From the beginning, I suppose

Chapter 6 (Split POV)

Bilbo hummed the familiar dwarvish tune to himself as he busied himself with cooking breakfast. He had come to a conclusion last night while packing and writing his legal documents that were to be taken to the thain. Thorin didn't seem to show any interest last time 'round, so the hobbit would try a different approach this time. Now that he knew - through studying during his short time at Erebor - Dwarvish courtship traditions and subtle signs that the company would consider ignorance of cultural practices, he could use them to his advantage. In fact, he had not slept at all that night, having instead decided to purchase some odds and ends he could use for multiple purposes along the journey.

So absorbed was the hobbit in his thoughts and task, that he did not notice that the very dwarf at the center of his plans shuffled into the room and froze at the door.

"How do you know that song, master burglar?" The hobbit near jumped out of his skin at the dwarf's murmured question. He had forgotten that he was still humming.

Without turning around, the hobbit identified the source of the question and allowed his shoulders to relax slightly. "Good morning to you too, master Oakenshield. If you could set out some plates, breakfast should be ready by the time the rest of the company comes out of hibernation." Bilbo skillfully danced around the question, feeling the two points of fire directed at the back of his skull hesitate before the dwarf shuffled closer.

Bilbo's breath caught in his throat as the dwarf came into view. He cut quite a figure in profile like this, especially in the warm flickering light of the candlebraz the hobbit was cooking by the light of. It would have been trouble enough if the dwarf hadn't been bare-chested.

The hobbit made sure his voice was clear and steady when he commented, "As handsome as you are shirtless, I will not have chest hairs in my cooking thank you very much. Go put a shirt on, then you can help."

Thorin froze, and although Bilbo's eyes were fixed on the pan of bacon sizzling on the stove, he could feel the intensity of the stare the tall dwarf was directing in his direction.

"Go on now. Don't make me swat you." He brandished the spatula he was using to flip the sizzling breakfast meat in Thorin's direction, flipping a page in the book he had propped in front of him, picking back up the tune he had been humming when the dwarf first entered the room.

As the dwarf retreated from the room and shuffled back down the hall, Bilbo let out a breath he didn't even know he had been holding.

You must have a death wish you reckless fool of a Took. One part of his mind roared.

Another contradicted it, saying, Ah, but as a Baggins, the risk was a calculated one. It seems to have paid off thusfar, seeing as you yet maintain possession of your scalp.

Bilbo allowed an amused smile creep across his face, and was still humming when Thorin returned - this time fully clothed - and started setting out plates. The tension in the room was so thick you could cut it with a broadsword when Balin shuffled into the room with a yawn and proceeded to help Thorin with the table, offering quiet conversation in Khûzdul to the king-in-exile.

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Thorin paused at the door to the kitchen. He had expected to be the first one awake, and was thus surprised to find a quietly humming hobbit busying himself at the stove an hour before dawn.

Gathering his courage, the dwarrow spoke quietly, voice barely over a whisper in the heavy quiet that was punctuated only by the hobbit's humming. "How do you know that song, Master burglar?"

If the hobbit was startled, he didn't show it.

"Good morning to you too, master Oakenshield." The hobbit chirped in response, and Thorin didn't need to see his face to know the halfling was smiling. "If you could set out some plates, breakfast should be ready by the time the rest of the company comes out of hibernation." Thorin forced himself not to snort at the hobbit's obvious avoidance of the question he was presented, but decided that it was too early to try to pry secrets out of the hobbit. Perhaps he could find a way to loosen that silver tongue. Alcohol, maybe? Anywho, that was a problem for another time. The dwarf hesitated a moment before moving forward to open the cabinet and remove the proper number of plates. He purposefully stepped into the hobbit's space, while feigning ignorance at the fact that there was a whole two feet off to the left that he could be occupying.

"As handsome as you are shirtless, I will not have chest hairs in my cooking thank you very much. Go put a shirt on, then you can help." Thorin almost choked on his own tongue at the halfling's brazen comment. He turned his entire head, staring as the hobbit turned a page of the book propped in front of him distractedly.

Had the hobbit looked, he would have seen the mixture of disbelief and smugness warring in Thorin's eyes.

After a moment or two, Thorin pulled himself together and backed away, fleeing quietly down the hall to retrieve his faded blue tunic, purposefully leaving the top ties undone for a reason the dwarf himself could not fathom. What was it about this creature that had him acting like some naïve dwarfling with a crush? By dwarvish standards he was nothing less than odd. Short and barefoot and lacking any kind of facial hair, but somehow incredibly alluring. No. Dwalin was right. The halfling was some sort of spell-speaker.

Thorin wasn't falling for this witchcraft.

No.

He was red because it was hot.

Definitely not because he was blushing.

That was not it.

It was hot.

Yes.

That was it.

When Thorin had pulled himself together enough, he returned to the kitchen, retrieving the pile of plates he had set on the counter in his haste to flee the room before the brazen hobbit had noticed the dwarf's flusterment.

Not three minutes later, Balin shuffled into the room, diffusing some of the tension that lay palpable and thick over the room.

|<You're up early, laddie. May I ask what has our fearless leader fleeing sleep?>| The old dwarrow inquired in quiet Khûzdul, mirth twinkling in his sharp eyes.

|<The hobbit's humming and the smell of food drew me out of bed.>| Thorin replied bluntly in the same tongue.

|<Aye, it does smell good.>| Balin relented, helping Thorin set out the cutlery.

Both Dwarves were completely unaware of the fact that the hobbit had finished cooking, made it so the food would stay warm, and slunk out of kitchen and smial. Nor would they realize until Kíli pointed out that the hobbit had not joined the company for breakfast and had altogether disappeared.