. "I was never one for poetry or songs."

"I'd never have guessed with your contribution to That's What Bilbo Baggins Hates."

"I'm sure you can come up with a new refrain for that to send to the lads. They'll like it."

"I hope so because whatever contribution I make to that song will have to do with the adventure: Troll snot, Goblin caves, Warg riders, Spiders, Dragons…you know. The usual."

Dwalin snorted. "Sure. The usual. If you can call anything we faced that."

Save for the fire, the night closed in around them, dark but diamond stars and a large full moon. Dwalin pulled Bilbo into his lap, burying his face in Bilbo's hair. "Goodnight, Bilbo."

"Goodnight, Love." Bilbo shifted in Dwalin's embrace falling into a peaceful sleep, never knowing that by next May, he and Dwalin would be chasing off thieving relatives.