Chapter Text
Bilbo watched him rise, stretching in a way that made his satisfaction apparent, a smile idly on his lips. She rolled her own shoulders as she heard his pop. He went for their things and pulled a cloth from his clothes, wetting it with his canteen. He came to her first, dipped his hand between her thighs to clean her of his seed and her pleasure. She spread her legs easily, watching him as he kept up that crooked smile. His eyes darted to hers, mock coyly as he pulled back.
“Would the Lady like anything else of this humble servant?” he asked, voice low and fake modest.
“Perhaps my canteen,” she sniffed, mock demanding.
He obeyed despite the joking and she took it, sipping as she sat up. He stretched again when they were both clean and then started to dress under her eyes, gathering his shirt from the pile and tugging it over those rather nice broad shoulders. She enjoyed seeing his clothes get pulled on as much as getting pulled off. The fact he made a show of it, shimmied and teased as he shot her little mischievous grins over his shoulder only made it better.
“You’d better get dressed too, before the rest of the troop decide to see where we’ve scurried off too,” he said as he belted his coat.
Bilbo groaned and wanted to protest, want to roll around on the grass patch like an upset child.
“It’s so nice to get a few moments though,” she sighed.
“Not that I don’t agree but if they catch us naked together, we’ll probably get a lot less moments together.”
Bilbo blinked.
“You think they would stop us?” she asked, confused.
He snorted.
“Of course they would.”
“But why?” she asked flabbergasted.
Yes, maybe they should be using this time to rest instead of taking a tumble together, but why would they be stopped? He peered at her a moment and then sat down and pulled his pipe out as she slowly started to pull her clothes on. He watched her dress just as eagerly as he’d watched her undress.
“Why, an unmarried pretty lass getting seduced into the criminal’s bed; first they’ll think I’ve tricked you somehow, and then they’ll start yelling about propriety.”
She stared blankly at him as she paused in the act of pulling her trousers on.
“What?” she asked, just as baffled, “What propriety is there being broken? We are both adults and both consenting.”
“Ah, Hobbits,” he said almost wistfully as he packed his pipe, “Such carefree folk, even for all your stuffy manners you’re freer in certain regards than us rowdy dwarves.”
“Are…are you like the men,” Bilbo asked still confused, “Where women are not supposed to lie with men until marriage?”
“Sort of,” he said searching his pockets for a match, “Its less waiting for marriage and more that there are proper courting procedures that should be observed. Not to say many don’t have a tumble or two without any strings attached, but generally that’s done in your own circle.”
“Your own circle?” she asked as she finished tugging her clothes on.
She sat beside him and dug her own pipe out as he continued looking for a light.
“It will come down to this; you’re too good for me,” he said.
She packed her own pipe as he gave up looking for a light and simply clenched his pipe in his teeth, watching her.
“Too good for you?” she asked, amused.
She thought she might realize where he was going with this. People outside the Shire always seemed to have a hierarchy. Not that some families weren’t seen as more respectable in the Shire, but that would never affect who they took to bed or marriage; it effected things like where you sat at the Party Table and who you went to for help or who could be trusted to solve an argument.
“I’m but a lowly criminal with no mastered craft and no way to promise you even courting gifts. You’re a beautiful lass with a respectable family, a landowner, and at least some old money,” he shrugged.
She struck her own light and lit her pipe before holding the match to him. He lit his as well and in the silence they each puffed idly for a moment.
“But I’m not looking for courting,” she finally said, “And what does money have to do with it? Money has nothing to do with love or sex.”
“Ah, to the rest, because of my history they will think it’s your money I’m after.”
“My money that’s all tucked back in the Shire?’ she asked, still amused, “While we’re on a quest for all the gold in Erebor? Where we might yet die in dragon fire?”
“I’m just saying,” he smiled, “They’ll think I’m being nefarious, and you’re being taken as a mark.”
“Dwarves,” she shook her head ruefully, “Why must everything be so troublesome with you folk? Why can’t a tumble in the hay just be a tumble in the hay. Would they think it the same if I lay with any other member of the company?”
“Would depend,” he said, “If you took a tumble with any of the Nobles, like Fili or Balin, they’d think it the opposite, with you being the nefarious one after fame or fortune. If it was one of the Urs, you might just be looked at fondly like you were a child playing around, or maybe as someone who was easy. Which is why courtship rules are usually followed to make everything acceptable.”
“Courtship rules even for a tumble?” she asked, “Or do you all get married after?”
“There are rules to quick tumbles too,” he said, “usually just gifts or words to make intentions clear so there is no mistake.”
“Too much politics,” she shook her head, “In the Shire you do as you wish with who wish and there is no trouble unless someone gets hurt. There is gossip of course, you should have heard it when a Bracegirdle girl got caught with a Took Lass, but that’s because they decided to take a tumble in the garden while their families were feuding over a tea-set.”
“Ha!” he barked, “I think you Hobbits have the right of it.”
“Hmm,” she agreed breathing out a smoke ring, “And I hope you know I’m looking at this with a Hobbit eye.”
“Well you are a Hobbit.”
She rested a hand on his leg and gave him a calm look.
“I mean it,” she said, “I am not expecting anything from you except maybe some more fantastic sex if we get the chance.”
He gave her a smile.
“I know.”
“Good,” she nodded.
“Oi. You two!”
They both looked up to find Dwalin eyeing them.
“Thorin says we aren’t to wander. What were you too up to?”
“Having a smoke,” Bilbo was the one to answer cheerfully, “Everyone was getting so loud and I wanted a moment of quiet. He wouldn’t let me wander off on my lonesome.”
Dwalin eyed them suspiciously for a long moment but then retreated back indoors.
“Don’t linger,” he grumbled at them as he left, “Don’t trust the damn weed-eaters not to try an’ separate us.”
Bilbo waited until he was gone before chuckling.
“You lot have no respect for Elves, do you? I suppose its fair considering how little they seem to enjoy our Company. Do you think any of them stumbled upon us while we were distracted?”
“We gave them a show if they did,” he grinned, “and here I thought you respected the elves yourself.”
“Oh I do, but I am enjoying watching the company and the elves all looking at one another side-eyed like you’re fauntlets who are building opposing forts.”
She stood then and brushed her skirt off. He followed her to her feet and watched as she tapped her pipe out on a convenient little rock. Then she reached up and drew him down with a hand on his cheek, giving him a kiss.
“Thanks for the tumble Nori,” she murmured against his lips.
“Any time,” he grinned, looking at her with lidded eyes and a pleased expression.
.--.
It went like this. The Dwarves didn’t know what to think of the Hobbit (or they thought they knew exactly what kind of fussy weak thing she should be) and so they kept her at arms length. Isolationists she would mutter as she was hit with the reminder that Dwarves don’t venture out much. They were like Hobbits in an insular way except they did actually do some travelling as opposed to the Hobbits complete derision at the idea of ever leaving the Shire. So they acted a little distant with her. Or well, most did.
She noticed that Kili and Fili poked a lot of fun and talked a lot, but she also noticed they were treated rather like children and so she took it to mean they were young. Despite this, for all they talked they said very little of real importance. She didn’t even learn they were related to Thorin despite their chatter until one of the company mentioned their ‘uncle’. Balin was ready to answer any question she posed to him though he tended to hem and haw and not answer if it was something related to Dwarves, and he never approached her with information. Ori was a sweet young lad and seemed rather like he’d like to ask her questions every once in a while, but Dori reminded her of her disapproving Aunt Mirabella who kept a keen eye on her Faunts and so Ori never approached her. Bofur, one of the few others she chatted with regularly was cheerful enough, but as with the others, no real information was passed on.
They treated her like a guest that they had to entertain, or who could be entertaining, but nothing else.
By the end of the second week Bilbo threw in the metaphorical towel and accepted the fact that while a few of the company were friendly enough, none of them wanted much to do with her. Ironically enough, it was the day after this realization and grudging acceptance that she noticed Nori’s lingering gaze.
Bilbo, with not much to occupy her time in the saddle besides what little friendly chatter she got, had taken to simply sightseeing. She’d watched the familiar shire roll away and the slightly familiar Bree Lands leave them. She gazed at the wilderness and marvelled at the wildness to it, far too used to the tamed Shire. But she also gazed at the dwarves, mostly in curiosity as she tried to figure them out. They were as strange as these new lands to her and she liked to observe them since they offered her no words.
And yes, she would admit, she had turned an admiring eye to things like Dwalin’s thick muscled arms, or Thorin’s appealing nose, or Fili’s golden locks. She’d let her eyes linger on Bofur’s roguish friendly smile and even on Balin’s deft fingers. She was a woman grown after all and she knew how to appreciate beauty, even unconventional beauty by Hobbit measures. Hobbits were creatures of pleasure, of warm hearth and good food and friendly faces. They were creatures of comfort and this extended to comfort in the bed. Maybe it was because they had resources a plenty and peace abound but they had found themselves safe enough that their culture was situated around pleasure. It was nearly an artform for many, which is why a soft round hobbit was considered attractive, why gardens were an unofficial contest with neighbors, why family recipes were guarded and traded like prized jewels, and why those who were particularly talented in the bedroom arts were sought after and showered with flirtations.
Bilbo had never been one of those that had rumors tossed about or lusty sighs sent after. She’d had her fair share of partners, and they never left unsatisfied, but she was not one of the great tales. But she was confident enough, and pretty enough she’d never been wanting for a bedmate. And now she wondered if it was Hobbits concentration on pleasures and comforts that made it rather easy to turn her eyes to unfamiliar dwarves and find something she might enjoy in them even if the intellectual company seemed to be wanting.
So of course, when Nori started looking at her, unabashed in his gaze, she looked back. Hobbits were well learned in flirtations and learned very young to accept disinterest or a ‘no’. But they also learned there was no shame in turning a gaze back at the sender and saying ‘yes’ for no other reason than you wanted to. And Nori’s gaze very much said he was rather interested.
It started rather calm, rather slow for a Hobbit but she enjoyed the game anyways. Nori didn’t so much exchange words with her, nor did he stoop to following her like a puppy. Instead he sent her flirty winks and lidded welcoming looks over the shoulders of his companions. He somehow ended up in her line of vision very frequently and always wore a soft smirk, a teasing glint of teeth. She sent her fair share of looks back when no attention was on them. She gave him a smouldering look as she handed him his dinner or a quick lick of her lips when his gaze wandered across her as he talked to his brother.
And it wasn’t just smiling and looks. When his eyes turned to her she made sure to lean forward just so and tug at her collar as if sweltering to tease him with a glance at her cleavage. She rucked up her trousers as if checking her heels for mud to flash him her legs. One bold day she licked her spoon rather provocatively while everyone was eating dinner.
He returned the favor giving a toss of his hair just so to make it glint like flame in the sunlight. He flexed his arms when he lifted things, carefully turning to show her the expanse of his muscle from whatever angle was best. On a day when everyone had jumped in a river to scrub off he was bold enough to return to camp with his shirt dangling from his arm, telling his befuddled younger brother he was letting the shirt dry out before he tugged it on. Bilbo unabashedly stared at the expansion of chest, fanning herself when she was sure no one but he would see her.
It was loads of fun and rather distracted her from her anger-disappointment at everyone else keeping her at arm’s length.
And then Trolls happened, and Radagast, and Orcs, and then beautiful shining Rivendell. And Nori slipped out in the dark after her after a few blazing looks. She was the one to tug him down to the earth as he kissed his way down her throat, hands tangling in her coat.
It was only after their little romp and consequent talk did she remember that not once had they actually exchanged any words before their tumble.
.--.
Nori had quick fingers Bilbo realized. Their little tumble in Rivendell had awakened something more then quick looks and posturing and now Nori was closer than ever. It was still rather nonchalant, like it was quite by coincidence every time they ended up near one another. But every time they did there were Nori’s quick fingers. He dragged them across her wrist, her hand her elbow, gone as quick as they came leaving trails of fire on her skin. And then one day there was a pinch. Bilbo nearly yelped but managed to bite down on the sound at the last minute as Nori gave her a practically devious grin and sauntered off like he hadn’t just pinched her ass.
“Something wrong Lass?” Bofur asked raising a brow as he looked over at her.
Her face must be pink she thought as she let out a cough.
“No, nothing,” she said a tad too quick.
Bofur raised a brow at her but didn’t turn suspicious eyes towards Nori who grinned at her over his shoulder.
“Nothing at all,” she repeated more steadily promising retribution.
.--.
It took three days to reach the mountains and Nori and Bilbo played a quick dangerous game of ‘don’t let anyone else onto the fact they were flirting like tweens’. They both got rather daring after the pinch and more than one dwarf nearly stumbled upon them. They were on foot now, walking winding paths through the woods, and while they stayed decently close together, there were moments where enough distance stretched between them, enough of a bend in the trees that if someone fell back a bit or gained a bit of traction, they could have a brief moment of privacy. They couldn’t risk falling back too often, but Bombur (and his slow pace) was a boon because he held up those behind him whenever he was in the middle of the pack.
When someone fell back far enough, Nori somehow positioned himself so that he either had the excuse to fall back or speed up to find his brother’s or Bofur. It was always a path that crossed Bilbo’s place in the line. This usually meant a hand wandering where it shouldn’t, smoothing across her bottom of darting across her chest. She got he own share of feels, letting her hand graze muscled arms or across his own bum.
One exceptionally audacious day, when there was a sharp bend in the road and they risked falling back together, Nori grasped her bum in both hands, hiked her in close, and dove in for a sharp ravenous kiss. She wrapped her hands around his neck, reeled him in and met him in an almost violent open-mouthed kiss, feeling his hands surge under her and his breath mingle with her own.
“Fuck,” Nori gasped into her mouth, desperate and panting.
“No time for that I’m afraid,” Bilbo teased.
“Oi, are you two falling behind?”
By the time Bofur’s head popped back around the corner Bilbo was leaned over as if looking at something on the ground and Nori was standing with his arms crossed and looking long-suffering.
“Sorry,” Bilbo said, a flush on her cheeks, “thought I saw rather good herb we could have mixed into the stew.”
Nori gave Bofur a look that said he was holding up the rear while their silly Hobbit dithered.
“Well come on or you’ll get left behind,” Bofur said, unsuspecting.
Bilbo gave Nori a rather heated glance but followed their hat-wearing friend all the same.
.--.
And then the Stone Giants happened. And the Goblins. And the thing down in the Cave that wanted to eat her. And to make a terrible time even worse, then the Pale orc happened, and Bilbo was leaping through flame to try and save the life of Thorin Oakenshield. By the time the Eagles dropped them off on the Carrock, Nori didn’t even try to hide the fact his eyes weren’t straying from her at all. Not that anyone noticed with all the commotion.
.--.
“Please,” Bilbo whined, voice high and needy.
Nori grunted and rocked against her, fingers stoking at her pearl. Her fingers caught grass, dirt, as she tried to rock back into him. The hand at her trousers was fumbling, losing dexterity with every moan she gave When he finally popped the fastener she shimmied as much as he allowed until her pants were mostly off, hanging from one foot as he desperately undid his own belt. He didn’t even take the time to shove his pants down, one hand still working at her entrance and driving her mad as he caressed her pearl.
By the time he pushed into her she was begging and wet. Their gasps echoed as he pushed in before they each gave a heartfelt groan. He trembled against her, giving a careful quick thrust. She tried to push back but he planted a hand on her spine, one hands still on her pearl even as he went every so carefully, pinning her to the grass.
“Nori,” she gasped, arching her back, “Please, faster.”
He buried his face in her shoulder, teeth dragging across her sun-golden skin. His pace was torturously slow, finger drawing her to her peak even as she whined and begged. He trembled with the urge to go quicker. Only when she cried out, peaking on his cock did he give a low gasping groan. Then, as she trembled around him in the aftershocks of her orgasm, he moved his hands to grasp her hips firmly. This time his pace was not slow as he slammed into her hard and fast. She rocked with the blows, a low guttural moan knocked out of her.
It did not take him long to find release in her and he panted into her skin, mouth on her spine as they both trembled. Slowly he pulled out and off until he was laying in the grass at her side.
There was a moment of quiet, not silence because their panting was audible, as was the sound of the wind in the trees and the birds in the air. But there was a peaceful sort of quiet as the sweat dried on their skin as their trembling died off. Nori had a hand caressing her flank and she reached out to run hers through his sweat streaked hair.
He murmured something as she scooted closer to him, but it was either too low or in a tongue she didn’t know because she did not understand what it was he said. Instead she curled close, pressed her nose to his shoulder. His hand stroked her side, rough calloused fingers against soft skin.
“I thought you had died,” Nori whispered into her mouth when she reached up to kiss him, “I thought the Goblins had thrown you down to your death. And then I thought the Pale orc would impale you.”
“Do not speak of what could-have-beens,” Bilbo told him, “Be happy instead that we are alive.”
“Shall I show you how happy I am?” he asked leaning over to kiss her again.
She liked his kisses. His tongue and lips were as deft as his fingers and she lost her breath to him more than once.
“I thought you just had,” she teased.
“Oh that was only the first bit,” he grinned, “No one should be looking for us just yet.”
She looked at him bathed in the midday sun, his freckles stark even with the tan he was getting. They were at the edges of Beorn’s yard, hidden in a dip of trees and thrushes, a little creek bubbling merrily at their back. He looked beautiful like this, happy and tired with a grin on his lips and his eyes and hair glinting in the midday sun.
“Show me then,” she said coyly, “And I shall in turn show you.”
This time she climbed atop him, slipping into his lap and tossing her hair, giving him a coquettish look. She made him beg this time and he did not disappoint, sweet nothings spilling from his lips as she showed him how much she enjoyed both of them being alive to have this.
The days they sent in Beorn’s lands, slipping off to tumble in the grass and sneaking kisses behind the apple tree, was wonderful. Bilbo showed Nori she could use her tongue for more than just sharp words and Nori in return spent an afternoon leaving little marks all up her skin as he shuddered under his clever fingers. Sometimes they simply sat and smoked in a hidden corner, laughing as they spied on the other dwarves and whispered stories.
Everyday made her smile and so Bilbo counted them all as wonderful.
.--.
Mirkwood was…grim. The gloom and doom and shadows hung thick everywhere and the party crowded together tight on the narrow path. Every step seemed to drag the dark closer and Bilbo lost all the smiles and cheer she had gained from her warm days at Beorn’s. She started to dream of sunshine and flowers and careful hot hands, and then the dreams dimmed and darkened and she could not even find peace during rest.
And then Bombur sleeping eternally. And then the spiders. And then the elves.
.--.