COWT - quarta settimana

[sidhedcv]

M2 - il guardiano della soglia

It's a lovely summer day, pleasantly warm and sunny, when Bilbo decides he most definitely has to pay a visit to the new smith in town.

It's enough of an uncommon occasion that Bilbo wants to see the dwarf for himself. He has always been a bit too curious for his own good, that's what his father used to say. But then again, he has a whole array of pots that need repairing and that is most definitely the reason he's going to Hobbiton. Not curiosity, not at all.

"Are we going or not?" Primula yells from the front porch, and Bilbo hisses something under his breath. Bedamned the day he thought inviting his cousin would be a good idea.

"Yes, yes, we're going. I didn't even get to finish my third cup of tea, you know how I get if I have to leave behind a perfectly good cup of tea. Why you're in such a hurry, I don't understand."

"Oh, you'll see. You'll see once we get to the smithy."

And, honestly, how is it Bilbo's fault that he's curious? Primula looks at him like she's hiding the juiciest secret in the world, and there's only so much that his Took side can take.

"Fine. We're going now."

Bilbo grabs one of the pots - no need to take all of them, they're not really in such a bad state - and hurries after his cousin. They chatter idly while they walk, smiling and greeting almost half of the Shire in no more than a few minutes. It seems like the smith news has reached quite many hobbits.

Bilbo finds himself even more curious than before.

When they finally get to the smithy, there's a seemingly infinite crowd that stands between them and the object of that much curiosity. Primula is positively vibrating from excitement and Bilbo must admit he's starting to think she's acting a bit foolish.

Yes, fine, he's always happy when something new happens in the Shire - something to ease the dullness that he feels sometimes - but that's a bit too much.

Until he gets a glimpse of the reason for all the gossip.

Bilbo gets it.

Oh, Bilbo most definitely gets it now.

The warmth of the lovely summer day is suddenly hotter than a summer's noon. Bilbo has to focus all of his mental energy not to fan himself.

That dwarf is the most handsome person Bilbo has ever seen in his life. He seems to be taking some kind of break and he's standing right there, shirtless and completely unphased by the looks he's getting. Because it's summer and he's working in a forge and the warmth must be excruciating, half of his mind supplies. The other half is simply ogling.

"Oh, that is a lucky hammer."

"Primula!" Bilbo hisses, at least trying to pretend to be proper.

"What? I'm a married woman, but I still got eyes."

It's obviously not Bilbo's fault if he has to come back to the smithy.

Oh, he hadn't had the slightest intention of coming back, not at all, thank you very much. It's just that he has a whole lot of pots and pans to replace. And that bent knob could really use some work, maybe he could ask him to come and take a look.

Only for professional reasons, obviously.

His father would scowl at him if he was there to see the state of Bag End.

(His mother would laugh and say that these are exactly the same things she did to find excuses to see Bungo when she wanted to catch his eyes.)

But Bilbo has pots and pans and whatever other objects he can find to repair, so he comes back to the smithy.

A lot.

Bilbo goes back with another pot. And then another one. And another one, until all his pots and pans are brand new and he doesn't have any more excuses.

So he decides that's it, that's the end of this foolishness. He doesn't have any more motives to go to the smithy, so he'll just stop going. That's it.

Expect that's definitely not it because a few days later Bilbo finds himself inexplicably near to the smithy without even having a reason to be there.

The smith looks up from the anvil, in a rare moment of peace, and straight towards Bilbo. Bilbo, who is a bit closer than he thought he was.

"Another pan?"

"What?"

"Have you brought me another pan to repair?"

"I- no, no. You finished all of those," Bilbo replies without even thinking. Half a second later he's too busy mentally kicking himself to reflect on what he should say.

"A pot?"

"No, you also finished all of those. I- well, there's a bent knob. Not here, in my house," he stammers, pinned by the smith's eyes. It's so unfair, nobody should have those eyes and simply walk around unchecked.

"A bent knob."

"Yes."

The smith is looking at him like he's waiting for something else and suddenly Bilbo feels incredibly dumb. He mentioned a knob, now he has to live with the consequences and try his best not to also look dumb.

"I'm- well, obviously I don't have the knob with me. So I was wondering- if I pay you double, could you possibly come check it? Whenever you can, there's no hurry."

The smith doesn't say anything and keeps looking at him like he's trying to assess something. When Bilbo honestly starts to feel a little less dumb and a little more hysterical, the smith finally nods and grunts something that feels like an affirmative answer.

"You know, I still don't know your name."

"You never asked."

"Well, neither did you. And I'm asking now."

"Thorin, at your service."

"Bilbo... at yours."

And so Bilbo goes back to Bag End, definitely feeling very dumb - and maybe a little bit hopeful.

"I lost my way twice," Thorin greets him outside the door, with a

"... How? How did you lost your way? Bag End. Top of the hill. Biggest smial."

Thorin tries his best not to scowl and Bilbo is pretty sure he shouldn't find that particularly endearing. And yet.

"No matter. Show me the knob."

"Sure, right this way," and just like that, Thorin is inside his house. Bilbo tries his best not to think, but he has never been good at it.

It's difficult not to spend all the afternoon around Thorin - busy doing absolutely everything he can to be more attractive than usual. Bilbo tries to hide in the kitchen but finds himself inexplicably driven to the dwarf. And what if Thorin needs something? No, better to stay close.

Close enough to look.

At some point in the late afternoon, Thorin is done with the knob. He tells Bilbo that he's going to finish the work at the smithy, and then does the strangest thing.

Thorin eyes every detail of the inside of Bag End like he's trying to look for something else to fix. Ah, Bilbo thinks. Good luck with that. Already done that. Only, why is Thorin doing that? Could be because he's a little bit rude. Could be because... he doesn't want to leave?

Bilbo definitely doesn't want to raise his hopes. He doesn't. There are a lot of things Bilbo doesn't want to do, but Thorin looks at him and Bilbo thinks that must have been magic, because he's suddenly way dumber than usual.

"Would you like to stay for dinner?" Bilbo blurts out, without even thinking. And thanks Yavannah he still has some kind of filter between his mind and his mouth, because the next thought was would you like to stay forever?

"I... wouldn't want to impose," Thorin answers, a flash of uncertainty behind his eyes.

"Oh, nonsense. You did such a great job, and you came all this way just because I asked-"

"You offered to pay double."

"Yes, but still. I must insist. Well- as long as you're not- I mean, I don't want to make you feel like you have to. If you have somewhere else to go-"

"I'm here alone, I don't have anywhere else to go."

"Well," Bilbo offers him his brightest smile, trying to take a hold of himself. "I'm alone too. I'd love to have some company."

And that's why Bilbo finds himself busy, trying to cook the best of the best, while Thorin sits in his kitchen making it a little bit more difficult to concentrate. Luckily dinner turns out to be all right - more than all right if the look on Thorin's face is saying something.

"Master Baggins."

"None of this master nonsense, Bilbo is more than enough."

"Well, then, Bilbo. How is your new doorknob?"

"Perfect! So much better than the old, bent one. You did such an amazing job, I'm still convinced I underpaid you."

"You paid me double what I asked. And you offered me dinner."

"And yet, Master Oakenshield, I still think your job deserved more recognition."

"If I have to call you Bilbo, you have to call me Thorin."

"Well, then. Thank you, Thorin."

Bilbo doesn't know exactly how this happens, but in the following weeks, Thorin becomes something of a constant presence in his life.

Well, it happens because Thorin found a lot of other things to fix in Bag End - and Bilbo was really quick to agree and ask for his help. It also happens because Bilbo keeps inviting him to stay for dinner, and Thorin keeps accepting.

With time, he learns that Thorin's scowl is not as bad as it seems. He learns to see past it and to give meaning to all the other small expressions that appear on Thorin's face.

Bilbo finds out Thorin can laugh. And that his laughter is incredibly charming.

Oh, and that's a whole other thing. Thorin knows how to be charming.

Not that Bilbo wasn't already smitten, even with that whole grumpy façade. But Thorin can be charming when he wants. More than charming, downright chivalrous. Sometimes Bilbo feels like Thorin might have come straight from one of his books, the ones that talk about princes and kings and knights.

Bilbo can't stop his heart from fluttering in his chest every time he sees Thorin. And he sees Thorin a lot, lately. He tries to stop feeling like that, because Thorin is simply polite - and probably lonely, just like him. That doesn't mean that Thorin sees him more than just a casual acquaintance.

But still, Bilbo's heart does what it wants.

"Well, that's just the worst you could do. I didn't even think it was possible for you to stoop so low. Yes, we knew of course that your... Took side was a little bit more predominant than the Baggins one. Not like my dear Otho."

"What have I done this time, Lobelia?" Bilbo asks without even raising his eyes from the book he's reading in what, until a few minutes before, was the peaceful quiet of his garden.

Now it's anything but peaceful. It's almost time for dinner and yet Lobelia Sackville-Baggins is still finding time to scold him. The nerve of the woman. Bilbo knows he should head back inside to check on the food, but then she'll just feel entitled to follow him inside and, no. No, thank you very much, no.

"You know perfectly well what you have done!"

"I assure you I most definitely not."

"Then you're even less respectable than what the whole Hobbiton thinks!"

Bilbo does his best to ignore her, in the tenuous hope that she'll disappear if no one actually pays her any attention. It's not like he doesn't know what half of Hobbiton thinks of him. He just doesn't care. Those who are close to him don't think anything bad of his... habits. And the others... well, they'll always find something to blame him for.

"And don't try to ignore me! You're ruining the Baggins' name by- by-"

"By doing what, exactly?"

"Why, you spend all of your evenings with an outsider! A dwarf! A dwarf smith who's working in the Shire because he's a- a- wandering fool like all dwarves are! Don't think that we don't know, all of the Shire knows!"

"Yes, and I'm also pretty sure it's your fault if so many know."

"I don't know what you're trying to insinuate, I only care about you reputation. If you won't listen to me then don't ask yourself why when they'll start calling you Mad Baggins!"

"But quite frankly, I don't give a damn about what you think of me!" Bilbo blurts out, snapping close his book and getting up from the bench. He's a patient hobbit but there's only so much that he's willing to put up with before snapping.

Lobelia visibly bristles and opens her mouth to say something else, but Bilbo quickly interrupts.

"I think I'm being perfectly respectable. I have a friend, who also happens to be a dwarf, and I couldn't care less if he were a damn oliphant! I will have my friend over for dinner at my house every time I want! None of this concerns you, Lobelia, since this is still my house, no matter how much you'd like for it to be yours. And now, I bid you good day."

"Yes, a good day indeed," growls a voice near them, and both hobbits startle as they just now see Thorin standing near the gate of the garden. He has a thunderous expression on his face, and Bilbo can see Lobelia dry gulp.

"I think you may go now, dear Lobelia," Bilbo chuckles with a grin that could only be described as evil.

And she leaves, immediately after, muttering something that Bilbo doesn't even try to understand and flinching lightly when walking by Thorin - who follows her with his eyes and stands unnaturally still.

"That was amazing, I've never seen her so scared."

"Do you want me to leave?" Thorin asks, not a trace of merriment in his voice. Bilbo's own amusement leaves just as quickly, faced with the resigned look in Thorin's eyes.

"Why would I want you to leave?"

"Because I'm ruining your reputation."

"Oh, pish, you're not ruining anything. First of all my reputation has always been on a thin line, Tookish side and all of that. And anyway I'm sure I'm behaving like any respectable Baggins would be. I'm having a friend over for dinner. What's more proper than that?"

Thorin seems to struggle with what he actually wants to say. Bilbo hears a but I don't want to and a what if they before **Thorin closes his mouth with a stubborn expression, crossing his arms over his chest.

(And no, Bilbo did not focus on the way Thorin's clothes stretched over his muscles with that movement. Nope, not at all. Not on those wide shoulders, not on those strong arms. Absolutely not.)

"Thorin. Listen to me. I care about you, and I don't care about what Lobelia says. I want to spend time with you, or else I wouldn't have asked."

Thorin is still weirdly quiet for the rest of the evening, but at least Bilbo manages to convince him to come inside for dinner and stay a bit after that.

There is sorrow, in Thorin's eyes, the kind of deep and profound sorrow that never leaves. Bilbo has no idea why, and it's most definitely not his place to ask, and yet he can't help but feel the need to comfort.

He may not understand the reasons behind Thorin's sadness, but he can understand sorrow better than many others can.

"That's a beautiful song," Bilbo hums quietly, eyes fixed on the stars above them.

It's a quiet night, a beautiful night. The kind of night Thorin would've spent gazing at the sky, when he was younger, right outside of Erebor. Thorin aches for his home, for his family.

"It's a sad song."

"It can be both sad and beautiful at the same time," Bilbo replies without missing a beat, looking for his smoking pipe in his pockets.

"If you say so."

"Do all dwarrows sing like you?"

"What do you mean?" Thorin asks like he's about to be insulted. What bad he expects from his question, Bilbo doesn't know.

"I meant as beautiful as you."

There's a second of stunned silence before Bilbo realizes what he just said and stammers to correct himself. "I- I meant as beautiful as you do. Sing. As you sing. You sing beautifully, that's it."

They're both quiet for what Bilbo feels are hours - hours that he spends cursing his big, damn mouth - until Thorin just... snorts? And his heart be damned, that is a lovely sound.

"Oh, I see you're having fun."

"You have no idea."

They never talk about the way they both feel.

Bilbo doesn't, because he's afraid something so good will end up slipping away from his fingers the minute he tries to ask for anything more.

The lingering touches are enough. The way Thorin looks at him is enough. The fact that Thorin's fingers always manage to find Bilbo's own, when it's dark outside and they're sitting together.

Those moments are more than enough.

Thorin talks about his life, about his boys - the first time Bilbo hears that his heart drops to his stomach and then shoots back in his chest when Thorin mentions they're his nephews. After that, Bilbo feels like his heart could explode from the sheer fondness that radiates from Thorin's voice every time he talks about them.

Bilbo never doubted that, but as time goes by he realizes more and more just how special Thorin is.

Bilbo talks and talks and Thorin never seems to find him annoying. He listens, attentive and interested, asks questions and urges him for more, and Bilbo doesn't want anything else.

(Except for the tiny, little voice in his head that begs Thorin for a kiss. Just one, a single one. One kiss and Bilbo could pretend to be a perfectly happy bachelor.)

"You're quiet," Thorin says after a while. They're sitting on the bench outside Bag End, after quite a lovely dinner - if Bilbo does say so himself.

"You're always quiet."

Thorin answers with that weird sound that Bilbo can now identify as a mix of a chuckle and some kind of hmpf. Lovely sound. But, then again, everything sounds lovely when it comes from Thorin.

"I'm quiet because I'm happy," Bilbo says when Thorin grows impatient - and he'd better not think too much about the fact that he's starting to recognize almost every little thing in Thorin's expressions. Or lack thereof.

"Are you?" Thorin asks, glancing at him with something in his eyes that, for once, Bilbo doesn't quite understand.

"Yes. Yes, I am."

"Then I'm glad you are."

They sit in companionable silence like so many evenings before - Bilbo isn't sure how many times, it started to feel like he's been spending his evenings with Thorin since forever. It's come to a point when he doesn't think he could ever get used to anything different.

(Bilbo supposes he should say something about it. Or at least find the courage to ask Thorin if he thinks he'll be leaving the Shire sooner or later. Bilbo knows he should ask and prepare himself for heartbreak. But Bilbo sometimes can be a bit of a coward, so he stays silent and doesn't ask.)

"I've been alone for the past few years. I'm an only child and- well, I never felt the need for children until my parents passed away. My mother was first, you know. During the Fell Winter. We were lucky, I know a lot of families who almost starved. But not lucky enough not to lose my mother. My father was... he was in too much pain, after her death. She would've lasted more time, but my father was hopeless without her. And then I was alone. I have friends, of course. But they find me strange. Almost the whole of the Shire find me strange. Well, not all of the Shire, because I'm still more respectable than the Tooks."

"I have a sister. And I had a brother, but he died a while ago. I couldn't do anything to help him. He died the same day my grandfather died, and the same day my father was stricken by grief and wandered away, never to be found again. I'm working as a traveling blacksmith to send money to my sister, to help raise my two nephews. I'm alone most of the time. I'm alone even when I am with friends, for they understand what's in my heart but not quite so strongly. We all lost our home, but some lost more than just a home."

"Well. You definitely win."

"Win at what?"

"You had it way worse than me. Now I almost feel dumb for sharing what I shared with you. With all of your sorrow and sadness. And me? I'm just a spoiled hobbit."

"You're not spoiled. And grief is grief. It doesn't matter what happened, everyone has a right to grief."

At some point, the day when Bilbo suddenly stops being a coward comes. Bilbo doesn't really know why, or what exactly is the reason he finally can't hold it back anymore - it just comes, and he simply has to go with the flow.

"So, how long are you planning on staying in the Shire?" Bilbo blurts out during one dinner, while Thorin is too busy wolfing down the equivalent of a pony in potatoes to look at him. He confessed to Bilbo that sometimes he forgets to eat, when he's working, and honestly? Bilbo will have none of that.

"Well," Thorin hums when he's finally down with his potatoes. "Actually, I was meant to return to Ered Luin three months ago."

"... What? You- what?" Thorin simply nods, dwarf of few words as usual, and Bilbo is left with a million questions. "And why didn't you?"

A strange kind of silence falls into the room after that question, and Thorin seems intended to look anywhere else but Bilbo. He looks almost... shy, under that light, and Bilbo isn't really sure what's happening.

"I- uh. I didn't want to," Thorin finally admits after a while, voice reduced almost to a whispers. Bilbo has never heard him sound like this, so obviously it seems a good reason to be concerned for Thorin.

"Did something bad happen? Are your nephews okay? Your sister?"

"No, no they're fine. That's- that's not the problem. I mean, there isn't a problem. I stayed here because I didn't want to go back to Ered Luin."

"Is Ered Luin that terrible?" Bilbo asks before he can stop himself.

"No, Bilbo, no. It has nothing to do with Ered Luin or my family. Or anything other than me, really." Thorin takes a deep breath and for once Bilbo manages to be silent. "I didn't want to say anything because... because I don't want to ruin this. To ruin what we have."

The room is, if possible, even more silent than before. Bilbo doesn't dare say a word, caught between the fear that Thorin is going to say something awful and the hope- he doesn't even know what is he hoping for, really.

"I suppose I should try to behave like I'm actually brave. I am, brave. Honestly. But right now I feel like the damnedest coward in all of Middle-Earth," Thorin lets out an almost shaky chuckle. "I- I do not hope you could return my- my affections. I merely-"

But that's all that Bilbo needs. Honestly. He's been standing on edge for the past fifteen minutes and that's the last straw and everything he needs at the same time. That's why he finds himself straddled on Thorin's lap, kissing him like it's the end of the world.

(It might not be the end of the world, but it most definitely is the end of any remaining Baggins' part in Bilbo. This is definitely not proper. Very Tookish of him, not at all proper.)

When the kiss ends - mainly because Bilbo finds out he also needs to breathe -, Thorin looks at him with an expression no one should be allowed to have. There's so much awe in his eyes that Bilbo feels the need to just look away - and at the same time to kiss Thorin again, and possibly hold him close and never let him go.

"You-" Thorin tries to ask something, but the words die in his throat in a hoarse whisper, and Bilbo has to do something to ease that adorable shyness.

"Yes, absolutely."

"You don't even know what I was trying to ask."

Bilbo kisses him again and Thorin stops any attempt at complaining. Dessert lies on the table, completely forgotten.

And isn't that a first in Bilbo's life.

A lot of kisses come after that evening. A lot of evenings come after that one, and Bilbo doesn't even have to insist anymore for Thorin to come to dinner. Thorin seems more than happy to join him, so much that Bilbo actually starts thinking Thorin was trying to keep his distance.

(Which Thorin confirms after a few ales, and the fact that Thorin ever thought that Bilbo could have possibly not reciprocated his feelings... utter and complete nonsense, all of it.)

"We shouldn't. I shouldn't-" Thorin manages to blurt out, between one kiss and another, hands roaming under Bilbo's clothes.

"Oh, no, we absolutely should," Bilbo feels breathless and boneless, and still manages to shuffle in Thorin's lap enough for the dwarrow to gasp slightly. Thorin holds him tighter, fingers digging into Bilbo's plump sides.

"We shouldn't. I don't have anything to offer you. You deserve gold and jewels to match your worth, and I have nothing to give you."

"I don't want gold. Nor jewels. The only thing I want, you can give me."

Thorin shouldn't.

(But for the first time in years and years, there's something that resembles happiness right in front of him. There's someone who doesn't look at him because he's a king, or because he lost everything. Bilbo looks at him because he wants to spend time with Thorin because he likes to spend time with Thorin. Bilbo wants it, wants everything. Thorin would give him everything, all the gold and riches of Erebor, everything that he owns, and everything that he lost. Bilbo seems content enough to have him, just him, and that's something Thorin has never felt before.)

Thorin is far too greedy.

Bilbo didn't expect Gandalf.

Then again, no one really expects Gandalf. Gandalf just arrives in the middle of everybody's else day and does what he wants to do. Every hobbit knows that, and every hobbit knows better than to try and persuade Gandalf to do what he wants to do away from their peace and quiet.

In this particular case, what Gandalf wants to do, is talk to him about some kind of quest.

"Because you see, Erebor can only be taken back if the King leads the company," Gandalf concludes his really long explanation, and while Bilbo is admittedly intrigued by all those talks about kingdoms and dragons and quests, he still doesn't know what Gandalf wants of him.

"That is all good and well, Gandalf, I bid you good luck on your adventure. It seems dreadfully exciting, really, this whole find the king get the kingdom back. I'm sure you'll tell me everything when you come back. I'm not sure how you can find a king who doesn't want to be found but, well, that's not really my problem, is it? Ah," Bilbo chuckles slightly at that, failing to notice the glance that Gandalf and Thorin exchange.

"Bilbo-"

"And we'll be sure to visit when you've done your taking back. If that's what Thorin wants?" Bilbo adds, after a moment, because he clearly remembers Thorin talking about being from Erebor and he imagines he'd like to come back, sometimes.

Gandalf has that infuriating look, the one which makes you think he's hiding something from you and at the same time possibly laughing at you. Thorin is looking literally anywhere else, and Bilbo could bet he's seeing a faint blush on his face. He doesn't understand what's happening, but he doesn't like this. Not one bit.

"You didn't tell me the name of the King? Is he someone I should have heard of? What's his name?"

"Thorin."

Bilbo looks at Gandalf like he's expecting him to ask something to Thorin. Like that last Thorin had been question and not an answer. But as the moment drags by, he realizes that it wasn't a question.

"Beg your pardon?"

"His name is Thorin."

"Ah. How strange, a namesake," Thorin makes a struggling sound at that, but Bilbo is too focused on Gandalf's look to do anything other than glaring. "Well, then. Good look finding the other Thorin."

"There's no other Thorin, Bilbo. I'm the one Gandalf is talking about. I'm Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror, King under the mountain."