Training Emsiecat

His training had first begun as far back as Beorn's. It had been prudent, Thorin had stated, that their burglar know how to handle the weapon that Gandalf had found for him without taking his own head off.

Bilbo had bristled at the comment, only to have Dwalin agree and add that since Bilbo seemed to share their leader's reckless knack for throwing himself at an opponent who outclassed him; it was wise to make sure the hobbit had some knowledge of how to fend for himself at least.

Bilbo had been ready to argue, but the furious scowl Thorin aimed at Dwalin over the 'outclassing' remark left Bilbo feeling avenged enough, especially when Dwalin tipped him a friendly wink.

"Only because he had a filthy great warg and a small legion at his back, one on one you'd have bested him, no doubt," Dwalin raised both hands in an appeasing gesture to his king and it seemed to placate him.

And so, under the watchful eye of their still healing leader, the lessons had begun in those few peaceful days before they had set out for Mirkwood.

Bilbo had been tutored first by Dori; which seemed like an obvious choice, as he was by far the strongest member in the Company. A master was he with any weapon handed to him and fierce as a bear in hand-to-hand combat. Unfortunately, this also meant that no matter how hard Dori tried to pull his punches, he was just too strong for Bilbo to learn from without being injured himself. The poor hobbit suffered a great many bruises, scrapes, and pulled muscles before Gandalf had mildly suggested they try someone else lest Bilbo was left unfit to travel.

Next to take up the tutor's mantle was Glóin. The idea had been a good one; Glóin was a fierce warrior and yet had a son of his own whom he had helped to train. Thus, Glóin was endlessly patient and knew when too much pressure was being applied to his student. Despite this, there was but one problem. Glóin was a master of the axe and whereas Dori had learnt to wield various weapons, Glóin's true skill lay just in one. This meant that when they had learnt the basics and moved onto learning finer techniques with Bilbo's sword, Glóin was not able to be of as much help as the rest of the Company had hoped.

Lastly, they had tried to employ Dwalin's assistance. It had lasted all of an afternoon before Dwalin had admitted defeat. Skilled warrior he may be, and able to tell when a student was flagging, but unfortunately the dwarf's patience was thin as a knife's edge when those he tried to teach were both reluctant to learn and just as likely to snipe back with barbed comments whenever the dwarf made a frustrated observation.

In the end, the Company had left the relative safety of the skin-changer's home before they could properly train their burglar; and as the quest progressed thereafter and no more opportunities for training presented themselves, the dwarves simply had to hope that the hobbit's luck would keep him alive whenever they were caught in combat.

A full year and an epic battle later found Erebor reclaimed, Thorin and his Company settling into their home, a steady influx of trade and newcomers, and a hobbit who had decided that he could possibly learn to love this faraway place just as he had loved the Shire.

On a whim, Bilbo had left the mountain for some fresh air, one fine and sunny summer's day. It had been during his leisurely stroll that he had come across the deserted training ground and had hopped over the fence in order to have a wander around the large circular space. The reassuring weight of Sting at his hip was a reminder that whilst he had certainly weathered many a storm since leaving Bag End, it was not down to skill that he had survived, but mostly luck, the help of a certain ring, and a little cleverness on his part.

If he could but fight as the palace guards did though...

It was an odd fancy for a hobbit to have, but Bilbo had seen his friends in combat or at the very least training numerous times now, and always felt a little left out and useless. Besides, the likes of Fíli and Kíli made such things look fun.

Trying his best to remember the advice and techniques shown to him in those all too brief lessons from more than a year before; Bilbo unsheathed Sting and began to slash at imaginary enemies, ducking and lunging in a manner he hoped did not look too ridiculous.

So caught up was he in slaying invisible enemies, that he failed to notice the other presence by the fence until a voice startled him and nearly caused him to drop the sword onto his bare feet.

"You've picked up bad habits, Master Baggins."

Bilbo yelped and turned quickly to see Thorin leaning with his elbows upon the top rung of the split pole fence. How was it that Thorin, despite being a dwarf, could walk around so quietly? It rather flew in the face of all suppositions folk had about dwarves being noisy and lumbering.

"What do you mean by bad habits?" Bilbo hurriedly sheathed Sting again, trotting over to the fence as Thorin climbed effortlessly over it to join Bilbo in the training yard.

"Your footwork was entirely wrong on those last few lunges, and your grip on your sword is far too tight. You will lose control like that, and your movements won't be nearly as fluid as you would like... shall I go on?"

Bilbo winced and sent a half-hearted glare at his companion. "I'd really rather you didn't. It isn't my fault I've barely had any experience with fighting... and quite frankly, I shouldn't even be wishing for more, I'm a hobbit!"

"As you are quite fond of reminding us," Thorin smiled, tweaking Bilbo's nose affectionately as he passed by and made his way over to the weapon house set at the other end of the training yard. The practice weapons were stored here, Bilbo knew. "There's no harm in wanting to improve your technique, Bilbo. In fact, now that you live here amongst many warriors, it's probably a fine idea."

Bilbo followed the king and waited by his side whilst he let himself into the weapon house and borrowed a couple of wooden practice swords from the dwarf working there.

"What are you doing?"

"I should think it obvious. I'm going to train you."

"W-wait, what? No- no no no, there's no need for it, Thorin, really."

Bilbo scurried after Thorin as he wandered back into the deserted training yard and weighed one of the swords in his hands, inspecting it along its length, before clearly deciding it was satisfactory and making a few practice swings with it.

Bilbo immediately felt foolish just by watching him; there was no way he had looked anywhere near as competent as that... In fact, he was willing to wager he more closely resembled a faunt at play.

Thorin smiled and handed over the other sword to the bewildered hobbit before commanding, "Attack me."

"What!?"

"Attack me, Master Baggins. I wish to see more of your technique so I can instruct you."

"Thorin, for pity's sake you are king; I can't go whacking at you with a sword, and I seriously doubt you have the time to be wasting tutoring a hobbit in proper swordplay."

"Ah, so you have read my schedule recently, have you?" Thorin teased. "I'm happy to know my time is of such interest to you that you would do that to know when I'd be free and when I would not."

"Oh for goodness- you know what I mean, Thorin."

"I do, yes. You worry yourself needlessly, Bilbo. Fíli or Dís can easily sit in on a few meetings for me, and as for 'whacking at me'; I honestly do not think you will hurt me with these," Thorin gave the 'blade' of the wooden sword a smart tap with his forefinger. "The most damage we will do one another is bruises and possibly the odd splinter."

Bilbo sighed, feeling the sword in his grip and twirling it clumsily. "You're not going to let this go, are you?"

Thorin smiled, approaching Bilbo again and giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze. "I would not force you to do anything you did not wish to, Bilbo. If you would rather not, then that is fine. I just presumed you were interested in learning."

"I am, honestly... I'm just uncertain as to how much of an idiot I'll end up looking."

Thorin laughed, stepping away again and taking up a defensive stance. "Do you think so little of my teaching methods that I would allow you to look a fool?"

"No! No, not at all," Bilbo was quick to reassure and then tried to imitate Thorin's stance himself. "I just doubt my own capabilities in this instance. Hobbits aren't made for war."

"Nor are any race... excepting perhaps the orcs. We learn from a young age to defend our family, our home, and ourselves. It would be an honour to teach this to you as well, providing you want to learn of course."

"I do," Bilbo said with resolve.

"Very well, attack me then."

Bilbo was uncertain when they had started circling one another like opponents on a battlefield, the hobbit assumed he had naturally just started mimicking whatever move Thorin made.

Nodding, Bilbo felt his expression set in determination. "Let it be known that you requested I do this... I don't want the likes of Dwalin coming for my blood if I inadvertently injure the king."

Thorin's poorly concealed laughter at the idea of Bilbo injuring him was enough to mildly irritate the hobbit and spur him into action.

He leapt, lunging with the fiercest cry he could muster, sword swinging to try and land a blow at Thorin's chest- only for his wooden blade to be blocked far too easily and parried away. In the next instance, Thorin's own sword had come up under Bilbo's guard and sharply tapped his chest.

"And just like that, you die, Master Baggins," there was no mocking in Thorin's tone, only a bleak summarisation of the event.

Bilbo stepped back and chuckled, shaking his head. "Not quite, my dear."

Mouth lifted in a cheeky grin, Bilbo tugged at the collar of his shirt to reveal the mithril he wore beneath it.

"Ah, so there's hope for you yet," Thorin grinned and took up his stance again, Bilbo sputtering in mock outrage at the arrogant twist to his lips. "Come along then, Master Hobbit. Let us see if you can do better this time."

Bilbo wasted no time, taking up the offensive again and this time, when Thorin tried to fool him with the same move, he was ready. Bilbo blocked the incoming jab of Thorin's 'blade' and gave a small shout of triumph, only for the sound to cut off and transform into an indignant yelp and breathy 'oomph' as Thorin hooked Bilbo's leg with his own and sent the hobbit to the ground on his back.

This time Bilbo felt the lightest tap of the wooden sword at his exposed throat as he squinted up at his opponent in the bright afternoon sunlight, and grumbled as Thorin declared his untimely demise once more.

"I say, that was hardly very fair at all!"

"You should know well enough now, that an orc won't care for a fair fight. Unfortunately, we have to fight much the same way to survive."

"Ruffians," Bilbo sniffed with as much lofty Shire disdain as he could muster, causing Thorin to smile as he offered the hobbit a hand to help him up.

Taking Bilbo's sword from him, Thorin set both practice weapons aside as he considered the hobbit carefully. "You are a fast learner, this we know. Unfortunately, given the length of time since you last trained, you are woefully out of practice, Bilbo. Rather than jumping right into swordplay, I recommend we refresh your knowledge of hand-to-hand combat first. It will help you remember how to stand, how to move, how best to use your instincts to your advantage."

Thorin was circling him again, and with those sharp, keen eyes, Bilbo was strongly reminded of a wolf. He stood perfectly still as Thorin looked him over, stroking his beard in thought.

"Your greatest advantage lies in your height being far smaller than what most enemies would be accustomed to; coupled with your speed and quick thinking, given the right instruction you would be a deadly adversary, I think.

Bilbo almost laughed at that, only to feel taken aback when Thorin did not smile or jest; he was serious?

"I saw how you trained back at Beorn's. Had we more time there, I do not doubt you would have become a proficient. Brute strength would never be your forte; you would never be able to overpower an enemy with that alone. However, your skill would likely surpass theirs given time, and if we could maybe equip you with another weapon as well as Sting, I think you'd have an excellent chance if another need to fight arose."

Bilbo could feel warmth spreading through his chest at the odd praise Thorin had granted him, the tips of his ears heating as he smiled up at the king. If Thorin honestly believed that, then Bilbo would just have to do his best to prove it was true.

"You would do well with a bow like Kíli's I think... or maybe throwing knives like Nori. For now though, let us continue with hand-to-hand training and see how you progress."

Bilbo was standing still, posture comfortably loose but not sloppy, and allowed Thorin to move him into a correct fighting stance.

It was a little awkward, he admitted to himself as he tried to ignore the blush he wore; having Thorin so close and guiding him into the correct position. Neither of them was shy to admit what they were to each other anymore, but still... it would be a lot easier to concentrate if his tutor were one of his other friends and not his beloved.

As capable hands moved over his hips and then nudged his feet into the correct position, Bilbo recalled the familiarity of the stance from his time at Beorn's. Yes, that felt correct; no wonder he had not felt right when Thorin had first asked him to show him a fighting stance after moving on to hand-to-hand fighting.

"Your feet should be set just wider than your hips for balance, slightly staggered like so," Thorin gently moved the hobbit's foot to demonstrate. "Knees facing the same direction as your feet and your rear heel raised with your weight on the ball of your foot. If you stand flat footed your moves will likely be too sluggish."

Bilbo nodded and felt his flush deepen as Thorin moved to correct his upper body position as well, one large hand splayed over his belly. "Keep some tension in the abdomen, and you want your pelvis to be positioned directly beneath your shoulders."

More adjustments and Bilbo fought back an incredulous laugh as Thorin let his hands linger longer than necessary. "You're not fooling me, Thorin. I'm beginning to see the real reason why you wished to help me."

"I've not the faintest idea of what you speak, dearest," Thorin at least had the good grace to blush at having been caught out; ducking his head to hide the broad grin he now sported.

"Terrible, honestly terrible," Bilbo clucked his tongue, amused.

Thorin arranged Bilbo's arms into a proper fighting pose next, and was bold enough to lean in and peck his cheek before returning to his original position across from the hobbit. Bilbo sniggered at the show of affection and waited for Thorin to take up his own battle stance.

"Alright, remember what I told you of fighting techniques and keeping your guard up and try to attack me again."

Bilbo, determined once more, made a lunge for Thorin.

It was rather embarrassing really, the amount of times he ended up knocked onto his back with a firm boot to his chest pinning him in place.

He had hoped to see some improvement by the end of the week, but it was not to be.

After their initial training session, Bilbo and Thorin had decided to make the practices a daily occurrence whenever possible. None of their friends knew of the arrangement save for Dís and Balin, who were made aware only so they could make sure Thorin's schedule was clear at the same time every day.

Bilbo had wanted the training sessions kept a secret just in case he spectacularly failed. That way, he would be saved from possible ridicule. Thorin had assured him he would never be ridiculed by their friends, and besides which Bilbo would improve in no time at all.

Bilbo was glad for the reassurance, but retained doubts, and so the request to keep the sessions private was honoured.

Of course, on occasion, it was impossible to do this, but for the most part, it seemed to be working quite well.

"Don't be despondent," Thorin reassured, correctly interpreting Bilbo's expression as he helped him up again. "You are learning far quicker than a lot of dwarves I could name. I would not expect you to have found a way to overpower me just yet."

Bilbo nodded and arranged himself into the starting position again and Thorin nodded encouragingly before moving to attack Bilbo once again.

Bilbo found, that as the weeks progressed, his stamina and technique did improve greatly.

It was heartening, he thought as he wandered down the corridor massaging a sore muscle in his shoulder; that he had actually begun to be able to best Thorin during their sparring.

He had looked so surprised the first time it had happened too!

A sort of detached calm had settled over Bilbo when Thorin had leapt at him in that particular round, and without thinking overly much of what he was doing, Bilbo had grabbed Thorin's tunic, turned, kneeled, and let the dwarf's momentum carry him as Bilbo hefted him over his shoulder and to the ground.

Thorin had blinked up at Bilbo from the flat of his back in confusion, the force of his landing slightly winding him. The hobbit too had looked surprised by his success, and had given a disbelieving hoot of laughter before ducking down to place an ecstatic kiss to Thorin's cheek before awkwardly helping him up.

After that, it seemed that Bilbo's confidence was not only lifted by his first success, but his body started to retain the knowledge and feeling of fighting far better. He found that besting Thorin that time was not a fluke, but the beginning of a marked improvement in his skill.

Months passed, and as summer became winter and the training grounds became too bitterly cold to endure; Thorin moved the training inside, but still managed to somehow keep the knowledge of it from their friends.

Hand-to-hand combat was then joined by the inevitable swordplay, and as Bilbo slowly began to master that, Thorin presented the hobbit with his own bow and quiver of arrows to practice with.

Thorin, Bilbo decided, was actually a wonderful teacher. For all they often became distracted with kisses and playful banter, the dwarf was immensely patient when explaining and demonstrating a new technique Bilbo was having trouble grasping. He was careful never to push Bilbo beyond his limits whilst always urging him to do better and not settle for less. And Bilbo found that as his knowledge of battle tactics improved, he could easily see why Thorin was such a force to be reckoned with on the battlefield. The dwarf moved with alluringly deadly grace, like a large cat, he could easily wield different weapons and not lack for skill with any of them; sword, bow, axe, were all used with lethal efficiency. He was not perfect, Bilbo now knew that no warrior ever was (Thorin for example, had a bad habit of occasionally leaving his guard open when he went on the offensive, making him vulnerable to attack). However, he was exceptionally well trained, and that same training was slowly being imparted onto Bilbo as it had his nephews when he had helped train them.

More often than not these days, Bilbo would conclude their training sessions feeling tired and sore, but very happy. The pulled muscles, grazes, and dark bruises from when he had first started seemed to be a thing of the past, and Bilbo was grateful to finally notice the improvement in strength in himself.

It was not until spring that the rest of the Company found out about the secret training sessions.

The Company and their families had all gathered to celebrate another anniversary of the beginning of their quest and were dancing, singing, drinking, and feasting.

Bilbo was stood chatting amiably with Balin when it happened. Bofur, decidedly having too much fun, had decided to try to grab their hobbit from behind and hoist him into the air for some reason.

Balin had opened his mouth to protest, but got no further than that.

Bilbo's training with Thorin took over, instincts kicking in as he was grabbed, and in a move much reminiscent to his first success in besting Thorin; Bilbo gave Bofur a sharp kick to the shin so that he dropped him. He then grabbed his arms, twisted so his hold loosened, and flipped him clean over his shoulder and onto the floor before Balin.

"Oh dear! Oh Bofur I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to-"

Bofur blinked up at the hobbit incredulously before bursting into laughter. "W-what the- you! You managed to-" the rest of Bofur's words were lost as he giggled helplessly from the floor and refused to get up.

"It would seem," Balin stated with a merry twinkle in his eye. "That someone has been training our hobbit to fight."

"That would explain a lot," Dwalin harrumphed and toed the still hysterically giggling Bofur as if to affirm that it had in fact happened and that Bofur really was there laughing on the ground.

"Oh, so that's where they disappeared to everyday. I thought they were just going to-" Kíli was prevented from finishing his sentence by a sharp smack upside the head from his brother.

Bilbo covered his face with his hands in mortification as Thorin hid his laughter behind the façade of a cough beside him.

Well, maybe the training hadn't been quite as secretive as they had hoped after all.