It was early in the morning and Bilbo sat at his desk in the Library of Erebor, browsing through a book. It had been the last item he had placed on his desk the evening before for closer inspection the following morning. He did that sometimes. If he happened to see an interesting spine on one of the shelves that were still untouched by either him or Ori, he plucked it out immediately so he could look at it later. This one was particularly interesting. He had found that many of the Dwarven books had embellished covers, with runes written in what clearly looked like calligraphy – the sharper-edged kind that was characteristic to Dwarves, but still calligraphy, elegant and artful – and gems mounted into their covers and spines. These were important books, of course, records of history, architecture, the craft of mining and forging beautiful things, books that held the knowledge of the Dwarves of Erebor. He had already held many of them in his hands since he had joined Ori in his noble effort of restoring the library, and each of them had weighed heavily with the awareness that he was doing something significant.

The book that he gazed at now had the same markings of importance – golden runes and gems glowed gently on its cover under the light of the waking sun that came through the opening in the ceiling. It was a way for Dwarves to bring natural light into their reading space, to spare their eyes as much as possible from the burden of reading under candle light. Bilbo was in fact surprised at how much natural light found its way into Erebor during the day, and even during nights with a clear sky and a bright moon. Dwarves had proven to be much fonder of light than he had expected.

This book seemed even more embellished than the others he had seen so far, although he hadn't thought that was possible. It wasn't that it had more gold or more gemstones. It was more that it seemed like more care had gone into making it. The writing was less sharp, the gems smaller but more numerous and displayed in more graceful patters. If he hadn't known better, he would have suspected that an Elf had worked on it rather than a Dwarf. It certainly was beautiful and that was enough even if he had no clue what the runes said and what the book was about. He had to wait for Ori to join him in order to find that out.

And he did not have to wait for long. There was Ori now, making his way into the room, still looking a little sluggish from sleep. Bilbo greeted him with a smile.

"Good morning, Bilbo," said Ori, rubbing his right eye with the back of his hand. "You're here early. Have you been up for long?"

"I have been here for a while, yes," said Bilbo.

"I don't know how you do it," said Ori, proceeding to cover his yawning mouth. "I'm usually very slow to start my days in winter."

"I'm sure no one could blame you," replied Bilbo, his smile widening.

"In fact," continued Ori, "I have noticed you have been beating me to it as a rule lately. I thought Hobbits were fond of sleep."

"Oh, we certainly are."

"Are you having trouble sleeping then?"

"It seems so... I don't know what it is," said Bilbo, letting his gaze fall back to the book on his desk.

He did know what it was, however, although he did not speak of it to himself even. He did not have to speak of it. He knew in his heart what it was.

"What have you got there?" asked Ori, coming closer.

"Oh, it's a book I found yesterday. Quite a pretty thing, in fact. One of those important books, I should think. I was meaning to ask you to translate," said Bilbo, half a smile returning to his face. He offered the book to Ori.

"Certainly."

Ori took the book and studied it a bit. He sighed eventually and gave Bilbo a strange look from under his bushy eyebrows. Bilbo didn't remember ever seeing Ori doing that.

"Well," said Ori, "it's called The Book of Light and Shadow."

"Huh, that sounds rather dramatic... but poetic at the same time. I can't tell from the title what it's about, though."

"It is about Dwarven courtship and marriage customs," said Ori, trying to keep his face from forming any expression at all. It didn't quite work. He looked uncomfortable to say the least.

"Oh... You must take that topic very seriously with a title like that."

"We do."

"I see."

"What about you?"

"Well," said Bilbo, drawing his breath a little bit, "we have laws, of course, but there is no book on how to... do things."

"Ah. We are not that serious about it after all," said Ori, "I mean, we have a book, but it is an old one, and since the exile we have had to... adapt."

"Right...," said Bilbo, feeling a rush of thoughts rising in his mind, of questions. "What, what sort of customs are we talking about, generally?"

"Oh, you know, the usual. We are encouraged to marry into our own guilds, prove our worth with gifts, remain chaste until marriage, that sort of thing. And... well, once we make our choice, separation isn't encouraged."

"Is there a choice?"

"Oh, of course. We are not required to marry, other than...," Ori seemed to regret continuing that sentence.

Bilbo finished it for him, although not entirely happy to do it. "Other than the king."

"Those in the royal family, yes."

"That was to be expected, I suppose," said Bilbo, gazing down at his desk again. The book with beautiful covers wasn't there anymore. He only had his own hands to look at, gathered in a tightening grip.

"But in general," continued Ori, trying obviously to lift his tone with a bit of optimism, "we are not forced to marry anyone in particular. If we find someone that we want to marry, then we are best advised to follow the rules in this book."

Bilbo looked up at Ori. "Have you found someone? Back in the Blue Mountains, I mean."

"Oh, no, not yet," said Ori, his own gaze now searching for something on the floor.

Bilbo got up from his desk and walked up to Ori. He took the book from him with gentle hands.

"Shall we put this somewhere clean, then?" he asked. He had almost said shall we put this to rest somewhere.

"Yes, of course. Right there," said Ori, indicating the shelf they had been working on the previous evening, which contained other texts on Dwarven customs.

"Why do they call it The Book of Light and Shadow?" asked Bilbo, turning to Ori after placing the book in the indicated location. "I still think it sounds too dramatic."

"I," said Ori, thinking, "I don't really know now that you are asking that."

"Ah, no matter," said Bilbo, letting out a sigh. It did not do much to relieve the heavy claw that had gripped his heart. "Shall we move on with today's business?"

Ori nodded, looking more convincingly relieved than Bilbo felt.

The day proceeded as any other had before, at least on the surface. They dusted books and shelves, talked about ancient things, laughed every now and then, and never mentioned The Book of Light and Shadow again, but something was awake in Bilbo's mind. It was that which had kept him from sleeping as many hours as a healthy Hobbit with a full belly and a light heart would have. Yes, he didn't really speak of it even with himself, but now it all seemed so obvious that it didn't even need to be put into words. He and Thorin had much to overcome, both within themselves, and without. And there were no promises that they would manage to do that, no easy way of just remaining the friends that they had become over the course of the quest, of simply taking back their lives from where they had left them. It was not an easy thought to sleep on.

It was a thought fit to occupy his mind, however, as he barely noticed when the time had passed that day. Before he knew it, it was already time for supper, as Ori had the visible pleasure to let him know.

"Thorin will be joining us this evening as well, in fact," said Ori, quite pleased. "That means you will, too, right?"

"Uh... yes, yes, of course."

Bilbo did join the Dwarves for supper. There would have been no reason not to do that. They were his friends after all. He sat next to Ori and Bofur, not exactly across the table from Thorin, but close enough to be able to exchange glances every now and then. They were not glances that would have said much to anyone else at the table, nothing beyond looking at each other when they spoke, or when someone else made a good joke. Still, Bilbo felt a bit beside himself. It was as if part of him was at a distance, watching this merry gathering from the outside, and wondering what it would have looked like if Bilbo had been there still a year on, and if he had sat next to Thorin. Would they have been equally light-hearted in their conversation and general demeanour? Perhaps these Dwarves would have acted exactly the same, but what about the others? And what about those that weren't here yet?

"You seemed distracted tonight," said Thorin later when they were finally alone again in the royal chambers.

"Huh... oh, no, I... I suppose I'm a little tired, that's all," said Bilbo, still standing as Thorin sat on his bed.

"I see," said Thorin in his warm voice, "I can certainly understand that."

Bilbo smiled at him, pleasantly surprised. It wasn't Thorin's way to admit that he was tired even in oblique fashion like that. Bilbo realised that he had been tense all that time, ever since morning. It was hard to remain tense after a long day, and a good meal. It was also hard, after all, to remain tense in the presence of Thorin. No matter what winding roads and dark paths his thoughts took during the day, when he was not with Thorin, it all felt different when they were together. There was something about Thorin's presence that he found soothing and safe, something he trusted, something that almost felt like home.

"Well, then," said Thorin standing up again, "I shall go prepare for bed."

Bilbo remained alone in the room for a while. Thorin really was much better now. He was able to move around on his own and do most of the things he was used to doing, except for being full-time king and lifting his sword. Those were still a few weeks away, but for the most part, he had recovered well. So well, that Dwalin had deemed it safe to go away to the Blue Mountains as he had intended, to help Dis prepare the journey to Erebor for the Dwarves that had stayed behind. All of this should have made Bilbo happy. After all, he could still remember better than he liked the times when they had all hovered over Thorin as he had lain in bed unconscious and broken. It hurt to think back to it because the memory was still so fresh. He would have never wanted to go through that again.

But he found that Thorin being up and about was something he needed to get used to again. He had spent so much time, or rather it had felt like a very long time, watching Thorin being weak and helpless, something he would have been unable to imagine the first time he had met him. But he had had to see him that way for weeks on end and it had left a mark. It had also made him forget how bright Thorin could shine when he was not weak and helpless. His light was still dim in comparison to what it had been, but it was gaining strength once again, as the days grew longer. And Bilbo was beginning to feel the weight of its shadow.

The next morning, Bilbo didn't wake as early as he had done the past few days. Perhaps he had really been more tired than he had realised. But he was grateful for it. He turned to look for Thorin and noticed that he was sitting on the side of the bed. Bilbo sat up and rubbed his eyes.

"Thorin," he said, "you're up!"

Thorin turned his head to him and with his smile came a little wince which seemed to take him by surprise. "Good morning, Bilbo. I am glad I was able to wake before you for a change."

"You really are much better," said Bilbo, shuffling to Thorin's side.

"Aye. I am still going to need your help, however..."

"Of course," said Bilbo, getting out of bed.

Thorin's left arm was not yet all it had been, which made it hard for him to put on a shirt by himself. Bilbo expected that he would still need help with that for a while. That and braiding his hair. Bilbo helped him with that as well, every morning.

The shirt that Thorin was meaning to wear that day was already laid out on the bed by his side. Bilbo yawned slightly as he came up to Thorin.

"I am sorry, Bilbo," said Thorin. "I keep making you do this."

"What?" asked Bilbo, as he collected the shirt.

"Fuss over me."

Bilbo couldn't hold in a chuckle. "I feel I'm the one who should apologize," he said, as he prepared Thorin's shirt. "I would have thought you would object to being fussed over."

He finally looked at Thorin and the look in his eyes caught him a little by surprise. It certainly didn't contain any objections to their current situation. That light that Thorin had – it was glowing in him now and it even radiated a little heat.

"Well," said Bilbo, fighting the need to take a step back. "I'll just pretend you didn't say that."

Thorin raised his eyebrows in his best impression of innocence. "Say what?"

Bilbo nodded and offered to proceed with the task of helping Thorin put on his shirt, which he had made clear that didn't bother him. He had told a half-truth. He knew that. And on that particular morning, he could see more clearly than ever that Thorin knew as well. He could feel Thorin's eyes on him as he tried to keep his breath in check and his hands steady while guiding Thorin's still-healing left arm through the sleeve of his shirt. Thorin winced slightly and Bilbo whispered a quiet "sorry" as he pulled the garment up over the Dwarf's shoulders. Although he felt that he really shouldn't have, he allowed his fingertips to trail unnecessarily across Thorin's lower neck as he gathered his hair and took it out from under the collar of his shirt.

As he withdrew his hand, however, Thorin caught his wrist and pressed his lips against it. It was not entirely without warning, but Bilbo still felt like he could have used it. Unable to restrain a brief whimper, Bilbo watched helpless as Thorin's hand curled around his wrist. How wispy it looked now, in the grip of that large hand, and how his skin burned under the fire of Thorin's lips. And how he wished he could have run away at that very moment, break out into the cold of winter outside and keep going until he was far enough to stop.

But he couldn't bring himself to do it, not when Thorin looked up at him with pleading eyes, still holding his wrist in his hand. He tugged at it gently, and at first, Bilbo resisted. But his heart was not truly in it, and so he gave in when Thorin tugged at his arm again. He found himself brought down to the level of Thorin's mouth. It started softly, their lips only brushing against each other, and the tingle of Thorin's beard feeling slightly amusing, as it usually did. But then, it began to sting. Something was different about this kiss, different from all the others they had shared before. Still, Bilbo didn't give in to that deep call to flee, and soon both of Thorin's hands wrapped around his head, covering his ears. When Thorin parted his lips, Bilbo whimpered again faintly, but responded in kind. He had wanted this, thought about it many times, even if it had felt wrong in the pure light of thought. The dizzying warmth of the real thing, however, felt very right. It spread through him like hot honey as he allowed Thorin to kiss him, and in that moment he couldn't imagine ever having been afraid of this. But then he remembered. He remembered very well, and it made him break away abruptly, leaving Thorin in a frozen daze.

Thorin's hands remained suspended briefly and his eyes opened slowly as if woken from sleep. Looking disoriented, he eventually lowered his hands to his knees. His gaze followed the same trail, taking a few seconds to recollect his composure. His expression was miserable and misery broke through his voice as well when he finally spoke.

"Forgive me, Bilbo, I was too forward."

"No, Thorin, I..."

"Yes, I was."

"Thorin," said Bilbo, curling a hand around the dwarf's bearded chin and lifting his head. "You weren't. It's my fault."

Thorin appeared utterly unconvinced. Shadow now darkened the blue waters of his eyes. "I thought that..."

"I know," said Bilbo, "and you weren't wrong. I... I desire you as well. I just can't. Not right now."

Thorin dropped his gaze again to his hands, which were still lying inert in his lap. "I understand."

Bilbo was sure he didn't, not entirely, and even if he felt like he owed Thorin an explanation for his behaviour, he simply couldn't bring himself to offer it at that precise moment. He didn't even feel strong enough to say that to Thorin, to reassure him that there would come a time when he would at least explain.

"In fact," Bilbo said instead, "I believe I shall ask Balin for a room of my own."

Thorin looked up at him horrified.

"I'll still come and help you dress in the morning. I just... need my own room."

"Certainly," said Thorin, in a voice so weak it could barely be heard. "I can talk to Balin about it myself if you wish."

"No, that's fine, thank you."

Bilbo's own voice sounded distant and cold to him, unrecognizably cold. It was as if he was talking to a stranger, and he couldn't forgive himself for it, let alone continue to be in his own presence.

"I should be going," he said, "I think Ori might be waiting for me."

Thorin nodded and said nothing more. He remained pinned to the side of his bed as Bilbo made for the door.

Bilbo did not dare look back as he placed his hand on the door handle and stepped out. He didn't have to. He knew what he would have seen and he didn't want to see it. He wanted to get as far away from it as possible. And so, he added a bit more zest into his step as he made his way to the library.