"What exactly did Fíli mean about you...courting me?"
The oldest prince was washed up and sound asleep beneath a thick quilt that Bilbo had taken from his own rooms, golden hair freshly braided by his uncle while Bilbo made a new poultice for his injured thigh. The hobbit had given Fíli another blend of pain tonic since the last one had upset the prince's stomach, hoping that the broth he'd just fed to the youth would actually stay down this time. Bilbo had already detected the beginnings of an unpleasant fever, Fíli's forehead hot to the touch while his gash was much more inflamed than it'd been during his last check up. But there were no signs of pus or discharge yet, an indicator that Bilbo took with no lack of optimism at this point.
"Exactly what the word means," answered Thorin, his words clipped and aloof. "I had merely assumed that my affections were not returned. But my nephews, as usual, took it upon themselves to interfere in my personal affairs. Although, since they like you, there were no arrows shot into a foot or bum again."
"They shot what?!" gaped Bilbo, his hand stilling on Fíli's wrinkled brow. "In the bum? That seems quite...excessive. Was it Kíli?"
"Of course. Although I'm sure his brother knew about it, too," said the King. One of his fingers flicked at the youth's hair, Kíli snuffling in return before rolling over to his other side. "Neither of them were especially fond of her. And Kíli started taking shots at her after about two weeks. Dís might have encouraged them, too."
"What did she say to make them dislike her so much?" asked Bilbo warily. "It just seems so odd for them to behave like that. Maliciously, I mean. Foolish and ill-mannered, I believe, but shooting actual arrows?"
Thorin lightly fingered a few strands of his nephew's hair. "I had noticed several times that she disliked being too close to Kíli, but I assumed it was because of his rowdy, boisterous behavior. But as Fíli soon overheard when running errands for me, she'd been referring to Kíli as being elf-like in appearance to other dwarves. And then everything just went downhill, as you can probably imagine. Fíli eventually managed to chop off seven of her braids, which is a very grave insult in our society."
"Well, that certainly explains the odd behavior," answered Bilbo. "Why didn't Fíli just chop it all off?"
"Am I sensing some vindictiveness, Master Baggins?"
Bilbo didn't even bother to deny it. "Although I wouldn't personally view it as an insult myself, I do understand the intense...dislike between elves and dwarves. And since such a comparison unquestionably hurt Kíli's feelings, then I'm only sorry that Fíli didn't shave her entire head. It would've served her right, gossiping and insulting a young child like that."
"She was the only person I've courted in my life until now," said Thorin. "And it only lasted a few weeks because of her treatment of my youngest nephew. I've had nothing besides very brief...dalliances since then, especially as the quest drew closer and the preparations for it took over my life."
"When hobbits wish to court someone, we usually engage in respectable activities like dancing, family dining, or going for walks together. And there's the various courting gifts, like exchanging flowers, baked goods, embroidered handkerchiefs, rocking chairs, a new pipe, or..."
"Well, it looks like our races have one mutual gift in common," stated the King, a small smile on his regal face. "Although I'm hoping that the exchange of baked goods has other meanings as well. I might have to fight off the entire Company, otherwise. Very few things entice dwarves more than good, homemade food."
"Of course not," said Bilbo, his cheeks flushing at the thought. "Baking for family and friends is the most common gift of the Shire. Courting foods are only a very tiny part of our traditional exchanges."
"Cheesecake..."
"By the Valar," sighed Bilbo, "There truly is no privacy around here."
"With these two gallivanting about, no, there truly isn't," agreed Thorin. "But if a certain dwarf doesn't keep his opinions and ears to himself, then we might only have to worry about one gallivanter very soon."
"If you'd just read the book we'd given you," said Kíli from beneath the blankets, "Then things would be going swimmingly at this point. But, no, ignore the nephews. We never know anything."
Bilbo swatted Kíli on the bum with a wet cloth. "Go back to sleep, you lil' rascal. We're having an adult discussion here."
"I'm an adult."
"You keep telling yourself that," muttered the King, reaching over to run his thick fingers through the youth's messy hair. "Now sleep, little bird. Your body needs the rest."
Kíli snorted. "You just wanna make kissy faces at each other. And it's about time, too. Do you have...any idea how annoying...it's been to..."
"Wow, now that's a neat trick."
"Massaging Kíli's scalp and hair knocks him right out," said Thorin a few minutes later. "His parents and I discovered it shortly after his fourth birthday. Works like a charm, more often than not."
"Ummm, huh," stuttered Bilbo, not quite sure how to ask or even talk with Thorin about the whole courting thing. "So, the dragon pipe I found in my room..."
"Was a courting gift," confirmed the King. "I expected my...intentions to be quite obvious after that, but you still didn't respond, so I assumed that either you were not amenable to my advances or perhaps I should be more subtle in my approach. My overall knowledge on hobbits is quite limited, but dwarf courtships are often very long and drawn out, depending on the family."
"We hobbits tend to move pretty slow by human standards, usually spending one or two years on our courtships," said Bilbo. "Everyone in the Shire believes that long and extended engagements will better guarantee a happy, friendly marriage. But, of course, an arrangement between two...males isn't very common. Or accepted. At all. They aren't in physical danger, like many humans would be, but marriage and respectable hobbits are meant to produce children. That's just the way it is."
"The production of children is a little more difficult amongst dwarves," confessed the King. "Only one-third of our race is born female, and not all of them wish to marry or become mothers. Because of this, children are extremely precious to us, but dwarf society realized long ago that strict male-to-female marriage was not always possible. And once a dwarf marries, it's for life, unlike many other races. We love exclusively and passionately for all our lives, once we find that single, right person."
"So, in dwarf society, a male laying with a male isn't..."
"It's still not especially common," said Thorin, "But it's not frowned upon nearly as much as it is in the realms of elves and men. Or hobbits, it would seem. The large gap between our genders leads to unique companionships at times, not all of which have to be intimate or even romantic in nature. Because of this, official marriages are not as frequent amongst dwarves as they are in other races, but when we do marry, it's for life. And ours is a love that never diminishes, even when death takes us."
"I'm just surprised that dwarves are so...open about these things compared to other races. Although it does make some sense, given the gender circumstances," admitted Bilbo. "I've misjudged you and your people so many times on so many things, it seems."
"Dwarven society's more open on this subject because of necessity," stated Thorin. And then he grimaced, face twisted in disgust. "However, Kíli's interest in that she-elf captain..."
"Of course," mumbled Bilbo with a roll of his eyes.
Bilbo was sitting on Fíli's left side, small fingers playing with the youth's braided hair yet again. The Dwarf-King was situated directly across from him on the opposite side of the bed, both of them providing an instinctive barricade around the injured prince as he slumbered. Soft snores could be heard from the bottom of the bed and in front of the fireplace, their young charges and other companions unaware of the serious conversation that was being discussed near them.
"But still, wouldn't you need to, you know, take a wife to produce heirs? Such a thing is generally expected of kings, isn't it?"
"Perhaps amongst elves and men, such immediate blood descendents are required in the eyes of the people, but not amongst dwarves," assured Thorin. "My subjects will be perfectly fine with my sister-sons taking the throne. Dís boasts the exact same lineage and blood as I; therefore, Fíli and Kíli have just as much right to the throne as any child I were to produce. And personally, raising these two dwarflings after their father's death has been more than enough work for me."
The King ran a gentle hand over his heir's wounded leg, dark blue eyes softer than Bilbo had ever seen them before. If anyone ever doubted the integrity and goodness of the King Under the Mountain, they need look no further than the subtle love Thorin bestowed upon his nephews.
"I wish to see Fíli upon the throne one day," said the King. "He's been the greatest nephew I could've ever asked for, and he works so hard to prove himself. Fíli will make a fine king. I can feel it in my bones."
"That he will," agreed Bilbo. "What do the braids mean? Or are they merely a way of keeping your hair back like it is for us?"
"They don't have any meaning unless you want them to," said Thorin. "Beads are common gifts among dwarves, especially within families or during courtships. The beads on my braids here," Thorin pointed to the side braids that he always wore, "Are both gifts from Fíli and Kíli when they came of age. Making your first bead is considered a dwarven rite of passage, so they're traditionally given to the youth's parents. And since their father passed many years ago, I received these alongside Dís."
Bilbo leaned forward to look at them. "Emeralds and arrows for Kíli. Gold topaz and swords for Fíli. Right?"
"The placement of my braids does not mean much in the eyes of dwarves, but all others would recognize the beads as being coming-of-age gifts," said Thorin. "Many have assumed that Fíli and Kíli were my natural sons as a result. But it's appropriate for uncles or aunts to wear the beads of children they've raised to adulthood."
"And Fíli's?" asked Bilbo.
"His moustache beads were coming-of-age gifts from his mother, as were the ones in his hair from myself. The engravings on them symbolize important events or moments in Fíli's life. And this third one here was a gift from Kíli." Thorin smiled at it. "He has an unusual penchant for arrows, it would seem. You should probably expect a similar one in the future."
"Why?"
"Perhaps you haven't noticed, but my nephews have been valiantly attempting to instigate a more...open courtship between the two of us," explained Thorin, posture more than a little uncomfortable as his eyes looked everywhere but at Bilbo. "Quite shameless, by dwarven standards."
"Ah, so that'd explain all the giggling and snooping and stalking. And all of those extra boxes of essentials, as Fíli put it."
Thorin went still at that.
"Or did you tell him to deliver those?" asked Bilbo. "Because, quite honestly, I'm a little baffled at the thought of those boys browsing the marketplace for soaps, shampoo, parchment, fabrics, ingredients, and everything else in there. They'd probably purchase an entire cartful of candy or weapons instead, if I know them."
"I had prepared some...gifts ahead of time for your arrival," admitted Thorin, dark eyes still flitting around the room. "My nephews were a little overzealous in their delivery of them, though. I myself was not aware of your return when they gave them to you. Your rooms were also meant to be a gift, which Fíli must've overheard me speaking with Balin about. Like you said, no privacy whatsoever."
"The pipe was amazingly lovely," said Bilbo with a shy smile. "And Frodo loves a good bubble bath, so I must admit that that was a very pleasant surprise. I never imagined either of them were...courting gifts, though."
A new layer of confidence seemed to be restored to the King. "I based the design of the pipe off of an old sculpture in the treasure vaults. And the Blue Rooms are usually reserved specifically for the...intended of the King."
"Oh, well, that..." Bilbo's eyes widened after a moment. "Ohhhhh..."
"My nephews guaranteed your placement even before I was able to," said Thorin with a small smile. "They're quite determined to formally turn you into the uncle they've never had. And my sister appears to have become involved as well."
"It was only one letter," said Bilbo, his nervous fingers fiddling with Fíli's braids again. "And it just suddenly appeared by raven outside on the balcony last week. I'm not too sure how she even knew that I was here."
Thorin poked his oldest nephew's big nose. "This one here has been sending out ravens every week since your arrival. And they've been acting too much like dwarflings since your return for me not to suspect their intentions."
"Well, at least they haven't been shooting me with arrows," laughed Bilbo. "I'll take their snooping and boorishness any day over that. My bum isn't made to have arrows sticking out of it. Or my foot."
Thorin mumbled under his breath with a smirk.
"What'd you just say?" demanded the hobbit. "No, don't shake your head like that or deny it. I heard you say something. You insulted me, didn't you?"
"I believe you're becoming paranoid, Master Baggins."
"Well, considering the day I've been through, can you blame me? First, Frodo gets kidnapped from under my nose, and then we're scrounging through the mines with almost no knowledge of what—"
And then a set of large hands were cupping Bilbo's hairless cheeks, warm lips and rough beard pressing against the hobbit's mouth. Momentarily stunned, Bilbo felt his entire face flush as the King tilted his head and very gently deepened the kiss until the hobbit was practically melting beneath him. It might have lasted only a few moments, but it was more than Bilbo had had in quite a few years and the first time he'd ever done anything with someone outside his own race. Unfortunately, as Bilbo tried to move a little bit closer to Thorin, his hand landed on the sleeping prince's stomach.
"As I said, no privacy at all," whispered Thorin when he pulled away. The Dwarf-King carded a thick hand through Bilbo's curly hair and then down his flushed face. "Are my intentions clear now, my burglar?"
Bilbo nodded, still in shock over the whole revelation. And it was only after a few moments that the hobbit realized that Thorin was twisting several strands of his curly hair together. A small, intricate bead was then held in front of Bilbo's face, the little sapphires that outlined an engraved eagle twinkling in the candlelight. A tiny, glowing gem was slotted into the eagle's eye, its luster matched by only one other stone in Erebor.
"Is that the Arkenstone?" breathed Bilbo.
Thorin nodded, clipping the beautiful bead at the bottom of the braid he'd twisted into the right side of Bilbo's dirty blond head. The King leaned back to admire his hobbit, visibly pleased at the new adornment on Bilbo's person and the light glow that emanated from his courtship bead.
"If there is anyone who deserves to wear a sliver of the Arkenstone," said Thorin, "It's the hobbit who brought Durin's Folk home to the Lonely Mountain once again. You gave us a home. And despite my fool pride before, my hobbit, that's worth far more than any stone within this mountain. Even the heart of it."
The King Under the Mountain leaned forward and gave Bilbo another gentle kiss, his fingers running over the bead as the hobbit relaxed into him again. Thorin pulled back after a half-minute, lightly bumping his forehead against Bilbo's when the hobbit gave him a dopey smile.
"Finally..."
"And you're supposed to be asleep," scolded Bilbo, face flushed redder than ever before in his life. "By the Valar, that bloody leg will never heal at this rate. And a little bit of privacy, even if it's not truly there, would be much appreciated. You're more than old enough to understand that now."
"I had to make sure Uncle did it right, even if it traumatizes me," said Fíli, an unabashed smile on his fever-flushed face. "Did he?"
"Yes," chuckled Bilbo. "Yes, he did."