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Three years to the day following the beginning of the Quest for Erebor, Bilbo was asked to pose for an official portrait.
"All the Company are having a portrait painted of them." Ori beseeched, scurrying after the belligerent hobbit as fast as his legs could carry him while encumbered with goodness knows how many scrolls. "Besides, all the newly arrived dwarves want to see the Hero of Erebor."
This was probably the wrong thing for Ori to say, and behind him, Balin brought a hand to his face in order to pinch the bridge of his nose despairingly as Bilbo halted, turned, and replied; raising his arms in an acerbic flourish.
"Well, here I am. They can see me well enough as is. In case you forget, I am the only hobbit living here, so I daresay newcomers should not have much trouble in guessing who the so called Hero of Erebor is."
"Does the idea of a portrait upset you that much, laddie?" Balin came to Ori's rescue, stepping up beside Bilbo to place a fatherly hand on his shoulder.
The effect was instantaneous. Bilbo sighed and let the tense hunch to his shoulders ease as he regarded the elder dwarf, replying in as measured a way as he was able whilst still trying to convey the proper amount of conviction.
"It's not so much upsetting as it is ridiculous. I'm not a hero, Balin. I do not need some daft painting of myself hung for all and sundry to gawp at."
"You may not think yourself a hero, but the newcomers, and we in the Company surely do. However, if you're really against it, perhaps it might be best to talk it over with Thorin. This was his idea after all."
Oh that… that was just completely unfair and (judging by the mischievous twinkle in his eye) Balin knew it!
Bilbo might be able to brush the likes of Ori and Balin off when they made a request like this, but Thorin was another matter entirely.
Not that Bilbo was so swayed by his affections of course. Not in the slightest. It was just… difficult to deny Thorin innocent requests when he asked politely and smiled… curse that smile.
And he would smile as well… that blasted dwarf was too charismatic for his own good.
Well not this time!
"Fine." Bilbo rolled his shoulders, setting a little starch his spine as he tilted his chin rebelliously towards an amused Balin. "Fine, I'll go talk to Thorin and tell him just how silly I think this idea is."
"You do that then, m'lad. Come along, Ori, I need to look those papers over."
Balin's tone, laced with good humour, left Bilbo feeling that perhaps the elder dwarf did not believe Bilbo would be successful in wriggling out of this situation at all. Thus, it was all the hobbit could do not to stick his tongue out childishly at Balin's retreating back as he and Ori turned to leave.
The worst part was, Bilbo also had the feeling that Balin was probably correct in his belief.
Bugger!
"- Thorin, it's complete nonsense and you know it." Bilbo concluded wearily later that afternoon, slumping into one of the armchairs before the fireplace and huffing irritably.
Bilbo had spent the better part of an hour trying to explain to the dwarf king why he thought this idea was a bad one, and to his credit Thorin had listened attentively. However, it did not seem as if the clot-headed fool would be swayed.
"Hardly nonsense, it's custom that famed warriors and those who have accomplished great deeds have their memory immortalised in some fashion or other." Thorin regarded the hobbit over the rim of his reading spectacles fondly, tapping his forefingers together in thought before smiling wolfishly. "Would you prefer we make a statue of you instead?"
"No! No certainly not!" Bilbo sat up straighter, gripping the arms of the chair and glaring at the king. "And this is precisely the nonsense I'm speaking of. I'm not a warrior, Thorin, nor have I done anything particularly noteworthy. Most of my accomplishments on the Quest were down to pure dumb luck, and even when I did do something a purpose I was terrified out of my wits the whole time! I doubt your kin would be very impressed if they knew all that, so I'd much rather not hoodwink them into thinking I'm a hero like you or the others."
"Bilbo, you may not think yourself a hero, but we do." Thorin rose from his seat then, and made his way over to kneel in front of the hobbit, taking one of his hands between both of his own.
And isn't that something, Bilbo thought a little giddy, a little distracted. A king of dwarves, kneeling before a hobbit. Mother would be delighted.
"Balin said much the same thing earlier," Bilbo mumbled eventually, trying very hard not to be entranced by the very blue eyes that looked up at him and crinkled at the corners at his reply.
There was the smile… damn and blast.
"And he is right to say so. Please, do not belittle your worth, Bilbo. You are as admirable as any dwarf here." He gave Bilbo's hand a gentle and reassuring squeeze before continuing. "However, if you truly cannot stand to have a portrait painted, I will not force you. I'd hate for you to feel uncomfortable or put upon-"
"Oh drat it, Thorin. You know I'll give in when you ask like that, so don't bother." Bilbo grumbled without much heat and reached out with his free hand to give one of the king's braids a sharp little tug of reprimand that caused Thorin to duck his head in an attempt to hide his pleased grin.
It was something Bilbo often wondered at… this closeness between them. He was definitely allowed to take a lot more liberties where Thorin was concerned than many could boast of. It was certainly something to think on, but he often shied away from it, a small niggling voice in his head insisting that to probe and question might lead to awkwardness between them if Bilbo's suppositions were wrong.
"I have one or two conditions though," Bilbo added with a stern look, but the gentle curl of Thorin's lips really wasn't helping matters. Still, he forged ahead. "I get to choose what outfit I wear. I saw Kíli's portrait being painted yesterday and the poor thing looked like he was going to keel over with all the ceremonial robes and armour they'd buried him under."
"Of course," Thorin agreed readily, eager to keep Bilbo's temper sweetened to the idea. "Is there anything else?"
"The pose too, if you please. That artist had Dori stood holding a sword with his arms aloft so long I thought they might fall off!"
"Agreed." The bow of Thorin's head was terribly regal and Bilbo would have rolled his eyes had he not found the sight of it quite so endearing.
"Now get up off the floor, you daft lout. Hero of Erebor or no, I'll not have the king rumpling his clothes for my sake before going to open court."
Thorin rose with another grin and patted Bilbo's shoulder as he went to gather his things and meet with Balin. "Thank you for agreeing to this, Bilbo."
Bilbo's reply was an unconvinced little hum as he searched his pockets for his pipe. If he was already here, he might as well take advantage of having the common room to himself if Thorin was heading out.
"Please tell me that's not what you intend to wear."
Perhaps Thorin had been too hasty in agreeing to Bilbo's demands, because the hobbit was surely jesting.
Bilbo stood before he and the clearly aghast artist with a defiant look in his eyes, and Thorin realised that there was no way in Middle Earth he would dissuade Bilbo from this.
Their hobbit stood before them now, dressed as he had been the day of the Battle of the Five Armies. Wearing his bedraggled, borrowed blue coat, his old travelling clothes beneath, and Sting at his hip.
The clothes had been cleaned as best they could devise following the great battle. As there had been little or no provisions available to them in those early days following Erebor's reclamation, they had simply had to make do… hardly the grand climax to their adventure some had envisioned. Unfortunately, meticulous cleaning aside, Bilbo's clothes from that difficult time still looked worse for wear. The once white collar and cuffs were a grimy grey-brown, the dark blue velvet was worn and frayed, and worryingly, darker patches in places suggested blood was still somehow deeply ingrained into the fabric. Given the extent of Thorin's injuries when Bilbo had found him, this was of little surprise however.
Bilbo's travelling clothes were missing buttons, torn, stained from long use, and hardly fit to be seen let alone worn, and to make matters worse, Bilbo had not even bothered to wash his face or brush his hair after spending that morning in the forges with Fíli.
Thorin, to his own deep embarrassment, found himself swallowing against a lump in his throat. Bilbo looked exactly as he had the day Thorin had regained consciousness long enough to beg forgiveness for his misdeeds. It was not a particularly pleasant memory, but an important one all the same.
"I wasn't aware you still even had those clothes."
If Bilbo heard the hoarseness in Thorin's voice, he was kind enough not to mention it and instead shrugged his shoulders as he replied.
"It seemed important somehow, to keep them. It's a good reminder I think, of all we went through. Besides, if I'm to have a portrait painted, this is how I want others to see me. This was how I looked that day. There was no heroism or warrior's armour. It was just me; dirty and tattered and tired-"
"- And hungry most likely," Kíli piped up cheekily.
"Yes, that too," Bilbo laughed suddenly, shooting the younger prince an exasperated look despite his gratitude for the levity.
"Well, I think it's a grand idea," Balin supplied, hooking his thumbs in his belt and beaming at the hobbit. "It's honest, and doesn't try to make mithril out of iron ore."
"Thank you."
Thorin tilted his head quizzically at Bilbo once more, but there was definitely something fond and a little proud in his gaze this time, which caused a flush to creep up Bilbo's neck.
Later… he could discuss all this with Thorin later…
"Come along then, let's get this over with." Bilbo cleared his throat and bowed politely to the artist who still wore a slightly sour expression at the proceedings, but who nodded all the same and directed Bilbo into an area of the room with sufficient lighting.
"I look… Thorin for goodness sake, why do I look like that?" Bilbo hissed in the king's ear once his painting was finished and ready for all to see.
Bilbo had managed to school his features into a polite mask for the sake of the artist at least, but inside he was less than impressed.
He looked heroic. He hadn't wanted to look heroic!
And oh bother it, dare he say, he actually looked handsome?
Far too handsome for this to be a truthful depiction of him anyway. Thorin's kin would be most disappointed when they met him in person, he thought glumly.
By his side, Thorin looked far too amused for Bilbo's liking, and was grinning at the hobbit nearly from ear to ear. It was an expression that quickened Bilbo's heartbeat and sent an odd little flutter settling into his stomach.
"You look exactly as you always look; brave and strong and true," the king murmured as Glóin finished paying their artist who bowed and left the room.
Bilbo finally allowed himself to frown and jabbed an accusing finger at the portrait. "Codswallop! Thorin he has painted me far too flatteringly, I look a mess in these clothes and here I look-"
"Handsome?" Thorin supplied with far more ease than Bilbo would expect. "Noble, capable, courageous? I could go on."
"Ready to kick a few sorry orcs in the backside." Nori offered a sly grin with his own assessment, which gained hearty agreement from the assembled Company.
In the time it had taken for the artist to leave, the other dwarves had crowded round the painting and were nodding and offering their own praise, quite obviously listening in on Thorin and Bilbo's conversation.
Bilbo gaped like a fish out of water for a moment or two, before giving an incredulous little cry and throwing up his hands clearly realising he was outnumbered.
"But I'm not-"
"Bilbo, you truly are." Thorin interrupted, voice firm but kind, and rested his hands on the hobbit's shoulders. "Please believe me when I say this."
Bilbo blinked up at the dwarf, a blush reaching all the way to the tips of his ears, and finally seemed to perceive both the expression in Thorin's gaze and how it mirrored the soft, nameless warmth that had long since resided within Bilbo's heart.
Had he really not noticed until now?
"I still think it's too flattering," Bilbo groused softly, but pushed himself up onto his toes so that he could press his forehead gently to Thorin's.
"Then I shall spend just as long as it takes for you to see what the Company and I all see." Thorin's voice was equally quiet, and his hands had drifted from Bilbo's shoulders to cup his cheeks instead.
Bilbo privately felt that perhaps this moment was a little too intimate to be having in front of their friends, but the soft brush of Thorin's nose to his quelled any complaints he might have on the matter.
"That could take a great many years you know," Bilbo teased, wondering…
"I would be more than happy to spend them with you."
So he hadn't been wrong after all.
Bilbo smiled, wide and true this time, and let himself be pulled closer. He may not strictly agree with Thorin or the Company over the portrait, but he supposed he could make some allowances, if this was what he had to look forward to.