Make Merry While We Live

The night at Lake-town before the company departs to the Lonely Mountain. The whole town is celebrating, and Bilbo and Thorin have a little celebration of their own *cough*. Shameless fluff.

„If you hadn’t noticed, you were the only one to give your word in favor of me.“Bilbo gulped against the growing lump in his throat. Suddenly, nervousness overran him. He read the meaningful look in Thorin’s eyes, understood what he was insinuating. With jittery rapture, he watched Thorin move closer, kill the laughable space between their bodies. Forgotten were the conversations of the other dwarves, their presence next to them, the entirety of Lake-town surrounding them. It all faded away into nothingness, insignificant. All Bilbo could see and feel were Thorin’s eyes on him, his body heat blanketing him, his overwhelming being, which had taken Bilbo‘s heart captive, wholly. Thorin placed his glass aside, Bilbo did the same. Then he placed his hand on Thorin’s with unknown courage. He became aware of the heat of his skin, the dry and calloused fingertips brushing over his palm slowly. Their eyes met. He swallowed hard, tried a careful smile.