Dearest Bilbo

Chapter Seventeen

There was a lot of work to do in Erebor and plenty of other things he could do to occupy his time. Bilbo had spent most of the day helping to clear the cave-in of the lower-level mine collapse. Along with Bifur, Bofur, and Gloin, he was feeling quite accomplished after several hours, although his muscles were going to complain for a few days afterward.

He had enjoyed mealtime with the three dwarves as well. It reminded him of the evenings they'd sat around the campfire teasing one another, smoking, and retelling age-old stories. The stories told these days were more recent and usually focused on their time spent in Rivendell, the ongoing reconstruction of the kingdom, or the rumors of how many dwarves were headed toward the city. Bilbo noticed they rarely spoke of the orcs, goblins, or trolls, and he was glad. He appreciated the light-hearted mood.

Along with that pleasure, however, came a significant tiredness that began to seep into his bones, and Bilbo realized if he attempted to rest as he had intended to do last night, he wouldn't wake up again until morning.

It wasn't as if Thorin would be faring any better. Yes, the king spent a lot of time sitting at his desk looking over contracts and reviewing this or that agenda, but he would also be helping others whenever he could by lending a hand and a strong back to reconstruct the home he once knew. Bilbo admired him for that. Well, truthfully, Bilbo admired him for several things, actually.

Throughout the day, he had actually seen Thorin traveling this way or that with a group of dwarves and he gave Bilbo a thrill. Gone was the Arkenstone-obsessed, deranged king. That had been replaced with the Thorin he knew from the Quest. There was still worry showing on his face, but also revealed was the joy of companionship, the happiness of creating a home, and occasionally, a secret smile would be cast in his direction.

Bilbo found he was distracted quite often throughout the day. Whenever he heard footsteps or voices, he would try to sneak a glance, even though he was caught almost every time. Bofur was usually the one who gave him a hard time about it, although Bifur sometimes joined in as well. Gloin scolded them for acting like dwarflings and would remind them they needed to focus on work instead of silliness.

Bofur had actually caught Bilbo smiling happily when indeed one of the dwarves passing through just so happen to be Thorin, though his friend never said a word about it. It occurred to Bilbo that perhaps Bofur knew something, but he obviously wasn't going to tell him and Bilbo wasn't about to ask.

Of course, he suspected something. Only about one-third of Erebor had been made livable so far, and there were less than a hundred dwarves residing within the city. It was hard not to know what was going on. Dwarves were nearly as bad as hobbits in that aspect. They liked to talk.

Gloin kept them on task until nearly supper hour before calling it a day. By that time, Bilbo's arms felt as weak as water and he collapsed on the bench in front of the dining table.

Bombur never failed to thank Bilbo over and over for the spices he'd delivered and the rest of the food that filled the pantries. This evening, the cook had prepared roasted rabbit with stewed vegetables and black bread. Bilbo couldn't remember anything tasting so wonderful, but that was most likely due to the fact he had worked so hard for so long and was practically starving.

The room in which they were eating was intended for the general public, not the royal staff. The king and his advisors were provided a more private area to dine while discussing matters of the city. Bilbo knew that Thorin also took his meals privately within his own quarters occasionally. The dwarven king certainly appreciated his moments of solace, and Bilbo couldn't blame him. The dwarves were exceptionally loud and merry these days and sometimes it was a little too much to take, especially after a day like today.