Want Nothing More

He had lied; just a little one, a small white lie that wasn't really a lie at all, if he were really to think about it. After all, he really did want to help the dwarves get their home back. He wanted them to know the safety and comfort he had always known, the warmth that a true home can give someone when they step into a place and think, "This is where I belong, and this is where we belong together. This is our home. Ours". Yes, he hadn't lied about that. As he looked around at the small company of dwarves, some looking at him in jubilation at his safe return while others looked quizzical as to why he had returned and one gazing at him with a nearly unclear expression, wavering between harsh judgment and what Bilbo believed to have been relief…relief at seeing him safe, relief at seeing him return, he had told them they he wanted to help them find a place where they could belong, a place they could call home. And in that truth had been a little lie, or rather something left out of that very real truth which could be called a lie, he supposed. Because, in the deepest part of his heart that wished to aide these dwarves, there was no dwarf that he wanted more than to help than Thorin.

The imposing, brooding leader of their misfit company who had lost so much, who had sacrificed so much for one thing: the return of his home, the restoration of his once great kingdom for the benefit of all his kin. Yes, Bilbo wanted to give all the dwarves their home back but the drive to do it was never so great as when he looked at Thorin, when he looked at that tired, composed face that hid so much yet was stained and scarred by all the hardships he had suffered in the days past, he had wanted nothing more than to just see him smile. A smile that came from safety, from warmth, from all that weight Bilbo knew he carried on his shoulders to be lifted off and thrown aside as his journey to restore his homeland was finally achieved. Bilbo, as much as he cared for the other's dwarves and wished they too would find happiness, felt differently about the stoic dwarf. For the leader of the band, he held more than mere affection. He held emotions that were…dubious.

It was true that the reason he had attempted to leave the expedition was because he had wished to return home, to be rid of this adventure and all the dangerous situations it put him in. That everything he had signed on for was becoming far too much to handle for a Hobbit like him, he wasn't cut out for gallivanting through forests or for battling against orcs and trolls. It simply wasn't in him; he didn't have the knightly spirit to deal with such matters. That all was very true, he wanted to go home and put everything behind him. All the danger, all the fear but especially, all the tight and hot spikes of misunderstood emotion that Thorin somehow managed to inspire in him whenever those icy blue eyes were to settle on him. He wanted nothing of it, none of it. He was no fool, despite what most of the dwarves thought and he knew that there was nothing this quest could give him but a broken body and derisible hopes for someone who thought him nothing more than a bumbling idiot.

It was stupid, foolish, silly and unbelievably ridiculous. Here he was, a full grown Hobbit with his heart all in a twist over this ill-tempered, abrasive, bitter, distant, callous dwarf who rarely gave him a second glance, always had a sharp word to toss his way. But there were the times when Bilbo would catch him looking his way with a curious expression on his face, one that appeared gentle and inquisitive or moments when Thorin had appeared to want to strike up a conversation between the two of them, always starting with a the sound of a throat being cleared and ending with a gruff word and Thorin moving away with a strained look on his handsome face. During those times, Bilbo could never get more than three words out of the prince before the conversation was bluntly put to an end and an odd expression crossed over the dwarf's face. It was that expression that made Bilbo think that perhaps there was something more, that maybe the prince thought more of him than he let on. Those thoughts would, of course, be quickly squashed by the practical and rational Hobbit. Even if the dwarven prince did care enough to want to know more about him, care enough to risk his life to pull him to safety, care enough to have him along on this adventure, on this journey to secure their homeland, that in no way made the…sentiments he had towards Thorin duplicated or acceptable. No, that was just plain stupidity on his part and there was one thing Bilbo Baggins was not, and that was stupid. However, he knew that his affection towards Thorin was dangerous. It was even more dangerous than those orcs and trolls combined.

So, he had run away. He packed up all of his things, took a deep breath and while he was walking out of that rocky hole that they had been lucky to come across, he had cast one solitary glance at the slumbering figure of Thorin and for that brief moment, he had wanted nothing more than to lie down next to him and sleep with his shoulder pressed up against his back; to wake in the morning, have Thorin look down at him and smile. That was all, he wished for nothing more than for that precious, loving moment between the two of them but that wish passed quickly and Bilbo was quick to scold himself for such foolishness, for such stupidity. What was he? A young maiden dreamily thinking of her beloved? It was lunacy; it was idiotic to think such ridiculous sentiments. It was shameful, disgraceful, and reprehensible. He was a Baggins and Baggins do not indulge in such matters. With all those thoughts swirling inside of his tired mind, he had turned away and fled.

Or at least, he had tried to. He hadn't made it two steps out of the cavern when his blade had started glowing and the ground had given away, dropping the entire company into some very nasty hands. Orcs, hundreds upon hundreds of them, grabbing at them from every angle then carrying the dwarves off to some unknown destination. Bilbo had managed to slip free from those dirty hands and in that moment, he had found himself a perfect way to disappear. The dwarves could handle themselves; there was no need for him to be there. It was his chance to go back to the Shire, to be home again. It was a chance he didn't take, simply because as the orcs walked past him without a second glance, he looked up to see Thorin in the grip of three massive orcs, being dragged deeper and deeper into the catacombs. It was in that flash of an instant that Bilbo, without much thinking about what he was doing, yanked out his sword and went running after those monsters. He couldn't abandon them. He couldn't abandon him.

Against a giant orc he had fought, a battle of wits played with a desicpable creature that had near led him to being eaten and a mystical golden ring that turned him invisible found, all done as he tried to find his way to the company; as he tried to find his way to Thorin. Of course, he had found them already escaped and completely safe. As he stood invisible behind them, listening to their ragged breathing and watching them twist and turn as they wondered where he might be, he heard Thorin speak against him in a harsh tone that had ripped through like a knife. Words he knew he deserved for abandoning the companies but words that, despite deeply hurting him, sent doubts through his mind. Thorin sounded hurt, he sounded betrayed. This was not the tone Bilbo had imagined him taking when the prince spoke of his departure, not one of indifference and unconcern. This was a tone that was harsh and brittle, and as Bilbo peeked out from behind the tree, there was an expression of distress on his regal face. Shaken deeply by the prince's reaction, he had quickly pulled off his ring and with what he hoped was a calm, composed look on his face, he had stepped out and greeted his dwarven companions.

He hadn't looked at Thorin, except for a single sideways glance that showed none of the turmoil he had felt inside but when he asked him why he had come back, Bilbo had looked at him for a moment and the truth nearly tumbled out of his mouth. He had come back for him, he had come back to help him, to do whatever it was he asked of him. He had come back so that one day, he could make the dwarven prince smile. Of course, he couldn't say such a thing. It was stupid, foolish so he had spoken half of the truth. The dwarves wanted their homeland back and he was going to help them take it back. He did not know what effect it had taken on Thorin but for a split second, Bilbo believed he had seen such relief, such gratefulness, such…affection that he had almost regretted not speaking true to him.
The moment had been short lived though as their lives had once again been threatened by an old enemy of the prince. One that he tried to dispatch on his own but found himself quickly overpowered by the wretched beast. Bilbo, with all the foolishness and stupidity that he had found himself swamped in taking control of his brain and body, had rushed forward to protect the downed Thorin. He hadn't done much, taking out one orc and then holding off the white, one armed beast until the eagles had arrived to fly them to safety. With the unmoving Thorin grasped tightly in one of the bird's mighty claws, Bilbo could only watch from the back of another and wish he had spoken the truth, that he had apologized to Thorin for running away. He could only wish and hope as his tired body rested against the majestic eagle's neck, praying to whatever or whomever moved the souls from living to the Grey Havens that Thorin would not be taken, that he would get his chance to reclaim his home, that Bilbo would one day be able to see him smile.

Gandalf was able to awaken Thorin, and for a brief second, Bilbo was able to feel jubilant relief as he watched the prince regain his feet but then, those icy blue eyes had turned his way and once again, the Hobbit found himself being questioned, being reproached, being reminded as to how much he didn't belong and having that stern, stony face baring down on him. The ground had proved a far friendlier thing to look at as Thorin's words speared through him, cold and sharp as an icicle on a frozen winter morning. It had almost been enough to make Bilbo think that perhaps it would have been better for him if he had taken his chance to go back to his home, that there really was nothing for him here and even if he were to help the dwarves, it would lead to nothing but shameful aching for someone he would never be able to have; for someone who saw him as nothing more than a burden and a nuisance.

"Never have I been so wrong in all my life." Those words would be forever burnt into his mind as would the feeling of Thorin's bulky body pressed up against his, his large and calloused hands holding him tightly, his soft hair brushing against his cheek as the dwarven prince swallowed him in his embrace and just held him for several moments. Behind them, the dwarves laughed and cheered as their company finally became complete but Bilbo could only muster a small smile as he slightly pushed forward into the larger man's shoulder. It was an embrace of comradeship, of friendship, of love in the most amicable way. There was nothing more and Bilbo knew that he shouldn't expect anything more. Just being accepted as a friend, as a brother to this man should be enough. He should want for nothing more, even when deep inside of his most secret of desires; he wanted something so much more.

But when Thorin pulled back and smiled down at him with such an expression of happiness, Bilbo knew he would not ask for more nor would he seek out any opportunity for more. It was enough for the dwarven prince to be happy, to have him smile at him in such a carefree and content way. There were some things he could never have but he could now see that Thorin being happy was one of them and he was prepared to do anything to make it so.