Work Text:
It was a rainy, dreary winter morning when Thorin, King under the Mountain, awoke in the guest bedroom in the royal keep of Dale. The wetness permeated the entire building, despite the thick stone walls that had withstood Smaug’s attack and years of abandonment. This did nothing to motivate Thorin to get out of bed and prepare for another day of delegations with King Bard and his council. Therefore, he decided to spend as much time laying around as possible, maybe even until a servant came to inquire about his absence at breakfast, and reached out to envelop his Consort in his arms but was met with an empty space next to him on the bed.
Thorin looked up from the pile of pillows his head was currently buried in, to find Bilbo fiddling with the fire and trying to set up a kettle over it. He had a thick fur cloak wrapped around him over his night-shirt, which Thorin insisted he wear while they were in Dale. It was winter and Thorin had experienced enough cities of men to know how disease could be rampant during that season. While Thorin and his fellow dwarves had nothing to worry about, hobbits on the other hand, were quite vulnerable to the illnesses of men. Because of this, Thorin didn’t often take Bilbo with him on his trips to Dale, but his Consort was not one to be hidden away in the Mountain and he insisted that he be allowed to visit Bard and his family occasionally. The cloak and a promise not to wander the markets freely were the concessions that Bilbo gave into.
“You could always ask a servant if you want a cup of tea,” Thorin said from his warm cocoon.
Bilbo had heard his husband stirring and kept adjusting the kettle, despite the remark. “I made my own cups of tea every morning for 30 odd years before I met you, I don’t see why I should interrupt a servant’s morning chores when I am perfectly capable of doing the task myself,” replied Bilbo.
Thorin rolled his eyes, he was very familiar with Bilbo’s stubbornness especially over issues surrounding the perks of being married to royalty.
Finally the kettle was in place and the fire was burning steadily, so Bilbo straightened up and turned back to the bed. Thorin got his first good look of the day of his husband and he noticed something different. Thorin pushed himself up to a sitting position as Bilbo approached and sat down on the bed and leaned back into the pillows.
“Bilbo, what’s happened to your hair?” asked Thorin, eyes glued to the mess of curls. Bilbo’s hair appeared shorter and much thicker today, with smaller curls corkscrewing off the top of his head.
Bilbo sighed in frustration, “It’s the humidity, I’m afraid. We don’t have to worry about it at home but here with the high windows everywhere, the wetness is just seeping in and it’s wreaking havoc on my hair.”
Thorin’s heart did a little jump at Bilbo referring to Erebor as “home”, they married five years ago and it had only become a habit for Bilbo in the last two years and honestly it didn’t matter how much time passed, Bilbo considering Erebor his home would also make Thorin smile. But Thorin’s glowing mood was not only because of Bilbo’s word usage, but because with this hair like that, Thorin found Bilbo to be utterly ravishing.
Thorin leaned forward to get a closer look, “Quite extraordinary, why didn’t this happen on the quest?”
Bilbo smiled at his husband’s curiosity, “Well my hair was rather unclean throughout our journey, all bogged down with oils and dirt. Plus, even if this had happened you wouldn’t have noticed, I don’t think my hair was a top priority after all.”
Thorin laughed and took his husband’s hand from the where it lay on top of the covers, and interlaced their fingers together. “Ghivashel, it’s amusing that you didn’t noticed how enraptured I was with you even then. I think I would have noticed if your hair was suddenly so…becoming.” He punctuated his compliment by bringing up their clasped hands and placing a kiss on top of Bilbo’s.
Bilbo gave his husband a suspicious side glace, “Thorin, if you want to have sex, we best get to it, we are expected in half an hour at breakfast and I won’t keep our hosts waiting again. You don’t have to ply me with compliments.”
Thorin then fell back against the pillows in feigned shock, “Oh husband mine, why must you think I am so conniving? Can’t I just admire my husband in all his curly-haired glory without having ulterior motives?” Thorin then reached up and pulled one of the corkscrew curls straight and let go and watched as it bounced back to its original state.
Bilbo brushed aside Thorin’s hands while mumbling about “dwarves and their weird obsession with hair” and got up to tend to the boiling water. As he prepared his cup of tea, Thorin continued to admire his husband’s out of control hair. He saw Bilbo as a very cultured, refined individual, but with his hair so unruly he looked very carefree, and it brought to mind images of a young hobbit running through the fields of the Shire without a care in the world.
Thorin thought maybe he could get another small painting done of Bilbo like this. He already carried a small compact with him that contained his husband’s image, but it was a carefully constructed portrait, Bilbo smiling only slightly with his hair in braids and a thin crown on his head. Nevertheles, the image kept Thorin company many a journey when they were separated because of kingly duties or because Bilbo had business of his own. Who’s to say he couldn’t have more than one? He was King of Erebor, he could have any number of pictures of his husband on hand to admire.
This idea seemed very pleasing to Thorin, “I’d have a portrait commissioned of you like this. Do think Bard has an official portrait painter on hand?” he asked.
Bilbo gave Thorin as a sideways glance at Thorin and continued to sip at his steaming tea.
Thorin continued on despite his husband’s disapproval, “Maybe a private portrait, just for me. You looking like some wild creature with your hair, in nothing but your skin.”
Bilbo choked slightly on his tea, “Thorin!”
Thorin pushed himself out of bed and hugged his small husband to his chest, briefly burying his face in the mass of curls and breathing in deeply, then he kissed the top of Bilbo’s head and sauntered off towards the bathroom to get ready for the day.
Bilbo was left staring with his tea growing cold in his hand. Even after five years of marriage, that dwarf could still be a mystery to him, he was just glad they didn’t have to deal with the damp in Erebor if he was going to have to deal with a crazed Thorin everytime it got a bit humid. Bilbo decided he needed to go find some hair clamps if they were going to get any work done today.