A/N: Notice I have changed my name from OTMarch to Galadraen. I'd like to start this off with an apology for those waiting on Submerged. I'm working on it but the Tolkien fandom came back to claim me again with it's re-emergence and I've been a bit buried in my work and BBC Sherlock in my off time. Hopefully I'll have the next chapter finished here soon unless my lovely first fandom keeps distracting me. I just had to urge to write a bit of fluffy Orwal/Dwori because Adam Brown and Graham McTavish's bromance is encouraging me to ship this pair more and more. That and Dwalin is a big marshmallow and I like writing him with a bit of a softer side, despite his rugged appearance and Ori is one of the most precious adorable things in the entire movie.

Disclaimer: I don't own Lord of the Rings, the Hobbit, or any of Tolkien's works. If I did, Legolas and Gimli would be canon.

The night sky was clear and full of stars, moonlight shining through the canopy of the trees that shaded them within their boughs in the dense forest in which they had made their camp. Dwalin walked amoung the trees, quiet as a cat as he prowled the outskirts of the camp. He had drawn first watch and liked to stretch his legs and survey the surrounding area rather than sit next to the warmth of the fire to help keep himself alert. Too many times had the fire nearly lulled him to sleep with it's enchanting heat. The old warrior had made a few rounds around the perimeter of the camp and stopped to lean against one of the towering oaks when he heard it; the peculiar scratching noise just barely audible over the low crackling of the campfire and the soft snoring of the company of dwarves surrounding it.

Instantly, he perked up at the sound of the strange noise, glancing around the camp in attempt to discern the direction it was coming from. Pushing up from his spot against the oak, Dwalin moved to grasp one of the axes strapped in place on his back ready to fight if the scratching noise should prove to be an approaching danger to the company. His fingers had just closed around the haft of his axe when his eyes settled upon a figure seated close to the campfire. He sighed and loosened his grip on the weapon, letting his hand fall back to his side.

With the dim glow of the light illuminating the figure, the lumpy little silhouette was unmistakably that of the group's scribe all bundled up in his knits and a heavy cloak. Ori's head was bent down low over what appeared to be a book and the pencil in his hand was darting rapidly back and forth across the page before him, the skritching noise pausing every so often for him to rethink his stroke before continuing on.

Dwalin stood in silence watching the youngest member of their company. When he'd first met the scrawny dwarf at the hobbit's dwelling he had been far from impressed and was sure that he'd prove just as much of a burden as their burglar, but he had been pleasantly surprised by the scribe in the goblin tunnels where he had wielded Dwalin's own large war-hammer to topple over and crush the skulls of manly a disfigured wretch. It was true he wasn't a master with a weapon, but he wasn't completely incompetent and Dwalin and the rest of the company were finally starting to see his different talents emerge. Often he worked with Oin, sketching out and documenting native plants and copying down some of the old dwarf's invaluable remedy recipes and had even drawn out a few small maps when they encountered an area that was not well charted. It'd saved them valuable time and a day of wandering when they'd become turned around after Thorin's nephews had rushed off after a stag they had spotted, and had gotten a bit lost.

Over the journey he found himself growing more protective of the scribe, looking out for his well being when his brothers were not at his side, which was a rare occasion. In Rivendell he had thrust out his arm in defense of the youth when the elves had come galloping in on their steads and surrounded them. And again he had protected Ori on the mountain pass when the mountain started to crumble beneath their feet. Something about this unseasoned dwarf kept drawing his attention and more often than not, a wanton gaze. His gaze did not go unreturned though and many times the warrior swore that Ori was staring back at him with the same longing in his eyes, though maybe that was just a trick of the mind. Still, something about his infallible determination, despite the prejudgments the other dwarves had of him was strangely alluring. Dwalin had hardly been given a moment alone with the youngest of the company however and he was growing more and more frustrated with each passing day. Wherever he ventured, one of his brothers was sure to follow like a dog on his heels. Now here before him, sat that which he had been desiring for many a week.

Masked by the darkness, Dwalin was able to approach the dwarf without alerting him, though whether or not that was his intention, he couldn't decide. Though the light of the fire was dim and flickering dully, Dwalin could still make out the images on the pages that Ori was so concentrated upon. On the left page was a beautiful charcoal drawing of Thorin. Different shades of black and grey lines intermingled with one another to form his King's long shaggy mane of hair. Much to his surprise on the right page he saw a drawing in his own likeness.

Ori has just started to fill one of his many tattoos when Dwalin moved to sit next to the young scribe and he gave a yelp in surprise. Suddenly becoming aware of what lay in his lap he moved to cover his drawings as well he could with his hands without making it seem too obvious that he was trying to conceal them from the old warrior's eyes. He shifted uncomfortably and pulled at the knitted wool covering his hands nervously.

"I-I'm drawing everyone in the company..." Ori offered shyly before Dwalin could make a comment, fingers fidgeting with his pencil and eyes lowered to the sketches.

"Is that so?" Dwalin inched closer, partially attempting to see the drawings the scribe hid and partially so that his arm would brush against that of the youth's.

"Mhmm," The younger dwarf gave a small sharp nod and his knitted hood fell awkwardly down in front of his eyes. With a little grunt of irritation, he reached up and yanked it back down and out of his face with a little more enthusiasm than was necessary and it caused his book resting balanced upon his knees to slip. Abandoning his hood dilemma, he reached out to snatch up the book back up before it fell and pulled it back into his lap and a flush crept across his cheeks. Ori attempted to compose himself and reopened his book to the sketches he had been working on.

"Awfully late teh be up scribblin'."

"I know...I just can't sleep," Ori still wouldn't meet the warrior's eyes and instead stared at their boots. "It's been hard since the goblin tunnels. I keep expecting to wake up with cold steel pressed to the throat."

"Not confident in me watchin' are yeh?"

"O-oh n-no," he stammered, "that isn't it at all! I didn't mean to offend Mister Dwalin, really I-"

"I'm just pullin' yer leg lad," the old dwarf chuckled and clapped him on the shoulder affectionately and he could see the look of relief pass over Ori's face.

"I am going to document the journey. So...I am sketching everyone and the places we go when I have time. I did a few at Rivendell but not many since time didn't really allow. S-sometimes I draw plants and stuff too..." he relaxed a bit as he spoke of his passion for the written word and art. "And maps. When we take back Erebor, everyone will want to know about our adventure. They'll want to know the story of everyone's bravery and the It'll be a tale they make songs off. I-I haven't written any yet though...I just jot down notes from the day and I-I decided to draw everyone too. J-just for fun..."

"Ye've got high hopes for us," Dwalin said in a voice as soft as the smile he gave Ori. The scribe's optimism was encouraging.

"I know we can do it," he said, eyes glowing with the same fervour that filled them so many nights ago in Bag End. "We'll get Erebor back. I can feel it."

"I hope so laddie."

"I want to see it. I never have," his voice was quiet now and tempered with sorrow. "Or at least not that I can remember. I was too little. Dori has told me some about it though, not that it does it any justice I am sure. And I've read a bit about it in different books."

"Aye, it's a beautiful place."

"You miss it then?"

"More than yeh know," the old warrior sighed deeply. "Not so much as Thorin though."

"Is it wrong...f-for me to want to see the dragon?" the words came out quickly and Ori looked as if he regretted them as soon as he has spoken. "I just want to draw him is all. So everyone knows the great terror that you all so bravely faced! I-I probably won't be much use myself but I can do that much..."

"Yeh give yerself too little credit. Yeh've got the makings in yeh. Just need a bit of practice. Not everyone starts as a great warrior. I've seen Kili fall on his arse enough trying to swing a war-hammer teh know that one! Besides, yeh've already got yerself a wonderful talent," Dwalin noted, pointing at the sketch of himself. "Aye, but this one? Yeh got it all wrong there."

"W-what?" the younger dwarf squeaked, his head sagging down to his chest in disappointment. "You really think so? Thorin wasn't all that hard but you... I-I wasn't sure, but-"

"Nah, yer just makin' me far too handsome is all laddie," Dwalin laughed and the young scribe gave him a coy smile.

"I-I...I don't think so..." Ori squeaked and in the glow of the fire light the older dwarf could see his cheeks grow an even deeper shade of red. "I-I think you're v-very handsome Mister Dwalin."

The words warmed the old warrior's heart and he was struck with a such a strong feeling of affection for the scribe that Dwalin reached out to touch the other's cheek softly, encouraging him to raise his gaze and meet his eyes. Confusion and uncertainty filled Ori's brown eyes but there was something else there too...Knowing that this could be one of the only opportunities he'd get to spend alone with the youngest member of their company, he did not intend to waste it.

"Aye, that so?"

Moving his hand to cup Ori's face, he tilted his head and placed a gentle kiss on his lips. They were soft and sweet, completely unresistant as Dwalin applied more pressure and deepened their kiss, confident now that he would not be pushed away. When his tongue darted out to lick at his partner's lower lip, the little dwarf gave a light gasp and a shudder ran through his body and he opened his mouth to allow the probing tongue. An all too familiar heat began to pool in the older dwarf's groin as they kissed and he was half tempted to scoop the boy up in his arms and whisk him away from camp to ravish him well away from the ears and eyes of his protective older brothers. But the boy was naive and inexperienced and it would be folly to take his pleasure with him without concern for the scribe's feelings. He had a slight idea that the though a more sensitive lad, little Ori wouldn't mind this one bit but this was still all so new to him judging by the awkward way he returned his kiss. Dwalin contained himself and took it slowly, trailing light kisses down his neck and sucking heatedly at the soft skin of his companion's exposed collarbone. By this time Ori had his hands buried in the furs around Dwalin's collar, fingers clutching desperately at his chest through the thick soft pelt.

"M-mister Dwalin, I...I don't understand," he murmured shyly, hiding his face in the furs. "I didn't think you ever noticed me...and not...like that..."

"I've noticed more about yeh than yeh think," Dwalin said in a hushed voice and pressed one last tender kiss to the young dwarf's brow before whispering, "Sssh. Sleep now. No harm will come to yeh while I'm on watch."

'Or ever.'

Fin.

A/N: Currently untitled because I'm awful at that sort of thing. Anyhow, hope you enjoyed it. Please review to encourage me that this wasn't a completely awful idea!

-Galadraen