Ambassador to Madness

Credit goes to SunnyRose

Chapter 5: Lacking in Concertation

Summary:

Bilbo and Thorin's marriage aren't off the to the best of starts.

The first three weeks of Bilbo's married life seemed to flash by him. Thorin still had his duties and responsibilities to the crown which left Bilbo on his own most of the day. Sometimes he would go to the library, sometimes he would go out on the ramparts for fresh air to read, and sometimes Balin would have him sit with Ori to learn how to "become a proper Consort". The lad was actually quite enjoyable company who took the task very seriously which almost made Bilbo feel guilty for how much he...did not.

Learning that he was Dori's brother, Bilbo sometimes used that as an excuse to escape the pointless lessons and buy some more delightful tea blends, but mostly his life was defined by sitting in his and Thorin's joint suite until his dear husband got back. It gave them just enough time for awkward small talk before heading down their separate halls for their separate rooms to tuck into their separate beds. It was polite and more than justifiable, but it wasn't how he thought it was going to be. In a lot of ways, he figured he might as well still be a bachelor. At least then he would have the plus side of it being in a familiar environment. In fact, being married has just made Bilbo even more homesick.

The sharp crack of stone had Bilbo jumping in his seat, and he quickly scrambled to grab a book to hide the fact that he's been staring blankly at the opposite wall for the last half an hour.

"That pointy-eared bastard has some nerve!" Thorin swore as he went through his usual routine of tossing his outer coat and crown on the side table haphazardly.

He paused just long enough to give Bilbo a raised eyebrow before he plopped down on the settee with a drawn out groan of frustration.

Bilbo snorted. "I'll try not to take offense."

"Not you." Thorin growled. " Thranduil. "

Bilbo has not known Thorin long, but he has learned that nothing could work him up quite like Erebor's alliance to the elves of Greenwood. Specifically their king.

"Oh? And just what has the Elf King done this time?"

Bilbo really hadn't expected an answer, but clearly Thorin was just that upset. A letter plopped down on the edge of the table. Bilbo raised his eyebrow at the dwarf, seeking permission before his curiosity compelled him to open it. However, the name on the front had his face draining of all color.

"This is... are you stealing mail from your grandfather? "

"Calm down." Thorin scoffed. "It's courtesy to address all official business to the King, but as Crown Prince diplomacy falls on my shoulders to organize. If a meeting is necessary, someone from my office or myself will inform His Majesty."

"Which you have no intention of doing." Bilbo accused.

Thorin didn't refute the claim, just glared at him with his arms crossed as he stared pointedly between the letter and the hobbit. Bilbo held his stare for a little longer before sighing, and opening it up anyways. It was too late to do anything about it now as the seal had already been broken.

To Thror son of Dain, King Under the Mountain of Erebor and Durin's Folk:

This is the third time we have tried to establish correspondence in regards to the personal commission made on behalf of our King. If we are not updated on the progress of the White Gems of Lasgalen within the fortnight, we will have no choice but to conduct the remainder of our business in person. A slight that will color our views on the necessity of our continued alliance.

From the Office of Thranduil, King of the Woodland Realm and Greenwood

Bilbo shrugged. "Doesn't seem so bad."

"The fortnight is up within the week." Thorin responded.

"So just give him his jewels." Bilbo urged.

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"Because they are in the treasury."

It took a little while longer for Bilbo to piece together exactly why this was a problem.

"Your grandfather doesn't intend to give them up."

"No."

Bilbo sighed as he placed the letter back on the table.

"You can't afford to lose this alliance. I've heard about how you dwarves feel about the elves, but they have long memories. This is a slight that will haunt you for generations."

"I know." Thorin sighed as he rose to his feet to pace before the fireplace. "My predicament lies in the fact that I'm not the king. I may be taking on duties of the king in his...illness, but I can't write to another king in the stead of my grandfather. And if it's brought to him..."

"He...won't do anything about the problem." Bilbo finished for him.

Thorin nodded even as he scrubbed his hands down his face.

"We're going to have to host the elves, and this is not going to be beneficial for anyone. "

Bilbo could feel a wince in sympathy for his husband. After all, it was the burden Thorin bore that landed him in this marriage in the first place. Besides, something was stirring inside him at the thought of finally being of some use.

"Let me sit in on the meeting."

"What?" Thorin demanded, stopping long enough to stare at him with a raised eyebrow.

BIlbo felt himself grow warm, but he didn't back down.

"My mother spent years in Rivendell and I'm fluent in Sindrian! Let me be the ambassador I thought I was coming here to be."

"It's not going to matter if we can't get those gems." Thorin laughed with no humor.

Bilbo pursed his lips together. Perhaps he should just nod along and go back to living the luxurious life of the Prince's Consort. A piece of jewelry to be pulled out once in a while in order to sell their con.

"Thorin, please. I can help."

He wasn't sure if it was the conviction of his words or the yearning of his expression, but something gave Thorin pause. Sizing up Bilbo as if seeing him for the first time.

"I suppose...it would be beneficial to have someone who can mediate. Very well, Master Baggins. I will inform Balin of our plans tomorrow."

A wide grin spread across his face as he picked his book back up. Thorin smirked at him. Almost as if he were aware of something Bilbo wasn't, but he said not a word more as he headed for his chambers. It was at that point that Bilbo decided enough was enough. He had to do something to bridge the gap.

"Bilbo." He pointed out.

"Pardon?" Thorin stopped.

"You're my husband now. I think you've earned the right to call me Bilbo."

Thorin ducked his head, but his smirk was still present. Bilbo really had to fight to keep from grinning in return at the sight.

"Bilbo?" Thorin said, slowly and softly, in a way that seemed to make the hobbit breathless.

"Yes?" He answered.

"Your book has been upside down since I came in."

Bilbo looked down aghast to see what the dwarf said was true. His cheeks set ablaze as he thanked the smug dwarf, while slamming the book shut trying to resist the urge to hit himself in the forehead with it. At least he was finally getting to do something. That was worth any small embarrassment.

***

The next day, Bilbo was actually out of bed well before the dawn bell for once. He carefully chose through his small selection of jackets thinking about how he would most likely need to find a tailor before the elven delegation arrived. The only problem was, every time he went to the markets to set right this problem, he was downhearted by the lack of hobbitish fashion.

He supposed he should just give in to the fact that he was a Consort in a dwarven kingdom, but his Baggins' stubbornness was reeling at the lack of a proper waistcoat. Maybe Balin would have some suggestions for a tailor open-minded enough to take Bilbo's preferences into consideration. For Bilbo was certainly not about to go twenty more rounds of arguing with Thorin's tailor to get what he wanted, and if all else failed, he could always buy the fabric himself. He may not practice the skill, but his father did teach him the basics of sewing. A little trial and error, and surely he could whip up something to his standard.

Thorin raised an eyebrow at how chipper Bilbo was that morning, but he didn't say a word as he led the way to Balin's office. After explaining their conversation from the previous night, the older dwarf was nearly beaming from ear to ear.

"I think it's a wonderful idea! Especially if Thranduil remembers Bilbo from his short stay in the Greenwoods."

Thorin smirked at Bilbo, and he had to fight to keep the scowl off his face in return. He knew exactly what the dwarf was thinking, and he rather hoped he wouldn't make him regret spilling his little secret. Much to Bilbo's appreciation, Thorin didn't say a word about it. Instead lamenting on his worries.

"It won't matter one way or another if we don't have an answer for him with regards to the gems."

"Can't we just tell him there were unforeseen complications? That we are a little behind schedule?" Bilbo asked.

"Lad, we're a year and a half behind schedule." Balin explained.

"Oh."

Well, that was a problem indeed.

"What about crafting an apology gift? It won't be the stones he wants, but something to give him as a placating offer. After all, Thror can't have control over all the treasure or there would be nothing for the smiths to use."

Thorin and Balin shared a look at this.

"It could work." Balin finally mused. "It would have to be very...embellished, but if we are clever with the phrasing, it could very easily buy us time with Thranduil."

"And Milja, Gloin's wife, would be the perfect candidate to craft such a gift." Thorin pointed out. "But we definitely can't let the King know about this meeting now. If he knew we were gifting treasure to the elves..."

"We could use our marriage as an excuse." Bilbo offered.

Bilbo was once again subjected to the dwarves' stares. Bilbo had to refrain from rolling his eyes. Honestly, how have they gotten by for as many years as they had? Not a sensible bone in their bodies.

"If any ask, we can say Thranduil is here to bestow his congratulations, and that Thorin and I gave him a gift for making the long journey. After all, it's fairly normal in hobbit weddings to give gifts to the guests. Probably nothing as grand as what we are planning for Thranduil, but then again, hobbits don't give many wedding gifts to kings."

Bilbo waited expectantly for their responses only for Balin to suddenly chuckle. Bilbo was rather dismayed until the older dwarf explained.

"My apologies, it's just uncanny how well the simple ways of the hobbits seem to be exactly what we need to combat the greed of this mountain. I'm sure it's all in Tharkun's design, but refreshing nonetheless."

Bilbo ducked his head with a small, pleased grin until Thorin ruined it.

"Not that he stuck around long enough to see his little experiment through to the end."

"When our ravens caught up with him, he said he had gotten called away unexpectedly. Something about dark blades and increased orc activity."

Bilbo resisted the urge to sigh as they quickly switched streams to talk about orcs and battles and other such nonsense Bilbo didn't have the slightest interest in. Besides, he was a little miffed that he was still just an experiment to Thorin. Perhaps that's all they will ever be. Two strangers forced together through strained circumstances, trying to accomplish a goal.

"In any case, I believe Master Baggins' plan is a good one. I'll go to Milja at once, you need to get a hold of Nori and make sure the proper rumors are spread."

Bilbo felt his ears prickle at the name Nori. He felt like he had heard it before, but he also didn't know if he just felt like he had because it rhymed with other dwarf names he knew. He had mistakenly asked Ori if a Lady Gwori was related to him as well, and that had launched into a near two hour lesson on which syllables were emphasized as family names, and that dwarrowdams had a whole other rhyming system. Needless to say, Bilbo did not make that mistake again.

"And who is Nori?" He questioned.

"Nori is my...spymaster, I suppose." Thorin explained hesitantly.

"He's a thief Thorin picked up off the streets to work for him." Balin grunted.

Thorin shrugged, not the least bit rebuked by Balin's assessment. In fact, the little smirk he wore almost suggested he was rather proud of himself. It made Bilbo more curious to know the story, but seeing as neither offered up any further information, he decided to let the matter drop for now.

"Well then while you two work on that, I'll see about getting myself some new clothes for the meeting." Bilbo stated, plucking at a frayed thread.

It was the unnatural silence that had him startled into looking back up.

"What do you mean, lad?" Balin finally asked.

"Well, I'm very fond of my velvet jackets, but they are wearing a bit thin after months of use." Bilbo joked with a tight smile.

It wasn't until Balin shot Thorin a murderous look that had the prince dropping his head into his hands, that he realized it wasn't Bilbo's fashion that was the issue.

"THORIN, SON OF THRAIN, YOU TOLD ME YOU TOOK CARE OF THAT WEEKS AGO!"

"I've had other things on my mind, Balin!" Thorin attempted to defend.

"More important than your Consort only having his travel clothes for wear? I've thought this whole time he didn't like it! Not that you were too stupid and conceited to get him a tailor."

"Roku flat out refused, and I was working my way through the guild." He attempted to defend.

Balin crossed his arms and raised a brow, clearly not the least bit impressed.

"I'll send a message down to Bifur." Thorin snapped back, irritation seeping into his voice.

"You'll go find him right this moment." Balin responded calmly, but with an edge to his voice.

There was a muscle in Thorin's jaw that seemed to jump and his nostrils flared at the order. However, Balin did not cow at the prince's demeanor. His dark eyes almost daring Thorin to do his worst. Finally, Thorin released a breath, gave a small bow, and swept from the room.

Bilbo released a breath he didn't know he was holding after the door slammed behind him.

"He's a child." Were his first words of complaint.

Balin heaved a large sigh. "His temper is an ugly thing, yes. But he was simply embarrassed that I called him out like that in front of you. Thorin is not used to taking actions for others. Not with half his family in the stone, the other half across the world, and then...Thror. I do apologize that you bore witness to that, and that Thorin hadn't taken care of you beforehand. He'll get better."

"Will he?" Bilbo bit back, his voice oozing with doubt.

Balin's blank stare and silence was not the reassurance he was looking for. With a few quick words, Bilbo also took his departure, not in any hurry to return to the suite he shared with his husband. He made an attempt to go down to the markets, only to turn around at almost the last minute. He would go some other time. The energy he had earlier that day had completely depleted, leaving him exhausted once more.

However, if he had been expecting to return to the quiet and rather lonely atmosphere of his room, he was sorely disappointed. Two dwarves stood there, conversing in what he now recognized as khuzdul even if he didn't understand what was being said. Upon his arrival, they immediately spun around and bowed. Bilbo stopped short, practically gawking at the axe sticking out of the wild mane of hair of the first dwarf.

"Bofur and Bifur, at your service, Your Highness." The other dwarf introduced.

"Good afternoon." Bilbo greeted hesitantly.

"If you say so." The dwarf happily shrugged.

His companion immediately began circling Bilbo, mumbling in khuzdul all the while. When he reached out to touch the hem of Bilbo's pants, the hobbit jumped. Just what was going on here?!

"He wants to know if there's a reason hobbit pants are so short or if it's just an issue of climate? We don't want you to be cold in the mountain after all, Your Highness." The other dwarf explained, his grin still bright even if a little smug.

"Oh. OH! You're the tailors." Bilbo finally pieced together.

"Bifur is." The same dwarf pointed out, nodding at the dwarf with the axe in his head, now fiddling with Bilbo's collar. "I'm just here to translate. You mind if I have a smoke?"

"Uhh, no please. Go ahead."

"Mighty kind of you." Bofur gave another small bow.

The other dwarf, Bilbo assumed was Bifur, began to maneuver Bilbo into various positions, grumbling under his breath in khuzdul the whole time as the smell of dwarven pipe weed filled the room.

"My Old Toby is better." Bilbo pointed out.

Bofur raised an eyebrow. "Pardon, Consort?"

"Shire pipe weed. I have a bag there on the mantle if you'd like."

Bofur pointed to himself in surprise, wagging his brows at the other dwarf who stopped to gape, before making his way to the fireplace.

"Don't mind if I do."

He stamped out his pipe against the brick inside the fireplace before grabbing a pinch out of Bilbo's bag. Bifur grumbled something to Bilbo, bringing his attention back to the dwarf currently prodding and measuring.

"I-I'm sorry?"

"He asking how much of your culture you want to keep in your outfit."

"Oh!" Bilbo flushed, pleased with the consideration. "Well, I am rather fond of my waistcoats and velvet jackets although I don't have to have them. And I suppose to answer your earlier question, it's mostly the climate, but foot hair is very important to us which is why we won't wear boots. Our feet are hard enough to weather most terrain anyways so it's completely unnecessary and I will not compromise on that point, Master Bifur!"

Rather than argue, the dwarf quickly started jotting down notes in a small notebook he kept in his breast pocket. Bofur gave a laugh at this.

"Yes, your hobbity fashion seems to have rubbed Roku the wrong way. Made quiet the fuss with the other tailors. It's why most refused to take you on as a client, regardless of your station."

Bilbo lowered his eyes as a frown formed upon his face. That seemed rather unfair all things considered. Wearing or not wearing boots shouldn't be an offense! Before Bilbo's thoughts could spiral further, Bofur continued on.

"Course, Bif and I could give a rats' arse what those other dwarves think. Bunch of self-entitled twits if you ask me. Bifur hasn't been a tailor long. Only joined the guild on account of he can't work the mines anymore after his accident, and he's always been a bit of a dabbler of all crafts. This is pretty good, by the way. A bit flowery, but very smooth."

"Yes, thank you. Much better than the stuff you all have here. Far too...musky."

Bofur laughed at this, giving a nod of agreement.

"But it's that punch of flavor that really gets you going."

Bilbo laughed along as well, finding he was rather enjoying the strange pair. Even if he couldn't understand Bifur at all. He supposed that's what Bofur was there for as he explained that he was actually a miner by trade. He just so happened to be in the guild visiting his cousin when Thorin had come down demanding Bifur to 'see to the Consort's dressing needs'.

"It was a bit funny to watch all the Guild kicked up like a hornet's nest asking what they could do for the Prince, only for him to nearly bite their heads off at being so obstinate about you. Which I can't quite figure out, pardon me saying so. You're not at all what I expected out of a royal sort. 'Course my brother, Bombur, has nothing but praise for you so we weren't too worried."

"You're Bombur's kin?!" Bilbo exclaimed in surprise.

For even though Bifur and Bofur shared similar features to each other, he had trouble finding anything connecting them to Bombur. It was the quirk of their smiles, he finally decided. That and the hood of their brows. Otherwise, there was nary a trait connecting the two.

"In that case, I have some biscuits to send back with you. It's a Shire recipe that I promised to share with him. Actually, it's practically tea time. Might as well enjoy a few ourselves, and I'll send the rest with you."

"Well now! Ain't that a mighty fine thing. Tea with the Prince Consort! Did you ever imagine Bif?"

The other dwarf grumbled something that had Bofur almost on the floor in laughter. Bilbo gave him a curious look as he chose one of his newest blends from Dori and lit the wood stove to boil the kettle.

"Bif says next thing you know, we'll be dining with the king."

Bilbo's smile stretched tight. No, even he had not had that luxury yet, regardless of being the dwarf's grandson-in-law. Luckily, Bofur and Bifur seemed to sense this was a path not to tread upon, and promptly dropped the subject in favor of how much embellishments Bilbo would let Bifur get away with. The dwarf seemed to work out a rough sketch of what he was thinking after all of Bilbo's notes, and staring down at it, Bilbo was in awe. It was such a perfect blend of both cultures.

"Master Bifur, you have a true talent. I dare say you are absolutely hired!"

The dwarf grumbled something as he shook Bilbo's hand.

"He says if you're impressed with a little bit of thread, you should see what he can do with a block of wood." Bofur translated.

"You're a carver as well?" Bilbo asked, both brows shooting up.

"I said he was a bit of a dabbler." Bofur teased.

"Dabbler is one thing, genius is another. I fear I might commission you to outfit my entire wardrobe and furniture at this rate, Master Bifur."

Bifur began to fiddle with his hands, dropping his eyes. Bilbo looked to Bofur for help, but the dwarf was merely staring at him in wonder.

"You're a rather extraordinary person, your Highness, if you don't mind me saying so. Bifur...well it's been a bit rough, you can imagine."

Before Bilbo could respond, Bifur took his hand and made a sign with it. He repeated the motion until Bilbo was able to get it on his own.

"And, uh, what exactly does this mean?"

"It's a sign in iglishmêk." Bofur explained. "He's telling you thank you, but respectfully."

"And how do I respond?" Bilbo questioned, always fascinated with languages.

Bofur walked Bilbo through the proper sign, and once he had it correct, both dwarves were beaming. Whatever hesitation they had about Bilbo being married to royalty seemed to melt away in an instance, and Bilbo was beyond grateful for it. Bofur and Bifur turned out to be delightful conversationalists. They talked well into the afternoon about life in Erebor, life in the Shire, families, drunken shenanigans with Bofur managing to wrangle out of him that they may not be as far in the distant past as Bilbo would have liked. Bilbo hadn't laughed so much since he arrived in Erebor, and as sad as it was to admit, these two dwarves now knew more about Bilbo than his own husband.

Speaking of whom, actually managed to come back early for once, walking in on their little tea party right as Bofur told the punchline to a rather raunchy joke that had Bilbo in tears laughing. Both dwarves immediately stilled at Thorin's appearance, who could only stand in the doorway, gaping in surprise and confusion.

"Oh! Hello, Thorin." Bilbo greeted, mirth still in his voice.

"Your Highness." Bifur and Bofur both mumbled, bowing their heads.

"What is going on here?" Thorin demanded, his brows pulling together.

"I had invited Bofur and Bifur to join me for tea." Bilbo explained.

"And as fun as it's been, we probably should be getting back. I've got the night shift tonight, and Bifur, here, needs to get started on your new clothes. I dare say, you won't be disappointed."

"I'm sure I won't. Well, thank you both for the lovely afternoon, and here! Be sure to take these back for your brother."

"Oh, can't promise anything there, Master Bilbo. Might not make it that far if Bifur or I have anything to say about it. Have you had them yet, Your Highness? Lighter than a feather! Your husband is a delight."

Bilbo felt his cheeks warm under the praise as a small smile split his face. However, the look of confusion on Thorin's face was quickly morphing into a glower, completely ruining the jovial atmosphere. It certainly succeeded in cowing Bilbo's guests, which had the hobbit returning the prince's glare with a pointed look as he escorted Bofur and Bifur to the door.

"Today was wonderful." Bilbo said as he made the sign Bifur showed him for 'thank you'. "I hope to see you both later this week for the fitting?"

"We look forward to it, Master Bilbo."

"Consort." Thorin snapped.

Bofur flinched. "My Prince?" He floundered.

"You will refer to him as the Prince Consort." Thorin reiterated through gritted teeth.

"No!" Bilbo interrupted. "He does not have to. I gave him permission to use my name. Him and Bifur both."

Thorin turned his glare onto Bilbo now who met his challenge without backing down.

"Uh...so we'll go. Thank you, Your Highnesses."

Bifur said something in khuzdul as well before they both beat a hasty retreat. The host in Bilbo gawked at such a poor dismissal. If they were in the Shire, it would almost be guaranteed that by tomorrow it would be the talk of the market. Bilbo and his husband having marital spats as their guests were taking their leave. It was so horrendously embarrassing, that Bilbo's anger almost seemed reflex.

" What was that?!" He demanded.

"What was what?" Thorin snapped.

"You, YOU... You had no right to treat my friends so poorly."

"I had no right?! I HAD THE ONLY RIGHT! You are supposed to be my husband! You don't get to...flirt with any dwarf that passes through that door."

Bilbo's jaw dropped. He couldn't believe what he was hearing right now.

"You. Sent. Them. Up here. To me."

"To do a job! Not to find you delightful or having a lovely afternoon. "

Bilbo was practically floundering at this point. He couldn't remember a time he had ever been so mad before. He picked up the first thing he could reach, which happened to be one of his biscuits, throwing it directly at Thorin's head. The dwarf's responding splutter would almost be funny if Bilbo wasn't already seething.

"You. Egotistical. Impossible dwarf. Did it ever occur to your arrogant mind that I have just as much invested in this stupid farce as you do at this point? Did you even remotely consider the fact that I signed a bloody contract that forbids me from having relations outside of this marriage?! And that when the penalty for adultery would be imprisonment in the best case scenario after your grandfather found out, I would have to be a complete and total idiot to even think about trying? Certainly not with a dwarf I JUST MET!"

Thorin glared at him without heat, and when he turned to look away, Bilbo knew he had won. A hollow victory. He gave him a bitter smirk as he cast his eyes downward.

"No, of course not. Because it's always about you."

Thorin's eyes cut back to him almost immediately, but Bilbo didn't give him a chance to defend himself. He was finally going to say his piece.

"You want to know why it was such a lovely day?" He asked dangerously. "For the first time, I met someone in this accursed mountain who actually wanted to listen to me. Wanted to get to know me. And actually seemed to care about what I had to say. And if you even think of firing them all because your pride can't handle another dwarf treating me better than you are capable, I will never forgive you."

"Bilbo..." Thorin attempted, taking a step towards him.

"That's Prince Consort." Bilbo responded coolly.

Thorin stopped in his tracks. Bilbo could tell from the twitch in his jaw and the clenching of his fists that he had really set Thorin off this time. A part of him relished it. Now, they both could be miserable. However, rather than meeting his challenge, Thorin merely nodded his head towards him before turning on heel to retreat to his bedroom. Fury boiled Bilbo's blood at how easily the prince gave in. Not going to defend himself. Not going to meet Bilbo's challenge. Spinning on heel, he moved to his bedroom. They both managed to slam their respective doors at the same time.

***

The dynamic of their relationship changed dramatically after that. Thorin seemed to go out of his way to avoid Bilbo, and when they did happen to enter the same room together, Bilbo gave him the cold shoulder. At one point, Thorin had worked up enough of a comeback to claim Bilbo didn't know anything about him as well. Bilbo reciting the fact that Thorin once fell down the side of the mountain nearly breaking his leg because he and his brother antagonized a war ram, shut him up rather quickly after that.

Bilbo didn't care. He was not going to be the one to improve the situation this time. He refused to let Thorin continue hurting him because of his own insecurities and stresses. He couldn't excuse poor manners forever after all.

Bofur and Bifur did return, and it was only awkward at the beginning of their visit. Then Bofur told a rather entertaining tale of attempting to fight Bombur off for the last of Bilbo's biscuits, and conversation became easy again. They never did bring up Thorin, and the prince was conveniently gone every time the tailor and his cousin appeared. And while Bilbo always set out tea and biscuits, once business was completed, his friends politely excused themselves. One more thing Thorin ruined for him. He couldn't even console himself with the addition of Bifur's beautiful clothing, finding very few reasons to go outside his room at all anymore.

It was three days before the arrival of Thranduil and his advisors that Bilbo finally plucked up the nerve to go back out into the main room, only to almost slam directly into Thorin. He looked up at the taller dwarf, his brows furrowed slightly as he tried to determine the nature of this unexpected visit. Thorin's expressive blue eyes gave nothing away, piercing Bilbo with their intensity.

"We need to talk. May I come in?"

Bilbo hesitated before wordlessly sweeping his hand with a swallowed sigh. The prince nodded at him before stepping into the only space Bilbo had to call his own. Thorin took in the utilitarian decor with a frown before easing himself into the desk chair. As there was no other seating despite the large space, Bilbo moved to sit on his bed. Watching Thorin as his gaze roved the empty stone walls, the bare shelves, and his simple bedspread.

"Is this...to your liking?" Thorin asked carefully.

"No." Bilbo answered honestly.

Thorin ducked his head, his expression pinched. Bilbo assumed this is where the prince would get angry and flee the room, but was surprised when instead Thorin uttered a small apology.

"Forgive me. It seems I have neglected much when it comes to you, my husband."

"You have." Bilbo challenged, his head lifted high.

Thorin flinched but nodded, meeting Bilbo's eyes directly.

"Will you tell me about your home? In the Shire?"

Bilbo raised an eyebrow. "Is this just you trying to get back in my good graces before Thranduil arrives?"

"No." Thorin denied, his expression honest. "I genuinely want to know."

Bilbo huffed out a sigh, turning his head to stare at the wall. He didn't believe Thorin in the slightest.

"But I also understand if I've not earned the right."

Bilbo narrowed his eyes, peeking back over at Thorin. Was this a politician's game? Or was he meant to take this as an actual olive branch? Thorin waited a moment longer before moving to stand. Bilbo squeezed his eyes tight and clenched his teeth before forcing the words out.

"I...my father built my smial. As a wedding gift for my mother." He finally admitted softly.

Thorin slowly sat back down, a small chuckle escaping him.

"That's...actually a very dwarven courting gift."

"Is it?" Bilbo asked, amused.

Thorin nodded. "They are usually three main gifts: the gift to protect, the gift to provide, and the gift to cherish. To gift an entire home would fit as the "provide" gift, and I would go as far to say a rather kingly gift at that."

Bilbo flushed with pleasure, deciding not to mention how it was one of the largest smials in the Shire. Kingly indeed.

"But telling me your father built your house does not tell me about your home." Thorin prompted gently.

Bilbo felt something tighten in his chest at the unexpectedly kind observation. Perhaps, Thorin truly was being genuine. He pulled his knees towards him, and rested his chin on top as he worked through what he wanted to say.

"It's so green in the Shire." He began. "I don't think I ever truly noticed until I came here. With bright blue skies and warm sunshine always pouring down on you. I have this spot in my study where I can look out on it all while I do some paperwork or make attempts at writing. M-My mother used to complain after I reached my majority and stopped spending so much time outside, instead holing myself away in there for hours. But after my father's death...it was hard seeing his recliner vacant, and now..."

Bilbo crumpled, turning his face to hide the tears that managed to sneak past. He hadn't really thought about it in so long. He forgot how fresh the pain was, and it shamed him that a simple memory could still bring him to tears. He knew Thorin had seen though, and his next question more than confirmed it.

"How long have they been...?"

"My father, about eight years now." Bilbo answered, wiping at his eyes. "My mother...just this past autumn."

It was quiet for a long moment, and Bilbo could practically see in Thorin's face that he was piecing together the timeline.

"It takes almost five months of travel to reach Erebor. She would have...you mean before you came here...?"

Bilbo gave Thorin a pointed look, but he did not verbalize what they both knew. Thorin lowered his gaze.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know."

"I'm aware."

"I sympathize with your loss. Truly."

"I know. That's partly why I said yes." Bilbo explained with a wry smile.

Thorin did not take comfort from it though. Instead, he reached into his pocket, sorrow still painted on his face.

"I made something for you. In light of the circumstances, it seems...inadequate. I just remembered you saying that flowers were like another language to hobbits. I had hoped these weren't a poor message."

Bilbo gasped at the silver snowdrops held in Thorin's hands. He held his hand out for them, and Thorin passed them over easily. They were absolutely stunning. The petals even had the delicate veins as well as the drooping visage. Bilbo would almost accuse Thorin of dunking the flower in a pot of silver if he hadn't known the dwarf was an expert smith. He looked up at Thorin, a shy smile on his face. Little did the prince know, it was the perfect gift.

"Well, you certainly have excellent tastes in flowers, my Prince. I think it will make a lovely addition to my room."

Thorin seemed to release a sigh as his shoulders relaxed some, nodding in agreement. Although his eyes still roamed the blank walls with a pained expression.

"I have some maps in my room that are just sitting on a shelf that you are welcome to. If you want. I vaguely remember that being an interest of yours."

Bilbo blinked in surprise. "Um...yes! It is. Thank you, Thorin."

Thorin bowed his head. "Of course, Consort."

Bilbo bit his lip as the prince moved to leave, only to call out after he reached the doorframe. When Thorin turned around, Bilbo performed the sign Bifur taught him for 'thank you'.

"Just so you know, Bilbo...is still fine."

Thorin seemed hesitant, but slowly a smile formed on his face. His hands flew through a set of signals that Bilbo had not been taught much to his dismay.

"Wait! What did that mean?"

The impossible dwarf merely shot him a smirk, inviting him to 'figure it out' before he continued on his way. Bilbo scowled at his retreating backside. He still didn't know what to make of his husband. After all, a single good encounter wasn't enough to erase Thorin's negligence.

He twirled his flower between his fingers, a small smile forming on his face. However, it was a good start. He was almost tempted to make Thorin dinner in return, but...one thing at a time. Right now, he had some hope to cling to that they might at least begin to tolerate one another.

Notes:

*Snowdrops meaning sympathy, consolation, hope