Say it with Flowers Emsiecat

Summary:

Based on lovelylilpup's prompt:After seeing those envelopes with the flowers in them, I'm thinking about Bilbo sending Thorin flowers, with specific meanings, that he knows the dwarf wont know, so.. secret love confessions on our hobbit's part!

Note: Please disregard the improbability of Middle Earth (and especially the area around Erebor) having all these different flowers. It's a fantasy world, let's just go with that excuse and concentrate on the fluff instead! ;)

Chapter Text

It started with an acorn in an envelope left upon his windowsill.

And really that was all Thorin needed in order to guess who was the sender of the strange little gift.

The why escaped him just as much as the meaning behind it, but Thorin, Son of Thrain, Son of Thror could always appreciate a friendly gesture when it was presented to him, no matter how odd a gesture it may be.

Hobbits... Came the exasperated yet fond thought. And so it was that Thorin thought little more on the gift for the time being.

After all, there was not really anything to think on. Bilbo had decided to stay in Erebor for the time being and as they were close friends now, Thorin was always willing to let Bilbo into his rooms. This being the case, the fact that the acorn had appeared on his living room windowsill did not faze him in the slightest, as Bilbo was a frequent visitor. Furthermore, the idea of Bilbo bestowing the acorn upon Thorin was not something that concerned the dwarf king overly much; Bilbo was a hobbit with his own culture and ways of doing things. It was probably just a good luck charm or a reminder for him of times past.

The next envelope contained not nut or seed, but flowers.

Again, this was cause for Thorin to guess Bilbo was behind the gift. Dwarves did not usually give flowers, but he supposed hobbits would do such a thing if Bilbo's talk of their love for growing green things were any indication.

Delicate pink flowers with rounded petals, darker at the centre and paler at the tips mingled there with yellow flowers that bore a multitude of tiny thin petals. Amongst them were a few strange flowers Thorin had seen growing in the mountain. They had long white petals that were as soft and fuzzy as cotton.

Thorin ran a finger along one of these petals as he pondered the gift. It was unusual to a dwarf but perhaps not so to a hobbit.

Well, it would be rude to refuse such a thing...

Thorin gladly kept them.

When they began to fade some days later, he felt oddly upset, and so asked Óin how to best preserve them. With the healer using many herbs in his medicines, he was bound to know.

As expected, the older dwarf did not disappoint, and showed the king a way to carefully dry the flowers and place them in a book for safekeeping. Thorin was pleased by this solution and did as instructed to keep his gift forevermore.

These flowers were not the last by any means however.

The next time Thorin found an envelope it was filled with daffodils that Thorin knew of, and other flowers he did not. Little flowers, which were an attractive blend of purple and yellow, their petals arranged almost like a friendly face. Beautiful flowers the colour of the sky, so small Thorin was afraid he might crush them; there was a sprig of a plant with spiky leaves and dark red berries, and even more pretty foliage he could not name but somehow felt had been picked especially with him in mind.

Thorin admired the flowers, smiling at the gesture, and set to work preserving them.

The envelopes arrived quite regularly, but not at any set day or time. Every time there were new flowers to admire and preserve, and every time Thorin found himself wondering what in the world all of this meant.

He enjoyed the gifts immensely despite the confusion they caused him, and even though he saw Bilbo very often, he did not have the nerve to question the hobbit about his gifts.

It was Ori who unintentionally revealed to Thorin that there was some deeper meaning to his gifts than he may have first thought.

The king had gone to the library in order to read some old treaties. There, in amongst the stacks and shelves of tablets, scrolls, books, and no small amount of dust, was Ori's desk.

The young dwarf sat there, scribbling furiously in a large tome, ink staining his hands and a look of utter concentration on his face. Beside him, near the inkwell was a small vase full of flowers and Thorin's brow rose at the sight. Had Bilbo been giving flowers to others in the Company as well?

... If so, why did that notion cause an uncomfortable heaviness to settle in his chest?

"Ori," Thorin began, intending to gain the oblivious scribe's attention.

Said scribe yelped and Thorin fought not to chuckle as his quill flew from his hand and to the floor.

"My apologies, Ori; I did not intend to startle you," Thorin bent and retrieved the quill, handing it back to the quietest member of his Company.

"Oh, it's quite alright, Thorin. I was completely lost in thought there."

Thorin was eternally grateful that his closest companions had agreed to forego formalities after his coronation. If he had had to endure a future of those he had fought and bled with bowing and calling him 'Your Majesty', such a thing would have become disagreeable very quickly. They were his friends and family first and foremost, and in his opinion one did not lord over their family, nor should their family hold him in any higher regard from anyone else who had come on the Quest.

Thorin inclined his head in response and tried again. "Ori, I was wondering where you got those flowers from."

"Oh! These were from Bilbo, lovely aren't they," Ori grinned and Thorin felt that heaviness in his chest increase just a little, though he could not think why.

"Yes, they're very nice..."

"Did you want to know what they mean? Bilbo explained them to me," Ori continued genially, clearly not noticing the slightly stilted quality in Thorin's voice.

"What they mean?" Thorin's mouth had gone oddly dry at that.

The flowers Bilbo had given Ori actually meant something?

"Yes, it's a hobbit thing, funny folk aren't they. Apparently, in the Shire hobbits use flowers as a way to communicate. A sort of made up language if you will... Every flower has a different meaning, and you can tell someone a lot by giving them a bouquet such as this," he indicated to his own bunch of flowers with a wave of his hand and Thorin's eyes became transfixed on them.

So intent was his gaze upon the innocuous looking flowers that the king failed to notice the mischievous and knowing little grin pulling at Ori's lips.

That poor sap... he doesn't even realise it himself, Ori thought fondly of their leader.

Generous as the young dwarf was, he decided to put their clearly stricken king out of his misery.

"This one here means innocence, trust, and friendship and this one endurance," Ori pointed to each flower in turn, as he listed their meanings. "This one is valour, wisdom, and friendship, this is wit, and this is useful knowledge..."

Ori continued, and though there were many overtures to friendship in his bouquet, and flowers portraying what Bilbo thought of Ori, Thorin was incongruously relieved that none signified romantic love.

The words were out of his mouth before Thorin was consciously aware that he had even spoken. "I was wondering, after hearing you explain all these, are there any flowers that mean love? O-of the romantic kind?"

Ori had to bite his tongue to prevent himself from grinning. "Oh yes, there's plenty that represent love... Say," Ori hummed as if he had just thought of it. "Bilbo loaned me a book of his that he had delivered from the Shire. He said he could not bear to be without it as it was a favourite of his mother's... but he let me borrow it so that I could read up more on flower meanings after I had expressed an interest."

Thorin's eyes were fixed on Ori this time, and the young dwarf felt something like triumph rush through his veins. Their king really could not be more obvious if he tried!

"I'm sure Bilbo wouldn't mind you borrowing it, since you're so interested and all that," Ori speculated and reached down to rummage through a drawer in his desk, producing a wonderfully crafted leather book moments later.

Thorin wordlessly accepted it as it was handed to him and nodded as if in agreement.

"Just make sure you give it back to me when you're finished. Bilbo will want it returned eventually," Ori beamed as Thorin thanked him and left the library without even collecting the treaties he had come for.

Once meetings had finished for the day, Thorin retired to his rooms anxious to read up on Bilbo's flowers.

Taking the acorn from out of the little wooden box he kept it in upon his mantle, Thorin rolled it around his palm, admiring it before settling down with Ori's (or rather Bilbo's) book on the language of flowers.

He turned the old and yellowed pages reverently, pausing to admire the finely painted details given to each flower and seed. It was a beautiful book; clearly, every care had been taken to make it both practical and lovely to read.

Eventually, Thorin flipped back to the beginning and found the entry he was looking for. His first gift...

Acorns meant life and immortality. Providing Bilbo wished for this to convey something other than a simple gift, then perhaps the hobbit was wishing him a long and healthy life?

That was kind of him...

Then came the more difficult task of identifying each flower he had been presented with before he read their meanings.

The easiest was the strange white, fuzzy flower. It was known to hobbits as the 'wool flower', or rather charmingly, 'cat's paws'. Its meaning was daring, courage, and nobility.

Is this what the hobbit thought of him?

Thorin wetted suddenly dry lips, an uncertain fluttering in his stomach as he went meticulously through the book to find more of his flowers. Next, he found azalea, its message conveyed take care of yourself and Thorin had to smile. Surely, he was not so reckless with his own wellbeing that he needed a reminder in flower form?

Then came chrysanthemum, it had no discernable colour and so Thorin supposed it would be under the general meaning you are a wonderful friend.

That gave Thorin pause. He had not always been thus. In fact, upon first meeting, he and Bilbo barely spoke to each other...

I suppose time changes people, and their perception of the other.

And so Thorin continued.

It did not take long for the first surprise to greet him.

Affection stared up at him from the pages, yet Thorin tried not to think too much on it. After all, hadn't Ori's bouquet also contained something to do with affection?

Still, Thorin felt an inexplicable bubble of hope start to rise within him, and trying to push it aside, Thorin continued with his study of flowers.

Regard was next, followed by Hope

And then...

You occupy my thoughts

Thorin's breath caught, but he still tampered down that ridiculous hopefulness... of course Bilbo thought of him... they were friends they...

Devotion

Secret Love

I Love You, Love Me, Kiss Me

Well... that might explain a few things then...

Really, he should not have been surprised to learn what Bilbo was trying to tell him. The signs had been there for quite some time now. It was only Thorin who had been too oblivious to see it, and so Bilbo had tried to tell him; though naturally his uncertainty of Thorin's regard for him had prompted him to do so in the most enigmatic way possible.

The signs had been there indeed; from Bilbo's decision to stay, to his frequent visits to Thorin's rooms. Their prolonged talks and gentle teasing of one another spoke volumes, as did the silly jokes and warm embraces. Lingering touches happened between him and none of the other Company members, only Bilbo, and the mere thought of having the hobbit close by; be it for aid in paperwork, eating together, or simple companionship, brought such joy to Thorin he was surprised he had not thought on it more before now.

The little knot; the bud of warmth in his heart, a place that had been reserved especially for Bilbo for a long time now, blossomed.

The only question remained was; what could Thorin do about it?

Perhaps... since flowers had been the question, then flowers should be the answer...

Ori had been cataloguing some old tablets when Bilbo had found him, the hobbit nattering on happily about some seeds Beorn had sent him from his garden.

"It will help the desolation recover no end, let me tell you!" Bilbo fairly squeaked with exuberance. "I mean I know we've done wonders with it, planting as much as we have already, but Beorn's gardens were just such a sight to behold that I just know these plants will flourish all the more!"

It was fate perhaps, that Bilbo then noticed the vase of flowers on Ori's desk.

"Goodness, they surely haven't lasted as long as this, have they?" the hobbit paused in his joyous rambling about planting in the desolation to gently touch one of the freesia's petals with a forefinger.

"No, no. I'm afraid yours wilted some time ago. I've just grown fond of them, so I used that book of yours to find more to replenish them every time they die."

"Oh, well that makes sense. Ah, speaking of which, might I have the book back? I was hoping to look up a few meanings I had forgotten for... for my cousin. He wrote to me asking my advice you see," Bilbo's ruse was a weak one.

He was planning to give more flowers to Thorin.

Ori smiled, and drawled as innocently as he knew how. "So sorry, Bilbo, I haven't got your book at the moment. I lent it to Thorin; he was mighty interested in learning flower meanings after he asked me about the ones in my vase here."

Ori wondered if it was normal for hobbits to change skin tone so quickly. His friend went from his normal shade, to bright red, then very very pale, all the while gaping like a fish out of water.

"Y-you wha- you lent it to Thorin!?" the incredulous question was in a tone quite shrilly and Ori adamantly refused to give himself away now by laughing. He had a feeling that vengeance from a hobbit would be a very unpleasant thing.

Therefore, Ori did what he always used to do when he got in trouble as a lad; he tilted his head to one side and widened his eyes most imploringly. "Was I not meant to?"

Bilbo uttered a tiny, strangled sound of panic. A sound so pitiful that Ori almost felt sorry for what he had done. Almost...

Someone needed to help those two poor fools out, after all!

Without another word, Bilbo shook his head vehemently and then charged from the library as if a pack of wargs were on his tail. Ori waited until he was well out of sight before grinning the most mischievous grin he had likely every sported. It wasn't only Nori who could be devious in their family.

Thorin saw him as soon as he entered his rooms that evening. It seemed Bilbo had let himself in and although Thorin was all too pleased to see him, the hobbit looked uncharacteristically shifty and shy, and not quite able to meet his gaze.

Almost at once, Thorin knew precisely why he was there.

Bilbo had tried so hard to speak with his flowers, but he had essentially been speaking a foreign language to Thorin; one of which Thorin did not know a single word. It seemed he had half-hoped Thorin would not understand, yet had tried all the same to say what he felt without speaking and facing outright rejection.

"If you have something to say, I am listening," Thorin murmured quietly, deciding that gently prompting Bilbo might help him speak plainly.

Bilbo's lips parted but no sound came for a time, just a mute miming of speech that would have looked quite ridiculous had Thorin not been so utterly besotted.

Unwilling to make Bilbo voice the words when he clearly felt pressured and quite likely afraid of being rebuffed; Thorin decided to do the courteous thing and give his reply to spare the hobbit his worries.

A step forward, a hand brought round from behind his back where he had kept the flower from sight, and Bilbo made a strange hiccoughing noise at the sight of the bloom being presented to him.

Ambrosia.

Your love is reciprocated.

At least this was the meaning if Thorin had read his book correctly and chosen the correct flower.

He supposed it must be, if Bilbo's reaction was anything to gauge matters by; because the hobbit had very nearly knocked him off his feet in his haste to embrace him, and the warm insistent press of Bilbo's lips to his were the most wonderful thing Thorin had ever felt.