Hey! I changed up the layout of Chapters II and III and moved the transition a bit, so you might want to recheck the previous chapter if you have read it before today (26/12/15) I made this chapter longer as well if you wondered why I reposted this.

Enjoy :)

"You know, Thorin didnae eat properly for months after ye left." Bofur said before disappearing from the view.

CHAPTER III, Helplessly in Love

Bilbo hadn't felt as merry as he did now since he had left. He had eaten his belly full, drank heartily with the dwarves, listened to their stories about Erebor, all was forgiven, he had never left and they had never forgotten him. It was as if the had never been apart. Kili told him eagerly about the elleth he had fancied while they had been locked away in Mirkwood. More often than not he had seen them talking together, simply choosing to ignore it. He was glad for the lad, he was head over heels in love and the elf, Tauriel, seemed to feel the same. It was nice that people even from different races, different background found each other—- Bilbo looked at Thorin who had remained silent for the most part of the evening, observing, listening to the stories. More often than not Bilbo had felt his eyes on him and resisted the temptation to glance back.

They had cleaned up the plates, which Bilbo was very grateful for, it was not often now-a-days that he got a meal served to him not having to do any of the work himself. He was glad though, that this time they hadn't thrown their plates around but done the whole thing carefully and without bursting into a song. He could feel the drinks were getting to his head, still he accepted the wine bottle Gloin shoved him as he shared drinks around.

Bilbo had already had at least four pints of ale, he was known for his bottomless stomach after all—- or used to be known, now he was known for other things—- what would a few glasses of red wine hurt. "Or, who needs a glass anyway", he thought and drank straight from the bottle. Oh if the gossips of Hobbitton found out! Bilbo giggled at the thought.

Blue eyes were looking at him. Once again following his every move so Bilbo decided to drink some more. Why stop now he thought happily and drank as much as he could with a three four big gulps. He smiled lazily at everyone and decided he should go out for a bit. Maybe take his pipe as well.

The drunked halfling managed to keep his posture well enough that none of the dwarves seemed to question him, they themselfs were quite well drunk as well though, he thought as he wrapped a scarf around his neck. It was hot now. He was sweating. It was nice, everything was nice. Nice was a nice word as well. If you put an m there instead of n—

"Are you sure that is a good idea?"

"It's mice— I mean, nice—-No?"

Thorin sighed as he walked to the curly haired burglar, he pried the wine bottle of his hands, taking a good swig as well before putting it aside and began to untangle the scarf that Bilbo had tried to put on.

"Never ceases to amaze me." Thorin muttered as he finally got the scarf safely off the hobbit's neck. "Perhaps you should lie down my friend." he suggested and began to lead Bilbo to his bedroom,

"My friend?"

"Are you not my friend?"

"No." Bilbo said stubbornly, they weren't friends. They hadn't been friends for a long time. They were something—else.

"Sit." Thorin told him as they reached the bedroom,

"No." Bilbo put his foot down.

"Sit down you foolish hobbit! You can barely stand, I do not wish to see you hurt." the Dwarf finished more gently, guiding his hobbit on the bed.

Bilbo yawned and rubbed his eyes,

"Since when has my house been this shaky." he muttered and lied down on his pillow.

Thorin smiled as he watched Bilbo's eyes became heavy and he slowly sank into his bed, falling asleep before his eyes.

"I have missed you." Thorin said quietly, kissing the hobbit's brow before taking his leave.

"Where's Bilbo?" Ori asked next morning as Thorin walked in to the parlour and took out his pipe.

"He is sleeping in the backroom." Thorin mused, smiling to himself. He had not felt this relaxed in a long while. No crown was weighting on his brow, no one was asking him about politics. No wars, no worries. It was as if they were back to the time before the Quest and while he felt marvellously at ease, there was a part of him that longed back to Erebor again, part of him that worried about the kingdom and about Fíli. How was he faring with his new found responsibly. Of course Thorin trusted his sister-son completely and with Dwalin and Balin at his side he would do just fine. If he could, Thorin would just like to relax, to find out what had happened.

Bilbo, he had known the hobbit for under a year; yet he made him feel things—things he had never felt before in all his life. During his time of sickness, Bilbo had been the only one who made him feel like he was himself again, his only glimpses of reality in the glimmering and golden world he had sunk into. When Bilbo had left—-there were moments—- moments when Thorin could feel the call of the gold again. He had not told anyone, not wanting to worry his friends or to give his enemies any angles. Every time he felt the pull of the gold he would pull out the scarf Bilbo had left behind and it would bring him back, but each time it became harder, each time he would have a harder time remembering the hobbit's face clearly. He wasn't smiling at him anymore, by the anniversary of him leaving, all Thorin could recall was his terrified face when he had almost been killed, by Thorin himself. That was when he had decided to leave. Knowing it would not only make him better but benefit the dwarves of Erebor as well. In only a week the arrangements were made, instructions given and the company had left for Hobbitton.

"Tea Thorin, would you like a cup?" Dori asked him as he made his way towards the table. Kili was no where to be seen but other than that all of the dwarves were sitting around it, some yawning, some like Ori holding their head. It was early Thorin reckoned, sun had yet to rise and the only light was from two barely living candles, both in their very last hours of life.

"Thank you Oin." he nodded and broke a piece of bread for himself. The mood was comfortably tired and very cozy. He felt calm and happy, how could he not? Seeing Bilbo had given him new energy he had not realised he desperately needed. Too soon they wold leave though. Too soon he would say goodbye once more. Unless—

Bilbo yawned loudly as he arrived to the dining room, wrapped in his bathrobe, hair sticking out into every direction. He yawned again as he sat down on a chair by the table, muttering a tired good morning to the only other person in the room, probably in the entire Bag End. Sun had risen up a while ago and gave the room a cold wintery glow.

"The others went out to get some decorations and food for tonight. We are going to have a proper Yule celebration." the other resident, Thorin told Bilbo, who was busy staring somewhere into the distance, trying to keep his eyes open.

"Oh. How did they get through the snow?" the hobbit asked after a long pause,

"Kili cleaned the path earlier. Would you like some breakfast?"

Bilbo mumbled back something that sounded like eggs and toast please, at least Thorin hoped he understood him.

As Bilbo remained in the space between awake and asleep Thorin decided to get up and cook breakfast for the hobbit. He headed to the pantry which to his delight wasn't completely empty from last night. He found two eggs, some tomatoes and beans—briefly wondering how the hobbit could have such things in midwinter— no bacon though. All of the meat had been eaten, even the small bird looking creatures that had been hanging from the ceiling previous night. Bombur was likely at fault for it, he had vowed to eat everything at sight by the time they had reached Shire's borders.

A fire was still going in the fireplace in the kitchen so Thorin cracked the eggs on the frying pan and cooked away. He hummed an old Mahalmerag song (the dwarvish version of Yule) as he sliced up the tomatoes and put them and the beans on the pan next. While they cooked he added a bit of salt at the top of the sunny side up eggs and found a fork and knife as well. Unfortunately there was no toast left so he simply cut a few pieces from a loaf of bread and placed them on a plate next to the eggs.

It had been too long since he had cooked anything, ever since his crowning he had had others to do such things for him. It was something he still wasn't used to; being served was not something that came naturally to him anymore.

Thorin put the beans and tomatoes on another plate and served them for the hobbit. Only then did Bilbo finally notice the pleasant smell of breakfast and lifted his head from the table where he had fallen asleep once more. Thorin handed him a fork and told him to eat.

"You cooked me breakfast." Bilbo stated,

"All signs would point to that, yes." Thorin said jokingly, feeling uncomfortable in the spot.

The hobbit mumbled a thank you before digging in. It was good, very good. Almost better than how he cooked himself, almost. Bilbo had hard time imagining Thorin cooking in his kitchen, wishing he had seen it. He liked the idea. The idea of Thorin being here everyday, and him cooking first breakfast then Bilbo cooking the second one. Eating together. Living together. Becoming used to each others annoying little habits, bickering about some small meaningless thing. Falling asleep next to each other—

Bilbo shook away these thoughts, his mind was once more getting ahead of itself. Giving him false hope of a life together with the King. Because that he was; the King Under the Mountain. What king would leave his kingdom and people. Leave his duties. Certainly not Thorin. Bilbo would not want him to, he would not have him giving up on the most important thing to him, he would not want that. He rather lived alone imagining Thorin happily ruling his halls, rebuilding his finally found home. To even tease the idea of taking all of that away from Thorin, it broke Bilbo's heart even more than the idea of living alone for the rest of his life, with just his memories and the longing in his heart.

There was nothing to be done. Bilbo was helplessly in love with Thorin Oakenshield, he had known that for a long time. Now he his stomach had fallen in love with his cooking as well, which was probably even worse.

If you have any thought and/or ideas, please do share them with me. Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed this chapter as well. I will probably write one to three chapters more depending on where these two will take the story to, wherever it may go the next chapter will have the long awaited Yule party and perhaps a few other long awaited events as well... Once again, Merry Christmas everyone!