It was past midday and the sun was beginning to lose its blinding brightness as it travelled South over the valley of Dale. Bilbo and Thorin had been standing together on the terrace overlooking the Front Gate of Erebor for about half an hour, talking, but mostly not. It bothered neither of them, as neither struggled to find something new to say when silence naturally ensued.

After some time, however, as Bilbo had expected, Thorin let out a heavy sigh and looked at Bilbo with a weary smile.

"Time to go back?" asked Bilbo.

Thorin nodded his head.

"I'll go get Dwalin. Hang on."

Bilbo walked back inside the Mountain and went down the stairs into the Great Hall. After a quick look around, he spotted Dwalin standing not too far away, near one of the great pillars on each side of the entrance, talking to his brother. Dwalin caught sight of him almost at the same time – he was perhaps looking out for Bilbo coming down the stairs to get him – and met him half way.

"Thorin would like to come back inside now," said Bilbo, looking up into what he expected to be Dwalin's rough face. It was indeed Dwalin's face up close, but it did not bear any particular roughness.

Dwalin acknowledged with a simple nod and even with the shade of a smile, then he started up the stairs. He acted surprisingly tolerant that day. Perhaps he was too glad that he was getting at least part of the Thorin he knew back to display any other reaction. It certainly made Bilbo's life much easier. He did not follow the dwarf back up to the terrace, although he had meant to. Now that he had found the ever-kind Balin, he preferred to stay there and wait with him.

"So," began Balin, finding himself alone with Bilbo and thus incapable of not striking up a conversation, "it seems the day we have all been waiting for has finally come."

Bilbo smiled to him. He couldn't help it. "So it seems."

"He looks happy."

"He has reason, finally."

Balin smiled back, also because he couldn't help it. He had always been the most calm and collected of the Dwarves, never allowing himself to despair no matter how difficult the circumstances. His confidence had really helped Bilbo maintain his hope that Thorin would pull through when the odds did not look to be in his favour. But even Balin seemed relieved now in a way that went beyond all that. Bilbo walked closer to him and said nothing more. He understood that Balin and the others had been waiting for this moment not just since the battle, but for much longer. There was not much more to be said about that.

Finally, Thorin and Dwalin appeared at the top of the stairs. There was no further commotion in the Great Hall at their appearance. People raised their heads to them, inevitably drawn to Thorin's image in the flesh, but their awe made no further sound. They seemed to understand that even Thorin wanted and needed a break from being revered openly. They should have and did understand by now that he knew who he was and what he had to do all too well, even when he walked among them with a limp.

Thorin looked grateful for the atmosphere of utter normalcy in the room. He held on quite tightly to Dwalin's arm as he stepped onto the floor of the Great Hall and met Bilbo and Balin again. He did not try to hide it. He seemed to want one simple thing: to sit down somewhere with his old friends, share a pint of Dwarvish ale and talk about something other than dragons, gold and war. And that was what they did.

They spent the next couple of hours around a table in the Banquet Hall, Thorin, Bilbo, the Dwarves that had been part of the Company to take back Erebor, and Dain. This particular gathering and its atmosphere of disinterested merrymaking reminded Bilbo of the night when the Dwarves that he currently called his friends had invited themselves into his home and even arranged a regular party, but only while Thorin had been absent. Now he was present, and even if this was not exactly a party, the feeling of levity was the same, as were the lack of heavy topics in their conversation and the lack of dark clouds over anyone's head. Time went by quickly enough for everyone to be surprised when Oin observed, in a moment of lucidity, that it had been dark outside for quite a while, and Thorin announced that he preferred to retire for the evening. Everyone bid him good night and expressed hopes that they would see him again the following day. Even if it would not be exactly the following day, they were sure that they would all see him again very soon, and it put a visible light on their faces that had not really been there before.

Soon enough, Bilbo and Thorin found themselves back in their quarters. Dwalin was there, too, as he had helped Thorin along the way.

"Thank you," said Thorin as Dwalin helped him sit down on his bed.

"Do you want me to stay and help you change?" asked Dwalin, taking a step back.

"No, I think I shall manage," replied Thorin, looking up at him.

Dwalin smiled and nodded. "Well, then, this has been quite a day. I'll see you tomorrow," he said and left the room.

A short moment of silence followed as Bilbo watched Dwalin walk slowly, without any particular hurry towards the door of Thorin's bedroom. His walk betrayed nothing beneath his calm appearance, no implication of resentment over leaving Thorin alone with Bilbo, over what they would say to each other in his absence, or what they would do. It seemed a little surprising to Bilbo that Dwalin had come to terms so rapidly and easily with the fact that they now shared more than friendship. He had expected more nasty looks or at least some clandestine, silent acrimony to float his way unseen by the others especially on that day when Thorin had made his first step back into the world, which meant that he was actually feeling better.

"Are you well?" asked Thorin, making Bilbo look back at him after contemplating the door closed behind Dwalin.

"Yes, yes, of course," said Bilbo, a little nervously, even though he didn't quite know why.

Thorin squinted a bit at him. From Elves, to Men, to Hobbits and to Dwarves, squinting was usually a sign of doubt.

"I'm fine, really," said Bilbo and went to sit down next to Thorin, in his armchair. "As Dwalin said, it has been quite a day."

"Indeed, but I like how it ended," said Thorin.

"Well, it hasn't ended yet."

"I mean, how the day ended. I was looking forward to having a pint with the Company again. Now the evening begins."

It was Bilbo's turn to squint a little. "You have a very precise division of time."

"And you have a very precise division of meals."

Bilbo laughed. "It hasn't been that precise since going off on your adventure."

"To be fair, it was Gandalf's adventure. I thought of it more as a quest."

"Well, I admit, maybe adventure is not the right word for what we went through. At least not in the sense that I used to think of it."

"You didn't want to come at first, is that right?"

Bilbo looked at him without saying anything for a while, but then he sighed a bit and answered. "Yes, even before you handed me a contract that covered my funeral arrangements in case I would be incinerated or eviscerated by a giant dragon."

Thorin smirked and even allowed that smirk to evolve into a quiet, little laugh. "Why is that? You wanted to have an adventure of your own rather than reading about them in your books. Gandalf said you were different... than the other Hobbits."

"No, I didn't," said Bilbo, "not by the time Gandalf had come to me offering me a place on a real adventure. I had met Gandalf as a child, and I certainly would have joined him on any adventure then, and even later as I grew up, the farther out into the world, the better. But in time, I... I became more like other Hobbits, I grew to love my home and the Shire more than the idea of knowing something else. Which is not a bad thing, necessarily-"

"No, of course not," intervened Thorin, a little unexpectedly. "It is a very good thing to love your home."

Bilbo smiled to him, acknowledging what he had actually said. "Indeed. But it is also a good thing to travel beyond it, and gain knowledge of the world. I had forgotten that. I had somehow become afraid of it, as if it would have spelled the death of something inside me."

"Of what?"

"I don't know, perhaps of the reluctance to leave, of the belief that I belonged only in the Shire."

They looked at each other for a while, again without saying anything, both slightly surprised of where their conversation had led and of what had been said.

"You will always belong in the Shire," said Thorin, his voice kind and warm like a fading fire.

"I know. But I do not have to be in the Shire to still be a Hobbit, or to still be myself."

Thorin smiled and looked down at his hands gathered in his lap, a smile that came from deep within himself. He knew a lot about being true to himself even when being very far away from home.

"To think I have lived so close to you my whole life," said Bilbo, making Thorin look back up at him. "You must have passed through the Shire a few times, on the East Road. It was in Bree that you met Gandalf and he convinced you to go on this quest, isn't that true?"

"Yes," said Thorin, "I have passed through the Shire a few times."

"I suppose... we could have met earlier," said Bilbo.

"It is not impossible," replied Thorin.

"But then you would not have thought much of me, since you had no need for a grocer."

Thorin smirked again. "Or you of me, since you preferred gardening to war."

Bilbo laughed, and so did Thorin. It was good to laugh together like that.

"I still prefer gardening to war," said Bilbo.

"Well, I can see why you would feel that way. I prefer a few things to war myself."

"But gardening is not one of them."

"No, not gardening precisely. Dwarves don't... garden much."

"I noticed. You are much better at building and forging things out of metal."

"Or simply eating and drinking," said Thorin.

Bilbo couldn't retain another burst of laughter. "We Hobbits are quite good at that as well."

It was indeed good to share a laugh together with Thorin, especially at the end of that day, which had been fairly demanding on Bilbo's heart. He felt exhausted even though he hadn't done much of anything that could amount to his idea of work. Thorin didn't look much more animated either, in spite of his willingness to talk and ask questions. It had been a demanding day for him, too.

"Well," said Bilbo, sitting up a little, "how do you plan to spend your evening?"

Thorin sighed. "I wanted to look over some papers, but I no longer think that is a good plan. I am slightly..." He hesitated, looking for a word, or for a way to replace a word he didn't want to say.

"Tired?"

"Yes," he replied, his voice low and barely audible.

Bilbo smiled and got up. "Are you sure you can manage on your own? I could still get Dwalin if you need help."

"No, I can manage," said Thorin. He planted his right hand against his bed and started trying to get up.

"Wait," said Bilbo, "let me help."

Bilbo jumped off his armchair, noticing that Thorin had actually stopped trying to get up on his own. He went over to his left side and offered his shoulder for Thorin to hold on to. That got him up without too much pain. Bilbo walked him to the bathroom door, then let him go slowly. He wanted to ask him again if he was going to be alright, but let that go as well. He simply watched Thorin smile convincingly enough and disappear behind the door.

For a second, Bilbo had the intention to listen in for any sounds of trouble but realised before he acted on it that it would not have been the most appropriate behaviour on his part no matter how well-intentioned. He sighed and went back to his armchair, his ears remaining alert even from a distance. Nothing happened, however, for a few good minutes. It appeared that Thorin was indeed capable of taking care of himself now, which was quite encouraging, as well as a relief. Bilbo decided to leave his armchair again and make up the bed for the night. It should have been a relief, but somehow, in the strangest fashion, the fact that Thorin was truly getting back on his feet, both literally and figuratively, was unsettling him and it did not feel comfortable.

He had almost finished making the bed when Thorin emerged from the bathroom. He appeared a little exhausted but otherwise fine. He had managed to change his day trousers with those he wore for bed. His shirt was unbuttoned, but still on, showing part of the white bandages that he still had wrapped around some of his healing wounds.

Bilbo smiled and went over to him to help him walk back to the bed.

"You're still wearing your shirt," said Bilbo, slightly breathless, as Thorin sat down on the side of his bed.

"Yes, I... could not get if off," said Thorin, looking up at him, "because of my arm."

"Oh, right," said Bilbo.

"I was hoping you would help me with that."

Bilbo stared at him, only part of his mind registering the request.

"Bilbo?"

"Oh, yes, yes, of course," he answered finally, but still did not motion to comply with that request. He continued to stare at Thorin's inoffensive expression, beginning to understand why the situation was making him nervous while it should have made him simply happy. "Right now?"

"If you do not mind," said Thorin, lowering his forehead a bit in a very clear gesture of asking for consent.

"No, why would I mind?" said Bilbo, breathing in heavily. "I'm glad to help."

He was not deceiving either himself or Thorin in saying that he was glad to help. He was most glad, but sometimes it required a kind of courage that he still doubted he had until he actually did what was necessary to gain proof. He did so now. He reached with both hands to the collar of Thorin's shirt and began lowering it over his wide shoulders, the back of his hands brushing against his hair inevitably. Thorin looked down as he extracted his right arm from the shirt sleeve and kept his head down as Bilbo lowered the left sleeve of his shirt down his arm as gently as he could, then finally freed him from it entirely. It was as if Thorin knew that this was a little hard for Bilbo, even if it was nothing more than helping him with a task that was insignificant and ordinary. Of course he knew that this was not at all insignificant and not at all ordinary between them. He knew that, if he had been strong enough, it could have been the start of something a little terrifying but hopefully wonderful. He could feel that Bilbo's hands were unsteady and that his fingers fluttered like a bee's wings. He could probably even hear the increased rhythm of his heart. And that was why he preferred not to follow him with his eyes and add to an already difficult moment. He looked up at him, finally, when the shirt was off and lying on the bed near him. Bilbo kept his eyes hidden under his lashes, pointed safely to the shirt.

"You are allowed to look, you know," he said, and Bilbo could hear a very soft smile in his voice.

There was indeed one on his lips as well when he dared meet his eyes again. "Look at what?"

Thorin lowered his forehead again, this time meaning to avoid verbally stating the obvious.

Bilbo smiled back, finally feeling the tension in his body start to wear off. "I know," he said, "it's just that -"

"I know," said Thorin, taking Bilbo's left hand, which was hanging like a lifeless rag at his side, into his right one and kissing it with the utmost care.

This came as entirely unexpected to Bilbo, and if Thorin had intended to reassure him, he was managing only to make what Bilbo was feeling even harder to bear without doing something about it. What he had not expected was to be seen through so completely and understood, although perhaps he should have expected that, knowing what he knew about Thorin's past.

As Thorin looked up to him again, releasing his hand, Bilbo gave in to what he was so afraid of and what he desired so deeply. He let both of his hands rest on Thorin's warm shoulders and kissed him, really kissed him, for the first time since he had known that what he felt for him went beyond friendship, reverence or even love of any kind he had felt before.

When it was over, and he was able to see Thorin again, he noticed that he had kept his expression of patience, although Bilbo had expected that to change as a result of his daring gesture. And yet, Thorin was looking up at him with the same softness that had graced his features before, exalted only by the unmistakable glow of happiness. Bilbo finally felt free to feel like himself again as he looked into Thorin's eyes and as his fingers still tasted his bare skin. Thorin sighed and leaned into Bilbo's clothed chest, burying his face there.

Bilbo caressed his head and ran his fingers deeply through his hair. "What are we going to do, Thorin?" he asked, letting out a long breath.

"Whatever's necessary," mumbled Thorin from his warm hiding place.

"Even if some might object?"

"Even so."

Bilbo thought for a bit. "And even if it might take a while?"

"Even."

Bilbo smiled and leaned his head slowly to Thorin's. "Go to bed before you fall asleep like this."

Thorin began laughing and looked up at him, then nodded in agreement.

"I'll be with you soon," said Bilbo and went to make his own preparations for bed.

When he returned, Thorin was already asleep, as he had predicted. He extinguished the candle at his side, then slipped into bed carefully so as not to wake him, although something told him that it would have taken a bit of noise. Bilbo settled on his own pillow and watched Thorin for a while, as he did every night, until he surrendered to sleep as well. Sleep did not come so easily that night, however. Although his evening had ended well in spite of feeling a little restless all day, now, in the quiet of the night, some of his earlier anxiety had come back, not entirely to his surprise.