Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Vampires are usually portrayed as eerie, yet elegant, refined creatures, that prefer loneliness in the dark of the night, a glass of wine, and maybe a company of a pretty, but terrified virgin girl, whose blood they will mercilessly drink until the very last drop. Humans avoid and are scared of vampires. Some even hate them. It was just like that in the Shire. The residents were scared to death of different creatures: werewolves, centaurs, elves – all of them. If someone was suspected of vampirism, with proper evidence, the case could even end up with an execution. However, despite how terrible and cruel it all sounded, you have to give people their due: this behavior really kept the Shire safe, even if it was sometimes unfair.

- Lobelia, how many times do I have to repeat myself? Don’t even try to slip me silverware, we all know perfectly well what you’re trying to accuse me of! - a man with tousled golden curls shouted after the fleeing woman. Along with his indignant exclamation, the aforementioned forks and spoons also flew at the poor Lobelia. She scquealed loudly and ran away from her fuming nephew, who was about to throw the knives next.

Bilbo Baggins sighed heavily and slammed the door of Bag-End, a small house on the very edge of the Shire. He quickly pulled down all the curtains and sat down at the table. The pads of his fingers, which he had touched the hated metal with, burned unpleasantly and throbbed with pain. He had to sacrifice his favorite tomato juice for this nasty stuff, which Bilbo also used as a painkiller for silver burns, because the usual methods, like ointments or cold water, didn't help with this.

He propped his head up with his hand, watching intently as the silver crystals peeled off the pale pads of his fingers and the burns stopped hurting. Lobelia Sackville-Baggins had constantly caused her "favorite" nephew problems: she would slip him silver, chop garlic into his food, or even sprinkle holy water at him. And all for the sake of accusing poor Bilbo of vampirism. Well, she should have tried harder, because he could blame a lot on allergies - young Baggins was incredibly allergic - so no one believed her. The rash on Bilbo's face after accidentally eating garlic was the same as after dandelion pollen got on him, holy water also didn't affect him, and the burns from silver were almost invisible, so every time he was let go and Lobelia wasn't even being taken seriously anymore.

And yet, despite Lobelia's failed accusations, Bilbo wasn't the most respected person in the town. He was considered odd: he lived on the very outskirts, grew some strange flowers, sat in a tree with dense foliage all day, dangling his leg and smoking a pipe, instead of crowding around the market trying to buy the last - and best - oranges of the season. The odd Baggins was more interested in tea, which he seemed to devour any day of the week, any time of year, and any weather. Tobacco was his second favourite thing, and he was almost never seen without a pipe in his mouth.

That being said, no one except his aunt would have suspected Bilbo Baggins of vampirism. This creature couldn't even closely resemble a graceful, evil, frightening immortal monster, almost a demon! But no one knew that some nights, when his head was already starting to ache unbearably from hunger, and his fangs were itching, he would sneak up on fishermen or lumberjacks spending the night on the bank of the river near his house and make a small cut on their wrists. With simple spells, he made them sleep really deep and feel nothing while he carefully collected their warm blood in a jar. After that little hustle he ran home and, with a feeling of guilt consuming him, slowly drank the collected blood with a teaspoon.

But that was his secret. Yavanna forbid anyone finds out! He would have gotten an aspen stake through his heart that very day! No, he wouldn't have died, you can't kill a vampire with wood, but it would have certainly hurt. And Bilbo Baggins hated pain more than anything else in the world.

So he sat that evening, stirring the blood in a little porcelain bowl decorated with many intricate patterns. He scooped some up with a spoon and raised it to his mouth. His upturned nose puckered at the unpleasant, slightly rotten taste of the blood. It meant that the soul of the man to whom the blood belonged was also rotten. Today's catch, as luck would have it, was larger than usual, the fisherman's blood was really fluid. By the seventh spoonful, the itch in his little fangs had finally subsided, and Bilbo felt with relief how those teeth were shrinking in size and no longer scratching at his lower lip. He could not allow such a detail to give him away, when he runs into someone on the street and decides to smile. Even a child would then know that he's a vampire!

But there was one person, from whom he didn't have to hide.

It was about midnight and Bilbo was lying on the lawn in his garden, dreamily drawing smoke from his pipe and blowing it out in beautiful well-defined rings. Such rituals helped to relax after drinking blood and to dull the desire to drink more. His hands stopped shaking and soon he was breathing calmly. Vampires have amazingly sensitive hearing, but Bilbo Baggins was too lost in his thoughts to notice the approaching clatter of hooves.

- Well now, why are we laying on the ground with such a sad look, my little vampire? - a hoarse voice right above Bilbo's pointy ear, which had not yet had time to take its usual shape, made him jump as if scalded, and his pupils narrowed in a hostile, cat-like manner, turning into two thin stripes. But, hearing good-natured laughter and seeing the familiar gray hat, Baggins exhaled, his body relaxed, and his eyes became human again.

- Gandalf, you need to stop sneaking up on me like that! - the disgruntled vampire muttered, but he couldn't stay angry at his friend for long, so after a few moments the wrinkles on his forehead smoothed out and his brows stopped frowning. He sat down on the grass and handed him the pipe, but the wizard, surprisingly, shook his head and gently pushed Bilbo's hand away.

- I have no time to have a smoke with you, Bilbo. I came to you with a... problem.

The wizard threw a large blanket off his cart and showed Baggins what he had hidden there. Not "what", but "who", precisely. Bilbo's eyes turned as big as his favorite dessert plates, and he blinked in amazement, looking from Gandalf to his cart back and forth. Under the blanket was a man. And not just any man, but a half-transformed werewolf: wolf ears were visible from under long black curls, his wrists were slightly covered with fur, and his tail was laying peacefully curled up on the stranger's thigh.

- It's... you... Gandalf, Eru knows, the stranger the creature, the higher are the chances, that you would bring them to me... - Bilbo muttered tiredly, rubbing the bridge of his nose. Memories of the mountain troll cub and the hobgoblin, which Bilbo hadn't been able to get over for the past two years, came to mind. - Is he at least litter trained?

- Bilbo, if I were you, I'd watch your words. After all, the heir to the royal line of werewolves, Thorin Oakenshield, is sleeping in front of you now. And if he can hear us, he clearly won't be in the best of spirits when he wakes up.

Oh Yavanna, with every new piece of information comes new stress for the poor vampire. A king! That's what we need!

- Gandalf, I love you very much, of course, but please, take your... king, and go find another vampire for such adventures! I've suffered enough, thank you, I don't want my eye to twitch for the rest of my immortal life! - Bilbo turned around and was about to head into the house, but Gandalf used a forbidden technique.

- Bilbo, please. The poor guy hasn't eaten or slept properly for three days. At least for one night, but let him stay.

The vampire sighed heavily.

- Bring him in. Just make sure there are no boots on my bed! I just washed the sheets yesterday!

- You have an incredibly kind heart, Bilbo. The world would be a better place if everyone in it were like you. - the vampire just rolled his eyes. This was Gandalf's favorite tactic: first press on the pity and kindness of the poor little Baggins, and then ladle out praise, in the hope that flattery would save him from discontented grumbling. The wizard stood at a distance, watching as Bilbo rushed back and forth around the house with a bowl and a damp rag, with which he was trying to wipe the dirt off the werewolf. Yavanna forbid there would be even a drop of dirt on his snow-white sheets!

The King was laying on the couch, still unconscious, and only slightly wrinkled his nose when Bilbo touched his face with a damp cloth. Breakfast was already cooking for the guest on the stove, the kettle was boiling, and new clothes were prepared on the couch. Bilbo examined Thorin and came to the conclusion that due to the large muscles on his chest and shoulders, all the vampire's shirts would simply burst at the seams, since he himself was not particularly keen on training. However, vampires did not need them, and Baggins especially. The more he loaded his body, the faster hunger came, and he had already experienced the whole spectrum of fear when he took blood from sleeping fishermen.

So, to avoid having to sew his clothes back together, Bilbo chose a knitted sweater for Thorin and some trousers that stretched well. He wanted to ask Gandalf something, but he was not in the hallway where he had been. Baggins shrugged and went into the bathroom to wash Thorin's boots.

The sun was just beginning to rise when Bilbo heard heavy footsteps heading towards the bathroom and an annoyed, hoarse mutter. He did not perceive it as a threat, no big deal if his guest woke up in a bad mood. It was Monday, after all, and judging by Gandalf's words earlier, Thorin was starving, so his grumpiness wasn't that big if a surprise. He just continued scrapping the dirt off from the boots, when suddenly his instincts struck his nerves and he instantly jumped back, as if by a lucky chance dodging sharp claws that flashed where Baggins's neck had been. He looked at the awakened guest with fear and irritation. The creature looked definitely smaller when he was laying on the couch. Thorin was all tense, expecting a counterattack.

- Who are you, and why the hell am I here!? - growled the werewolf, slowly approaching Bilbo. The vampire frowned and put his hands on his hips. What a butch!

- I ask you, mister king, not to brandish your claws in my house like this! For your information, you are in my house not even by my will, but by the will of one very persistent wizard, who dragged your half-dead from fatigue and hunger carcass to my doorstep. - Bilbo muttered and watched with interest as the king's expression changed from furious to guilty. But he still did not receive an apology. The werewolf stepped back towards him and looked at his boots in the sink.

- I could wash them myself... - Thorin muttered and was about to go up to the sink, but Bilbo stopped him and returned to his work.

- You, Mr. Oakenshield, according to Gandalf, haven't eaten for three days. Go to the dining room, I'll be there soon and we'll get to know each other properly. - Thorin nodded and looked up at Baggins. He was short, by werewolf standards, and looked completely unintimidating. Perhaps even funny, with his sleeves rolled up, his golden curls tousled and his brows furrowed. But this whole good-natured and innocent image was instantly dispelled by an eerie absence of his reflection in the mirror. Oakenshield wanted to comment on this somehow, but decided not to pester the owner of the house with unnecessary questions, whom he had already almost beaten.

Chapter Text

Thorin walked into the dining room and saw plates of stew, cookies and tea on the table. And in front of all this was a note, on which, in very neat handwriting, these words were written: "I have no idea what werewolves like to eat, I hope I made the right choice" and a funny face drawn below. Oakenshield frowned. He was starting to get irritated by the host's innocently kind behavior... or rather, he was irritated by the fact that Bilbo's kindness made him feel guilty. The owner of the house treats him with all his heart, and Thorin attacks him like that. On the one hand, he wanted to apologize, but on the other hand stood his pride.

But such thoughts were interrupted by the loud rumbling of the werewolf's stomach and a terrible feeling of hunger. He did not even think about whether the food could be poisoned, just pounced on the delicious smelling stew and devoured it in a matter of minutes. It tasted no worse than it smelled, but was a little undersalted. All the food had already been demolished by the time Bilbo came into the room. He cleared the plates from the table with a satisfied smile. Thorin frowned again and looked away from the vampire's bright red eyes. He was about to apologize for the morning's misunderstanding, but the words stuck in his throat. Uzbad did not even suspect that forcing a simple apology would be so difficult.

- The food was very tasty. Thank you, Master..? - he muttered barely audibly and cast a quick glance at Bilbo. His face blossomed with happiness, and his scarlet eyes sparkled with pride. This time Thorin noticed that his new acquaintance's back was perfectly reflected in the mirror hanging above the kitchen sink. But it couldn't have been his imagination! He definitely wasn't in that mirror in the bathroom!

- Bilbo Baggins. You can call me just Bilbo. - the owner introduced himself with a smile and reached his hand out to Thorin. The werewolf shuddered when he touched Bilbo's palm. Freezing, like a touch of a corpse. Bilbo had to make a great effort not to wince and not tear his hand away from Oakenshield, too. Maybe the werewolf king had a fever? Even human hands don't burn like that.

The vampire, contrary to Thorin's expectations, turned out to be an extremely pleasant person, but uzbad did not show it at all. He was even annoyed by the unusual friendliness of his new acquaintance. Yes, Gandalf, of course, mentioned that he would give them a fourteenth participant in the expedition, but Mahal forbid it would be this creature. He would not last even a day, he would immediately catch some kind of illness, get lost, or something even worse would happen. No, it definitely couldn't be him.

Closer to evening, when Oakenshield was sitting in the kitchen and dreamingly picking at the pudding recently prepared by the owner with a fork, he heard a knock on the door. Well, finally! Bilbo ran to open it, and Thorin followed him. Another werewolf was standing in the door, the vampire immediately recognized it by the characteristic smell and the fur on his hands. He had a more gangster-like appearance than the king: a shaved head with many tattoos on it, a long beard and moustache, and a heavy look.

- Dwalin, at your service. - the werewolf said and bowed down. Then he looked at Thorin and bowed again. Bilbo stared at him dumbfoundedly, then bowed too.

- Bilbo Baggins. What... - the vampire was about to speak, but he was not able to finish. The werewolf entered the house and immediately headed with Thorin to the dining room. The king noticeably cheered up when he met his friend. He looked at Bilbo with a smile.

- Master Baggins, would you be so kind as to cook some more of that wonderful stew of yours? - this phrase sounded so natural from Oakenshield's lips that Bilbo, without even thinking, nodded and headed to the kitchen. Not much time had passed before there was another knock on the door. The vampire ran to open it again, and this time in front of him was.. Another werewolf! But this time much older, with gray hair and a long beard.

- Balin, at your service, - the old man bowed, and Bilbo smiled nervously, already mentally figuring out how he would collect dog... sorry, wolf hair from all his soft furniture. But instead of an angry tirade, he also bowed and introduced himself. The old man quickly walked into the house and headed to the others in the dining room. Bilbo was about to follow him, but there was another knock on the door. Letting out an irritated groan, he returned and opened the door again. In front of him were two men, somewhat similar to Thorin, one was brunette, and the other was blond. They were significantly younger than Thorin, it seemed that the taller one with dark hair had only recently reached maturity, and the blond looked no older than twenty by human standards. The brunette, as soon as he saw Bilbo, smiled mischeviously and reached for his ears, which still had not fully taken their human form. Usually it took about twelve hours, but this time, for some reason, they stayed pointed for much longer.

- Oh, isn't he just the cutest, Fili? - Bilbo quickly jumped back before the brunette's fingers squeezed his precious ears. The werewolf clearly didn't like it and tried to touch the vampire's ears again.

- Yes, Kili, very cute. - the blond said with a sly smile. And now Bilbo, his heels flashing, is running away from two, apparently, adult men who are trying to touch his ears. The situation was so absurd that Bilbo no longer understood whether to laugh, cry or get angry. After a couple minutes of chasing, the vampire was shamefully caught and the next time there was a knock on the door, he was already walking with Fili and Kili, brazenly dragging him by his pointy ears. They had not fully transformed into their human forms, so their tails happily wagged from side to side, and periodically Bilbo got hit with such a joyful gesture on the thighs.

The vampire opened the door and a huge crowd of werewolves tumbled through it. A wave of fur flew into Bilbo's face, and one of the werewolves almost swept him off his feet. Baggins sneezed loudly, then looked up at the door. Seeing the familiar troublemaker in the gray hat behind it, he mentally cursed the day when he decided to talk to Gandalf.

- Master Baggins, your stew is going to burn! - Thorin's voice comes from the kitchen, and the poor vampire can only guess whether he heard a mockery in these words, or whether the king really liked Bilbo's cooking so much that he even began to watch the cooking process. Fili and Kili did not leave his ears the whole time, and at some point Baggins began to worry that these two would tear them off. Gandalf laughed as he watched the princes running after Bilbo everywhere.

- Fili, Kili, I see you like my vampire very much. - He noted with a smile, and the two brothers nodded their heads vigorously. Their tails had beaten up Bilbo's legs, his ears were terribly red and would certainly not take human form anytime soon due to how much they had been dragged. A couple more curses, directed at the two youngsters, were added to the ones Gandalf got for his actions.

- I am not your vampire, Gandalf, I am my own one. And don't say it so loudly! - He looked at the others present. - The last thing I need is for them to be angry with me or scared.

But it was too late. As soon as the words left Bilbo's mouth, he immediately found himself surrounded by a crowd of curious werewolves. One of them, short and wearing a large fur hat, who had almost fallen on the poor vampire a few minutes ago, came indecently close to Bilbo and began to brazenly sniff him, for which he received a punch in the nose from the enraged creature. But he was clearly pleased with his research and, covering his injured nose, happily began to tell everyone that Baggins smelled nice. Of course, after this statement, Fili and Kili appeared out of nowhere again. Bilbo was about to run away from them again, but Thorin stood behind him and put his burning-hot hands on Bilbo's shoulders, which made him tense up.

- Stop it, why are you attacking him like wild wolves? - Thorin said calmly but sternly and crossed his arms over his chest. Bilbo was just about to be thankful that at least one of these creatures had common sense, when suddenly he felt a hot breath on his neck. He jumped back as if scalded, and all the werewolves laughed, a slightly mocking smile appeared on Oakenshield's face.

- Bofur didn't lie. He smells like flowers. - was all the king said, and Fili and Kili immediately pounced on Bilbo. The vampire was about to fight for his personal space with his claws, when suddenly the wizard's hand grabbed him by the collar and pulled him towards himself. He sighed with relief and hid behind Gandalf.

- Hey, I understand that Master Bilbo is like an unknown animal to you - well, thank you, Gandalf, that's a good compliment - but you will completely torture him. Give the poor guy a rest.

- There will be little rest during the quest, Gandalf. If you want to foist him off on us as the fourteenth, he will need to have more endurance. - Dwalin declared with a serious expression. Fili and Kili drooped, their tails stopped wagging happily. Oh Yavanna, two grown-up thugs, and they were as upset as if someone had taken away their toy! Bilbo tidied up his hair, trying not to touch his ears, which were now burning terribly. It seemed that some of the jewelry the brothers were wearing was silver.

- But Master Baggins won't be pulled on the ears and sniffed by thirteen curious werewolves at once during our journey, will he? - old Balin remarked with a smile, and Bilbo mentally thanked him for his intervention. But he was still worried about the question of what kind of a campaign this was. And most importantly, why him? He was probably just lucky, by an unfortunate coincidence, to be the only one in the Shire whom Gandalf knew.

Bilbo looked at Thorin to see who the king agreed with more, but his expression remained unreadable. Now he looked serious, his blue eyes gave off a coldness.

- Master Baggins will not be the fourteenth, don't be silly, Gandalf. - Thorin finally said when everyone was already sitting at the table and Bilbo was putting plates of stew in front of everyone. The king's words sounded dismissive. - Someone like him would never agree to go with us.

- I wouldn't jump to conclusions so quickly, Mr. Oakenshield. - Bilbo muttered next to him, put a plate in front of him and jumped onto the tabletop behind him. Thorin looked at him with bewilderment and a hint of irritation in his eyes. - You haven't even explained to me what kind of expedition this is and what is required of me.

Everyone suddenly fell silent and looked first at Bilbo, then one by one at Gandalf. The wizard suddenly became very interested in examining the tabletop on which the vampire was sitting.

- Gandalf.

Thorin's voice sounded so tense that Bilbo thought he was about to lose it and start yelling at the wizard with all his might.

- You still told him nothing!?

Chapter Text

Erebor was a kingdom in the mountains where werewolves lived and ruled for years. They hunted, blacksmithed, and mined precious stones from a nearby mountain. They also traded actively and were one of the most influential kingdoms until power passed into the hands of Thorin's grandfather, Thror. He ruled well, until a fragment of the Moon was found in the mountain. It was called the Silver Heart. This artifact could subjugate most of the werewolves in the kingdom to its owner's will during the full moon and made them more sensitive to other phases of the moon. Because of this power, Thror began to consider himself "the chosen one" and became obsessed with this power, which led to the gradual loss of his sanity. Even in human form, he only growled and barked foaming at the mouth, like a wild animal. Thorin's father, Thrain, tried to rule instead of Thror, but it was becoming increasingly difficult to restrain a mad king with such power. The only people who were immune to the Silver Heart were the royals, the deeply religious, and the half-breeds, those who were partly descended from some ancient noble family, such as the Redbeards, like Bifur, Bofur, and Bombur, or the Sharpteeth, to whom Dori, Nori, and Ori belonged on their great-great-grandfather's side. Such families could be counted on the fingers of one hand, since many ancient clans preferred to remain childless, and then they were completely exterminated during one of the revolutions. So, many were powerless before the might of the Silver Heart. And on the day when the army of the Uru-Lings - were-snakes - led by Smaug attacked Erebor under the full moon, Thror completely immobilized most of the kingdom's population, since he had already completely lost his mind and was unable to give any orders, and the army led by Thorin was unable to fight back. Erebor was burned to the ground mercilessly, and those who survived were left to stray around Middle-Earth.

Over the last decade, most of the Uru-Lings were rumored to have perished in the cold winter, which they did not survive due to lack of food and extremely low temperatures. Only the strongest group and Smaug, the leader who can turn into a dragon, remained. And now Thorin and his group of thirteen werewolves and, possibly, one vampire, were going to win back their home. To do this, they needed to enter the kingdom through the back door in the wall, find the Silver Heart, with its help Thorin could increase his strength enough to drive the snakes out of Erebor forever.

Bilbo finished listening to Balin's entertaining story and read the contract in his hands again. Everything seemed logical, the werewolves needed someone who would not fall under the Heart's influence with a hundred percent guarantee, and he would not die from any of the things listed below, so he was not particularly afraid, and the king's disdain awakened the raging blood of the Took in him. He wanted to go against him, to prove that he was worthy. But the line about the reward confused him.

- You say that as a reward I will receive a fourteenth part of the riches of Erebor and the endless respect of the werewolves. Can you cross out the riches, please? And if not, what will happen if I refuse them?

The werewolves stared at Bilbo as if he was crazy.

- What do you mean... refuse...? - Thorin was as surprised as the rest of the squad, except for Gandalf.

- Well, just like that, I'll go ahead and refuse. It makes no sense to me, your gold probably has the coats of arms and runes of werewolves on it, and I'll just be banished from the Shire for my connection with the creatures if I bring your coins or ingots here. Moreover, I don't like wearing jewelry. - Thorin tried to object, pointing to the earring in Bilbo's ear, but he quickly covered his long-suffering ear, which the princes had already tortured enough. - That's different, don't interrupt me. I can't touch silver without pain, and the precious stones I like weren't mined in your homeland. And anyway, even if I like your jewelry, why do I need so much? A couple of chains, a bracelet, and that's enough for me. Why should I lug around a bunch of junk if I know I won't use it all?

- But what do you want as a reward for the quest then? You're helping us, it's obvious that you'd want something in return. - Thorin persisted, while Bilbo crossed out the section on jewels from the contract and signed his name at the bottom. What kind of a living creature in his right mind would refuse riches!?

- I don't know. I might be thrown out of here when my dear Aunt Lobelia finally proves that I'm a vampire. So maybe I could use a sleeping bag... although, I don't think I need that either. - Bilbo shrugged and handed the signed contract to Balin. He nodded and hid the paper. The official part was over, and Fili and Kili immediately found themselves back at the unfortunate master Baggins. Bofur also joined them. The werewolf had been watching Bilbo, fascinated, for the short time the vampire had been signing his name on the contract, and now he couldn't resist pestering the creature along with the princes.

- Master Baggins, can you turn into a bat? - Kili asked with interest, and his tail began to wag happily when Bilbo nodded affirmatively, but not without a good share of doubts. And he immediately regretted that he had answered. Everyone, even Thorin, immediately crowded around Baggins, clearly expecting him to show off his abilities. Such attention embarrassed the vampire, but he still agreed to show, it was awkward to refuse under such pressure, and Gandalf was not going to save him.

The transformation was more elegant than that of werewolves. There was no sudden covering of fur on the body, growing claws and growling. One slight turn - and instead of a man, a small bat fluttered in front of the company.

Fili and Kili could almost fly away on their tails because of how fast they were wagging, especially when Bilbo sat on the younger's shoulder. Kili was afraid to breathe, and his expression amused the other dwarves so much that everyone wanted to see Thorin's reaction. Everyone understood this unspoken, and the king did not even have time to resist when Kili sat the bat on his shoulder. Thorin was very bad at hiding his interest and nerves, his tail was also actively wagging and he was growling something in Khuzdul to Fili and Kili, who were bursting with laughter, while Bilbo successfully - though, against his will - ate the king's black curls. Uzbad soon stopped paying attention to his nephews, took the bat off his shoulder and began to examine him so carefully that Baggins felt uneasy. When Thorin began to turn him over in his hands, pull his paws and sniff, he got hit by a wing in the nose. Bilbo flew out of his arms and took on his human form again. After the transformation, he looked very much like a vampire: fangs sticking out from under his upper lip, his scarlet eyes became brighter, and his ears only became more pointed.

- It's not respectable to stare like that, Mr. Oakenshield. - Bilbo muttered, adjusting his hair. Thorin wanted to apologize, but the words got stuck in his throat again. The king felt his cheeks heat up after being shamed like that. He turned around quickly and muttered something in Khuzdul.

- Thorin! - Balin's reaction suggested that it was some kind of terrible curse. Fili started making fun of his uncle, which only made him blush even more, Kili laughed loudly, and Bofur looked very upset that he wasn't allowed to hold Bilbo in his arms.

- It seems, Bilbo Baggins, that this journey will do you good.

***

Despite the good conditions in Bilbo's house, Thorin could not sleep at night. He tossed and turned in bed, kicked Balin, and finally, when he was just beginning to fall asleep, fell to the floor. Rubbing his bruised side, he went into the kitchen to drink some water.

Vampires are creatures of the night, and they are supposed to sleep during the day. But Bilbo was now in the company of werewolves. He thought he was causing them enough inconvenience, when Gandalf made everyone take off all their silver accessories, and Fili and Kili gave him all their beautiful bracelets, which turned out to be the reason Bilbo's ears were red after their touch. No one complained, but Bilbo was ashamed.

Thorin found Bilbo asleep at the kitchen table, with a half-drunk glass of water and a bag of sleeping pills. The vampire had drunk so much that he had passed out right there. What a strange creature Oakenshield had to deal with. He had always imagined vampires as being akin to elves. Bilbo was certainly more refined than werewolves: no scars, no mass of muscles, but he was not an elf either. One could say that he was human, but Thorin knew how people were, and Bilbo did not resemble one either, except perhaps in appearance, and even then, he was rather strange, and uzbad was surprised that he had not been caught yet. Maybe all vampires were like that? Unlikely. He had just come across a very special one, as if not from this world.

The new member of the squad irritated Thorin because he did not understand him at all. Any normal werewolf would have fought with them all long ago or simply thrown them out of the house. But he sheltered them, fed them, and even agreed to help them for free! Is he normal? It's hard to say, but most likely not. And Thorin almost killed him this morning.

- Forgive me, Master Baggins. - Thorin whispered with guilt in his voice. For a second it seemed to him that Bilbo would open his eyes, laugh at him, and he would regret that he had opened his mouth at all. But the vampire continued to sleep peacefully, and Oakenshield exhaled relaxedly. He took a small sleeping pill from Bilbo's bag, washed it down with water, and went to bed. Now it became much easier to calm down, and the king soon fell asleep. But Balin still suffered at night from the fact that Thorin constantly tossed and turned and kicked his legs, in the end almost pushing the poor old man to the floor.

Chapter Text

The first few days of the trek, while the company was still within the Shire, passed quietly and peacefully. The weather was quite favorable, it was not too hot and not freezing at night, there were no steep climbs or descents, so the horses did not tire much, as did the company itself. On the very first day, Bilbo volunteered to stand on the night watch, since it cost him nothing to stay awake at night, and it would be more comfortable for him that way. In the morning and until about midday, he was in the form of a bat and dozed off on someone's horse. At first it was Gandalf's horse, but then Bofur very persistently offered his hat to the vampire. It was much more pleasant to sleep on soft fur than on a constantly shaking horse, so Bilbo agreed after a short back and forth.

Thorin wasn't particularly pleased with the attention the vampire was getting, especially from his nephews. Before the strange creature's arrival, Fili and Kili had been constantly circling their uncle, and their presence had become so commonplace that its absence was felt explicitly. Now, with all the attention of the curious youths was drawn to the handsome new recruit, Oakenshield seemed to be starting to feel a little jealous.

However, this feeling stayed with him exactly until the moment when bat-Bilbo began to fall asleep in his fur collar. Bofur's hat was certainly a convenient option, but the poor vampire was mercilessly burned by the sun there, which is why he had to smear his reddened, sunburned cheeks with some liquid Oin gave him in the evenings. The skin of bloodsuckers is very sensitive to the sun's rays, and he got burns very easily. But in Thorin's collar, the king's thick hair hid him from the scorching sun, which was a wonderful plus, and although the body temperature of the uzbad was too high for Bilbo, he still chose this as his permanent place to sleep. All attention returned to the king again, and one day he noticed how sad Bofur was trying to sew fur to his collar in the evening.

It was strange for Bilbo to stay awake and watch the others fall asleep, even though it was natural for him. And it was when he agreed to take the night watches that he got to know Fili, Kili, and Balin even better. The old man had trouble sleeping, and the two descendants of Durin simply had so much energy that Thorin could hardly get them to sleep on time. Youngsters, what can you do? Bofur tried to join their late night talks, but he fell asleep, and in the morning he was gloomy, because he had not had time to talk to mister vampire enough. Baggins saw how this eccentric werewolf was drawn to him, and he felt sorry for the poor fellow. So Bilbo tried his best to pay more attention to him, but it seemed to make things worse.

One morning, Bofur even got into a serious fight with Thorin over the right to carry Bilbo while he slept. The argument was stupid and absurd, but the hot temper of werewolves did not allow Thorin to back down so easily.

- You’ve been carrying him for three days in a row, Thorin! I understand that you are the king, but please give him to me, it’s not fair! - Bofur growled, wagging his tail in displeasure. Oakenshield himself did not understand why he was arguing with his fellow. If Bofur had simply asked, he would have calmly handed him the infelicific vampire, but he maid a complaint right away! If so, Thorin simply had to defend his point.

- Let Master Baggins decide who he's better with! - Everyone looked at Bilbo, but he was already slowly dozing off and niddle-noddling. Thorin sighed. It was easier to talk to a wall than to a sleeping Baggins, he had already figured that out, - Okay, nevermind. Let's flip a coin. If it comes up heads, you carry it, and if it comes up tails, I will.

That's what they decided. Balin flipped the coin and it landed tails up. Thorin shrugged and was about to tell Bilbo to shapeshift, when Bofur rushed at him with his fists.

The fight had forced them to leave later, and a disgruntled Oin, who was treating the wounds of two werewolves, covered them with the filthiest curses in Khuzdul. He was gentler with Thorin, of course – he was a king after all – but Bofur got the full treatment. In the end, Bilbo was assigned to be carried by Fili, a neutral side in the argument.

During the lunch break, Bilbo woke up and looked around at the werewolves: everyone was in a foul mood. Kili quickly brought him up to speed. Because of the fight, Thorin was in a bad mood, to put it mildly. He yelled at Gandalf and Bombur, Bofur lost his bag of provisions and got into a fight with his brother Bifur. In short, if the morning goes badly, then the day will go awry.

- See, Master Bilbo, how popular you are? They are already fighting over you. And it is not even time to feed you yet. There will be a massacre, that's for sure. - Kili said with a smile, but Bilbo was not particularly happy with his words. And indeed, he did not even think about where to get blood, and hunger was slowly starting to creep up on him. Due to the frequent use of spells and transformations, he spent a lot of energy. At night, he was left to sit next to Thorin and he tried his best not to sink his fangs into the king's neck.

- I feel like I'm in a kindergarten's second quarter, I swear to Yavanna. Are you werewolves all like that? And why did you even fight? If you can't share, take turns carrying me. What a problem you found! - Bilbo muttered. Kili looked at him with interest. But really, why did no one come up with such a solution? Perhaps it was the greed of the werewolves, but Kili couldn't tell the vampire that. He didn't want to paint their kin in a negative light.

***

Towards evening they all stopped at an abandoned farm. Thorin's terrible mood made itself known again and he shouted at Gandalf for Eru knows which time this day. Even the wizard couldn't stand it anymore. Their screams could be heard throughout the glade, after which the enraged wizard jumped on his horse and, before anyone could stop him, galloped off wherever his eyes looked, accompanying all this with shouts about unbearable werewolves, whom in a fit of anger he called "flea-bitten".

Fili and Kili were sent to look after the horses instead of Gandalf, and Bilbo stayed to help Bombur with the supper. He couldn't help but notice Bofur's ambiguous, upset looks, which made him feel uneasy, so he asked Thorin for permission to go and help his nephews. The king let him go surprisingly easily, and the vampire quickly retreated towards the forest.

- Anyway, there were sixteen horses...

- And now there are fourteen.

Bilbo sighed heavily as he listened to the princes' awkward explanations. Eru knew, he should have stayed with the others. He was about to go back to warn Thorin when he noticed a huge footprint on the ground. Memories of similar footprints on his floor two years ago, only slightly smaller, flashed through his mind. Mountain trolls. Goosebumps ran over his body as he remembered with horror the little monster Gandalf had given him.

They followed the tracks a little further and saw a light. Three huge trolls were sitting around a fire, and two lost horses were standing in their pens to the side. How could Fili and Kili have missed the theft!? Trolls were enormous! What were these two idiots doing that was so important?

- Master Baggins, can you get them? - Fili asked hopefully. In fact, Bilbo had no plans to do that, and was about to refuse and go to the others, but Kili blocked his way and stared at him with such big puppy-dog eyes that the vampire gave in. Can all werewolves do that? Or only the descendants of Durin? He wondered if Thorin can do it too.

- I'll try. But if anything happens, don't stick your heads out! As soon as you see that something is wrong, immediately run after Thorin and the others, got it? - the princes nodded their heads vigorously and hid behind a stone, and Bilbo was pushed towards the corral with horses behind the trolls.

Bilbo knew he couldn't cope without magic. But he had no choice, and he would figure out what to do with his hunger later. The claws on his pale fingers grew longer and sharper, and he quickly cut all the ropes and released the horses. But when he was about to leave, he felt huge fingers grab him by the collar. Oh, Yavanna, what should we do now!?

- Look at him, a thief!

- And a bloodsucker too! Look at his fangs sticking out!

- He probably decided to eat our dinner himself!

- Well, I don't think his meat is much different from that horse meat. Let's roast him instead of horses!

- Oaf, can you think for a moment? How do you think he can taste the same as the horses!?

- Now we'll roast him, you try your part, and we'll see!

- He's such a tiny thing, we can't divide him between the three of us!

While the trolls argued, Bilbo frantically tried to think of what to do next. He had never fought or used his magic to harm anyone before, but it seemed the time had come. The troll mind was so simple that he didn't even need any particularly strong magic. Oh, what a pity that troll blood was poisonous! That would have solved his hunger problem.

***

- Thorin!!! Thorin!! The trolls have captured Bilbo!! - the princes shouted in union, Kili tugging his uncle by the sleeve. Thorin quickly grabbed his sword and ran after them towards the forest, without even warning the others to join them. During the run, he broke away from his nephews and arrived at the place much earlier than them. A rather eerie picture appeared before him: all three trolls were lying on the ground with a bunch of deep wounds and dark blue bruises on their necks, as if from suffocation, and the vampire, miniature in comparison to them, was simply standing and looking at them, like if he was bewitched.

- Bilbo! - Oakenshield did not even notice how instead of the usual "Master Baggins" he called the vampire by his name. He turned around and Thorin froze in place. Two scarlet eyes that glowed brightly in the darkness and pupils that were two thin stripes clearly didn't bode well. The werewolf dropped his sword and felt his body stop obeying him. His vision became slightly clouded as icy fingers of the vampire pressed lightly on his neck, forcing him to bend down.

Oakenshield did not find the strength to resist, and a moment later two sharp fangs sank into his neck. It was not painful at all, rather quite the opposite. A slight tingling in the area of ​​the bite was accompanied by a wave of goosebumps on his skin. His heartbeat quickened, and his legs went limp, as if he was experiencing excitement before some important, pleasant moment. Despite the fact that his gaze had already cleared, Thorin did not push the vampire away, he didn't know why.

Bilbo liked the king's blood. Moderately sweet, not disgustingly cloying, without a rotten taste, but it was slightly bitter from the pain its owner had experienced, and was viscous, like honey, from uzbad's stubbornness. The vampire was so hungry that he did not resist his instincts, allowed his charms to weaken Oakenshield and now did not pay attention to how the werewolf's hot skin burned his icy lips. After the fourth sip, his mind finally cleared and he realized what had happened. Baggins immediately pulled away from the king's neck.

- Oh Yavanna, what am I doing!? - he sat down in fear next to the uzbad, whose legs were so weak that they almost couldn't hold him up, and he had to sit on the ground. Bilbo quickly wiped the blood from his neck and looked guiltily at the two small red spots left by the bite. Thorin sighed loudly and rubbed his eyes. He was about to rush at the vampire with a sword, but the sincere remorse in his eyes and his trembling voice made him calm his ardor a little. Fili and Kili jumped out of the bushes.

- Uncle, this is all our fault! He helped us pull Myrtle and Mindy out of the clutches of the trolls, we didn't notice! Don't use an aspen stake!

Only now Thorin noticed that instead of his sword, he was clutching a stick in his hand that vaguely resembled a stake. Bilbo turned white and was about to jump aside to avoid the blow, but Thorin muttered something in Khuzdul and threw away the stick.

- So what, will I become a vampire like you now? - Thorin tried to ask this in a neutral tone, but it came out harsher and with a couple of tons of contempt added. Oakenshield mentally cursed himself when Bilbo's expression became even more sour. It seemed like Baggins was about to burst into tears.

- No, you won't. Please forgive me, I've been hungry for a long time, and then I had to use a spell, and I snapped...

- Stop it, Master Baggins, I see that you repent. In the future, I ask you not to bring it to this point. You yourself see that it did not end well. - although Thorin was brazenly lying. He liked the feeling of a vampire bite, and if it happened again, he would not mind becoming the victim of a hungry vampire again. But he would never admit it, not even to himself.

Chapter Text

The next morning Gandalf returned. Thorin failed to hide the bite mark on his neck under the collar, and again became the subject of discussionы in the company and almost fought with Bofur again. The werewolf was gloomier than a storm cloud and quarreled with Oakenshield with or without reason. Bilbo was allowed to sleep that night and in the morning he went with Dori, Nori and Ori to gather brushwood for the fire. When the vampire left and Thorin went to talk with Gandalf, Bombur approached his brother.

- Bofur, why are you fighting with Thorin? It was not his fault that Bilbo bit him yesterday.

- Yes, it is not his fault. It is his long legs that carried him there faster than me! - Bofur growled, clutching his hat in his hands. Bombur stared at his brother in surprise. Of course, he knew that Bofur had a strange attraction to unusual creatures, but he didn't think it was this severe.

- What's with the strange desire to let a vampire drink your blood? What if it hurts? Especially, after what happened yesterday, I highly doubt that Master Baggins will allow it again. And if he does, it's only been a week of our journey, you'll still have time!

The toymaker was always distinguished by his dreaminess, which was sometimes excessive, and his brothers always had to bring him to his senses after some plots from his head didn't happen in reality. This was typical of artistic people like him, but it was completely incomprehensible to his brothers. They didn't understand how he could stare at the ceiling for hours, inventing the appearance of a new toy, its history, character, name, family, and then sincerely worry about the fate of each of his creations, both in a fictional plot and in reality. He once almost fought with the father of one of the children, who took the toy from his son and broke it as punishment for some mischief of his child.

This nature, of course, sometimes showed itself when it came to matters of the heart. The werewolf once had an affair with a half-breed elf, whom he adored so much that he beat up her former suitor in a duel and almost brought everything to another conflict with Mirkwood. He was very impulsive when it came to feelings, and now, although he kept himself in check, at some moments the werewolf's stubbornness and the aggressive nature of the Redbeards made themselves known.

The werewolf shook his head. How could they not understand! Then, when the whole crowd burst into Bilbo's house, Bofur almost swept the owner of the house off his feet, but instead of swearing, he helped him up and did not even shout. Kindness - that's what got the werewolf. The followers of Yavanna were all distinguished by this, but Bilbo was also a vampire. No one expected this from him, because vampires are dark creatures, and it is not typical for them to choose such deities as the Green Lady. Such moments and thoughts are usually the trigger for Bofur's fantasies. And there was not only the touch of Master Baggins' icy hands, there was also a look, and a smile..!

- Yes, I know. The vampire isn't going anywhere, and we still have about half a year together, or even more. - He scratched his head thoughtfully. - If Thorin doesn't make his eye twitch before that, or piss him off so much that he kills us all.

Bombur rolled his eyes and gave his brother a good smack on the head.

- Ow! For what!? I'm just kidding!

- To knock all the nonsense out of him. You've made up all sorts of things and now you're ruining our mood with your squabbles with Thorin! Pull yourself together, for Mahal's sake, and stop throwing yourself at everyone who has any contact with Master Baggins!

***

The next few weeks passed relatively calmly. Bofur did indeed moderate his ardor after his brother brought him to his senses, and even apologized to Thorin. But Bilbo began to worry greatly about hunger. And when, a little less than a week after the incident with the sudden bite, he felt an itch in his fangs again. He began to avoid werewolves very much after that feeling started to kick in. He did not talk to anyone, rode at the end of the line, and when someone accidentally got injured, he quickly bit his hand so that the pain would bring him to his senses and he would not break down.

One night, when he was sitting on the night watch and trying his best not to think about hunger, he heard Thorin's voice behind him.

- Come to me, vampire. - Such a commanding tone would have infuriated Bilbo during the day, as well as the address "vampire". He actually had a name! But now he didn't want to fight, so he simply stood up silently and hobbled over to the king. Thorin was sitting in front of the almost extinguished fire, twirling a small dagger in his hands. He gestured for Bilbo to sit down next to him.

- How often do you need to drink blood? - The question was quite logical, and Baggins had to tell the truth, but he was still afraid that it would start to cause inconvenience. He was silent for a few minutes, weighing the pros and cons, but the king's impatient look prompted him to answer faster.

- Once every week and a half was enough at home, but here I have more workload, considering at least the constant transformations, so I started feeling hungry five days after... well, that incident. - Bilbo reluctantly admitted.

- And you've been holding back all this time? I told you not to try to hide your hunger. - Thorin frowned, and Bilbo looked away.

- Stop it, Mr. Oakenshield. It's inhumane of me to ask any of you for blood. Because of my hunger, you'll have to hurt yourself. Do you think I really want that?

Thorin watched the indignant vampire with a smirk on his face. As if on purpose, he lightly slashed his fingers with the dagger that he had been holding all this time. Bilbo instantly fell silent, closed his eyes and bit his hand, but Oakenshield saw that very look. Narrow cat pupils and flashing red eyes. Such changes in Bilbo's behavior amused him, and now that everyone was asleep, he could finally get on the poor vampire's nerves.

- Why are you so reluctant? The king's blood wasn't to your taste? - Thorin asked sarcastically, to which Bilbo shook his head.

- No, that's not it. - Okay, so Thorin's blood was tasty after all, by Baggins' standards. - But, Mister Oakenshield, royal blood is not something to be wasted. Especially since I don't know in how much pain you were that time. And I need to learn to suppress my thirst..

- Then maybe you'll drink Bofur's blood? He wanted it so much, and he's still waiting for you to offer it to him. - Thorin would never admit it, but at that moment he really hoped that Bilbo wouldn't agree. Oh, that possessive nature of werewolves! Turning their noses with disgust, but then feeling jealous because someone wanted the thing they didn't want in the first place. Oakenshield relaxed slightly when Bilbo shook his head again. The vampire was embarrassed, he had to think of a reason for refusal immediately, because the real one was too shameful. If Thorin knew the truth, he would definitely stab him with a sword! And there is silver in his alloy, so Bilbo would not survive that.

- I can't. Anyway, I'm allergic to a lot of things, and Bofur has been wearing this weird perfume since the start of the quest... I think it contains dandelion pollen. I get a terrible rash from contact with it, and he has nowhere to wash here. And I'm actually terribly afraid of approaching living creatures for such purposes. I'm so nervous that I can't even open my mouth. And teasing me with blood, apparently, was only your idea.

Thorin just stared at Bilbo for a few seconds, and then burst out laughing. An allergy to dandelion pollen and nerves! A foolish creature who neglects his own needs because he's afraid of a rash on his face. Thorin will never understand him, and that only makes it more interesting now. Of course, some degree of disdain still remains, because they've only known each other for a short time, but the vampire's presence has stopped being an eyesore, and Thorin has begun to get used to him.

- You can call me informally, I am not yet a king. - Thorin pulled the collar of his tunic back a little and watched with interest as Bilbo's eyes widened in shock at this gesture. - Now stop resisting, Master Baggins. It didn't hurt. Just bite in the same place, so that no new marks are left.

Bilbo was about to begin resisting the thurst again, but Thorin pressed lightly on the cut he had made earlier, and a drop of blood flowed out. This was not the smartest move on Oakenshield's part, because this time Bilbo broke loose and lunged at him, so Thorin hit his head painfully on the stone he was leaning on. He swore hoarsely in Khuzdul, after which he felt sharp fangs dig into his neck in the same place as before, and the feeling of that pleasant excitement overshadowed the pain from the blow.

Chapter Text

- Have you told anyone else about our expedition, Thorin!? - Gandalf shouted so loudly that Bilbo, sitting on the king's shoulder in the form of a bat, shuddered nervously. The news that Azog the Defiler was now chasing them instilled more fear in the vampire than in the werewolves.

Azog was the leader of the Blood Imps - half-dead creatures that in ancient times rose from the underworld itself, and now, according to Radagast, some unknown necromancer was using them again. These creatures were originally summoned by people who denied any magical creatures, to fight anyone, who wasn't human. But over time, the Imps lost their purpose and began to slaughter everyone in sight, after which they were sent back to the bosoms of the devil's hole they were summoned from.

However, these creatures never killed vampires. They locked them in towers and fed on their blood. Vampire blood gave them incredible strength, and the supply never ran out, since vampires are immortal. They cannot die from hunger, blood loss, or injury. Only silver weapons can kill a vampire, and they certainly did not use that to tourture the bloodsuckers. The thought of such a fate terrified Baggins. His mother, Belladonna Took, had told him about the Blood Imps more than once, and as a child, little Bilbo was afraid of them so much he even saw them in his nightmares.

- I have not told anyone, Gandalf. Only you and my company know!

- Thorin, Azog would not have chased you for no reason, understand this! Either he or the necromancer wants something from you.

- But what? Revenge for the fact that I cut off his hand?

It sounded absurd, but it wasn't entirely impossible. The Blood Imps were not known for their vengefulness. They had no honor or dignity, and therefore no reason to take revenge either. They didn't care about lost armies, stolen territories, or fallen fellows. The only thing that drives them is the thirst for killing and destruction, and for that, no reason is needed. They had never chosen and chased a specific victim before, they simply cut down everyone who came to hand.

- We'll figure that out later. They're after us, we need to leave, immediately!

The horses raced towards the forest near the Elven home of Rivendell. Demons usually didn't go there. It was decided to stay there for a while to figure out how to break away from the pursuit. They would have to leave the forest in any case, since they needed to reach the plain with the cave, through which they could get to the necessary path, and it was cut off from the forest. Or else it was necessary to go through Rivendell.

And again a quarrel between Gandalf and Thorin. The wizard unsuccessfully tries to convince the stubborn werewolf to stay with the elves for a while, and the king argues as best he can. Frankly speaking, Bilbo didn’t really like the prospect of staying in Rivendell either. Lord Elrond was very friendly, but Bilbo was scared to death of these creatures. Elves, like Blood Imps, were famous for their “unhealthy” love for vampires. Only if the Imps were interested in their blood, then the elves were interested in their magic.

Vampires were very rare creatures, because they are hermits by nature and don't reproduce among themselves, since they are immortal. Only sometimes they “vampirize” other creatures, but such cannot be considered true vampires, they are only half-breeds. And if a vampire and a representative of another species have a child, then the chance that he will be born a vampire is extremely small. Bilbo Baggins was just such a rarity - his father was a human, and his mother was a vampiress. And he was afraid that such a rare breed would attract too much unwanted attention from the elves. Or that he would remain in Rivendell as a pet.

So he was on Thorin's side in this argument.

- Listen, Gandalf, how about I distract them? Well, Imps. - The name gave Bilbo goosebumps, but he was ready to overcome his fear. - I can distract them with a spell, and you can slip past, and I'll catch up with you.

- Don't even start with this nonsense, Bilbo Baggins! - Gandalf said sternly. - Decided to be a hero! No more of that stubborn ram's blood, - he was talking about Thorin, - or, Eru forbid, you'll become as unbearable as he is! 

- Well, thank you, wizard, that's a very nice compliment! - Thorin growled. - Why are you so against Master Baggins helping us? He's the one offering it!

Gandalf paused. Then he sighed heavily and waved his hand.

- Two of a kind. Do what you want, I will not participate in this argument any more, it is simply useless. But you, - Gandalf poked his finger into Thorin's chest, - don't say later that I did not warn you.

***

- Bilbo!

The vampire turned around at the king's voice. It was unusual to hear the werewolf call him by name. And in general, Baggins was a little irritated that Thorin could not decide: sometimes informal, sometimes formal, and always addressed him in different ways. He should have chosen one thing, eventually.

- Are you sure you want to? Can you handle it? If you are afraid, I can agree with Gandalf and lead the company to Rivendell. - Thorin himself did not understand what caused his anxiety. The wizard's words made him doubt his decision. After several times when Bilbo drank his blood, Oakenshield felt a strange attachment to the vampire. Nothing special, but usually it was difficult for him to make friends with someone, and now everything went like clockwork. He did not show it yet, but Baggins had even ceased to irritate him.

Bilbo was surprised by Thorin's sudden offer. Look, the king himself seemed worried about him!

- It's all right, Thorin, I'm sure I can do it. I need to be of some use to you, after all. - Bilbo smiled, but the king remained just as serious.

- You're helping us for nothing. I never expected you to do anything. - He muttered. - Just promise me you'll come back alive.

And what happened to the king? He's been twitching his nose and baring his teeth at him, and now look at him! He has decided to show that he's really worried before the cold breath of death! But Bilbo couldn't deny that he liked the thaw in Oakenshield's heart. He was tired of hearing the king snap at him and make aggressive comments when something went wrong.

- I promise, Thorin.

***

In order to cast a spell on the Imps, Bilbo had to touch at least one of them first. Oh, how Thorin's neck would suffer after that... The vampire in the form of a bat looked at the small crowd of enemies. They were scouts, and there was no one among them who matched Azog's description.

They didn't sense his close presence, so Bilbo flew closer. Again, no reaction. But when his wing touched the cold, disgusting flesh of one of the scouts, the Imp immediately turned and began to catch the bat.

It was time to use the spell. Bilbo distanced himself enough and changed back to human form. He looked at the Imps and his eyes flashed red. Their minds were not as primitive as those of the trolls, and his main problem was in the poisoned thoughts of cruelty. Digging into such heads was like floundering in a barrel of waste. Bilbo couldn't shake off the strange feeling that was spreading through his body like spoiled sticky syrup. As if he was now completely dirty.

He had managed to cloud the minds of the Blood Imps and now he needed to distract them so that the werewolves could slip through. Bilbo knew that his illusions were imperfect, and he himself would have to run away later. The main thing would be to run to the forest, and from there he would be able to get out alone and catch up with the werewolves. His heart was beating so fast and loudly that its beats were heard in the vampire's ears. And then came the first illusion. Just some crooked silhouette, but it was enough for the Imps to chase after him.

Even after such a small load, Bilbo already felt how hunger was beginning to make itself felt. He always drank less blood than he needed, but enough to simply survive, and influencing someone's mind and creating illusions was not something he constantly did, so it was very difficult for him. When the Imps had run far enough away, Bilbo whistled to the werewolves to move forward, and he himself ran after the enemies to maintain the illusion and prevent them from noticing the werewolf squad. With the help of the spell, he ran faster, but with each passing second he felt himself approaching the limit of his capabilities.

It didn't take long for the Imps to notice Bilbo running after them and switch to chasing him instead of the illusion. He concentrated all his energy on running, but it didn't help much. After he had circled the forest a few times, the Imps had already begun to take the initiative into their own hands, and now it was not he who was leading them away, but they who were forcing him to run in one direction or another.

He, along with the crowd of monsters rushing after him, ran out onto a plain on which rocks and small caves were periodically visible. Baggins was already beginning to figure out which of them he could hide in, so that it would be further away from the one in which the werewolves were now, and so that the squad would have time to get away. But then he suddenly tripped and landed face down on the ground.

His heart sank into his heels when a squad of Imps stopped in front of him. They lifted him by the collar, and he met the gaze of one of them. He lived perfectly well without knowing what the eyes of these creatures looked like. Lifeless, breathing hate, with rotten whites and faded irises. Bilbo felt like his heart wasn't beating at all at that moment. It had simply stopped, and his lungs couldn't take a breath. But in fact, he couldn't breathe, because the Imp's huge hand was squeezing his throat.

- What a beautiful, thin neck. And he wouldn't die if I broke it. - Bilbo hated pain. Yes, he wouldn't die if his neck was broken, or his head was cut off, or worse, because the alloy for these Imps' swords did not contain silver. The blood from his neck would turn into threads, and his head would simply be sewn back onto his body. But he knew it would hurt a lot. He closed his eyes, hoping it would pass quickly enough, when he felt the Imp's hand loosen its grip and a blade was pressed to his throat. Pain shot through his neck as his body fell to the ground, his head left in the Imp's hands. He wanted to scream, but without lungs, he couldn't, so no sound came out of his throat. His ears were ringing, and he could barely hear anything, but even through the veil of unbearable pain he heard the king's voice calling his name. Oh Eru, hopefully, the Imps don't chase after them!

After the incident, Thorin was all pale and as if not even in this world. Gandalf still led the whole company to Rivendell, and this time Oakenshield didn't argue. He did not even want to look the wizard in the eye. He had told him. He had warned, but stubborn Thorin didn't listen to him. And Bilbo too. The king was ready to give in and let Gandalf do everything his way! But no, this self-confident vampire had to intervene!

The uzbad trudged along at the end of the line, gloomier than a cloud, that terrible picture was still before his eyes: Master Baggins' body was lying on the ground, and his head remained in the hands of the Imp. At that moment, the werewolves were unluckily close.

The cave that would have led them past Rivendell was only a couple of meters away. And everything would have worked out if Thorin had kept his mouth shut and not looked. But no, he saw that. The vampire was held by the neck, and then the blade slashed viciously across his neck, and his body fell to the ground. Uzbad jumped off his horse, drew his sword, and rushed toward the crowd of Imps. He would have rushed at them if not for the hand of the wizard, which grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and forcibly threw him into another cave.

- What are you doing, madman!? Have you decided to leave the werewolves without a king!? - the wizard roared when they were all already in the cave. Thorin only growled some curse in Khuzdul and walked away from the wizard. Bofur also looked at him like a wolf, but this time, surprisingly, he did not rush at the king. Oakenshield clenched his teeth.

- This cave leads to Rivendell. Let's go. - he said. All the werewolves looked at him silently for a few seconds. - Let's go, I said!!! - he barked, and everyone immediately began to fuss.

***

- Thorin, things happen. Master Baggins was with us not that long. Let him go, he did it for our own good. - Balin and Thorin sat away from the rest of the group, on separate chairs, while the others at the table tried to somehow fill themselves with the leafy food that the elves offered. The old werewolf noticed how much his king blamed himself for what had happened. And Oakenshield did not feel much better from Balin's words. It was all his fault. He didn't protect the vampire, didn't save him, allowed his life to be lost like this, and on top of that he let the whole company down with his recklessness, and now, instead of the mountains on the way to Erebor, they were sitting surrounded by elves.

- We won't even be able to bury him properly. - Thorin croaked darkly. He allowed himself a moment of weakness, and while no one was looking, he buried his nose in Balin's shoulder in defeat. - I shouldn't have let him go there. Gandalf warned me, but I, like a stubborn fool, kept pushing my own way. And when this damn vampire supported me, I believed in myself.

The king looked around his company. Everyone was in a bad mood, even the usually cheerful Fili and Kili had had a row with half the company. Bofur was also gloomier than a thundercloud, even throwing one of the plates at the wall and yelling at the elf standing behind him. The absence of the vampire had affected the company's spirit worse than expected, even though this creature wasn't that long with them. Mahal was a witness, Thorin would have given anything to change his mind, and the vampire was now back with them.

- What happened to you? You're all sitting there, hanging your noses, as if someone had died.

Thorin jumped when a familiar voice came from behind him. All conversations instantly died down, and the werewolves stared at the speaker as if they had seen a ghost.

- Balin, you see it too, right?

- I see it, Thorin...

- Now, hit me harder...

Balin, without thinking twice, swung his arm and hit Thorin so hard that his jaw almost cracked. The king winced, blinked, and looked again at the creature standing behind him. No, he was not delirious, Bilbo really was standing in front of him. Alive and well, except for a barely noticeable red mark on his neck. The vampire blinked his eyes in surprise.

- So what happened? And why are you looking at me like that?

- You were... lying there... and your head... - Oakenshield stuttered, trying to squeeze out at least something. Bilbo raised one eyebrow.

- So what? I'm not dying from this, their swords are not made of silver.

The initial shock passed and Thorin snapped. He grabbed Bilbo by the collar.

- And how were we supposed to know that, Mahal damn you!? Are you out of your mind!? We thought you were dead! I almost had a stroke when I saw your body, decapitated! - Thorin's eyes involuntarily burst into tears of anger. Bilbo looked scared at first, and then offended.

- Maybe you'll stop blaming me for all the sins and let me speak!? Gandalf knew that I wasn't going to die! I told him that if anything happens, he should tell you too! I wouldn't have promised to come back alive just like that if I wasn't sure!

The anger on Thorin's face retreated for a second, and he let go of Bilbo's collar. And then it dawned on the vampire. The wizard told them nothing.

- Gandalf.

Thorin and Bilbo said in unison. Now they both looked as if they would rush at the wizard with their fists. And he, in turn, adjusted his gray hat, and, whistling, began to quietly leave the hall. The vampire and the werewolf exchanged glances.

- You are thinking the same thing as I am, Master Baggins?

- Absolutely right.

The next moment the wizard was running away through the halls of Rivendell from a swarm of bats and a huge wolf, who are catching up with him faster and faster with each step.

Chapter Text

They stayed in Rivendell for a few days to let Bilbo recover a little. After all, it wasn't every day that your head was chopped off. And Gandalf had taken a beating from the angry creatures, so he needed some patching up too. Fortunately, most of the company in the palace weren't bored: despite the lack of need for fighting, hunting or movement, the werewolves and the vampire found something to do.

Bilbo spent most of his time in the library, and the werewolves were more interested in terrorizing the elves. The calmer ones were Dori, Oin and Balin. The three werewolves were too old for the entertainment of the young, so they joined the vampire's peaceful activities in the library, but still sat aside most of the time. They found it amusing to watch Thorin, who also didn't particularly want to chase the elves and gnaw their furniture, follow Baggins everywhere like a little tail.

The king was dying from boredom. Usually he could think of something to do, be it collecting branches for a fire, hunting, or simply talking to one of the werewolves. But now his beloved nephews and the younger werewolves like Bombur and Nori were too busy wreaking havoc in Rivendell, Bofur was still baring his teeth at him about the recent incident, and the old men were more interested in each other's company, Thorin simply fell asleep listening to their conversations. Gloin didn't need company, and made it clear that he did not want to be disturbed, and Dwalin and Ori spent their days in the elven gardens, and Thorin knew that he better not disurb them.

So he had no choice but to follow Bilbo around. Of course, he could do something himself, but after an hour he began to get bored, and the company of a vampire at least diluted it a little. Uzbad would never admit it out loud, but he loved listening to Bilbo. The creature's presence brought peace, and even the king's explosive temper calmed down, and he himself turned from a formidable wolf into a faithful guard dog.

But there was a problem: the vampire kept to his usual sleep schedule and stayed awake at night. Oin, Dori and Balin watched as Thorin impatiently walked circles around the table in the library, waiting for Bilbo to wake up.

- Damn him, when will he sit down? Even with my hearing problems, I'm tired of listening to his stomping! - Oin muttered, demonstratively covering his ears.

- Patience, my dear friend. Until our dear vampire wakes up, this idiot will not calm down. - Dori said with a smile. These old men certainly had a lot of respect for their future king. No, no one doubted his leadership abilities and they respected him very much, but no one argued that in situations like this, Thorin was absolutely unbearable. The vampire saved them from the constant disgruntled growling. Balin lightly nudged Dori with his elbow.

- Look, he's counting the minutes.

They periodically heard echoes of Thorin's muttering.

- Khaz… Zunûr… Sefîk…* Five more circles like this, and ten minutes will pass… Then ten times ten circles like this, and a hundred minutes will pass… Then breakfast, another ten times ten, and an hour will remain…

Dori barely restrained himself from bursting out laughing. Mahal, have mercy on them, they'll have to listen to this for about four more hours!

- Maybe we should think of something for him to do?

- Quiet down! I wonder when he'll get bored.

But Thorin had no plans to give up and was conscientiously carrying out the plan he'd come up with. No one sitting at the table nearby was going to embarrass the king by hinting that they knew the reason for this very exciting activity of his. But fortunately, the king didn't complete his plan, because Bilbo woke up for breakfast. The sleepy vampire sat in the shadows, periodically rubbing his eyes, and chattered about everything. The king finally calmed down and sat, calmly and with interest listening to this incoherent flow of information.

- Bombur, shut up! I can't hear what Master Bilbo is saying! - Bofur grumbled discontentedly. Bombur, who was sitting next to him and talking to Ori, rolled his eyes.

- Brother, for Mahal's sake, you were holding up well, and now again! You're not interested in listening, I don't remember the moment when you became interested in the contents of the books in the Elven library. Look, you were jumping all over Rivendell with Fili and Kili and scaring the elves, wrapped in a sheet. And with Master Baggins, you need to be peaceful, calm.

- That's true. - Bofur frowned and sighed. - I have a lot to learn from Thorin. I wish I could be like him sometimes.

- Oh, no, Eru forbid we get another Oakenshield! - Gandalf declared, but it came out a little louder than planned, and silence fell over the table. He slowly stood up from the table, followed by the piercing gaze of the king and the vampire sitting next to him, and left, quietly closing the door.

***

When they finally set out, Thorin heard the members of the company discussing him and Bilbo. Nothing serious, they just thought it was funny how the king was reaching out to the vampire out of boredom. But he did it for a reason. He tried to minimize Bilbo's contact with the elves, who found every free minute to ask him to use some kind of magic, grabbed him by the ears, or just stared at him so much it felt inappropriate, and one of them had even climbed into his room while he was sleeping.

Well, or at least he came up with such a reason to justify his interest in the vampire's stories and the desire to spend time in his company. Thorin was even afraid that Bilbo would want to stay in Rivendell. A beautiful palace, a peaceful area, and the elves, after all, turned out to be not as scary and crazy as Bilbo initially assumed. Why not trade a difficult journey with enormous physical exertion for this? But Bilbo seemed to genuinely prefer the company of werewolves, which could pleased the king pretty much.

However, he did not like the discussions from the expedition members, and he tried to distance himself from the vampire again. It was quite difficult, considering that he was drawn to this creature like a magnet. He was too used to his constant company in Rivendell. Used to counting the minutes until he woke up and then following Bilbo around all day, until late at night. He was mad at himself for this kind of attachment. He's supposed to be the king, and now he's acting like a wolf cub!

Bilbo didn't suffer from attention deficit, but he was irritated by the sudden changes in Oakenshield's behavior. Only yesterday he followed him like a little tail, tried with all his might to stay up late at night to talk to him more, and now - here you go - he doesn't even come near him! But that doggo is constantly drilling him with his gaze, he will soon burn a hole in the poor vampire! What's wrong with these werewolves?

At night, after they miraculously survived the massacre of stone giants and stopped in some cave for the night, Bofur and Bilbo remained on night watch. Thorin couldn't sleep and listened to the conversation between the werewolf and the vampire.

- ...well, you can see for yourself. He's avoiding me. - Oakenshield's heart sank when he realized that the conversation was about him. His ears perked up.

- Maybe you had a fight? Or did he say something that might have offended you, and now he can't figure out how to apologize? Thorin is the type of person who, instead of an apology, would drag you some trinket, hoping that it would do in place of words. It's easier to tell by his actions than by his words. He's a real tree when it comes to emotions. There are multiple reasons for that "Oakenshield" title. - thank you, Bofur.

- No, we didn't fight, I don't think so. Maybe, after he got to know me better, he decided that I wouldn't fit in with your company, and simply decided not to give me false hopes?

Thorin wanted to jump up from his seat and protest, but he stopped himself at the last moment.

- Bilbo, are you out of your mind!? Look at how everyone loves you! Fili and Kili would rather smash themselves on a rock than agree to kick you out! So what if Thorin doesn't accept you and thinks ypu don't fit in? - thank you, Bofur. - Give him time, he'll get used to you.

Bofur touched Bilbo's icy cheek with his fingers and carefully brushed a strand of wheat-colored hair from the vampire's face. But then his expression changed.

- Why does the earring in your ear glow red?

Thorin immediately remembered their recent conversation in the Rivendell library, when he himself decided to ask about this earring.

"This is a gift from my mother, a family heirloom. Long ago, when the Blood Imps were actively looking for vampires to feed on, my mother was given this stone for protection, and then she inserted it into the earring. It glows red when the Imps are nearby."

The floor beneath them began to tremble slightly. Thorin immediately jumped up.

- Get up, quickly! Rise! Rise!

But before he could wake up the sleepy werewolves, the floor beneath them collapsed, and they flew into the cave. As they fell, Thorin grabbed Bilbo's cloak, and when the entire company landed on the ledge, he and Bilbo fell off and flew lower.

***

They would have crashed, but fortunately there was a huge pile of leaves under them. Bilbo landed flat on Thorin. It seemed to him that the king hit himself hard, or that his ribs cracked from such a "soft" landing, but from the depths of the leaves came a hoarse groan and a moment later Thorin's face emerged. He hit his forehead on the vampire's forehead and hissed.

- What an adventure... - Bilbo grumbled, rubbing his head and crawling out of the leaves. He felt something hard under his sole and reached out to pick it up. The thing was a ring with a strange white, not shiny stone on it, like just some piece of rock. Bilbo shrugged and stuffed it in his pocket. Thorin also climbed out with great difficulty and hobbled to the vampire.

- We need to find a way out, the others are there with the Imps... - Bilbo began to speak, but then one of the aforementioned monsters crashed down from above. Remember the ray, here's the sun. Another one flew after it, and it would have landed right on the vampire if Thorin hadn't pulled him out of the way.

- Don't get your head in the clouds, Bilbo. Mahal forbid they kill you.

Thorin dragged Baggins after him, but he yanked his hand out of the king's strong clutches.

- No way, I'm definitely not following you! Gandalf has already told me about your incredible achievements in the field of topographic cretinism. How you got lost every day on your way home for the first three months of your life outside of Erebor. - The king's cheeks flushed. These impudent fellows have no respect for the future king at all! It seems he's too soft with them.

- Okay, lead the way, vampire. But don't tell the others about this story! And help me beat up that big-mouthed old man again.

***

They walked in an unknown direction for quite a long time, winding through endless, similar corridors. Bilbo was already starting to get nervous: would they get out at all? He did not know how much time had passed, until they suddenly came to a familiar place. They had already been there. Thorin smiled triumphantly.

- Well, sir guide? When is the exit planned? - the king said mockingly, and Bilbo rolled his eyes and plopped down on the ground. Thorin sat down next to him.

- We need to figure out where we went and where we came from.

After a couple of minutes of rest, they got up again and went in search of an exit. It took quite a long time, until they finally came to a hall from which sunlight was distantly visible outside. They were about to go to the shining light of a possible exit, when suddenly voices were heard from this passage. Thorin grabbed Bilbo by the hand and pulled him along with him into a narrow crevice between the stones to hide. There were many voices: growls, curses, squeals, screams...

The king pulled the vampire closer, the stones forced them to press against each other and Bilbo felt Oakenshield's heart pounding wildly. He was breathing loudly, and the vampire quickly covered uzbad's mouth with his hand. It took him a lot of effort to leave it there, because Thorin's hot skin and breath burned his icy skin. And in general, standing so close to Thorin was very uncomfortable. Because of his warmth, which broke through even through a thick layer of clothes, it was hot as a smithy. The heat made Bilbo's breathing ragged, and now the king had to cover the vampire's mouth with his burning hand.

A bunch of Imps cornered some pale creature. It was completely incomprehensible how it was alive, with such physiology. It was terribly skinny, hunchbacked, with rotten teeth and nails. He squealed and struggled against the clutches of the Demons, but they wouldn't let him.

- You were given only one task, Gollum! And you failed it! Where is the ring!? - one of the Imps roared. Thorin, at such a distance, felt a slight tremor run through Bilbo's body and he unconsciously pressed himself against the werewolf. What would they do with a crowd of these creatures if they were found? And most importantly, how would he look Bilbo in the eye without embarrassment after they get out?

The situation was not going according to Oakenshield's plan. Bilbo was hungry, and he knew it. Since that incident with the severed head, Bilbo had never drunk blood, since there was a risk of rejection of someone else's blood by his body, which would cause another pair of injuries. And now, at first, the hunger did not make itself felt because of panic, but now that Bilbo had calmed down a little, Thorin saw his eyes pulsating with a red light and the vampire was trying with all his might not to bite him. That look, the pupils that sometimes narrowed and sometimes widened predatorily, the rolling eyes, and all of that was accompanied by heavy cold breathing and two fangs that Thorin could feel well in his palm... For some reason, Oakenshield suddenly wanted to forget about everything: whether they were found or not - it didn't matter, he was ready to let the vampire's fangs sink into his neck right now.

While screams about some ring that an unknown creature had dared to lose could be heard a few meters away, they stood like that, pressed against each other. Thorin removed his hand from Bilbo's mouth. The vampire did the same.

- You're hungry, - Thorin whispered. Bilbo quickly looked away. Oh, Mahal, you should have continued to distance yourself from him, what's going on!?

- Thorin, don't push it, there's a whole horde of Imps right next to us! Now is not the time to think about my hunger! - Yes, he knew it himself, but he still barely suppressed the desire to rip his fingertip on the vampire's fang and make him lose his temper. He had to gather all the rest of his common sense and just wait for the Imps to disperse. When he finally heard the voices fading away, Oakenshield did what he had planned.

He pressed the pad of his finger lightly on Bilbo's fang. A couple of drops of blood formed on his finger, and the king watched with interest as Baggins's expression changed.

- Thorin, they're not all gone... - Bilbo whispered, clearly barely restraining himself from losing control. Oakenshield pulled his sword from its sheath and pierced the head of the creature lying below with it. There was no blood, nor any screams. The creature was more of a doll than something alive. Only a quiet groan, and it no longer moved.

- That's it. - Thorin himself did not understand what came over him, but Bilbo knew very well. He was well versed in herbs, and he also recognized the smell of burnt Firevine. This herb was often added to candle wicks to make them burn longer. The torches carried by the Blood Imps affected the werewolves, the fumes of the Firevine caused them to become intoxicated, similar to alcohol. It was one thing when several such torches were burning in a large hall - the king would not even bat an eye, but it was another matter now, in a narrow corridor, when a crowd of Imps was armed with such torches.

The king needed to be taken out into the fresh air so that his mind would clear. But now the vampire himself was not able to think clearly because of the hunger that hit him in the head with new force every time, and Thorin did not make his task easier. Duboshchit slightly pushed back the collar of his tunic with his wounded hand, smearing his neck with a thin strip of blood.

- I can see that look. We’ve already found the way out, and a couple of minutes of waiting the won't break them.

What a stubborn werewolf! But he gets his way so well. Bilbo's fangs sink into his neck, and the king blissfully relaxes.

***

- Finally! How long do we have to wait for you!? - Kili grumbled discontentedly when the king and the vampire finally tumbled out of the narrow passage in the mountain and breathed in fresh air. Thorin's mind cleared, and he ran through all the events that had happened in the mountain in horror. He glanced at Bilbo, but fortunately Bilbo only smiled at him.

- Stop flirting and get going! Azog the Defiler is after us! The eagles will soon arrive to help us! - Gandalf shouted. Thorin mentally cursed him and remembered Bilbo's promise to slap the old man. But there was no time for arguments: everyone jumped up as soon as the horn of the Blood Imps was heard in the distance.

Late in the evening, after a fierce chase and a flight on eagles, the entire company passed out almost immediately, even Bilbo. Only Thorin was awake, although he really wanted to sleep too. But every time he closed his eyes, the same picture appeared before him: Bilbo, barely holding back his hunger, and his face just a few centimeters away from the king's. As soon as his brain began to rewind these events, Oakenshield opened his eyes wide and frantically tried to come up with at least one sensible justification for his actions. What even was that!?

Thorin sat up, leaning his back against the stone, and looked at the sleeping Bilbo. When the vampire fell asleep at night, despite his eternally icy body he was already used to, he always complained that he was cold, and so he began to fall asleep, squeezed between Fili and Kili. But today he was so tired that he didn't even crawl to them, and now he was dozing on Bombur's belly next to Bofur. The red-haired werewolf grumbled something discontentedly in his sleep and rolled over. Bilbo's head slid off his belly, and the poor vampire flopped onto the floor. He rubbed his bruised chin and got up to find another living heater.

- Oh, Thorin, why aren't you sleeping? - the vampire rubbed his eyes and sat down next to the king. Sleepy Bilbo unconsciously reached for the source of heat, so he sat closer than would have been allowed, but Oakenshield said nothing about it.

- Insomnia. - Thorin answered shortly. Yes, it sounded so harsh and cold, as if he was ready to kill Bilbo on the spot. The vampire even recoiled, and the king cursed mentally. - I didn't mean to sound rude. I'm sorry. - Bilbo stared at Thorin for a few seconds, but then his eyes began to droop again. But even through his weariness, he noticed how the king's usual expression suddenly softened.

- You are tired. Go back to sleep.

The vampire nodded and went to his usual place between Fili and Kili. He was too tired to notice the sad look Thorin gave him.

Chapter Text

During the rest stop, Thorin and Bilbo sat, hunched over the map while the others rested and gathered brushwood to make a fire and cook something for lunch. Bilbo was thoughtfully reading the runes on the map, which everyone had read long ago and knew their meaning. Thorin sat next to him to… but he himself did not know why. And Bilbo only encouraged this, turned the map towards Thorin and now they sat together, examining it with very serious expressions.

- Bilbo. - the king whispered and lightly nudged the vampire in the side with his elbow.

- Oh, be quiet, don't disturb me! - he hissed. What a strange vampire.

- Bilbo, what exactly are we doing?

- I'm trying to memorize the map. - Baggins scratched his upturned nose and looked at the parchment again. - It's terribly inconvenient to look at it, it's huge! We're always dragging it back and forth, stopping at every fork in the road. If I memorize it, we won't have to get the map out, and I'll be more useful.

That's a fair point. Thorin fell silent and also buried his face in the map.

Balin and Dwalin watched them from afar. Then they turned their gaze to Fili and Kili, who were lying on the grass, wagging their raised tails and barely breathing, watching the grasshopper.

- It seems to me that these two, - Dwalin pointed at Thorin and Bilbo, - would be equally useful if they were catching grasshoppers.

- Why are you so sure about that? Look at them sitting there so seriously. Although, it seems to me that if our uzbad hadn't completely transformed, his tail would have wagged just like Fili and Kili's.

Dwalin didn't quite understand what the last statement was about, but he simply shrugged and went to join the others. He didn't have any interest in watching practically the whole Durin line act like idiots and thinking that this is the dynasty is supposed to rule a whole kingdom.

The further they went, the more they got used to the fact that Thorin always went with Bilbo on any errand, except for reconnaissance. Not only on errands: after Bilbo's decapitation and the goblin caves, the two of them became practically inseparable, the only thing missing was sleeping next to each other. After one attempt, Bilbo woke up in the morning with disheveled hair and so sweaty, as if he had just gotten out of a sauna. After that he spent the whole day complaining about Thorin being able to heat half the Shire. Where did so much heat come from in one werewolf?

After an unsuccessful attempt to learn the map, they almost had a fight at one of the crossroads, because they remembered the route differently, but when they pulled out the map and checked, they were both wrong and spent half the way through the forest walking far apart and sulking, with Kili acting as a negotiator.

- Uncle says that you should walk at the end of the line and not slow down the pace. - Kili said, trying to catch his breath after running. Bilbo frowned.

- Tell that crowned ram to lead the company himself, since he has such big legs and wants to go faster! - Bilbo hissed and snorted.

- Mahal, have mercy... - Kili whined theatrically and ran back to the end of the line to convey the vampire's words to the "crowned ram", only to run back to Bilbo a minute later.

- He said to tell you that he... you... - Kili tried to squeeze out words between heavy breaths, but his tongue was slurred. - Ugh, you know what!? Sort it out yourselves! I'm not your carrier-raven!

So they walked in silence until the evening, and didn't even talk before dinner. Thorin didn't like the absence of the vampire and the fact that chatting with his nephews didn't replace his company. Even during the conversation with them, he kept glancing at Bilbo and losing the thread of the conversation. Fili rolled his eyes.

- Uncle, how much longer do we need to watch you stare at the vampire from afar? Go and apologize to Master Bilbo! You'll soon burn a hole in him, and you don't even listen to us! We won't repeat the same thing to you five times like parrots.

- Okay, okay, I'm listening. - Thorin grumbled. The vampire didn't seem to have this problem, and his twittering about herbs, plants, and trees reached Oakenshield every now and then.

Baggins seemed very engrossed in his conversation with Oin. Thorin sighed heavily and only now noticed that his nephews had fallen silent again and were staring at him.

- Go. Apologize. - Fili said tensely, drawing out his words and crossing his arms over his chest, and Kili repeated his pose. The king rubbed the bridge of his nose tiredly. And how hard it was to say just one simple "sorry"!

The day was tense, and Bilbo fell asleep at night again, while Gandalf remained on guard. Thorin tossed and turned near Dori and Balin for a few minutes, but after the fifth turn, during which he hit Balin, he was kicked out to sleep somewhere else. His gaze fell on Bilbo, who was curled up away from everyone else and sleeping, biting the back of his wrist. Hungry. How much time had passed, and he still wouldn't tell Thorin about his thirst.

The vampire had fallen asleep not long ago, so it was not difficult for the king to wake him up. He wrinkled his nose with displeasure and, frowning, stared at the one who had interrupted his peaceful dreams, and was ready to curse. But, noticing that Thorin was waving a finger with a couple of drops of blood in front of him, he quickly looked away.

- What do you want? - the vampire muttered, to which Oakenshield didn't answer right away. Come on Thorin, come on!

- I'm sorry, Bilbo, I was wrong today. I shouldn't have yelled at you. And you're not a "stubborn bloodsucker". I said that without thinking. I flared up.

Thorin didn't look at Bilbo, afraid to see anger, or, worse, mockery and disdain.

- And you forgive me too, Thorin. You're not a "crowned ram". - the king stared at the vampire. He smiled at the uzbad and held out his little finger. - Peace?

Oakenshield was about to offer Bilbo his little finger too, but the vampire, succumbing to a moment of weakness, forgot about controlling his thirst. When blood loomed before his eyes again, his pupils narrowed like a cat's, and he rushed at Thorin. He pushed back the collar of his tunic and sank his teeth into his neck. The king's body relaxed and he let out a quiet groan.

- Peace. - he croaked. It was the waxing moon, a fairly powerful phase, and Thorin was halfly transformed. The werewolves, who weren't sleeping, watched Oakenshield's tail wag happily. They laughed and tossed sacks of coins to one another. Everyone was betting on whether their uzbad would be the first to apologize to Bilbo. Gloin, Dwalin, Nori, Dori, and Oin reluctantly gave their winnings to the others.

The next day they finally reached the edge of the forest. The sun was already setting and its rays fell on Bilbo's wheat-colored curls. This time Thorin walked alongside him. His gaze hovered on the vampire, enchanted by its beuaty. Holding his breath, he looked at this creature next to him, as if he was afraid that this gorgeous picture would disappear with too much movement. A thought flashed through his head for a moment, but Oakenshield quickly drove it away. How would a braid with a bead of Durin's line look in this curly hair?

The king was torn from his thoughts by the howling of the horns of Imps and a loud growl, not like werewolves or the same Imps, which came from the depths of the forest. The wizard drove the tired company into a huge house, reminiscent of a farm, which stood in a clearing. The house didn't look abandoned, which meant that someone lived in it. Bilbo was alarmed by the absence of the owner when they entered.

- Gandalf, why is there no one here? - he asked quietly, when all the werewolves had already stretched out on the hay and some had even fallen asleep. Only Gloin, Balin and Thorin were awake. The first was carefully examining their temporary shelter, the second simply could not sleep, and the third was trying his best not to close his eyes, because he wanted to chat with the vampire about something at night.

- Beorn guards the edge of the forest from uninvited guests at night. - Gandalf pointed through the window at the creature fighting the orcs. At first Bilbo was very surprised. Beorn looked very much like a centaur, but they were going north, and centaurs can only be found in the south. But then his gaze made out fur, claws and a wolf's tail - the creature turned out to be a fenrivar - the same thing as centaurs, but with wolf legs instead of horse ones. The vampire shuddered, remembering his mother's stories about these creatures. Fair, but sometimes too cruel.

- Go to sleep. - the wizard waved away the vampire, who was about to overwhelm him with questions. - Nothing threatens you tonight. - He said and moved away from the company a little. - I hope. - He added, more quietly.

Chapter Text

Beorn grumbled unpleasantly for a long time, but still fed everyone and allowed them to stay with him for a few days. The company was moving at a good pace, and they could afford a short break, since everyone was terribly tired, and Ori and Nori had also caught some kind of disease and were now lying around with a fever. Grumpy Oin had been fussing over them since the morning.

Unlike his little fights with the werewolves, the fenrivar immediately established a good relationship with the vampire, but he sometimes pestered Bilbo, coming up with all sorts of nicknames for him and watching how the creature rolled his eyes in displeasure or pouted.

- What a beautiful creature for such a bunch of idiots. - Beorn said every time Bilbo helped him tidy up his garden. Despite the similarity of their natures, the fenrivar hated werewolves. He considered them greedy and aggressive, reckless creatures. It wasn't that he was completely wrong, but such stereotypes really irritated the rest of the party.

But the king was more irritated not by the fact that he was assigned to this "bunch of idiots", but by the words about the "beautiful creature". Look at him, what a charmer! And Bilbo? He smiles, says: "Well, they're not that bad..." And what else should he do? Beat up the fenrivar? Oakenshield understood that making scandals in someone else's house was not a good idea, but if Bilbo really decided to beat up Beorn, he would support him in this endeavor.

The attentive eyes of the rest of the party didn't miss how this friendship between the vampire and the fenrivar didn't please their uzbad. And the more time these two spent together, the gloomier Thorin walked around. For the first two days he was still somehow thinking up activities for himself, but by the third day everyone was ready to beg Bilbo on their knees to spend at least a few minutes with the king.

- What can you do in the garden for so long? You might as well kiss, why stand so close? That wolfhound is only ruining Bilbo's fighting spirit. - this endless grumbling in Khuzdul, accompanied by the constant clatter of boots and the creaking of boards, was heard by everyone who was near the uzbad. Balin's eye was already starting to twitch, Nori and Dori were running away every time they saw Thorin in the room, and Gloin just went out and called Bilbo.

- Thorin, calm down. Look, they're coming back. - Balin mumbled and mentally thanked Mahal when Thorin left the house and followed the vampire.

- Oh, Mister Oakenshield, you're the one we were looking for. - Beorn smiled tightly, but Thorin was more focused on Bilbo's radiant smile, so he didn't really look at Beorn. - There's something for you two.

Thorin expected everything, but definitely not this. Now he and Bilbo were sitting in the back yard of the fenrivar's house, in front of a pile of papers written in elvish.

- That's all the elves wrote back to me when I asked them to help me find my kind. I don't know Elvish, but you two should. You, master Baggins, lived in a place where that language was spoken, and you, master Oakenshield, were educated at the royal court of Erebor, and they certainly teach it there. - Beorn stood up. - Translate at least half of it, and tell me if the elves have found anyone.

When Fenrivar left, Bilbo and Thorin exchanged quick glances. The vampire now regretted not learning sindarin, despite the fact that his mother spoke it fluently and had repeatedly offered to teach her son. The only creatures that people of the Shire were not afraid of were the elves, and their language was even taught in some schools.

And uzbad remembered with shame how he ran away from elvish lessons and made scandals in front of the books. He had to learn this language for negotiations with the elves, but Thorin preferred westron. On the one hand, this decision was strange then, since they didn't conduct any business with the speakers of this language, but on the other hand, now he was glad because he could easily talk to Bilbo.

- Thorin, do you know sindarin?

- Yes. - Thorin lied without even thinking. He wanted to impress the vampire for some reason, and was ashamed of himself immediately. But, fortunately or not, he was a terrible liar. Bilbo narrowed his scarlet eyes and looked at Oakenshield.

- Well, how do you read this letter then? - the vampire pointed his finger at some incomprehensible symbol.

- Uhm...

- Oh, what a beautiful sound! It looks like you speak elvish fluently! - Bilbo said sarcastically. A telltale blush appeared on Thorin's cheeks, and the vampire laughed, and Oakenshield followed suit.

- I have no idea what this letter is. It looks like an "l"...

- It doesn't look like one at all.

An argument ensued, and eventually their screams could be heard even in the house. Ori covered his ears and rolled his eyes theatrically, Gloin closed the window so that the yelling wouldn't be heard so loudly, and Balin and Dwalin simply listened with tired smiles.

- You don't understand a thing about this damn language, Baggins!

- As if you're smarter than me! Crowned ram, you should at least listen to me on such a trifle!

- Oh, I'm a ram!? You've got a horn even worse than mine, you've balked and are defending yourself like if it's a vital decision!

- Oakenshield, one more word and I'll bite you!

- Come on! That's all you can do, you stubborn bloodsucker!

After that, the shouts began to slowly die down. Beorn was about to go and see what had happened and if they really had had a fight, but as soon as he reached the door, the two troublemakers appeared on the threshold, all disheveled, the king breathing heavily. Thorin handed Beorn a stack of papers.

- Bilbo and I don't know elvish. We apologize. - Thorin said a little hoarsely, but in an overall satisfied tone. Balin and Dwalin noticed two new bite marks on his neck: one just under his jaw, and the second, a little lower than the first. How easy it was, it turned out, to make Thorin calm down and stop screaming. There was a small drop of blood on the corner of Bilbo's lips, which he quickly licked when he noticed the looks.

It was decided to set out through Mirkwood the next morning. Thorin did not like the prospect of marching through Thranduil's lands. He and the king of the sylvan elves had, to put it mildly, a strained relationship. Namely, after the elf tried to ask for Thorin's sister's hand in marriage at one of the events. At that moment, when Thranduil knelt before her, and Dis blushed shyly, Thorin looked at the elf with a raised eyebrow and said:

- I didn't know that elves allowed same-sex marriages.

It all ended in a fight, during which Dis, laughing hysterically, tried to separate the king of the elves and the king of the werewolves, and explain to her brother that her suitor was a man. In the end, Dis did not agree to marry the forest king, and he blamed her brother for everything. Thorin responded to Thranduil with no less disdain, and such a strained relationship led to many werewolves not having a shelter in Mirkwood after the fall of Erebor.

But this time Thorin didn't argue with Gandalf. He was not ready to watch Bilbo's head being chopped off again. Yes, the vampire didn't die from it, but watching it - well, not just watching, simply imagining it was too much for the king. Of course, if they went through Mirkwood, they all risked suffering from hallucinations, but, according to the wizard, the vampire could help with this by clearing the minds of werewolves. So Oakenshield, albeit reluctantly, agreed to it.

***

In the evening, due to Bilbo's constant complaints about the dirt and smell of all the werewolves, Beorn took them all to the hot lakes near his house. While most of the werewolves, armed with soap and brushes, tried to finish their bathing procedures as quickly as possible due to the "unbearable" temperatures in the lakes, after which they ran to splash in the icy waterfall, Bilbo soaked in the hottest of all the basins and didn't even think about moving from his place. Thorin kept casting fleeting glances at him for a long time, after which he received a kick from Balin, which was an alternative to saying: "Go to him already, stop staring".

Thorin eventually moved to the vampire. His body temperature was higher than that of the other werewolves, so he could stay even in the hottest lake without experiencing severe discomfort. He stood on the rocks for a long time, looking at Bilbo: at the way the drops on his pale skin glittered in the moonlight, at his beautiful, slender body without a single scar, at his curly hair, already half wet... Oakenshield walked into the water very slowly, afraid that the vampire would be embarrassed by his presence and would hurry away. But Bilbo seemed not to care at all. He opened his eyes and looked at Thorin.

- Why aren't you with the others? - he muttered quietly.

- I don't like cold water. - Thorin answered shortly and sat closer to the vampire. Bilbo glanced at Oakenshield's body, his muscles covered with the scars of many battles and tattoos. Beautiful.

- I don't like it either. The hot water is so relaxing... I still need to wash my hair, but I don't want to move at all.

- Do you want me to help? - Thorin blurted it out without thinking. He cursed himself, thinking that Bilbo would think he was crazy and run away. Hair was a sacred thing to werewolves, and it was not allowed to be touched by just anyone, only by family members or the beloved one. And here he was with such a proposal.

But vampire and werewolf cultures were different. Bilbo shrugged and gestured to the jar of hair soap. Thorin's heart sank when he touched the vampire's golden locks. His hair was a little stiff, like straw to the touch. But after Thorin carefully lathered it, it softened and became pliable. Oakenshield forgot himself and ran his hands through Bilbo's hair much longer than necessary. The area behind the vampire's pointed ears was surprisingly warm, compared to the rest of his body. Bilbo's voice brought him out of his trance.

- Thorin, I hope you understand that after this I will never agree to have anyone wash my hair except you. - the vampire purred and Thorin attributed the heat in his cheeks to the effects of being in hot water for so long. He thanked Mahal for the moon hiding behind the clouds, otherwise the joyful wagging of his tail would have been impossible to hide or justify. The vampire washed the soap off his head and turned to Thorin. - Now it's your turn. Just bend down.

Uzbad was about to protest, but the thought of Bilbo's hands touching his hair made him bite his tongue, sit down and turn his back to the vampire. As soon as he felt the touch of icy fingers on his scalp, a wave of goosebumps ran through his entire body.

- You have quite a mane, Thorin. It doesn't seem this dense from afar. Truly a king's one. - Baggins carefully unbraided his braid and placed Durin's dynasty bead on the stones by the lake. And when the vampire washed the leaves from Thorin's beard, the uzbad's mind completely switched off, and all he could think about was the creature in front of him.

- And what does this gaze mean? - Bilbo asked in a whisper, looking into uzbad's eyes.

- Nothing. - he answered in the same barely audible whisper and was about to lean closer to the vampire, but the creature turned his back to Thorin and laid down again in his previous place. The damn bloodsucker! If he knew how Oakenshield's head was spinning because of him, he probably wouldn't have behaved so boldly. Thorin shook his head, driving away all thoughts about the vampire. No, this was nonsense, it was just the waxing moon affecting him.

As it turned out later, some from the company had seen this awkward interaction between Thorin and Bilbo. And, to Thorin's horror, the witnesses were Fili and Kili.

- Are we allowed to call master Bilbo uncle yet? - Kili asked in Khuzdul, smiling sarcastically, so that Bilbo, who was walking nearby, would not understand what they were talking about.

- Or maybe we should come up with another title for him? We already have an uncle, we'll get confused. Maybe he'll be... I don't know, 'vuncle'? Well, the first letter of the word vampire.

- Or maybe unpire?

- Or just simply auntie? - the brothers giggled together, and Thorin, all red, grabbed them by the ears and lifted them to his level.

- And you, damn matchmakers, just need a reason! No aunties, vuncles, or whatever else you've come up with!

Fili and Kili, despite the pain, continued to laugh. When they were released, they quickly caught up with Bilbo.

- Master Bilbo, when are we going to weave the bead in? - asked Fili. Bilbo looked at them in bewilderment.

- What bead, and why are you suddenly offering it to me? If this is another of your pranks, then I am not participating in it.

The brothers were very surprised.

- What do you mean? The bead of the Durin's line, of course! - Bilbo's eyes popped out of his head at this statement. But before Fili and Kili could say anything else, Thorin, redder than a crab, quickly shut their mouths and dragged them away.

- You got it all wrong, Bilbo, they were offering it... for your services. As a sign of respect. - this time the lie sounded much more convincing and Baggins, after just a moment of looking at Thorin with a suspicious expression, smiled.

- Oh, well, then I would be very grateful for such a gift. It's a great honor.

The brothers again, as if from under the ground, appeared in front of Bilbo with one of these beads, on which the runes of the Durin's line were adorned. They had spare ones, in case the ones they had were lost in battle.

- Come on, uncle, you need to braid his hair!

- Ish kakhfê ai’d dur-rugnu*, Kili… - Thorin hissed, but still took the bead and a lock of Bilbo’s hair in his trembling hands. Since he had lied, he would have to maintain this lie.

When Thorin tied Bilbo’s braid, Fili and Kili jumped up and down joyfully and began to sing a joyful song about how they now had an aunt and the family is full. Fortunately, the song was in Khuzdul, so Bilbo didn't understand a word. And Thorin, on the one hand, cursed his nephews, and on the other, thanked them. His fantasies about the family bead in Bilbo’s hair, thanks to them, became reality much earlier than he had expected, despite the fact that the uzbad himself didn't count on such an outcome of events. Now all that remained was to explain everything to the others as quickly as possible so that no questions would arise…

Chapter Text

The trek through Mirkwood turned out to be worse than anyone had expected. Thorin had heard rumors that the forest elves had recently taken to religion, but he had no idea that it was that strong. As soon as they entered the forest, they noticed amulets, runes, and sheets of holy scripture on the trees. There was little of this on the outskirts, but when they began to move deeper into the forest, it became more frightening, because it seemed that it was all turning into fanaticism.

At the sight of the first corpse, Bilbo almost lost consciousness. A body with a noose around its neck and a silver knife with some sacred paper stuck in its forehead. Bilbo carefully pulled the knife out of the body, and although the metal burned his fingers terribly, he endured it. Thorin immediately ran up to him and snatched the weapon from the vampire's hands.

- What are you doing, you're getting burned! — Thorin looked at Bilbo reproachfully, then crouched down and picked up the scripture from the ground. He squinted. It was written, surprisingly, not in sindarin. He could even read the runes. But when he tried, the sound of his voice turned into a terrible ringing in Bilbo's ears, and his head was pierced by such pain that he fell to his knees. Uzbad immediately fell silent, tore up the piece of paper and buried it under a tree. Bilbo came to his senses in a few seconds. Thorin frowned.

- If you see papers with runes, do not read them, tear them off and bury them under trees! — Thorin shouted.

- And what is that for? - Dwalin approached him. Uzbad pointed at Bilbo. No further explanation was needed.

Vampires, no matter how you look at it, were demonic creatures by nature. Despite Bilbo's faith in Lady Yavanna and his good-natured, completely genuine character, he was one of them. The forest elves worshiped Nerus* - a great martyr, so pure and holy that his energy rejected any presence of demonic creatures.

Already in the middle of the first day, Bilbo, despite the efforts of the werewolves to avoid his contact with the amulets and saint scriptures of the elves, fell unconscious, and blood spurted from his nose in streams. Thorin somehow brought the poor fellow to his senses, and by evening he was already able to walk normally on his own, and with his magic he cleared the minds of the werewolves from the negative influence of the forest.

The magic in the forest formed one big absurd mess. Poisoned black magic, like that which had spawned the orcs, and pure white, divine magic. It was not only Bilbo who was sick from it, but also the werewolves, and it seemed like the elves too. Hanged elves on the trees were rare, but the fact that they were there in the first place was terrifying.

The king was amazed at how strong Bilbo was. Despite the terrible conditions, he continued to help the werewolves with the hallucinations. The vampire had a terrible night: he was vomiting blood all the time, shaking and feverish. His usually cold skin was unhealthily hot, even for Thorin. Oakenshield sat with Bilbo all night, gave him the herbal fluid that Oin had prepared, hugged him and warmed him, since, despite the fever, the vampire was freezing worse than usual.

The days turned into a real nightmare after Bilbo began to get sick. Every night he only got worse, and he refused Thorin's blood, saying that there was no point drinking it, it will all come out anyway. His beautiful pale skin now looked as if it was completely transparent, like the whole vampire himself. But he still helped werewolves, and Thorin's heart broke from this. Of course, Bilbo couldn't last forever like this. When he fainted five times a day, ate nothing, and was too exhausted to show any signs of hunger, his spells were weak and useless. Thorin carried Baggins's weightless body on his shoulder, as he listened to Bilbo's weak, barely audible voice whispering apologies and calling himself a burden.

- We're going in circles, Thorin. We were only here recently.

- It's not true!

- Who are you talking to?

Everything was a mess of illusions. They couldn't cope without Bilbo. They all stopped to get some rest, and the vampire's nose began to bleed again.

Sudden thoughts started intruding Thorin's mind. He had always been sure that the vampire could only die from silver. But what if he couldn't take it now? His heart sank painfully, and he lifted the barely alive Bilbo from the ground. The vampire looked something like an angel: he seemed to glow all over, his white skin shone in the pale light of the sun, which was barely seen through the thick crowns of the trees, his hair had lost its color, but his eyes remained the same bright red.

- Bilbo, can you hear me? - Thorin asked, not even trying to hide the trembling in his voice.

- I can. Sorry, Thorin, I can't help with hallucinations.

The vampire reached out to the king and his hot fingers slid over his temples. Oakenshield felt a weak wave of magic, which nevertheless helped to clear his mind a bit. Thorin looked at Oin in horror. The healer shrugged.

- Only fresh air will help him.

Exactly.

- Wait here, I'll be quick. - Thorin threw Bilbo over his shoulder and dug his claws into the bark of the nearest tree. He quickly climbed up, pushing aside the leaves with his hands and whispering to Bilbo to hold on a little longer. When he finally reached the top of the tree and breathed in the fresh air, he himself also felt better. Thorin carefully turned Bilbo to face the sun, put his arms around his waist and leaned him against himself so that his weakened body would not fall down.

The vampire's faded hair took on its usual golden shine in a matter of seconds, and his skin turned pink - not only because he was getting better, but also because the sun has already started to leave faint burns in his cheeks. Thorin watched in fascination as Bilbo came to life. The ancestral bead of Durin's line glittered in his hair, making the uzbad's heart tremble. Oh, if only this vampire would hint at his feelings, if he had any!

- Thank you, Thorin. - Bilbo turned with a weak smile and looked at Thorin. All thoughts instantly left the uzbad's head. The vampire was shining again, but now with a beautiful, golden color, his unkempt curls bathed in the sun's rays.

- Angel… - Oakenshield whispered and touched Bilbo's cheek with his fingers. The vampire was still a little feverish, his skin was warmer than usual. He was not a demonic creature, no, that simply could not be. Now the wings would open behind him and he would fly into the sky.

Thorin's heart was pounding furiously as he leaned closer to Bilbo and their foreheads touched. The vampire didn't resist, but he didn't take the initiative either. When Thorin looked into the creature's scarlet eyes, the answer to the question of why this creature was so intoxicating to Oakenshield flashed through his mind. He had fallen in love. The realization sounded like a death-warrant.

The moment was interrupted by a loud scream and rustling from below, and the king mentally sent the most terrible curses to the noisemakers. The vampire immediately pulled away from Thorin and looked down, but could not see anything through the dense foliage. He looked at the uzbad and grabbed his hand.

- Thorin, I need you to be patient for a moment. - Bilbo's fangs sank into Oakenshield's wrist. This time it hurt, unlike when he bit his neck, but the king only gritted his teeth and endured as he was told. The vampire wiped his lips and let go of his hand.

- Thank you. Now let's go help the others.

When they came down, the werewolves were in the midst of a fight against the spiders. One of them pinned Bofur to the ground and was about to plunge its poisonous sting into him, but Bilbo jumped down on top of the insect. His claws instantly became as long as daggers, and he plunged them between the creature's eyes.

Bofur looked at his savior with admiration, and when the vampire helped him up, he knelt down and kissed his hand, after which he received a resounding slap on the back of the head from Bombur. Bilbo laughed, and Bofur blushed.

After a few minutes of fighting, Bilbo felt the approach of the forest masters. He turned into a bat and was about to warn the others, but the elves appeared as if from nowhere. Bilbo hid behind a tree and felt his breath catch, and his throat began to burn unpleasantly.

Silver.

The elves' amulets, their armor, arrows, jewelry - everything was made of silver. And only two wore iron, it was one blond elf and a red-haired she-elf. The werewolves were surrounded, and Bilbo felt that he was about to lose consciousness - he was still not fully recovered after that nightmare of a trek. There was too much silver, his lungs were burning with heat. He put his hand in his pocket and felt the same ring he had picked up in the cave where he and Thorin had fallen. Without realizing what he was doing, he put the ring on his finger.

Everything around him became darker, and the pain from the silver stopped. He turned into a bat - the ring stayed on - flew out from behind the tree and tried to call his comrades, but he couldn't make a sound, and the elves didn't even pay attention to him, despite the fact that he was flying right in front of their faces. It was as if he had become a simple observer, without the right to intrude into the plot.

The werewolves were forced to drop their weapons, the elves shackled and led them away. Bilbo winced, thanking fate that he hadn't ended up in the clutches of the elves. Even the shackles were made of the ill-fated silver.

As the werewolves were dragged away, Balin quickly glanced at the entire company. Dwalin, Fili, Kili, Oin, Gloin, Nori, Dori, Ori, Bifur, Bofur, Bombur, Thorin... and where is the vampire?

- Thorin, where is Bilbo? - Balin whispered to the king in Khuzdul. Thorin's heart sank, and he began to look for the vampire.

When his eyes turned a predatory yellow, a little fur grew on his cheeks, and his pupils became like those of a wolf, he received a slap from the elf who was leading him. With this vision, he could have seen Bilbo, but he was not allowed to do so. Damn pointy-eared creatures!

***

Thranduil glanced at the werewolf standing before him. He was about to order his servants to lock him in the tower and not feed him, but he noticed the traces of the vampire's bites on his neck, and now he was thinking about his decision.

The elven king breathed unevenly for these elegant bloodsuckers, and the thought of the possibility of acquiring such an unusual creature excited his imagination.

- I have a proposition for you, wolfhound. - Thorin tensed up at this tone. - You have a vampire, right?

Thorin knew how much Thranduil loved vampires. Even his sister Dis, during his courtship, he compared to a vampire, saying that she was as beautiful as an immortal countess. Thorin always bared his teeth at him because of this comparison. He believed that the elf devalued the beauty of the women of his people, and this, of course, offended the king. Oakenshield covered the bite marks with the collar of his tunic.

- None of your damn business, pointy-eared princess. - He noticed how the elf's eye twitched. Thranduil hated this nickname, and Thorin knew it very well.

- And I think it is exactly mine. If you really have a vampire with you and you give him to me, not only will I release your entire company, but I will also give you the best company of my fighters to accompany you.

But Thorin didn't even think about it. He bared his sharp teeth and flashed his eyes.

- You can kiss Durin's ass. You will get the vampire over my dead body. - Thranduil only smirked at the words of the uzbad. He thoughtfully watched Thorin, who slowly walked around him, like a predator who is ready to rush at its prey.

- Well, of course, because he won't want to live in safety, warmth, love and health, he will choose to go with some blockheads to certain death in the clutches of the Uru-Lings. And you know how this snake loves to take what belongs to others. He will drug the bloodsucker, and before you know it, your beloved is already lying on the shore of the swamp, and his powerless body is taken over by this monster. And how will you look him in the eye then? He will already be marked by the snake. Abomination. A bucket of slop is the price of such a body.

Nausea rose in Thorin's throat and his face twisted in rage.

- You, pointy-eared scum, seem to fantasize too much. The vampire is not helpless, and this lizard's magic won't work on him. If your nauseating charms didn't break him, then he certainly won't suffer from the snake.

Thranduil shrugged and turned to one of the warriors. The one who looked so much like the king himself, and wore iron armor instead of silver.

- Throw this flea-bitten one into the dungeon, and find me a vampire.

***

Finding the vampire wasn't difficult for Legolas. He already knew where the creature was, but catching it was more difficult. The bloodsucker was playing with him. He would sit on a tree branch, and as soon as Legolas approached him, he would hang upside down and disintegrate into a swarm of bats. Finally, the prince got tired and fell to his knees.

- Please, I won't hurt you. Listen to me. - the elf even threw his bow and arrows on the ground and raised his hands. - I will not shoot.

Bilbo gathered himself together from a swarm of bats and sat down on a tree branch.

- You won't hurt me, but your king, it seems, wants to make a golden cage for me here. - the vampire hissed. Legolas bowed his head.

- Father is not to blame. The forest is sick, and this disease is poisoning his mind. Even amulets and religion don't help anymore, nothing can eradicate this filth from his brain. He is not himself. He craves more power, more opportunities, more of everything, everything is not enough ... - the prince blurted it all out in one breath and looked up at the vampire. Instead of irritation, sympathy was now visible on his face.

- I won't give you to your father, but your magic can clear his mind from the disease. So if you get caught, I won't save you. But I could help you free the werewolves.

Bilbo frowned and looked at the elf. His eyes flashed red. The elf was telling the truth, his whole being was breathing remorse and pleas for help. Bilbo didn't like to use this trick, since getting into someone else's soul is a dirty business, but in this case he had no choice. He jumped from the tree and turned into a bat.

- Lead the way. - Legolas hid the creature under his cloak and quickly walked towards Thranduil's palace.

Chapter Text

The werewolves were already beginning to worry about their uzbad. After yet another outburst on some elf, during which he literally almost bit the poor guy's throat out, Thorin sat as quiet as a mouse in his cell. He didn't pace around, counting the minutes until Bilbo's return, didn't bang his boots on the floor, and didn't even curse. He just stared silently at the corner of the cell and blinked occasionally.

Thranduil's words wouldn't leave his head. He was confident in Bilbo's abilities, but after the elf's statement, he began to fear Smaug's strength. What if he really would try to stigmatize his vampire? Thorin was sure that he would still love Bilbo just the same, but what would the others say? And does he even care what they think? No, of course he does, he's the king.

- Thorin, why are you sitting there so silently? How did the meeting with the bloody elf go? - Dwalin asked impatiently. Oakenshield sighed loudly in response.

- In exchange for our release, he asks for Bilbo. - the king didn't hide anything. Let them know what animal they are captive to. Fili and Kili immediately jumped up in their cells.

- You didn't give him up, did you, Uncle!? - Kili asked in a frightened voice, but immediately received a cuff at the nape from Fili from the neighboring cell.

- If he had agreed to give him up, do you think we would be sitting here now, blockhead? - a fair remark. But Thorin was still a little offended that Kili could suggest such a thing.

- That is not happening while I'm alive. It is not for nothing that he has Durin's family bead in his hair.

A collective gasp of surprise passed through all the cells. So that's what was hiding under the vampire's golden curls!

- It turns out that master Bilbo is your... - Dwalin began, but Thorin interrupted him.

- He doesn't know its meaning. But I put it in his hair for that very reason.

Bombur glanced at his brother's cell. Bofur looked depressed, but he certainly didn't act like a great sufferer. The chances of getting a vampire's heart were almost gone, and lately he had no time for flirting. Bilbo was suffering from an illness in the forest, and Thorin generally didn't let anyone near him except Oin, and he was right. Excessive attention from the crowd never helped the sick. Well, and now, what idiot would go against the king? Especially since he had no reason to believe that Bilbo would be interested in him at all instead of the king, with whom he spent all his time.

The youngest member of the group, Ori, came closer to the bars.

- And what is that reason? - he asked, looking at Thorin. A note of sadness flashed in the blue eyes of the uzbad. He muttered something under his breath and his cheeks flushed. He had already admitted everything in his heart, but he was not ready to say it in public. Fili came to the rescue.

- It means that Thorin offers his courting to master Bilbo. When he tells him about the actual meaning of the bead, master Bilbo must either accept it, in which case the bead will remain in his hair, or reject it, in which case his uncle will have no right to see him again until he changes his mind. If that day never comes, they will never see each other again.

The princes seemed very inspired by the thought that their uncle's icy heart had finally melted, and he was thinking not only about responsibility, politics, battles, and the safety of the entire company, but also about his own happiness. It was as if they hadn't even considered the option of Bilbo's refusal.

On the contrary, Thorin considered only this plan. In his eyes, Bilbo couldn't possibly agree to his proposal. But that moment when they touched foreheads and looked at each other in the light of the setting sun on the treetops... Thorin was sure that if they hadn't been interrupted, he would have been able to kiss Bilbo. Oh, Eru, they had been on the quest together for half a year, and now it seemed as if Thorin had never known Bilbo. He had become so distant, unattainable, and desirable to him, like the gentle morning sun.

But the uzbad also cared about the opinions of his fellows. Werewolfs are very social creatures, that value the crowd's opinion highly. In spite of Thorin being ready to spit on the rules if he doesn't get the approval of his feelings towards Bilbo, he hoped, that at least his company would be welcoming enough. He glanced around the group and noted with a smile that everyone, except for the sleeping Gloin and the sad Bofur, were already discussing what Fili and Kili would call Bilbo when he agreed to Thorin's courtship, and how they could stabilize their uzbad's body temperature so that the poor vampire wouldn't be so hot sleeping next to him. Thorin knocked on the wall of Balin's cell.

- Thank you for taking it so calmly, - he said quietly. Balin smiled at his ward's words.

- This vampire has brightened our lives for the last six months, Thorin. We would have been upset if you hadn't wanted to court him, because in that case, he would have definitely left after the campaign.

Uzbad smiled. But then he looked at Bofur and frowned a little.

- Only now, I seem to have competition. - Balin laughed.

- You know Bofur. He'll run after master Baggins for a while and find himself a new object of adoration. Don't be angry with him, I don't think he himself enjoys his amorousness.

***

Legolas and Bilbo ran around the castle for a while, trying to find the elf who carried the keys to the werewolves' cells. But their search was unsuccessful, the young prince was completely upset and was now gulping down the ale left for him after yesterday's celebration, which he, unfortunately, didn't get to. The vampire dreamily twirled a lock of wheat-colored hair around his finger and watched his new friend.

The elven prince was almost ten times older than the younger descendants of Durin, Fili and Kili, but his mind wasn't much different. He was more reserved and serious, but in his soul the youthful spirit of rebellion, justice and the desire for adventure raged. Thranduil, unlike Thorin, put a stop to such behavior, so he seemed way more mature. 

- Then the plan is this: I use spells to clear your father's mind, and you release the werewolves? - Bilbo asked. Legolas drained another mug of ale and wiped his lips.

- No, the entire elven army will turn against me then. The disease of my father isn't the one to be cleared with a simple spell. So it's either you release them while I distract my father and the other elves, or we need to negotiate. But in either way, we still need the keys. - he shrugged and Bilbo sighed.

- Not only keys, but also some of my magic. And to use spells, I need strength. Take me to Thorin.

The elf looked at the vampire with a raised eyebrow. Baggins realized that he would have to explain.

- I need to drink his blood, and then I'll be able to use spells properly.

- And don't you want some of mine? - Legolas pulled back the collar of his cloak, but Bilbo shook his head vigorously. Unlike Thorin, he could tell him the real reason for the refusal.

- No, of course I can't. You see, drinking blood directly from someone is considered a rather personal process among vampires. Those who drink blood from just anyone are considered "prostitutes."

Legolas nodded understandingly and fastened his cloak. Bilbo turned into a bat and hid in the elf's hood.

- And get them something to eat, they aren't fed there.

***

When Legolas brought everyone food, the werewolves rejoiced and happily pounced on the food. But Thorin mistrustfully kicked the plate away.

- Shove your handouts up your ass, pointy-eared. - the uzbad growled. Legolas sighed heavily.

- It seems I can't convince you. But I have something that might change your mind.

The elven prince pulled Bilbo's bat out of his hood. The vampire winced in displeasure when the elf's fingers - well, mostly the silver gloves he was wearing - touched his body, and tried to break free, but the prince's grip was quite strong.

As soon as Thorin saw his familiar red eyes, he flew to the bars and pressed himself against them with such force that the clang of the colliding bars rang out throughout the dungeon. Legolas got scared and handed the creature to the uzbad. Thorin snatched the vampire from the elf's hands with such speed that poor Bilbo felt dizzy. Legolas raised his hands up, and Bilbo took human form.

- I didn't mean to threaten, I am on your side. - the elf explained. - I just ask you to eat.

Thorin growled something in Khuzdul unpleasantly, while chewing a lamb's leg and glanced at Bilbo. The vamipre had looked at him with such a look that the uzbad simply gave in. Legolas smiled at this change in the king's behavior. But then Thorin noticed the burns on Bilbo's hands and feet. The elf was wearing silver gloves, and the king remembered how a few moments ago the vampire, in the form of a bat, had tried with all his might to escape from Legolas's hands.

Holding an almost completely gnawed bone in his hands, the uzbad rushed towards the grating again, and the frightened prince recoiled.

- Get the hell out of here!!! - Thorin roared, and poor Legolas was forced to retreat. Bilbo smiled guiltily when the king turned to him.

- And you...! - Thorin approached the vampire. Bilbo pressed himself against the wall when Oakenshield loomed over him, expecting a flash of anger, but a moment later Thorin was hugging the vampire as if they had just almost parted forever.

The vampire felt the king's heart beating fast, making his already hot body even hotter. He barely restrained himself from biting him at that moment. Thorin pulled away after a few minutes of continuous hugging, and here they were again, just a few centimeters apart. Thorin's thoughts turned into ordinary white noise, his knees betrayingly weakened when the vampire's gaze dropped for a second to his lips. He was ready to swear that he noticed this look.

- Why are you looking at me like that? Were you worried? - Bilbo whispered.

- Yes, ghivashel. - Thorin answered. The vampire didn't know what this word was, and why, upon hearing it, Fili and Kili whistled joyfully and bumped their fists in victory, and the others began to throw bags of gold to each other. It sounded beautiful, but Bilbo didn't have time to ask the meaning, as well as to fulfill his thirst. He took only a couple of sips, but was forced to stop. He didn't want anyone to see him drinking the blood of this werewolf. He considered it one of Thorin's weaknesses, and the potential enemies shouldn't see him in such a vulnerable state. Footsteps were heard in the corridor and the vampire had to quickly transform into a bat. Legolas appeared in the passage, upset.

- Master vampire, I have the audacity to ask you for help. The plan with a distraction will have to be postponed. Father is getting worse. Please. - the last was more addressed to Thorin. Uzbad frowned and cast a quick glance at Bilbo. The vampire flew out from behind the bars and sat on Legolas's shoulder.

- These pointy-eared fools don't deserve your kind heart, Bilbo.

***

Thranduil was over the moon with happiness when Legolas brought Bilbo to him. The vampire's eyes flashed red as soon as he entered the throne room. The king's mind was severely poisoned. It was as if someone else was sitting inside him, stitching his brain with black sticky threads and playing with it, pressing on his brain with a sharp needle, forcing the king to involuntarily obey. Bilbo looked with sad pity at the elven king, who sat him on his lap.

- Bring him some elven robes, Legolas. - Thranduil reached for Bilbo's braid with the Durin bead. The Elf's face twisted. - And when did Oakenshield manage to do that? Nevermind, we'll fix it now...

But Thranduil still couldn't untie his braid and get the bead. Bilbo protested, and when he wasn't heard, he simply threw a fit and almost bit Legolas. But the elven king forgave him even for that and accepted the fact that a vampire was going around his castle with a werewolf jewel in his hair.

All this time that they sat together, Bilbo was digging around in Thranduil's head. He began to unravel that disgusting tangle of black magic with which the king was poisoned. But in the end, when he was almost finished with the first knot, the king's servants came, all in silver, and began to pull the vampire by the ears. His breath caught, and tears gushed from his eyes from pain. The whole process that Bilbo had done went down the drain, and he just sat there, holding his burned ears, as the angry sylvan king drove the guards away.

For the night, Thranduil left the vampire in a small room with bars on the windows and a bed resembling a coffin. Fortunately, he left the doors open, and Bilbo was downstairs in half an hour, in the dungeons, next to Thorin's cell.

The werewolf was strongly influenced by the elves' spells and was almost delirious towards nightfall. Everyone else was asleep, so the spells had less effect on them. Bilbo cleared Thorin's mind a bit and he reached through the bars and touched the vampire's cheek.

- Can you come here to me? - Thorin asked quietly. Bilbo nodded, turned into a bat and flew through the bars. The king touched Bilbo's ears gently.

- Those pointy-eared fools were torturing you again... I will rip out their throats next time I encounter one. - uzbad murmured. Despite Bilbo's spell, his mind was still clouded. 

- Don't worry, Thorin, I'll get you out of here, and then you can fight whoever you want. - Bilbo knew that Thorin wasn't making sense that moment, so it was easier to just agree with him. - But to do it, I need your help.

Uzbad already knew what was required of him, and readily pulled back the collar of his tunic. The vampire carefully inserted his fangs under the king's skin. As Bilbo slowly swallowed Thorin's blood, he listened to him say something in Khuzdul. The king's legs went weak, and soon he was already on his knees in front of his vampire.

The only words Bilbo caught from his discursive tirade were the previously heard "ghivashel" and the new, more melodious "amralime".

Chapter Text

Bilbo began to notice what Legolas meant by "father is getting worse." Thranduil talked to himself, suffered from a constant headache, and seemed to be in some kind of internal conflict all the time. At first he would feed the werewolves every day, then meet the elves bringing food to the werewolves and order a famine, only to order them to be fed again in a day or two. He would read prayers every day, then tear down the scriptures on the doors because "they are of no use."

His moods changed more often than the weather in the Shire, but he was always gentle and tender with Bilbo. The elven king could sit for hours with the vampire on his lap, weaving ornaments of snow-white stones into his hair and telling him stories of his past.

The vampire rarely listened to the sylvan king's tales, he was more focused on freeing him from the clutches of the poisonous spell. A long time passed when Bilbo finally began to notice progress. The ball of black magic had significantly diminished and the king's mood swings had become less frequent. But Bilbo began to notice with horror that Thranduil's behavior towards him hadn't changed. Of course, he was no longer perceiving Bilbo as a doll, but he was clearly not going to let him leave his domain. He even gave him a nickname: petal. Although, it felt more like a pet name.

To say that Thorin didn't like this new nickname is to say nothing. This elf has no shame or conscience at all! Doesn't Durin's dynasty bead in Bilbo's hair mean nothing to him?!

Bofur also decided to test Oakenshield's nerves, who unexpectedly caught a cold, and Bilbo had to treat him. Uzbad tried not to show it, because he knew it wasn't his fellow's fault, and he was doing a pretty good job - no outbursts and no fights with Bofur, but Balin could still hear the dissatisfied sighs and quiet growls from the fosterling's cell when Bofur tiredly laid his head on Bilbo's lap. Bilbo didn't resist, and if the werewolf had nightmares, he stroked his head and whispered soothing words.

***

Evening was falling on Mirkwood unnoticed, the dense foliage of the trees didn't let the sun's rays through, and until the sun completely disappeared behind the horizon, it wasn't clear that night was coming. Bilbo sat on the floor and looked at the patterns on Thranduil's dressing gown, his head laid on the king's lap, while he was running his fingers through the vampire's golden hair. It was wrong, because Bilbo wanted to run away, but Yavanna, he felt so good now, so calm...

- A creature like you should not perish in the clutches of a dragon, petal. - Thranduil whispered, bitterly examining the glittering decorations in his golden hair. The small elven stones were translucent, giving the impression that the vampire was glowing. But these elegant jewels were contrasted by the massive bead of Durin's dynasty, which Bilbo still refused to pull out of his hair.

Thranduil reached for the bead. Bilbo relaxed, he would not even feel it now if the king simply pulled it out...

"You know how that snake likes to take what's not his."

The voice in his head stopped the elf's hand. Bilbo would leave. He had no intention of letting the werewolves go, which meant he would go with them as soon as he had the chance. Bilbo would never belong to him. And was it right to keep him here like a pet?

- ... but if this is the path you have chosen, I will not dissuade you. - Bilbo looked up at the king in surprise. - While I do not deny that I consider your friends shameless fools, it is not I who will have to tolerate them later.

The king carefully pulled the ornaments he had just woven into Bilbo's hair and placed them in a small box. When he was finished, he handed it to the vampire.

- Keep it. If anything, you will be welcome in Mirkwood, and you will be received with all honors. I will repay you in full for your virtue.

Bilbo looked out the window and saw the moon. The treetops were no longer so tightly pressed together. He turned to the forest king. Three beautiful lilies had blossomed above Thranduil's throne.

- Thanks to your labor, petal, my land will bloom again. We will free Mirkwood of this scourge... - he paused, and corrected himself. - I will. I will free Mirkwood of this. And you will destroy the dragon whose spells are poisoning us.

It turned out that several years ago, the elven king had been deceived and later subjected to the magic of the Uru-Lings. Smaug, who had left Erebor in search of food, wandered into Mirkwood and captured about a dozen young elves, among whom, miraculously, Legolas was also present. Playing on the king's weakness for his son, Smaug injected poison into his mind, which led to such disastrous consequences.

Bilbo listened to Thranduil's story for a long time, still in shock from what had happened. Yes, the process took about two weeks and exhausted Bilbo so much that he could not speak normally or form thoughts, but he did not expect such a result.

- So, you will let us go? - Bilbo asked hopefully. He saw the king frown disdainfully.

- I will let your flea-bitten beasts go. I give you until tomorrow morning. - He watched as the vampire blossomed, and his eyes sparkled with joy. - I will give the order to open the dungeon. Go quickly, before I change my mind.

Bilbo quickly stood up and took Thranduil's hands. In his palm, the elven king found a vampire fang. He immediately looked at Baggins, but all his teeth were in place.

- This is my mother's fang, and I want you to keep it. Let it be your amulet, in case the dragon's magic returns.

Thranduil watched Bilbo as he ran out of the throne room. The king clenched the tooth in his fist. A faint trail of vamoire magic was still felt from the fang.

- Now I understand why you have such confidence in him, Thorin Oakenshield.

***

Thorin and his team moved on, along the road near the river. They walked quickly, because they had already spent too much time sitting in the dungeons of Thranduil's palace. Fortunately, Bofur had recovered and did not slow down the squad.

Bilbo ran after Thorin. As soon as they left the Mirkwood, Bofur again noticed how the earring in Bilbo's ear began to glow. A squad of imps began to approach from the side. The elves standing guard began to attack the enemies, but they still managed to get closer to the werewolves.

Bilbo barely kept up with the uzbad. But when they reached the riverbank, everyone stopped. Bilbo couldn't swim, and the prospect of drowning didn't appeal to him very much. Thorin looked at the sky and covered the vampire with his back.

- They chose the worst moment to attack. Today, the full moon shines above us.

The vampire stared at the king. His eyes flashed amber predatorily, and fur began to grow on the rest of the squad. Thorin grinned, his wolf fangs growing before his eyes. The vampire felt his heart squeeze with admiration. It was the first time the werewolves had transformed together before his eyes. Before that, he had only seen Thorin's transformation out of the corner of his eye in Rivendell.

- It's our turn to protect you, master Bilbo. - Fili said before fully assuming his wolf form. It was interesting that even in the form of animals, Bilbo could distinguish his friends, everyone had different colors of fur and some still had their jewelry. The largest wolves turned out to be the descendants of Durin, after them the fluffy Bombur and Gloin.

Thorin in his beast form looked majestic, but very frightening. Glowing amber eyes, black fur with some white flashes, sharp fangs, large muscles and powerful paws. Bilbo's breath caught as he watched the king tear the imp in half with his mouth. For some reason, he began to forget that Thorin wasn't actually human either. Werewolves used their powers less often, since their minds became just as bestial in their beast form. But they had the most control over themselves during the full moon, so they didn't hold back today.

The fight with the Imps took quite a long time. By the time they were done, it was already getting light. Thorin bit off the last enemy's head and slowly returned to his human form. His lips were carelessly smeared with blood, the predatory light in his eyes had changed to the usual blue, and his claws turned to their usual length again. This rough, chaotic nature had seemed unpleasant to Bilbo at first, but now there was some charm in it.

Thorin noticed how the vampire was staring at him, and smiled at him. But when he turned to come closer, an arrow whistled past his ear. He turned around and saw three more imps, who had apparently fallen behind the group and were only now able to catch up. Then he looked at Bilbo. Between his eyes was a demon arrow. Tears of pain gushed from the vampire's eyes, and he fell to his knees. Then Kili took an arrow in the leg. Thorin again turned into his wolf form and rushed at the imps. He tore one apart, but the second and third received arrows between the eyes.

The werewolf saw a man with a bow, who was now aiming at him. Uzbad quickly took human form and raised his hands. People are not their enemies.

- Are you from Lake-town? - Bilbo's voice was heard. The man lowered his bow, turned to the vampire and almost fainted from what he saw. Baggins had a good half arrow sticking out of his forehead, and blood was running down his face. The man raised his bow again, but Thorin's hand stopped him.

- Stop, don't shoot him.

***

- It's been a while since I've seen a werewolf in this area. And certainly never a single vampire. - Bard ruffled Bilbo's hair while he helped him steer the boat. - What an interesting creature. I thought you were all bald, hunchbacked, and bug-eyed. And here you are, just like a human.

Thorin stared at the man. On the one hand, he was suspicious that this man had agreed to transport them so easily. They had almost nothing with them. But the uzbad didn't notice Bilbo giving the ferryman a good handful of Lasgalen stones.

On the other hand, he didn't like how everyone was interested in his vampire. Of course, he understood that these creatures were so rare that meeting one - especially a true one - was a one in a million chance. But was it really necessary to touch him so much? And by the hair! Unthinkable!

Bard looked at Thorin with distrust. Uzbad bared his teeth and glared.

- Are all werewolves this unfriendly? - the man whispered. Bilbo smiled.

- No, they're just very tired today. And they're also suspicious of strangers.

 - Are you vampires always this nice?

Bilbo laughed, and Oakenshield's eye twitched.

Balin watched his protégé with interest. He knew how jealous Thorin was. It had shown itself only a little towards Bilbo in Thranduil's dungeons, and now, especially after the fight under a full moon, he found any reason to be jealous. But as a child, it had been a disaster. He was jealous of literally every breathing being: teachers, parents, nephews, friends, and even of him, Balin. Of course, he tried his best not to show it when he grew up, but when he was younger, he regularly threw scandals because of such things. Thorin was an absolutely unbearable child, even worse as a teenager, but then, when his younger brother Frerin was born and they lost their mother, Oakenshield grew up. The scandals and antics ceased, only this usual cold facade, a mountain of responsibility and suppressed feelings remained.

- Why are you frowning? - asked Balin. Thorin did not answer at once.

- I don't like this man. - he muttered.

- We have all realized that already. - Uzbad snorted and turned away, a little ashamed of such a remark. - He will not take your Baggins from you.

- It is not about him! - Thorin roared. Liar. Balin laughed, making Uzbad blush even more. Praise be to Mahal, everyone was busy with their own affairs and did not see his face!

But now a problem has arisen. How to pass the checkpoint? If everything was simple with Bilbo - a tiny bat doesn't seem that threatening, then where to put thirteen huge wolves is a mystery. But, fortunately, the vampire found a solution pretty quickly.

- Don't push, I can't breathe under your fluffy ass!

- Shut up, brother, you've already stepped on all my paws!

- Fili, you're hitting me with your tail!

- And you should lie down and keep quiet, smartass!

Well, this barking and growling pile didn't really look like dead wolves. Bilbo, sitting on Bard's shoulder, sighed. Border control was approaching, and the werewolves finally fell silent. They didn't even breathe, they stuck out their tongues and didn't move.

- What do you have today, Bard?

- I was hunting wolves. The fur can be used for clothes.

The man looked at the werewolves and whistled.

- With such huge bodies, there are enough fur coats for the whole city. Welcome back.

Bilbo heard the sound of a pen on paper, and then the click of a seal. They set off. Lake-town was waiting for them.

Chapter Text

They didn't manage to hide for long. In Lake-town, everyone knew each other, and the appearance of such unexpected individuals - one of them even with a hole in his head - didn't go unnoticed. The vampire had to wear a bandage on his forehead afterwards. Thorin and Bilbo attracted the most attention. Uzbad was very much liked by the local women. This is not surprising: a handsome, confident man, it would be a sin not to stare at him. But Bilbo was again an "unusual and interesting pet": his poor ears, hair and fangs were groped by everyone who laid their eyes on him. The vampire looked with displeasure at Thorin trying to get rid a company of one of his new fans. What strange creatures are these humans!

The appearance of strangers interested the burgomaster. And after the promises of treasure, he generously accepted them with open arms and allowed them to stay in his residence. The werewolves quickly agreed, as did Bilbo. Bard let out a sigh of relief as they began to move to the mayor's house. After a whole day spent with the werewolves, his nerves were starting to give up. Thorin had almost fought him three times, Bofur had bitten him, and Kili had licked him so much in his wolf form that even after washing his beard smelled like a dog.

- How do you even tolerate them, poor thing? - Bilbo was helping Bard wash his beard while the werewolves were moving all the things from the boat into the house. The vampire smiled at the question.

- Don't exaggerate, Bard, it's not that bad. In all the time we've been together, I've grown attached to them very much. - he replied, wiping away the remnants of Kili's saliva with a rag. He winced a little himself. The youngest of the Dis sons had never attacked him like that, and he didn't want to experience that. - Of course, there are some pretty unbearable specimens among them, but I like them all evenly.

- By "intolerable specimens" do you mean that black-haired one? - Bilbo wondered who Bard meant. Kili? No, he remembered his name well, especially when he shouted at him to leave him alone. Bofur? No, he would have called him "the one in the hat".

- Bifur? No, what are you saying! Even though he doesn't speak Westron at all, he's actually a very nice guy! Yes, maybe a little scary, because he has an axe sticking out of his head...

- I don't mean that one. All of them, except for one single werewolf, seemed tolerable to me. The whole time I was standing next to you, he was burning me with such a look, as if I were the enemy of his whole line. And then, in the square, when I put my hand on your shoulder, he threw a stick at me.

Bilbo barely suppressed his laughter when he realized who they were talking about. The insufferable King Thorin. What's gotten into him today? He really did rush at Bard like a wild wolf for some reason all the time. And at first the uzbad was very polite. Maybe it was the full moon that had such an effect? ​​In late autumn and early winter, the full moon lasted for two weeks in a row in this area, and Fili said that during this period many werewolves become many times more aggressive, more jealous, and generally more like their animal nature.

- Don't be angry with him, Bard. Durin's kin are very sensitive to the phases of the moon, and now there is a full moon, he is all on pins and needles. Maybe you had a fight once, and he is still angry? - Bard chuckled and let Bilbo braid his hair.

- What is there to think about? He was jealous of you. Or he's just rabid, who knows. He wasn't foaming at the mouth or running away from water, so I think the first theorie is way more plausable.

Bilbo felt his cheeks suddenly heat up. What stupidity. Thorin could not be jealous of him. They're just friends, where would such a feeling come from? It's strange to even think about it. Thorin would definitely kill Bard for such accusations.

***

That evening the werewolves threw a party at the burgomaster's house. Some guests from outside the company were allowed in, and Thorin was very displeased when Bard showed up. But soon his displeasure was replaced by comparative indifference, when Bard paid no attention to his vampire. Today he was irritated by everything. The full moon certainly made itself felt. He sat gloomier than a rain cloud next to Balin and his nephews, and stared at Bilbo, who was chatting cheerfully with Bofur and Nori. However, it was impossible to remain gloomy in the company of the sons of Dis, and it didn't take long for Thorin to start laughing loudly at Fili's jokes.

Food, alcohol, singing, dancing... Even Bilbo, who wasn't usually into such things - even in the Shire, he used to avoid huge celebrations - was having fun with everyone. He was amazed at the fortitude of the werewolves: they drank ale like water, and still seemed sober, just a little more cheerful than usual. Well, almost all of them. The descendants of Durin weren't famous for such things. After the third pint, Fili and Kili were already dancing on the table, singing some song in Khuzdul and laughing. Bilbo didn't understand the lyrics, but he guessed what it was about. Balin choked, Ori froze with his mouth open, Thorin blushed, and Gloin burst out laughing and started singing along, occasionally kicking the Uzbad with his elbow. THe king rolled his eyes and drained another pint of ale in one gulp. Well, and after another one, he also jumped on the table and started dancing with his nephews to this interesting song. Bilbo watched this with excitement. Turns out the grumpy king is a pretty good dancer.

- All werewolves are required to learn to dance in childhood. And Thorin had a personal teacher, since he is from the royal family. You haven't seen how he performs our traditional dances yet. - Bofur said with a smile. In response to Bilbo's distrustful look at the fact that werewolves were skilled dancers, he stood up and performed a couple of movements, then picked up the vampire and twirled him around a bit.

- Hey-hey! Let go! I don't dance! - the werewolf was amused by Bilbo's reaction, but he let him go anyway.

- Let's see how you sing after another few pints of ale. I must say, it's excellent here. - the vampire just snorted discontentedly.

- Don't even start. I'm not some kind of alcoholic to get drunk, sing and dance. And I would advise you to have more respect for yourself and your body. We vampires, by the way, prefer wine.

But a couple more pints of ale - and laughing Thorin is already helping the drunk vampire climb onto their table, wraps his arm around his waist and shouts something to Bombur in Khuzdul. He played a melody that even Bilbo knew. During the festivities in the Shire, this song was played after all the children had gone to bed and the old people had left as well, leaving only the youth and those who wanted to remember their youth. In a normal situation, the vampire wouldn't have admitted that he knew this song, but he didn’t care when he was drunk. He circled around Thorin, and the uzbad looked admiringly at his vampire, from whose lips such outrageous speech flowed.

The entire hall whistled joyfully and began to sing along. The lyrics to this song were as vulgar, obscene and indecent as that song on Khuzdul Fili and Kili sang, but the alcohol had already turned off the vampire’s speech filter. Even the half-deaf Oin complained that his ears curled into tubes from such speech.

Thorin, almost falling off the table, picked up another pint and raised it up, attracting everyone's attention. Then he looked down at Bilbo, whom he had been hugging all this time.

- And this song is about to sound for the love of my life! - he shouted in Khuzdul and waved to Bombur. - Master Baggins, listen carefully!

Bilbo didn't understand a single word of what he was saying, except for his name. It seemed to him that he had already drunk too much and had stopped perceiving the speech. So he picked up another pint of ale and raised it up in the air.

- That's right, my fluffy friends! Let's drink for me! - Fili and Kili almost fell off the table laughing, but no one was going to translate anything for the vampire. Everyone picked up their pints and drank with him for company. After that, Bilbo almost fell off the table, but Thorin held him back. The music began, much calmer than the previous compositions.

The vampire let the werewolf's arms wrap around his waist and listened to the incomprehensible song in Khuzdul. The slurred speech of the uzbad still sounded beautiful, the rough Khuzdul now sounded melodic and pleasant to the ears. Bilbo's head was completely empty, and he no longer paid attention to how it all looked from the outside. And only now, in such a situation, he thought about Bard's words from the morning. Thorin's look said everything. Not even said, but screamed. If Bilbo had been even a few centimeters closer, the uzbad would have definitely tried to kiss him. But the vampire was interested to see what he would do next, he decided to play the fool and pretend that he didn't notice anything. At the end of the song, everyone whistled joyfully and clapped their hands. The next song immediately began, but Thorin and Bilbo were still dancing together.

***

Between songs, Baggins went out into the hallway to smoke, and Bard followed him to make sure he was okay. The vampire sat on the floor with a pipe in his teeth, then handed it to the man sitting next to him, but he only shook his head. The candles dimly lit the room, and the alcohol Bilbo had drunk made everything so bright and blurred that Bilbo felt a little dizzy.

- Don't smoke too long, you'll get nauseous. - the vampire just waved his hand and laid down on the floor, blowing smoke rings into the air. Bard sighed and rubbed his eyes.

- Look, I warned you. I'll be back for you in a few minutes if you don't come by yourself.

Bilbo nodded tiredly and closed his eyes. A recent image of Oakenshield popped into his head: his eyes darkened by the alcohol he had drunk, and a look he had never seen in his life. Perhaps it was all his sick fantasy or drunken delirium, but there was so much adoration in that look, as if the werewolf had been in love with him for Eru knows how long. He turned around and saw that Thorin was sitting next to him. Looking at him with his blurry gaze and as if waiting for something. Bilbo handed him his pipe, but he shook his head. And why is everyone refusing to smoke?

- Thorin, you can go to the others, I'll be right back. - the vampire muttered. The werewolf reacted belatedly. He tried to say something, but it didn't work, his tongue twisted and he could only stutter something incomprehensible. He cursed and knocked the pipe out of Bilbo's hands.

- Hey, what are you... - Bilbo was about to start complaining, when suddenly the king's lips touched his own. Goosebumps ran over his body, but before he could react, the werewolf stood up and went back to the hall to the others. Bilbo immediately jumped up and ran after him.

- Thorin, wait!

Bard, as promised, returned in a couple of minutes, but he didn't find neither the uzbad/ nor the vampire there. Nori came out to him with a wide smile on his face and patted him on the shoulder.

- Well, that's it, Thorin did what he wanted. - he said in such a tone as if the uzbad hadn't kissed Bilbo, but eaten him alive, and this made Bard go cold. He was about to run off in search of the vampire, and the laughing Nori didn't even try to stop him.

***

The door lock clicked, the curtains on the window were drawn. Thorin's tunic was the first to fall to the floor. The vampire's cold fingers ran over uzbad's chest, and the werewolf almost lost consciousness from this touch, his legs felt weak and he had to sit on the bed. Bilbo's bite marks tickled pleasantly, he wanted the vampire to drink his blood again, to sink his fangs into him once more. Uzbad bit his lower lip until it started bleeding and began kissing the vampire again. The slight taste of Thorin's blood during the kisses simply blew Bilbo's mind, his half-closed eyes began to pulse red, and the king felt his fangs sharpen as the vampire's cold tongue slid over his lip, licking the blood. Without breaking the kiss, Thorin got rid of Bilbo's vest. The shirt flew to the floor afterwards.

The bed creaked, and the two men finally broke away from each other, only for a moment. Thorin looked into the vampire's eyes with a silent question. After a short nod, their belts also flew to the floor. Bilbo's pale skin was the most desirable thing Thorin could imagine at that moment, his head was empty, and his groin was throbbing painfully with excitement. The one he was losing his head over could now belong to him. Completely. And neither Bard, nor Bofur, nor Beorn - no one would be able to take him away. Werewolves are terribly possessive , nothing can be done about it.

- Thorin... tell me one thing... - Bilbo whispered, arching and moaning softly under the burning touch of Thorin's lips on his icy skin. Uzbad tore himself away from the vampire's body for a second and looked into his eyes.

- What did those words in Khuzdul mean that you told me in the dungeon that night? Ghivashel and amralime, I think.

- Ghivashel means "treasure." - Thorin answered barely audibly, the tone of his voice sending shivers down Bilbo's spine. - And amralime means "I love you."

How beautiful it sounds, especially when Thorin says it to him. Bilbo shouldn't be feeling this way, this werewolf is a king of another kin. He needs a beautiful woman of his own kind, offsprings, marriage... But what they're doing right now feels so right that he doesn't care. Their trousers are on the floor too, and their bodies are indecent close. The heat from Thorin's hair tickles Bilbo's fingertips as he buries them in his mane. The uzbad's beard pricks a little, but that only adds to the feeling that this is all real. The king squeezed the vampire's hand and kissed his knuckles. The faint smell of good tobacco caressed his nose, and his head was spinning a little.

- Amralime, Bilbo... - Thorin whispered and again pressed his lips to the vampire's icy lips. - Since the day we got lost in the imps' cave, maybe even earlier.

- Well, and you kept quiet the whole time? - Bilbo muttered with a smile into Uzbad's lips. - Does this mean you won't go easy on me today, huh?

Thorin didn't answer the rhetorical question. It was easier to show than to say. The remains of their clothes flew to the floor. Uzbad touched the icy skin with such reverence, as if Bilbo was not a vampire, but an angel. He bit Bilbo's angular ear lightly, causing him to arch his back and groan.

- That day, in the lakes near Beorn's house, you said you didn't want anyone but me to wash your hair. Will you let me do it again when we retake Erebor? - Thorin whispered, and the vampire laughed.

- What a strange request. Yes, I will, Thorin. What, are you afraid that I'll ask someone else? - Bilbo narrowed his eyes, and the uzbad didn't even argue. He simply nodded silently and buried his nose in his lover's neck. His hands slid down the vampire's body, causing him to tremble slightly.

- Yes, I am. It's a full moon now, and I don't know what I'll do to someone who agrees to touch your hair in such a setting... - he croaked.

***

Bofur sat by the door to their room and wiped the tears from his eyes. He didn't really expect anything anymore, but he still felt a bit upset. He cried for a minute and stopped. Well, that's it, there was definitely no chance now. And what difference did it make? Bilbo was a good friend to him, and fate would definitely send him someone else, the world didn't revolve around the poor master Baggins alone.

But suddenly, he felt a slight burning sensation in his hand. He looked down - it was a small snake that had sunk its teeth into his wrist. He threw the animal away and was about to kill it, but it seemed to dissolve in the darkness. A strange pain pierced his head. Indifference was replaced by a strange rage that came out of nowhere. So what if he was a stranger?

"This snake really likes to take what belongs to others."

Nothing will stop me from taking him away, and he will no longer belong to Thorin. From behind the door came Bilbo's sweet moans, the creaking of the bed and Thorin's heavy breathing. Bofur got up and looked through the peephole.

- What are you doing here? - Bard's voice came from behind him. The man, hearing the sounds coming from the room, was about to grab his bow, but then he realized that there was nothing to be afraid of, blushed a little, grabbed the werewolf by the collar and dragged him away from the door. - Don't bother them.

When the sun was just beginning to rise, Bilbo woke up from the heat, a headache and a strange feeling in all of his limbs. He sat up in bed and realized that he was completely naked, and his entire body was covered in red spots from bites and kisses. On the floor, his shirt was lying in the arms of Thorin's tunic. The vampire's face went even paler than before and he turned his head. The werewolf was sleeping next to him, also naked, brazenly throwing his leg over him and wrapping his arms around Bilbo's waist. A memory of the previous night surfaced in his head. How he, lying under Thorin, scratched his back with his claws and intermittently whispered terribly lewd words. Oh, Eru, what an idiot he was!

The werewolf's entire back was scratched, and his neck was covered in bites. Bilbo crawled out of his tight embrace and went to collect their clothes from the floor. As soon as the cool body of the vampire slipped out of his arms, the uzbad immediately woke up.

- Where are you going? - he purred sleepily, reaching out with half-closed eyes after Bilbo as he left. The vampire had never noticed Thorin acting like this before, but now such behavior seemed touching to him. He allowed himself a moment of weakness and kissed Thorin on the forehead.

- I'll get some water. Sleep, it's still very early.

While Bilbo was tidying up the room, he was surprised at how restlessly Thorin was sleeping. In a few minutes, he turned over about ten times, pushed the blanket onto the floor and almost fell off the bed. When the vampire returned to his arms, he laid down quietly and silently, not even moving. But after a couple of minutes, Bilbo could already feel kisses on his neck and warm breath. He smiled and climbed into the uzbad's lap. Family, heirs and duty, of course, sounded interesting, but now this werewolf belonged to Bilbo Baggins of the Shire. Well, at least for today.

Chapter Text

The gates of Erebor greeted them with blackness, dried plants and silence, interrupted only by the occasional tapping of thrushes' beaks on the stone. Thorin led everyone to the secret entrance, which was not so difficult to find thanks to Bilbo's sharp eyesight, and opened it with a key. Previously, this door had been enchanted to hide it from the eyes of others, but due to the constant influence of the dragon's spell on the kingdom, the door had become quite visible to the naked eye, as well as the keyhole in it.

A small door creaked, letting them into one of the streets. Frost hit their faces, not a drop of warmth remained behind the stone walls. The air was dry, their throats immediately dried up, and the skin on their lips started to crack. From the former greatness there remained only burnt houses, empty streets and treasures lying everywhere. Uzbad touched the ruined wall of one of the houses with an amazed, desperate smile. He missed his home very much. But then his gaze fell on the bones lying in the piles of gold.

- Our home has become a crypt. We cannot forgive that serpent for what he did. - he said, sadness and rage shining through his words. - He turned our home into a tomb, so his grave will also decorate this area. Although, I don't think he deserves to be buried.

Thorin turned to Bilbo. The vampire looked at Erebor with sadness in his eyes. Uzbad would very much like to show him the kingdom back then, in the years of its greatness, when werewolves scurried about the streets, the tables in the market square were bursting with an abundance of various goods, music played everywhere, and the royal palace majestically towered over the entire city. But that was a long time ago. He will need to recreate all that glory for his vampire to see, that this place deserves to become their home.

- Our company is too large, we will be noticed immediately. Scout out the situation, and, if possible, find the Silver Heart. Then I can defeat Smaug alone, and we won't have to wait for Dain with his army. Don't fight under any circumstances, ghivashel, don't put yourself in danger. - the last words sounded almost pitiful, his voice trembled, but he quickly cleared his throat and tried to make his gaze colder.

The vampire nodded, turned into a bat and flew through the streets of Erebor. Thorin sighed and rubbed his eyes. He had to repeat one phrase over and over in his head: Bilbo is immortal and will return alive.

- The rest of you, let's get out of here. Everything here is saturated with the dark energy of the serpent, it's dangerous. While he is alive, we must be careful. - He waved his hand, beckoning everyone to follow him, and headed for the door.

Everyone left Erebor, leaving the door open for Bilbo. In case he couldn't find the door, they agreed to change the guards every hour, so that the dragon's spell wouldn't affect them and darken their minds. Dwalin went first. While he was inside Erebor, they were waiting outside on a clearing far enough not to get into the flames of the dragon in any case. Thorin suddenly thought that someone was missing, the company seemed incomplete. He began to count the company.

Bilbo and Dwalin within the walls of the kingdom, Balin, Oin, Gloin, Nori, Dori, Ori, Fili, Kili, Bombur, Bifur...

- Where's Bofur?

***

The serpent wasn't sleeping. He was sitting in the palace where the descendants of Durin used to live. The man sat on the throne, all hung with gold, with a crown on his head. Straight black hair falling on his shoulders, beautiful, sharp features. Scales stood out on his cheeks, his fingers were unnaturally long, and his eyes glowed with a frightening fiery color. Bofur entered the hall. His eyes now looked the same as the serpent's: the color, the cut, and even the small scales on his cheeks.

The werewolf didn't see anything in front of him, his mind did not respond. The real Bofur was locked in his own brain. He knocked, screamed, called for help, but sank deeper and deeper into this disgusting sticky syrup of black magic. The sensations were simply disgusting, despair consumed him. He was about to betray his friends, and he couldn't do anything about it. He was about to betray Bilbo. His body bowed before the serpent. He grinned.

- Werewolf, you desire to possess that creature of the night. You desire to have what is not yours.

- You are right. It belongs to Oakenshield, and I have no right to have him. - that is what the real Bofur kept saying. For a moment he was glad that he could resist the spell, but then his voice added. - Give me the power with which I can take him.

The serpent grinned. His eyes flashed, and Bofur was completely immersed in dark magic. Now even he, the real one, couldn't hear what was happening outside. Smaug pulled a glowing silver stone from under his cloak. By the look of it, such a treasure would be worth millions. The serpent's clawed hands wrapped the stone in a small piece of cloth, and in a moment the bundle sank into the inner pocket of Bofur's tulub.

- Do not show this to Oakenshield. My game has been played and it will be finished soon enough, but you, my friend, thanks to your desire, can continue to wreak havoc in my name. Have what belongs to others. And when your term is over, pass on this wish. Once you have the vampire, you yourself will be called Smaug. But do not rush things. One wrong move, and your head will fly off your shoulders.

***

Bilbo looked around all the streets. Jewels, skulls, snake skins, burnt furniture and clothes were scattered on the cobblestones. It looked depressing. And the Silver Heart was nowhere to be seen. The vampire dug through about five piles of gold, but to no avail. He even tried digging in the silver - the piles had been very carefully sorted by someone - he burned his hands and decided not to experiment anymore. The dark aura that reigned throughout Erebor made him want to take out his insides and wash them with soap.

In some streets he saw relatively new corpses. The skeletons still had skin, and there was a disgusting smell of decomposition. They were humanoids, half-turned into snakes, and they all had deep holes in their chests and their hearts torn out. Not just torn out, but rather gnawed out. The vampire shuddered at this.

- So that's why they died. - he whispered. - The dragon ate his entire company alive...

On the way back to the others, he noticed it. The serpent was slowly walking along the streets. There was no one else except him, Bilbo had already flown around all the streets. In the royal palace, only the lower floors didn't get a very thorough check, since breathing next to such a huge amount of silver became difficult, the lungs burned, and they could even become inflamed. After his little tour around the kingdom, the vampire was sure: Smaug was left alone. He even felt a little sorry for the serpent for a moment, but then he remembered what this creature had done to Thorin's house, and all sympathy quickly disappeared.

- I smell you, thief. - the serpent growled. Bilbo's heart stopped beating for a moment. He quickly flew behind a column, took his human form, and put the ring on his middle finger. Just in time, because Smaug looked around the corner where the vampire was standing. Bilbo covered his mouth and nose with his hand so that the serpent would not hear his breath.

- I smell you. Show yourself. No need to hide.

But it was too late. As soon as Smaug turned away, Bilbo pushed himself off the wall and ran through the streets as fast as he could. The ring suddenly began to dig unpleasantly into his skin, like claws, and strange voices began to buzz in his head. All these voices spoke an unknown language, but Bilbo understood them all. They all called him, told him to surrender to the dragon, laughed. Baggins fell to the ground and the ring flew off his finger. Oh, Yavanna, what to do now!?

Bilbo picked up the ring, jumped up from the ground and turned to the serpent.

- There you are, little creature of the night. - Bilbo didn't expect that even in human form, Smaug would be so unnaturally huge. He recoiled from the dragon's touch and hissed, baring his fangs. The serpent examined the vampire. Durin's birthstone was adorned in his hair.

- So you're already someone else's? Marked? - the dragon asked with a grin.

- I'm my own. - Bilbo grinned. - But you've become a slave. What, the Great and Terrible Smaug isn't that great? You've been enslaved by some bunch of shiny trinkets. What a disgrace.

Bilbo himself didn't understand why he had attacked him like that. Probably just a thoughtless act committed in panic. The serpent frowned, and his skin began to slowly become covered in scales. At that moment, Bilbo turned around and ran away. Fighting a dragon was definitely not what he had counted on today, and Thorin also told him not to fight. Flames were already breathing down his heels when he rounded the bend and ran towards the secret exit.

***

- Bofur! There you are, Thorin has been looking for you! - Nori ran up to his fellow werewolf. - Where have you been? Get out of here quickly, or you'll get sick.

But Bofur shook his head. He felt a connection with his real mind, and tried to tell Nori what had happened, but all the air seemed to be knocked out of his lungs, his tongue twisted into a knot and ripped out of the mind's grip, giving out words itself, and not at all what Bofur was trying to say. This attempt made him lose control again and give his body into the clutches of the snake's magic.

- I'm fine. Go, report to Thorin, and I'll stand guard for now.

Nori narrowed his eyes and looked at his friend. There was no reason not to trust him, but there was a feeling that something was wrong...

- Good. Someone will be sent to replace you, and then return immediately.

- Of course.

Thorin listened to Nori's story about what had happened. He had already sent Gloin on patrol, but then he saw him running back at breakneck speed, dragging Bofur by the scruff of his neck. A chill ran down his spine.

- Thorin, I need the key, the door is slammed! That fool locked master Baggins in!

Thorin's heart sank. Locked. With the dragon. He grabbed the key from the ground and turned to the others.

- Stay here, I'll get him out myself! But if I'm not back in fifteen minutes, go help. The door will be open.

He ran to the gate. As the uzbad began to approach, he noticed a flash of flame with horror and ran faster. His body grew slightly in size, his eyes flashed amber, his claws became slightly longer and sharper, and wolf hair appeared on his cheeks. He opened the lock with the key and kicked the door with force. In his half-beast form, Thorin's physical strength increased significantly, so he simply tore out the hinges and the stone door fell to the floor.

- Bilbo!!!

It didn't take long to find the vampire: where the fire was, there he was. In the middle of the square, right in front of the dragon. The serpent's chest glowed with fire, and the vampire, pressed against the wall, with no escape route, just closed his eyes and prepared for the pain. Thorin grabbed an iron beam from the ground and threw it at the dragon's head. It didn't hurt Smaug in any way, but it made him turn around. At that moment, Bilbo put the ring on his finger and slipped between the dragon's legs.

He noticed Thorin, grabbed his hand and dragged him into an alley. Uzbad tried to fight off the unknown force that was affecting him, but when Bilbo took off the ring and Thorin saw that it was him, he stopped fighting. The vampire sighed with relief. Thorin's huge, half-beast body was certainly no easy burden, especially when he was resisting. The werewolf and the vampire rushed towards the exit. Thorin grabbed the stone door from the floor on the way and managed to somehow put it back in place before tongues of flame hit the wall behind them.

The vampire exhaled heavily, leaning his back against the wall, slid to the ground and cursed under his breath.

- What a bad influence we are on you. You've never said such words to a sober mind before. - Thorin said, breathing heavily. He slowly took on human form and looked at Bilbo. There was no sign of the serpent's possession, no brand or mark, not even burns.

- Sorry, those are just emotions. - Bilbo whispered and rubbed his eyes. - Why was the door closed and no one there? I thought you abandoned me.

Thorin frowned. Bofur's actions were making him furious, but he had to brace himself not to say too much. They were in no position to sow suspicion among themselves.

- As soon as Gloin said the door was shut, I ran to open it. We would not have abandoned you, not under any circumstances. I would not have allowed it. - he squeezed Bilbo's hand tightly in his own. The thought of losing Bilbo responded with a heavy pain in his heart.

***

They returned to the others. The dragon was raging, but had not yet flown outside the gates. Bilbo and the others stayed behind to come up with a plan to deal with the monster, and Thorin went to give Bofur a lecture. He had not originally intended to do this, but after Dwalin put forward his candidacy for this task, Thorin decided to deal with him himself, because after Dwalin's iron hand, the poor fellow would have to get back on his feet for a long time.

But it turned out that the king's hand was no better.

- Thorin, honestly, I didn't think that moment. I heard the dragon's roar and closed the door, thinking that he would break free that very moment. And then Gloin came, pulled the handle, and it turned out that the door wouldn't open without a key. I swear, I didn't mean to...

- Of course you didn't mean to. - the king muttered through his teeth and took two steps towards the werewolf. His eyes flashed. - You love master Baggins very much, and you certainly wouldn't want to carry his charred body out of Erebor.

Bofur cringed under the king's gaze.

- But next time, I'll ask you to think with your brain box before you do anything. Even with a fucking dragon breathing down your neck, you stand still. Or isn't that how Bifur taught you?

- Don't bring my brother into this. - Bofur's expression changed to annoyance. The real him was once again drowning in dark magic and lost all control over his words and body. Fear was destroying the weak connection to his mind that he had so carefully built. - He taught me well, as did my father. And if my family was in danger, I would protect them, forgetting about myself.

- Master Baggins too...

- No, Bilbo isn't my family. And the Durin Bead in his hair means nothing to me, he is not one of us. He will remain an outsider as he was. And you, Thorin, will play with him enough and get tired of him. Don't rush to give him the sacred title of "family."

The king and Bofur didn't return soon. By the end of the preventive talk, the poor werewolf was missing two teeth and had a bright black eye. Thorin was gloomier than the night, sat down by the fire next to Bilbo and, while no one was looking, buried his nose in the vampire's shoulder.

- Why have you done this to him? - Bilbo asked quietly. The vampire's cold fingers dug into the thick mane of the uzbad's hair and he exhaled noisily.

- I have no idea. Have you noticed anything strange in his behavior lately? It's as if he is not himself.

The vampire shook his head.

- No, I haven't noticed anything out of the ordinary. But he's been a bit withdrawn since that party, even with Bifur and Bombur.

Thorin sighed. It seemed he hadn't imagined it that night, and he really had heard someone walking outside their door.

- Okay, we'll deal with that later. Any ideas on how to kill the dragon?

***

- I said no!!! - Thorin didn't like the idea at all. Bilbo sighed. What's wrong with letting a dragon swallow the vampire?

- But he won't die from it, unlike the rest of us. - Balin shrugged. - Unpleasant sensations at most. We'll prevent any unnecessary injury.

The old man pulled out a mithril chainmail from his bosom. Apparently, the treasure of their kingdom was laying in a pile of goods in the street.

- But you need the king's permission to wear it. You don't just give such an artifact to a stranger.

Thorin shot a warning glance at Balin.

- Bilbo is not a stranger. - He turned to the vampire with a serious expression. - Put it on.

Fili and Kili danced joyfully around Bilbo as he put on the chainmail. He was surprised by the princes' reaction, but now that he understood the meaning of the bead in his hair and remembered their reaction, he, of course, wanted to inquire about the meaning of the chainmail.

- Well, you're almost Thorin's husband, - Kili answered Bilbo's question about why they were so happy. The vampire's icy cheeks flushed deeply. Fili laughed, looking at his reaction.

- What's there to be embarrassed about? You've basically done all that's needed... - Kili began, but then Fili grabbed him by the hair.

- Listen, you said your stomach had twisted. Come on, go, or elsewhere it's already pouring out of your mouth. - the blond hissed at his brother, who only burst out laughing and retreated.

Thorin reluctantly agreed to this plan. That night, when they were lying in each other's arms, Bilbo noticed that the king couldn't sleep. After some questioning, he finally spoke.

- I don't like testing your immortality's endurance, ghivashel. - uzbad whispered and kissed Bilbo lightly on the lips. The vampire smiled.

- This will all end soon. I will be fine, I hope.

Thorin sighed. He lifted Bilbo and their sleeping bag, and they moved behind the bushes, further away from the sleeping werewolves.

- In case you don't come back tomorrow...

- Don't say that. I'll come back.

But Thorin wasn't listening. The hot touch of his lips on Bilbo's neck knocked the last of his will to resist out of the vampire. They expected, that everyone would be asleep by that moment, but Balin and Dwalin were awake. Fundin's eldest son pulled out a small book and wrote something down. His brother turned to him.

- The third time? - he asked in a whisper, so as not to disturb the lovers. Balin nodded.

- The third. Well, if we really do win back Erebor tomorrow, then we can congratulate Master Baggins on becoming a royal consort. All that remains is to have the wedding when everything settles down.

Dwalin scratched his head and glanced at his brother's notes.

- Isn't Thorin in too much of a hurry?

- We risk losing our vampire tomorrow. Let him hurry now, rather than be too late later. At least we will be able to bury him with all the honors, if something happens to him.

Fundin's youngest son thought about it. Bilbo had been with them for so long that he couldn't even imagine what would happen if he died. And Thorin, who loved him, must find it completely unbearable to think about his possible death. He wants, in case this is the last chance, to do what he wants and not think about the consequences.

- You're right. And they don't make too much noise, they don't disturb anyone's sleep.

- Yes, Master Bilbo is our auntie after all, and not the uncle. - suddenly, as if from nowhere, the voice of one of the princes was heard. - I must tell Fili that I have won.

- Kili!

Chapter Text

Thoughts about what could happen to Bilbo in the clutches of Smaug haunted all the werewolves. The vampire got up early in the morning, before breakfast. He was going to leave unnoticed, only kissing his beloved on the forehead before leaving behind the walls of the kingdom, but Thorin, not finding his vampire next to him after opening his eyes, woke everyone up. You can't sleep while Bilbo is there, with the dragon, fighting for their future. Thorin didn't count everyone in the morning, because he was too nervous. And that was a terrible mistake of his. He would have noticed Bofur's absence again.

The king, Fili and Kili were sitting right under the door to Erebor. The children of Dis were terribly worried about the vampire, and the uzbad couldn't leave his nephews in such a tense situation when they needed him. Thorin impatiently paced back and forth at the secret entrance, and Fili and Kili sat silently. The elder scowled at the earth, while the younger stared blankly at the stone wall in front of him.

- Uncle, what if there's nothing left of Bilbo's body... how are we going to bury him? - Kili asked in a trembling voice. Thorin turned pale at the question. Burying his beloved, who could almost be considered his husband, wasn't part of his plans. The thought of Bilbo's lifeless body in the coffin knocked Uzbad out of reality for a second.

- He'll survive. We won't bury him. Don't even think about it, do you hear me? - Thorin looked first at his nephew, then at Erebor. - I'll personally rip open Smaug's stomach and pull my consort out of there if necessary. I don't care what it's going to cost.

- What if we have to sacrifice Erebor? We've gone to so much trouble to get back. It's our home. Would you agree to raze it to the ground? - Fili asked. Kili nodded hesitantly and looked questioningly at his uncle. Thorin smiled faintly and touched the wall.

- Stone and iron have many lives, boys. It won't be difficult to restore the breath to the walls, streets, squares and steps, you just need to take a hammer, apply force, and it will give way. But even I can't reforge a living creature, and I can't make Bilbo's heart beat again after death. So I will give priority to what I can lose forever, rather than to what I can build again.

***

Meanwhile, Bilbo was trying to provoke the dragon. He was sitting in the throne room on a huge pile of gold and noisily throwing it in all directions, looking for the Silver Heart. It was needed not only to defeat the dragon, but also for the other clans to recognize Thorin as the leader and the king of Erebor. How stubborn these werewolves are! He is the rightful heir, why don't they let him rule?

Among the gold, there were sometimes silver objects. Bilbo burned himself time and again, threw the ill-fated metal away, and continued to make noise, even humming a song to himself so as not to pay attention to his heart, which was beating so fast from fear that it made his eyes darken and his head spin. From constantly being in the hall with so much silver around, his joints and lungs began to ache faintly.

Footsteps were heard. It was time to act. Bilbo swallowed nervously, tried to make the most indifferent expression on his face and put some kind of decoration on his head. As soon as Smaug appeared in the passage, a golden goblet flew at his head.

- And the treasures aren't that impressive... Now I understand why the werewolves gave them to you so easily. It's a pile of junk!

Smaug's eye twitched. All dragons adored gold, especially stolen gold. And if this gold was essentially "gifted" to him, then it lost more than half of its value. Taking what belongs to someone else - that's what matters.

- Impudent. Have you forgotten how yesterday you ran away from my flame? - Bilbo involuntarily shuddered. Memories of the unbearable heat from the dragon's fire were not what he wanted to think about now. But he only smiled nastily, baring his teeth.

- I haven't forgotten. Only yesterday, I think I was just not in the mood for a tan. My delicate skin simply couldn't stand it! - Bilbo declared capriciously, and another trinket flew at Smaug's head.

- I sense your fear, you bastard. You're afraid of my flame. Afraid of being burned alive. Afraid that your immortality won't save you.

- You wish, lizard.

The dragon was already starting to boil up from such impudence, but the vampire still hoped that it wouldn't reach the fire, that he would be swallowed safely, that he would tear the dragon apart from the inside, and that would be the end of it. But Smaug had other plans. The snake's skin became covered with scales and in a few moments, a dragon stood before Bilbo instead of a man. Well, that's it. The only hope left is that the vampire's immortality has only silver as a nuance...

During the vampire's absence, Ori joined the trio at the gate. He came alone and tried to somehow support the princes by telling them about his drawings. Oakenshield perceived his voice as just white noise, his thoughts were spinning around Bilbo. The silence was too long and frightening.

The first flash of fire made Thorin and the others flinch. Uzbad barely restrained himself from rushing towards the door. He glanced at his nephews. Fili's tail was wagging hostilely, and Kili was clutching his sword. Ori cursed. He had blurred the drawing in his fright. The young werewolf's hands were shaking slightly. Another flash appeared. Then another. Then a pause. A very long pause. So long that it became scary.

And when Kili jumped up with his sword in his hands, there was a roar. The dragon tried to fly, his face twisted in agony. His head broke through the roof of the palace and appeared above the gates of Erebor, after which he fell down again, right on the royal castle, collapsing the ceiling and walls on himself. After a long mess of growls, curses, rumbles and the clink of jewels, there was silence again. Thorin grabbed the sword.

- Ori, call the others. Fili, Kili, let's go first.

***

Being burned, as it had turned out, was more painful than losing your head. Bilbo first screamed in agony as his lungs were seared by fire and he couldn't take a breath, and then his body came together, he wiped away his tears and continued to tease the dragon. His tender skin was covered in huge blisters, which then burst, and the fire scorched the already exposed flesh, turning it into coals. His eyes dried out and he was blind, his ears either rang with pain or couldn't hear anything at all.

He was burned down three times, and he still survived. The vampire planned for the snake to swallow his legs first, and then his head. In this position, it would be much easier to tear him apart. But, as usual, everything didn't go according to plan. After the third burning, Bilbo collapsed exhausted on the treasures and tried to crawl away. He raised his head and realized with horror that he was not alone in this building with the dragon. Someone was standing behind the pillar, waiting. His body was terrifying, a dark spot against the shining treasures that seemed to devour the light. But before Bilbo could shout anything to this stranger, his head was swallowed by the dragon's mouth.

The stench was unbearable, it was impossible to breathe, and the dragon's entrails squeezing him didn't allow him to move his hand and draw his sword. Panic began to cloud Bilbo's eyes. Swallowed head first. The spells and his magic didn't give in, the body didn't obey. He would have stayed there, if not for the wave of adrenaline and the desire to live. Thorin is waiting for him. Fili and Kili are counting on him. If he doesn't kill the dragon, Bard in Lake-town may suffer. The dragon will burn Thranduil's forest and devour Legolas. And someone is standing there, behind the pillar. What if it is one of the werewolves? If he was hurt, it would be his fault, Bilbo Baggins'.

The vampire closed his eyes and sank his fangs into the soft insides of the dragon. The blood was disgusting, rancid, perhaps even poisonous, but he had no intention of drinking it. This time he used his elegant little fangs in the werewolf way. He struggled for a long time, but eventually he managed to tear out a piece of the dragon's flesh, at least some weak spot appeared that could be his path to salvation. He felt the serpent's body begin to warm up. The spell gave in, and now he was wielding his claws. Vile blood spurted into his face and bits of dragon entrails flew all around. Bilbo vomited right inside the dragon because of the unbearably disgusting feeling. He coughed and tried to breathe, but to no avail. Tears began to pour from his eyes, he clutched his throat in despair, and vomited blood again. He had to endure the pain that pierced his lungs and continue to fight for his life.

The vampire finally managed to twist away and pulled out his sword. He thrust it as deep as he could. And then he felt a stream of fresh air. He took a deep breath, the stench no longer seemed so disgusting when there was hope for life. The deafening roar of the dragon signaled a quick victory. Bilbo continued to push the blade of his sword wherever he could, simply turning the snake's insides into a sieve. The dragon's stomach was so dense that it was impossible to tear it with simple claws. Then Bilbo was suddenly pressed to the bottom of the dragon's stomach. Bilbo swung and slashed the dragon with his sword again. This time he flew up and was pressed to the torn top of the dragon's stomach, after which a strong blow followed, and Baggins passed out.

**

Bilbo woke up outside. His whole body ached, voices were ringing in his ears, and his throat was dry. He looked around and realized that his hands were nailed to the wall, and he himself, along with the dragon's corpse, was under the rubble. The nail was digging into his palm disgustingly, the skin was blackened, and Bilbo burst into tears from the pain. Silver. No, this couldn't have happened by itself! Who was the one responsible for all of this? But Bilbo couldn't think of a plausable answer, his mind was blank from pain.

It took the vampire a few minutes for his vision to clear a little. His lungs ached and burned, he was completely naked, chained with silver nails to something that looked like a door or the side of a wooden cabinet. It was a wonder the dragon hadn't burned it. The wood was dry, and it dug into Bilbo's body with disgusting splinters when he tried to move.

- Good morning, ghivashel. - Thorin? No, not him. Images flashed before his eyes. The dragon lays dead, and before him stood his human version. Only slightly different. This one had a beard sticking out in funny pigtails on both sides. A surprisingly familiar feature. But Bilbo was still unable to form a single sensible thought. The images began to change again: instead of Smaug, Thorin periodically appeared before his eyes, sometimes Bofur, his father Bungo and just some black silhouette with only one bright eye visible, which seemed to breathe fire. The snake cursed, walked up to Bilbo and slapped him.

- Stop resisting! I am Thorin Oakenshield, see me! - the creature screamed. The images mixed up again, voices began to buzz in his head and Bilbo closed his eyes. He clenched his hands tightly, and blood began to flow from the through wounds again, since the nails rip his skin even more.

- You are anyone but Thorin. - the vampire croaked. The snake seemed to be getting more and more irritated by all this. Bilbo couldn't resist for too long. When the creature's disgusting hands slid over his naked body, and the image of Thorin stood before his eyes, Bilbo closed his eyes and repeated to himself over and over that it was not his beloved werewolf in front of him. Thorin's touches were different. Warm, loving. And in these there was only a desire to possess. These hands touched his chest, hips and groin, defiled his body, and Bilbo could not resist it in any way. Oh, Thorin would be so angry now...

He had long since lost track of time. The influence of silver was ringing in his ears and catching his breath, he could not resist in any way because of the pain, this hated metal constrained all movements. The touches of the false-Thorin began to go further when he spread the vampire's legs and tried to dryly insert his fingers into him. Bilbo screamed in pain. Silver nails had been driven into his legs, too, and when the serpent had torn them out by force, it had only made things worse. But now he could at least move them, and he hit Smaug hard on the head. No matter how much the dragon had drugged him, Bilbo had resisted. He couldn't let the serpent take possession of him, he couldn't become a mere toy for the satisfaction of this monster's lust, he couldn't turn into its slave. And when the creature reached for his chest for the umpteenth time, the vampire even sank its fangs into his hand. The serpent hissed in disgust.

- I will tear these teeth out of your mouth, you bastard.

And he reached for Bilbo's fangs. The vampire's heart sank. He tried to bite the serpent again, but his skin was covered with impenetrable scales. Bilbo's left fang snapped as if he had just bitten into a rock, and the sharp tip of the tooth fell to the floor, leaving a broken and bleeding stump. Smaug, still in Thorin's form, reached into the vampire's mouth to rip out the other fang.

- Come on, give in.

But then there was a crash and a loud voice. Thorin. The real Thorin.

***

- Bilbo! Bilbo, can you hear me?!

The vampire tried to speak, but it was as if all the air had been knocked out of his lungs at once, and his whole body was pierced by fear. Smaug is here, alive. What will happen when they find him? He will kill everyone without distinction. Images of werewolves torn to shreds flashed before his eyes. His ears began to ring, and then a light hit his eyes.

- Bilbo!..

The king's joyful voice immediately changed to rage. Bilbo felt a flash of energy from the uzbad, and then a loud roar was heard.

- Dig up everything here! Find me the bastard! Drag him in by the scruff alive to me! Don't let anyone in or out, if you need to leave, you come to me first! Gloin, Dwalin, guard the entrances! - the real Thorin was giving orders. How did Bilbo know that wasn't an illusion? The smell of wet fur. Yes, it was not such a pleasant thing, but after such a long stay in the company of the serpent, this smell hit his nose hard. And yet, it was so familiar...

The king's warm hand wrapped around Bilbo's waist, while his other clawed paw forcibly pulled silver nails out of the wall and carefully pulled them out of his palms. The vampire allowed himself a weakness: he dropped his head defeatedly onto Thorin's shoulder and buried his nose in his curls. But even such innocent touches made him feel sick, and he immediately raised his head. Two bloody tears rolled from his eyes.

Uzbad examined Bilbo's neck with horror. How many unfinished dragon marks were on it… So, the serpent hadn't been able to get into his mind after all. But from the amount of this filth on his beloved's neck, rage boiled in Thorin's chest with renewed vigor.

- Bilbo, ghivashel, can you hear me? - he whispered and shook the vampire gently.

- I hear you, Thorin... don't touch me... - he croaked and tried to get out of his beloved's embrace. Uzbad let him go and examined his beloved completely. His whole body was covered in some strange slime, bruises, pieces of scales that had dug into the skin, and scratches. But what confused him most was the scratched inner side of the vampire's thighs and a small piece of scale that had penetrated shallowly into the skin on his genetals. He pulled out the pieces of scale that weren't too deep in the skin, and despite the vampire's protests about being touched, carried him out of the rubble into the main hall where the others were working, sat him on the throne and wrapped him in his cloak.

- What happened to you?

- How long have I been there, Thorin? - Bilbo seemed to be losing consciousness or going crazy. Uzbad looked worriedly into Baggins' eyes and put his hands on his cheeks. Bilbo immediately came to his senses and moved away from Thorin's hands. This made the king's heart clench, but he didn't want to press on Bilbo.

- Four days. What happened there? Please answer, ghivashel.

- Smaug... Or no Smaug... Anyway, a serpent. I was pinned to the wall with nails. I didn't let him get too far. He was going to, but I didn't give in. I couldn't let him take possession of me and my mind...

Bilbo spoke incoherently, tiredly. His ears were still ringing, and from the influence of silver, dragon magic and hunger, his head was spinning. Thorin stood up silently.

- Oin! Take Bilbo away and examine him from the outside. - Uzbad ordered in an iron tone. Just when the healer was about to grumble, he noticed the expression on his king's face and immediately fell silent. He was ready to tear to pieces the one who dared to do this to his future consort, and would be right. Bofur was never found, but they were afraid to tell Thorin. Only Mahal would have saved them from his wrath, and Bilbo was unconscious and way too overstressed, so he wouldn't be able to calm his future husband.

There was little to be happy about: not only there was so many of Bilbo's injuries that it was painful to look at, but he also screamed and resisted so loudly during the examination that he had to be put to sleep to examine thoroughly. Oin reluctantly came to report to Thorin, but he already knew how it would end. To drive a werewolf to such a rage on the last day of the Winter Full Moon - the only period of the year when the full moon lasts longer than usual - is a lost cause. And then there was the king. He could rightfully rip the culprit's head off and not be held accountable for it later. Well, all that was left for Oin to do was finish off his rage.

- How is he? - Thorin asked hoarsely. Oin sighed.

- He will live. - the healer muttered, but the king was not satisfied with this answer.

- More details, Oin! - the uzbad barked, but then softened a little. - I apologize.

- Two broken ribs, holes in both palms, a broken left fang and many bruises all over his body. He could have healed quickly, such injuries are no obstacle for him, but silver... It all messes up. The wounds on his palms and ankles from the silver, because of them everything is going downhill and Bilbo cannot rely on his vampire regeneration. Oh, and... - Oin leaned towards Thorin and whispered something, after which he immediately jumped back. Thorin's eyes were filled with a bloody veil when he heard these words.

Shreds of scales inside his vampire. Scratched intestinal walls. Nail marks. Well, and the identity of the one who was eventually found under the rubble in the same place where Bilbo was.

- Drag the scumbag to me!!! Immediately, Oin!!! - Thorin's roar was heard even by Bilbo, who was sitting outside at that moment. What a nightmare. And his trembling, weak legs wouldn't let him reach the palace to find out what had happened.

Thorin was furious when the half-snake, half-Bofur was dragged to him. The creature was breathing heavily, changing images like an illusion, and spitting poison, literally and figuratively.

- Thorin, kill me! - half Bofur screamed, while half the snake hissed and resisted. Everyone stepped aside, and Thorin grabbed the poor werewolf by the hair. He slammed him into a column. Curses poured out of his mouth one after another at Khuzdul, and for a moment it seemed that he really would kill Bofur. His ribs cracked, and at that moment the uzbad's gaze cleared. His amber eyes changed to their usual blue, and he released the creature.

- Dwalin, chain him. - he ordered, and the werewolf obeyed immediately. - I will do nothing more to you, Bofur. No 'kill me'. You haven't come through all this with us just to be killed because of the damn dragon. But you will have to endure some very unpleasant conditions. - He turned back to Dwalin. - Lock him in the dungeon until Bilbo recovers. We must find out what is happening to him.

***

Towards evening, Thorin entered the half-ruined house where Bilbo was lying and simply collapsed on the bed. He hadn't slept or eaten properly for the last four days because of his nerves. The conversation with Bofur, who kept losing himself, was extremely depressing and tiring. But from the scraps of his phrases, he was able to understand that he had been bitten by a snake that night when they celebrated in the burgomaster's house. And that meant that Smaug was not alone after all. He was a dragon, and the snakes might have subjugated other people's minds to him, but they certainly didn't belong to him. Someone else was setting them on, he just needed to figure out who exactly. Find the bastard and tear his filthy head off.

Uzbad felt the dear arms wrap around his neck and pull him closer. He buried his nose in Bilbo's chest in defeat and sighed heavily.

- Ghivashel…

Bilbo smiled weakly and smoothed Thorin's hair. Before that, uzbad had ordered no one to tell Bilbo about what the dragon had done to him, not to worsen his condition. It seemed that ignorance had a good effect on the vampire, and he even began to allow others to touch him without a scandal. A little, because when Thorin reached out to hug him, the vampire moved away a little. Uzbad didn't insist, and simply removed his hands.

- I was afraid that I would drag you out dead. If I had to put you in a coffin, I would have simply laid down next to you and ordered them to bury me with you…

Of course, he would not have done that. He would have received a slap from Balin, they would have put him on his feet, fed him sedatives and told him that the people needed their king. And he would either really pull himself together, bury himself in his debt, grow old and die alone, or he would simply hand over the crown to Fili and go on a rampage. But what kind of king would he be if he couldn't, forgetting about himself, pay his debt to his homeland and people? And sometimes, like now, he wanted to think only about himself. Well, and about Bilbo.

- Don't talk nonsense, Thorin. I'm not going anywhere. No one is going to die. Erebor is ours.

Uzbad frowned when his future consort's hand disappeared from his head. He looked around so that no one, Eru forbid, would see their interaction. Everyone already knew about the relationship between Thorin and Bilbo, but he still had no desire to show his weakness. Everyone was in the palace now, even Oin. The king exhaled and closed his eyes.

- Pet me some more. - he whispered barely audibly. The vampire was very surprised by such a request, but did as he was asked. Thorin's body noticeably relaxed and went limp under the weight of responsibility that had now suddenly fallen on his shoulders. He promised to repay Lake-town, he needed to contact Dain and enlist his support during the restoration of the kingdom, and also write a letter to Dis in the Ered Luin, so that she would know when it was time to set out with the rest of the werewolves home. And, in the end, he had to find the damn Silver Heart! The disgust he felt when he even thought about this artifact made him doubt whether he was worthy of the throne at all. But, on the other hand, he was a descendant of Durin. The fact that the crown was tight for the king didn't deprive him of the right to rule.

And so he fell asleep on Bilbo's chest, lost in his thoughts. The next day promised to be extremely difficult, as a procession led by Alfrid had already set out from Lake Town. The promised treasures beckoned the people. And only Bard, who was walking among them, didn't like this outcome of events very much. It was disrespectful. The poor wolfhounds weren't even given time to recover.

Chapter Text

When the people of Lake-town finally reached Erebor, the werewolves had already managed to put the kingdom in order a litte bit, and the main gates of the kingdom were no longer so repulsive. Of course, it was impossible to do much in one day, but the werewolves still did a good job. But Alfrid clearly did not consider their work worthy of respect. When the main gates were generously opened to the people, the deputy burgomaster burst into Erebor as if he lived there, and not the werewolves.

Piles of jewels were still lying around in the streets, which the werewolves gradually raked out and carried to the treasury, so that they would not get in the way. Alfrid immediately rushed to one of these piles and began to fill his pockets with coins. Some people looked at him and began to do the same, but most still stood and looked at them as if he was crazy, and some even tried to stop them. Bard forcibly pulled Alfrid away from the pile of gold.

- And you, don't get in the way! Your honesty won't help you survive, Bard! - the deputy burgomaster hissed and kicked, while Bard was holding him. A pair of beads fell out of Alfrid's pocket. He tore himself away from Bard's hands after a minute of struggles and crawled along the floor to catch the jewels. But at the moment when the beads were in his hand, a foot in a beautiful shoe with a small heel landed on his palm and painfully pressed his fingers to the ground. Alfrid squealed and pulled his hand out from under the heel.

Bilbo stood in front of him - after all, despite the wounds from the silver, the vampire regeneration was a miracle. He had not yet fully recovered, he had already stood up on his feet today, but he had to walk with a cane. From his appearance, it was immediately clear that he was not the last person in the kingdom. His clothes were modest, but his elaborate hairstyle with small braids and precious beads woven into his golden curls and makeup, just like Thorin's, immediately indicated his status.

Bilbo frowned, looked at the man in front of him as if he were a naughty child, bent down and picked up the beads from the floor. Bilbo's hands were covered with lacy gloves that hid the holes in his palms. He could not hold the silver beads in his wounded hands for long, which even through the fabric burned the edges of the torn hole terribly, so he quickly hid them in his pocket.

- Put everything back where it belongs, kind sir. There may be important relics here. You'll get your share, just wait a bit.

Bard came closer and quickly pulled Alfrid away. 

- I apologize, lord vampire, for coming so early. The Mayor is dead, and Alfrid is temporarily occupying his post right now. He demanded that we come here as soon as possible. - he hurried to apologize and explain the situation before the Deputy Mayor could say anything. A shadow of sympathy flitted across Bilbo's face.

- I'm sorry that this happened to your Mayor. - he turned to Alfrid. - I'll arrange a meeting with Thorin for you, he will be able to receive you as soon as he is free.

The Deputy Mayor unceremoniously looked at the royal consort. With his many beads in his hair, his eyes carefully lined with black charcoal, the little red patterns on his cheeks, and his innocent features, Bilbo looked like a doll that some little girl had lovingly dressed up. By human standards, he would have been described as "cute" at best, but today he was the best version of himself he had been in years. However, Alfrid didn't like him at all. Or maybe he liked him way too much, who knows, but he wasn't going to show it off in the best way.

- Hurry up then, you painted rooster. - the deputy burgomaster shot a sardonic phrase at Bilbo's back. The vampire stopped and stared at the man in confusion. There was silence.

- I'm telling Thorin. - Nori's whisper reached them from nearby, but Bilbo shook his head.

- No need. Hand the young man a dictionary instead and let him study the meaning of what was said. He didn't mean to, I think he just doesn't know what those words mean. - Bilbo said with a kind smile and left, limping a little and leaning on his cane. As soon as he disappeared from the square, Alfrid immediately got a resounding slap on the back of the head from Bard.

- Have a little respect! - Bard hissed at him and turned to Nori. - I will conduct the negotiations. Please forgive Alfrid for his rudeness.

- You wish, I'm not letting you negotiate! - the deputy burgomaster roared, but received looks from all the people, as if to shut up and not disgrace himself further, which made him curse, but still fall silent. - But I will draw up the terms of the contract!

While Bard went to Thorin, Alfrid still insisted on being heard. He was sent to Bilbo, since he was now the second in the kingdom after Thorin. But even the vampire's steel nerves soon began to give up from talking to this unbearable man. Bilbo must have asked him ten times to be quieter, because in the next room the boatman and the King of Erebor were negotiating.

- Do you think I want to make any contracts with your sick creatures so badly?! I heard that the Bloody Imps were chasing you on the way to Lake-town. It would have been better if they had torn you to shreds, and locked you, a puny painted rooster, in a tower and sucked all the blood out of you!

Bilbo sighed heavily and stood up from the table, leaning on his cane. People were strange, he had long ago realized this during his entire life in the Shire, but he had never met such angry and aggressive people. Perhaps because he had been withdrawn all his life and didn't have many friends.

- It is useless. Gloin! - the werewolf came out from behind the door. - Take Master Alfrid to the other people.

Gloin nodded and approached Alfrid. The man was about to resist, but he was roughly restrained. The man hissed in displeasure and tried to kick Gloin, but only made things worse, and the werewolf twisted his arms even more. The vampire leaned closer to him.

- And I would ask you to watch your language. The puny painted rooster has a spouse who has the final say regarding your share of the treasure. You risk leaving with nothing. - he whispered and stepped back. Alfrid looked at him with his mouth slightly open, after which he was unceremoniously kicked out of the reception room. So, the king of werewolves has a male spouse!?

***

- Bard, have some conscience. - Thorin rubbed the bridge of his nose. The amount Alfrid had asked for was, to put it mildly, high. - In a week or two, the workers who will be rebuilding everything here will arrive. We need to buy food, clothes and fabrics, just to survive the winter and not freeze. We cannot give you as much as you ask for, it is almost half of our entire treasury.

Bard glanced at the paper with the contract and his eyes bulged from so many zeros. Alfrid had clearly overestimated the capabilities of werewolves, and although the treasury of Erebor was indeed impressive, asking for such a sum was simply indecent.

- We don't need so much, Lord Oakenshield. We need to rewrite the contract, it is really too much. But my people still need money. The city is in poverty, many risk not surviving the winter if they aren't supplied with everything they need in time, plus we are deeply in debt to Rohan, the deadline is pressing. We cannot leave with nothing.

- So it wasn't you who wrote the treaty? - Thorin looked at Bard with a raised eyebrow, to which he received a negative answer. He brought a new paper and handed the man a quill. - Draw up a new one. And bring me this Alfrid in the meantime.

The Deputy Burgomaster's screams came from the nearby hall, and Thorin very clearly heard how Alfrid called Bilbo. His expression immediately darkened, and he paused before placing the inkwell in front of Bard.

- Aren't those your people, by any chance, throwing around such words about my consort? - Thorin growled and looked expectantly at Bard. He looked ashamed, but also angry.

- That was Alfrid, the acting mayor. And that vampire, is he your...? - The bard looked at Thorin in amazement, to which the uzbad responded with a short nod. The man turned pale. That is, Alfrid had disgraced himself in front of none other than the king's husband, the consort! Twice! They'll get nothing now, no financial aid, since their acting mayor doesn't know how to behave appropriately.

But, to his surprise, Thorin didn't start yelling at him, but put an inkwell in front of him and smiled sympathetically.

- Draw up your contract. After I sign it, call this Alfrid here for me. - The bard nodded and sighed with relief. Well, at least they'll get help, that's good.

- Just leave him at least two bones intact.

- Do you think I'm completely wild? - Thorin asked with a chuckle. – I’ll leave three, counting the skull.

Bard reduced the price they had agreed on considerably, and Thorin signed the paper. Then he ordered Dori and Bifur to go to the treasury and count out the required amount for Bard, and told the man to sign the paper as well. The man left pleased, but still a little scared. He was not a coward, but when the king’s booming baritone echoed through the hall and he ordered Dwalin to “drag this Alfrid to him by the scruff of the neck if he does not come willingly within the next fifteen minutes,” even he felt uneasy, as if it were not Alfrid but himself who would be dragged by the scruff of the neck to the angry king.

He left the hall with Dwalin. Bilbo was sitting at the table with a dictionary, composing a letter to Thranduil in Elvish. And how could one shout at such a creature? He sits here, all serious, checking every word before writing. Even then, in the boat, he turned out to be a sweet-natured creature, volunteered to help the tired ferryman with the controls, and even paid a hefty sum for them to get into the city unnoticed. The Lasgalen stones that Bard received from him went to repair the walls in some houses and get food for the poor.

- Did you want something, master Bard? - Bilbo asked, noticing his gaze. The man nodded and smiled. He even remembered his name, what a wonderful creature. He put a paper in front of Bilbo and the vampire quickly ran his eyes over it.

- Thorin Oakenshield is very lucky to have you, master Baggins.

The vampire smiled amiably and dipped his pen into the inkwell.

- Thank you. - a slight movement of his hand left his ornate initials on the paper.

***

- What kind of reaction did you expect from me!? - Alfrid was sitting in the corner on the floor, all pale, and shaking like an aspen leaf. - You agreed to a sum Eru knows how much less than what I indicated, and then you snitched on me to their crazy king! Who knew that this puny guy was his husband!? They are completely insane there! They're two men, and they're even of two different kinds...!

- Alfrid, you should kiss the hands of master Baggins and Lord Oakenshield for agreeing to fork out such a sum for us, despite your antics! - growled Bard. Alfrid himself had been caught several times flirting with men while drunk, and now, you see, he decided to blame Thorin! Look at him, a fighter for justice!

- I would never! I'll tell you what! - he snatched the signed contract from Bard's hands. - I'll go up to this bloodsucker now and demand more! I'll say that you demanded it!

The bard simply waved his hand. There was no point in arguing with this stubborn man. Let the werewolf king give him a good thrashing, maybe then his brains will come to their senses.

- Do whatever you want. - Alfrid wanted to continue arguing, but Bard just left the tent. The Deputy Mayor cursed under his breath, got up and walked to the vampire.

- No, even if Mr. Bard demanded an increase in the amount, I won't increase the sum in the contract. His signature is already here, and he didn't dispute anything fifteen minutes ago, when I signed this paper. - the vampire shrugged and pointed to the door to Thorin's hall. - The king is waiting for you. He asked you to come as soon as possible.

But instead of leaving, Alfrid grabbed Bilbo by the collar and shook him hard. The vampire closed his eyes and felt his head spin, and his lungs burned disgustingly. He looked at the burgomaster's hands. A pile of silver rings and bracelets with werewolf symbols. Stolen.

- You will immediately finish writing that damn numder I'm asking for, otherwise I will pull out your second fang, since the first one is already broken. Do I sound clear enough, bloodsucking pig!?

- Pig?

A voice from the side made Alfrid turn pale and let go of Bilbo's collar. He blinked quickly and rubbed his neck, which was now adorned with silver burns. Thorin's hands fell on his consort's shoulders as he came up from behind.

- You have no idea how lucky you are to be human. - the uzbad growled. Even Bilbo's skin crawled at that tone. - If you were one of us, I would have every right to tear you apart. - he leaned toward Bilbo and kissed him on the cheek, his gaze softening for a second. - Ghivashel, it seems Oin has been looking for you.

Bilbo knew that wasn't true, and that Thorin was simply trying to get him out of here so he wouldn't have to watch what was happening, but he nodded anyway. He himself had no desire to watch what his husband was about to do.

- Try to control yourself at least a little. - he whispered to uzbad before leaving, and he nodded with a kind smile. But as soon as the door slammed behind the vampire, his words were immediately forgotten. Thorin walked up to Alfrid, grabbed him by the hair and slammed his face into the table with all his might. Two teeth flew out of the man's mouth, he staggered and almost fell, but Thorin pinned him to the wall. His eyes sparkled with a predatory amber light from rage.

- You, bastard, called my consort a "pig". And don't you dare think that you will leave here in one piece.

***

- Honestly, Thorin, you could have finished him off already, don't make me laugh. - Oin said, examining Alfrid's body. - He'll be in treatment for the next two years, if he survives at all. You only left his legs untouched, and not completely.

- Don't be dramatic, Oin. I didn't break his skull either. - uzbad replied and watched with excitement as the healer boiled over.

- Thorin! That's not how it's done, you're the king, after all! - he sighed heavily. - What did that poor guy even do?

- He said that Bilbo was a pig.

Silence fell. In werewolf traditions, spouses were a sacred thing, even above family. And although Bilbo and Thorin hadn't yet gotten married, they were already considered spouses. According to werewolf traditions, pre-marital relationships began to have a different name after the third time partners made love. And Bilbo, on top of everything else, had Durin's family bead in his hair, so for everyone they were already a married couple.

Werewolves still had a culture of fighting in duels, especially if one man showed disrespect to another man's wife or husband. Women were not as temperamental, so they fought less often for the honor of their spouses, but if there was such a need - by werewolf standards, of course - they also fought for the honor of their husband or wife, and it didn't matter who their opponent was: a man or another woman. Even Oin himself once gave a werewolf, who insulted his wife, a good thrashing and then treated him for several months. As a healer, he was well acquainted with the weaknesses of werewolves' bodies, so after a battle with him, his second's bones didn't want to grow together for quite some time.

- You could have finished him off. - Oin grumbled and returned to Bilbo, who at that time was sitting on the bed by the window. He arrived before Thorin had dragged in the crippled Alfrid, and politely retreated to another room as soon as his husband's footsteps were heard in the doorway. He didn't want to look at the bloody mess he had turned Alfrid into. At such moments, Thorin scared him terribly. What if he got under the king's hand once? He would survive, of course, nothing would happen to him, but it would definitely hurt. And Bilbo Baggins hated pain more than anything in this world.

Gloin took Alfrid's bed to another room. The healer treated the vampire's hands again. The through wounds from the silver nails were already slowly beginning to heal over with skin, all the silver crystals had been removed, and at least the edges of the wounds were no longer that terrible black color.

- Master Baggins can't walk for long. His ribs and shins haven't completely healed yet, even though his regeneration works wonders. You know, I was against him getting out of bed at all... - Oin grumbled and rearranged the jars with herbs and potions on the shelves. Thorin sighed, remembering these morning squabbles. Bilbo had driven the poor healer crazy to be allowed to get up. In an attempt to prove that he was okay, he even tried to dance, which almost made Oin's heart stop.

- Can I stay with Bilbo for the night? - Thorin asked quietly. He was very embarrassed to ask for such a thing, because Oin had scolded him this morning for falling asleep lying on Bilbo - another conflict over broken ribs, although, as it turned out later, the bones had taken the right position and began to heal before nightfall, and Oakenshield's head, lying on the vampire's chest, didn't affect his condition in any way. The healer frowned.

- Stay. But no night adventures here! If you want to fulfill your marital duty, take him to your bedroom.

Both the werewolf and the vampire blushed deeply and began to justify themselves. Thorin glanced at his beloved. In his eyes, Bilbo was simply beautiful today. A shirt with puffy sleeves, his favorite vest, which perfectly suited his body... and his hair! He was staring at those braids today, as if enchanted. He even felt ashamed when Balin made a remark to him and sent Bilbo to write letters in a small room outside the hall so that Thorin could get himself together and stop burning holes in Bilbo with his gaze. But he understood perfectly well that after recent events, it would be a long time before they got intimate, and he wasn't going to rush his spouse. Moreover, he saw how the expression of embarrassment on Bilbo's face was replaced by anxiety.

- We will probably stay here. - Thorin said quietly. Oin measured him with a glance, and Bilbo looked at him as if he had just saved his life. The healer waved his hand and left the room. Uzbad took his vampire's hand and kissed his knuckles lightly. Then he gently ran his finger down his neck and rubbed away the beige paint. Unfinished dragon seals appeared from under the thick layer of makeup. Bilbo looked away and covered his neck with his collar.

- Thank you. - he whispered. - I thought you would insist, you were so angry today. If you had asked, I would not have resisted.

- I'm not going to take it out on you, ghivashel. Right now, your condition is a priority, and I won't force you. The most important thing for me is your desire, without it I won't dare to touch you. And it does not matter what phase of the moon, I'm not a wild animal that is unable to control itself.

Balin and Dwalin, who stopped to smoke near their house, became unwitting witnesses to this quiet conversation, which they heard from the open window. There was silence after Thorin's words, and when Balin glanced out the window, Thorin and Bilbo's shadows merged into one in a loving kiss. Dwalin sighed and laughed.

- I'm surprised Thorin didn't lose his temper, he's been on edge all day. Truly a king, we all have a lot to learn from him in terms of self-control. Gloin didn't show up for duty for a week after the wedding during the full moon, I feel bad for his poor wife.

Balin smiled and shrugged.

- Gloin didn't have a ruined kingdom to restore on his own, and his wife wasn't abused by a dragon. And I wouldn't call her "poor", she looked great after that week. And let them take their time, otherwise everything will go down the drain. Surviving four days at the mercy of a dragon is, after all, a huge blow to master Baggins. We don't want to lose him.

Chapter Text

The next day Gandalf returned, who had not been seen for Eru knows how long. He rode up on a horse and early in the morning pounded on the main gate like a madman. The noise was so loud that Dwalin, who was sleeping under the gate, jumped up, thinking it was the dragon again, and the youngest of the princes almost fell out of the bastion in fright.

- Wake up, werewolves! - the wizard hit the ground with his staff and the gates rumbled even louder. Werewolves began to quietly emerge from their houses, armed with whatever they had. Kili quickly glanced at the crowd, but didn't spot Thorin and Bilbo. He sighed with relief. They needed more rest, and the wizard was clearly not helping.

- Stop it!!! - Kili shouted from above. The prince turned into a wolf and jumped off the gate, after which he again took on human form. - If you woke up auntie and uncle, I'll kill you by myself!

Kili went to the gate with the key to open it, while Gandalf looked at him in bewilderment. He had missed a lot, and didn't know that Fili and Kili had already started calling the vampire their aunt.

- What aunt? Did Thorin bring a stranger woman inside!? Wake him up immediately, it could be dangerous! Who is she, where did you find her!?

- Hold on, you oaf! There is no woman, and auntie is master Bilbo! You should have been with us, and then you would have known that he has now become a royal consort.

Gandalf turned pale and leaned his hand on the wall of one of the houses.

- Oh, Eru, have mercy... Have you already managed to have a wedding here? - he asked hoarsely, to which Kili only laughed.

- Of course not. Thorin will have to court master Bilbo for a long time before they can get married. But according to tradition, they have already done everything to be considered a married couple. Why are you reacting like that? Is something wrong?

- Yes, something is indeed wrong. And I'm afraid their marriage won't happen. I have to take Bilbo Baggins with me.

***

Thorin was in a bad mood. He was dragged out of bed tired and sleepy, almost forcibly torn away from Bilbo, and now sat hungry and frozen in a cold hall with Gandalf, who he was still angry at. And he came with such news! Look at him, he needs a vampire!

- Why do you need Bilbo? - Thorin croaked, rubbing the bridge of his nose. The wizard abandoned them in the middle of the road, no one had heard from him, and now there he was, demanding help.

- The Gundabad imps are raging, I need someone...

Uzbad didn't even listen. He slapped the table and jumped up from his seat, his eyes flashing. Gundabad is a terribly dangerous place. Thorin's brain immediately came up with the worst possible scenarios.

- That 'someone' won't be my consort! The imps in Gundabad use silver weapons! I won't expose him to such danger. Besides, it's not just you who needs him. Bilbo has taken on the greater responsibility of settling conflicts with the Mirkwood elves and is helping us put the kingdom in order. Find someone else.

Gandalf seethed and also stood up.

- There will be nothing left of your kingdom if you don't let me take the vampire to Gundabad so that he can stop the army of imps that are now heading to Erebor for your souls! Set your priorities, Thorin.

- The life of my vampire is more important to me. We can fight off the army here, shoulder to shoulder. Dain's troops are approaching, and Bilbo's negotiations with Thranduil are going quite well. If he asks the elves for help... - Thorin hesitated. And will Thranduil help them this time? Well, this time, at least, Bilbo is with them. If he convinced the elven king to let them go, then he can negotiate this time too. - And the people we helped are still with us. They are on our side.

- On your side, despite the fact that you beat up their temporary mayor yesterday?

Thorin froze. He glanced around the room to see who had blabbed. Gandalf would have regarded Uzbad's behavior yesterday as signs of the madness that his grandfather had suffered. However, that is exactly what had happened. The wizard approached the king and extended his hand.

- Give me the Heart, Thorin. It is bad for you. You can be king without it. - the wizard whispered. But there was something else in his gaze. As if he knew that Thorin didn't have the Heart, that he hadn't yet found it, that it was lying around somewhere, and, worst of all, that Thorin didn't feel its presence at all, although he should.

Uzbad frowned and waved Gandalf away. The thought had been bothering him for quite some time now, and he didn't want to show weakness in front of the wizard.

- We haven't found this abomination yet. And I hope we never will. - there was disgust in his voice. This tone was completely different from the way Thrain and Thror had spoken about this artifact. Such hostility shouldn't have been simmering in Thorin's heart, he should have inherited the desire to possess the Heart from his father and grandfather. Gandalf thought about it for a couple of moments.

- You should have felt it the moment you stepped through the gates of Erebor. Doesn't it call to you? Doesn't it want you to have it? Do you not hear a voice, do you not feel strangely drawn to some place in the treasury? - Thorin didn't like this stream of questions at all, and it was noticeable from his expression.

- I feel very drawn for that place in the treasury where my consort is, whom you are brazenly trying to take away from me, Tarkun! - uzbad changed the subject and avoided questions. For a second, Gandalf began to think that he himself understood everything, but only irritation showed in his eyes. No enlightenment. He really didn't think about the artifact at all.

Thorin was not like his father in many ways. There were some features from his mother, for example, the color of his eyes and his smile, but from his father, it seemed, nothing at all, as well as from his grandfather, while his sister Dis was an exact copy of both parents. And his behavior was different, only after a harsh upbringing by time, loss and responsibility did he begin to resemble the descendant of Durin. Something is not right here. A vampire is needed. Gandalf turned to Dwalin.

- Bring me Bilbo in here.

- No, he needs rest! He has not fully recovered yet! - protested the youngest son of Fundin, but Thorin stopped him.

- Bilbo must know what is going on here. Wake him up and bring him here.

***

Now Bilbo was also in a bad mood. The king's mood improved with his appearance, but his concentration noticeably worsened. The vampire appeared with disheveled hair, sloppy makeup and in Thorin's tunic. At first Balin had to kick uzbad to keep him awake, now he did the same, but to distract him from Bilbo. The vampire listened tiredly to Gandalf, while he felt Oakenshield staring at him with a sideways glance. He leaned towards his spouse.

- You're going to burn a hole in me. - he whispered and watched as Thorin quickly turned away so that no one would notice the blush on his cheeks.

- ...and I need you to come with me, Bilbo Baggins. First to Gundabad, and then to Dol Guldur. - after these words, Thorin returned to reality.

- Hey, ten minutes ago there was only Gundabad! Then you'll add half of Middle-earth, and you'll never give it back to me! - uzbad got furious and took Bilbo by the hand. Although he was probably overreacting, the vampire was on his spouse's side.

- Gandalf, I'm not going anywhere. I'm needed here. Lord Ironfoot's army will arrive tomorrow, and if that's not enough, I'll call Lord Thranduil for help.

The wizard sighed heavily. Apparently, because he drinks the uzbad's blood, he really does take on his stubbornness. He used to be much more accommodating. Gandalf pulled Bilbo away from Thorin and leaned toward his ear.

- Thorin might not be the heir of Durin's line. I need you to find out whether my suspicions are true or not.

Those words hit me like a blow to the head. Bilbo turned to Thorin, who had already approached them and started attacking the wizard for dragging Bilbo around like a kitten. This made him take a new look at his husband. Now it was not a king who stood before him, but a simple werewolf, just in expensive clothes. He looked more like a blacksmith or a scribe when Bilbo thought of him like that.

- What do you need from me? - the vampire asked quietly. Of course, he would not stop loving Thorin, but such news would hit the king hard. He had been through so much for this kingdom, only to find out that he had no right to the throne? And would he even stay sane after such news?

- Ghivashel… Please, just don't leave now. - Thorin put his hands on Bilbo's shoulders and looked pitifully into his eyes. Well, puppy eyes weren't only inherent in Fili and Kili. He certainly had some kind of kinship with them. - Erebor needs you. The people need you. - He squeezed his husband's hand lightly. - And I need you too.

Bilbo turned to Gandalf and shook his head, as if to say that I certainly wasn't going anywhere now. The wizard sighed heavily and shrugged.

- I'll have to wait until things settle down a bit here. Actually, I came here thinking that I would take Bilbo Baggins to the Shire. - Thorin shot the wizard a murderous look, to which he smiled. - If he decided to stay, then all I have to do is ask the ferryman from the Shire to bring his things here.

Bilbo nodded.

- I'm staying.

***

Alfrid woke up with a terrible pain all over his body. Oin's predictions about his fate had turned out to be wrong, but only thanks to Bilbo. The vampire felt so sorry for the poor guy that he agreed to inject him with some of his blood. Not enough to vampirize him, but just enough to speed up his regeneration and not send him to the grave. He refused to bite Alfrid directly, so Oin wielded a fairly large syringe. Then the healer went to help the others and left Bard to keep an eye on Alfrid.

- Don't move too much, you fool. - Bard muttered from the corner. - You're not recovered yet, your bones are just starting to knit. You owe master Baggins an apology, if it weren't for him, I don't think you would have lasted until morning after such a thrashing.

- And he saved me...? - Alfrid croaked and looked at Bard. - But how? Why?

- He injected you with some of his blood to speed up your regeneration. By this evening you'll be able to walk slowly. I don't know why he helped you. He probably just has too kind a heart. - Bard walked towards the door. - Tomorrow morning we'll set off home, the carts with gold will be ready. Be kind enough to behave decently until then.

Bilbo was squatting in the dungeon near Bofur's cell. The werewolf had spent the last few hours in agony, kicking, writhing and screaming in pain. Bilbo couldn't even imagine that the snake's "virus" could develop so quickly. Being freed from the dark clew of magic was causing the poor fellow so much pain that he couldn't even think. The vampire's hand, which the werewolf was grabbing him by, ached from the constant pressure, but Bilbo didn't pay attention to it. He had the task of curing Bofur. At some point, he stopped. Bofur's screams became unbearable.

- Forgive me, Bilbo... - the werewolf whispered in between the attacks, the snake's curses and attempts to pounce on the vampire. One of his eyes - the one that still belonged to Bofur - looked at Bilbo with such despair that the vampire's heart sank.

- You have nothing to apologize for. It wasn't you. It's not your fault. - the last words the real Bofur heard before he fell into the abyss of oblivion and gave the serpent control of his body. Bilbo frowned and took a few steps away from the bars. The serpent smiled ominously and came closer to the bars. The vampire felt this disgusting feeling spreading through his body. Smaug was trying to take over his mind again. A scaly hand touched his braid with Durin's ancestral bead in it.

- What a beautiful trinket. But it's of no use. It wasn't Durin's descendant who gave it to you. - the vampire recoiled and quickly touched the braid. The bead was in place. The serpent laughed. - That's why I don't need it. It's just a piece of metal.

- Explain. - Bilbo hissed and looked into the serpent's eyes.

- Oh, of course. But I'll tie your long tongue for you, doll. You won't tell anyone. – the vampire felt the cold hand of the serpent touch his arm, and he squinted from pain as it touched the wounds on his palms. – Now, don’t frown your beautiful brows. – some runes flashed on Baggins’s wrist. Black Speech. Bilbo turned pale and looked at the serpent. – This will only prevent you from blabbering about everything I’m about to tell you. Look here.

The false Bofur pulled the bundle with the Heart from under his tunic. Bilbo looked at the stone with interest, but when he reached for it, he suddenly felt a terrible pain hit his head. Blood gushed from his nose like a river, and it became difficult to breathe. The serpent quickly removed the stone, and the throbbing pain gradually subsided. Bilbo sighed heavily and sat down on the floor, pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and began to wipe the blood from his face.

- It's called the Silver Heart for a reason. You won't survive if you touch it, doll, you're a vampire. And those werewolves who belong to Durin's line will go mad with desire to possess this stone. Thror has gone mad, Thrain still sees this stone in his best dreams and worst nightmares, and young Dis dreams of it too. But Thorin, who should actually have a predisposition to desire of possessing the stone, doesn't even try to find it, doesn't feel it and doesn't reach for it. It seems he's even forgotten about it. Why do you think that is?

- But Fili and Kili... Aren't they also descendants of Durin?

The snake waved it off.

- It's a different story with them. They are descendants through their mother, women don't pass such a curse on to their children, and Thorin should have been a descendant through his father, Thrain. But there's a small snag here... - the snake grinned. - Thrain is not his father at all.

- Adopted? - Bilbo asked quietly, but the false Bofur shook his head.

- No, it's much more complicated than that, doll. Thorin's mother went on a spree, gave birth in her lap, and told Thrain that the kid was his. In fact, she gave birth to the offspring of some blacksmith. It turns out that neither the mother nor the father of your king belong to Durin's line. His mother, of course, is the heir of some ancient family, the Blackmanes, apparently, but they have no relation to Durin. Therefore, neither does he himself. But his sister, Dis, is the rightful heir to the throne, having been born back when Varrhild was faithful to Thrain.

Bilbo frowned, trying to digest the information he had received. The snake grinned and touched his hair again.

- Well, how do you like it now? You are a pure-blooded creature, in a relationship with an impostor who proclaimed himself king. Isn't it disgusting?

The vampire felt a sudden wave of disgust towards Thorin, but quickly stepped away from the serpent and let the wave of magic pass through his body. All that was left was a nasty aftertaste, as if he was offended by Thorin, or some weak feeling of disappointment. But Bilbo knew that it was artificially created.

- No, it's not disgusting. Thorin doesn't know, it's certainly not his fault. His mother is responsible for all this, including hiding the secret that he is not a descendant of Durin.

- So this sick bastard is also an impostor!?

The vampire turned and met Alfrid's gaze. The serpent broke into a sinister grin.

- Oh my, and who do we have here eavesdropping? - Bilbo was already regretting that he'd let this man be treated at the expense of his blood. While Alfrid was complaining about how he'd been deceived, beaten for nothing, and also, it turned out, had no right to be refused in anything, the vampire suddenly felt an unprecedented rage, and the dragon marks on his neck began to quickly heat up. He was famous for his self-control, every day he put up with a bunch of temperamental werewolves and one crazy wizard with understanding. But, apparently, even master Baggins's angelic patience was coming to an end.

The snake felt how Bilbo's body was breathing with magic, and he watched what was happening carefully. Vampire magic was extremely harmful to him, and it made him feel sick, but how could he not be curious: Bilbo Baggins himself was losing his mind! Even Bofur would have enjoyed watching this. The vampire's eyes flashed bright red, and in an instant he was right next to Alfrid. The door slammed behind the man, and Bilbo squeezed his throat. Words came out of his mouth in a language he seemed to have never known.

- Anîn sa sangur nin, anîn uthôr sangur lin. - the serpent's smile widened as he heard the hissing phrase. He knew the language. It was Sangtarin, the ancient tongue of the vampires, and what Bilbo said meant "I gave you my blood, I will take it from you." Usually the phrase was used figuratively, but in this case the vampire was speaking literally. His claws dug into Alfrid's throat, and thin streams of blood flowed from the small wounds, slowly flowing back into Bilbo's body, penetrating his skin as if it was made of thick fabric or a sponge. Alfrid's bones instantly softened and everything that had managed to heal after Thorin's beating burst at the seams.

Bilbo came to only when a wave of hunger hit his head. He had used too much magic, and now he was holding Alfrid's lifeless body in his arms. The man was pale, withered and covered in wrinkles, not breathing, and his heart was not beating. Bilbo unclenched his trembling hand and the body collapsed onto the stone floor. Alfrid was completely drained of blood, all his body dried up after breaking contact with the vampire's blood.

- I killed him... - the vampire whispered in fear and recoiled against the wall. His heart was beating so fast that his vision went dark. He had not killed an imp. Not an orc or a goblin. He had killed a real man. And, to his horror, footsteps were heard in the corridor. Bilbo threw Alfrid's withered body into the nearest cell and at the moment when he with great difficulty removed his leg from the passage, Thorin appeared in the doorway.

- Ghivashel, you've been here for a very long time. Are you all right? You're all pale. - uzbad said worriedly and reached out his hand to Bilbo's face. The vampire again felt a wave of disgust for his beloved, and again let a wave of the remaining magic pass through his body. The disgusting touch was replaced by a gentle, desirable one. He smiled weakly.

- Yes, I'm fine. Just very hungry. Go, I'll catch up with you. - Bilbo croaked. Thorin narrowed his eyes, suspecting something was wrong, but didn't argue. He moved away from the passage and disappeared behind the door. Bilbo exhaled heavily and slid down the wall. The snake had begun a new battle with Bofur's still-living mind, so he had no time for the vampire, and he didn't watch his actions any more. Well, this was only to Bilbo's advantage, in such a situation the only thing missing was for the dragon to start escalating.

Baggins pulled Alfrid's body out of the cell. In the corner of the room there were several boxes with fabrics, paper and all sorts of unnecessary junk. Bilbo threw everything out of the emptiest of them and with great difficulty stuffed the withered corpse into it. It didn't look very attractive and humane, but there was no choice. Just think, what he had gotten himself into!? Tomorrow people would be looking for Alfrid, and he was lying dead in some damn box behind the prison block of the royal palace! The vampire carried the box outside and put it in the corner, where no one would definitely look. Well, that's it, now he was a full-fledged criminal.

***

That evening, Bilbo laid in Thorin's arms after drinking his blood. His nerves were still raging, his heart was aching, and the feeling of guilt was choking him. A murderer, that's what he was. He should be driven out of here with dirty rags and not cherished like this. What would Thorin do to him when he found out? Well, probably nothing... But Bilbo's brain couldn't help but replay scenarios with the disappointed expression of the king, the exile, the aspen stake in the heart... When uzbad began to kiss his neck, the vampire put his hand on his lips and shook his head.

- I don't want to, Thorin. - he whispered. The king nodded and didn't press, only leaving a soft kiss on the vampire's cheek.

- What's wrong, ghivashel? You're so tense. - uzbad's voice made Bilbo feel an even greater wave of guilt. In front of him was a real murderer, and he was still so gentle. - I will not force you to do anything, please relax. You are shaking all over.

They had hardly seen each other all day, except for that conversation with Gandalf in the morning. Oakenshield hoped that at least they could spend the evening alone with each other, and that no problems would disturb them. Alas, it was clear from Bilbo's state that this would not happen. But when the vampire turned to face him, and Thorin noticed that his beloved's eyes were now wet, he forgot all about his discontent. He pressed the tired Baggins to his chest, soothingly stroked his back and whispered words of love in Khuzdul. Bilbo only quietly sobbed and burst into tears.

During the day, Bilbo first corresponded with the elves, which took a lot of energy, for he didn't know Sindarin, and the elves didn't know how to write Westron - the language of central Middle-earth. Then he helped in the treasury, despite his wounded hands and not fully healed ribs. After that, of his own free will, together with Dori, Nori and Ori, he put the houses in order, and all this ended with sessions of healing Bofur, on which he spent a lot of magic powers.

Thorin was just as busy, only instead of correspondence with the elves - a careful recount of the entire royal treasury and signing contracts with merchants, and instead of ennobling houses - hard work in the forge and repairing the palace. Thorin prayed that Dain and his assistants would arrive as soon as possible. They urgently needed support. Uzbad, although he didn't like to complain, understood that twelve werewolves and one vampire would not be able to handle the restoration of an entire state. And the wizard wanted to take the vampire away from them too!

While the king listened to Bilbo's quiet sobs, he felt terrible guilt. After all, it was he who had burdened the poor vampire so much that he was now crying helplessly into his shoulder - or so he thought.

"- Come on, Fili! - Dis carefully wiped a tear from her son's cheek with a handkerchief. - Everyone cries, there's nothing wrong with that!

Little Fili sobbed and looked around the corner. He looked at his mother and, after all, allowed her to hug him, after which he burst into tears. When he finally calmed down, he wiped his snot with his sleeve and rubbed his eyes.

- And even Uncle Thorin can cry...? - he asked quietly, looking at the uzbad. Thorin only smiled.

- Uncle is an exception. - the king answered."

But now Thorin's lips twisted, and a guilty tear ran down his cheek. Bilbo's tears made him feel so ashamed and sad that his heart clenched pitifully. And now they are both lying in tears and clinging to each other as if this is the last day of their lives.

Chapter Text

The next day, Bard didn't see Alfrid. He went all over Erebor looking for him, but the man was nowhere to be found, as if he had vanished into thin air. He asked all the werewolves who had already woken up, but no one had seen him. All the people were already standing with their things at the gates of the kingdom, while Bard was running around the streets calling for Alfrid. After an hour of searching, the man's nerves were already giving up. The werewolves hadn't seen the temporary burgomaster anywhere, except perhaps Gloin, who had crossed paths with him at the healer's house, but they had already looked there and found nothing. It was decided to wake Thorin and Bilbo up.

Thorin almost got into a fight with Balin, who tried to pull the vampire out of his grip. Bilbo himself hadn't slept for a long time, and he wasn't eager to get out. He had already gotten used to the temperature of Thorin's body, and he liked it when he was warmed like this. Well, and when he learned the reason why he was being pulled out of bed, the desire to leave the arms of his beloved became even less. As a result, the search party was replenished with a disgruntled Thorin, and Bilbo, who, for some unknown reason, was paler than a toadstool after mentioning Alfrid's disappearance.

- I'm not going to look for this bastard. - uzbad growled, rubbing the bridge of his nose. - He has the audacity to attack my consort, and now I have to look for his carcass. If he got up with such wounds, then, probably, he just fell somewhere in the basement and died there.

- Thorin! - Balin tugged the king by the sleeve of his tunic. Thorin realized that he didn't filter his speech at all because of his sleepiness and cleared his throat guiltily. All the people looked at him in bewilderment, some even began to whisper.

- I apologize, that was too much. But I really don't intend to look for this man. I personally inflicted all those injuries on him, and I did it for a reason. I can tell you even more, it was in vain that I didn't finish him off. The last time I saw him was on the way to the dungeon. I don’t know how he walked or why he went there, but that’s all I know.

Bilbo turned even paler, and a chill ran down his spine. What if the dragon tells everything? What if they go looking outside the dungeon walls and find that box with the body? Then he will definitely be the first suspect, because the body is drained of blood. Or maybe they won't recognize him at all, his face is so wrinkled, and his skin has stuck to his bones that he doesn't look like himself. When Bard and the others walked away towards the prison, Bilbo leaned against the wall exhausted. His heart was pounding wildly, his throat was dry, and a cold sweat appeared on his forehead from panic. Until now, the face of a dead man was before his eyes. A man who literally a few moments before was still alive. A living man. A warm touch brought the vampire out of his trance.

- Ghivashel, I can see that something is wrong. You haven't been yourself since last night, and now, after mentioning that bastard, you're all pale again. - uzbad frowned and carefully moved a golden lock of hair from Bilbo's face. - Tell me, did he do something to you? If so, then I'll pull him out from under the ground and rip his fucking head off.

"No need, he doesn't need it much anyway..." - flashed through Bilbo's mind, and he shuddered.

- No, no, he didn't do anything, everything is fine. I'm fine. - he answered uncertainly. Thorin wanted to continue asking, but he didn't want to put pressure on his beloved. However, he still began to think about what Alfrid could have done, and these thoughts were far from rosy. First the dragon, now this. He sighed and kissed the vampire on the forehead.

- Remember, one word from you, and he will find himself in a grave. And so it will be with everyone. I'm on your side, no matter what had happened between you.

Bilbo suddenly wanted to tell Thorin the truth when he looked into the king's blue eyes. It seemed to him that Oakenshield wouldn't judge him, would understand and wouldn't be angry. But other possible scenarios flashed through his head, and the vampire quickly discarded the idea of ​​confession. To avoid further questions, which, judging by Thorin's expression, were about to fall upon him, he smiled and smoothed the king's mane.

- If something happens, I will definitely tell you, don't worry.

***

Of course, Alfrid wasn't in the dungeon. Bard sighed heavily and sank to the floor. His left hand dropped to the floor, but he immediately pulled it back when it came across something slippery and cold. A dragon's tail. He jumped when he met the snake's gaze.

- Well, how popular I am. Why have you come, human? - the false Bofur asked with a grin. Bard looked at the creature with interest for a few seconds, and didn't answer right away. A distorted face, one half of which seemed to be constantly convulsed. It twitched periodically and made strange sounds, as if it were crazy: hissing, clicking, moaning or grunting.

- We've lost one of our people, we've been searching for four hours now. - he muttered. The serpent's smile widened and he licked his lips, after which his face slanted again and he hissed again, laughing madly and fingering the scales on his knuckles.

- Did you ask the vampire? What did he say?

Bard was uneasy about the serpent's expression. Bright eyes that sparkled with some kind of danger, sharp fangs, a wide smile and a face covered in shiny scales. It was not for nothing that he was interested in the vampire. Either he knew something, or this was just how his strange obsession showed itself. Even then, in the boat, Bard noticed how Bofur looked at Bilbo. But now, after the poisoning by the serpent, which the boatman didn't yet know about, this look had changed greatly, and not for the better.

- We asked. He said that he hadn't seen Alfrid.

- So that's how it is. - the serpent shrugged. The predatory light in his eyes didn't go out, and something was clearly not right with him. - Well, if even the little vampire doesn't know anything, then I can't help you.

The bard nodded and hurriedly left the prison. Being there with this creature left such a strange, disgusting feeling in his heart and lungs. As if something was preventing him from breathing, filling his lungs with something sticky, and his heart was fettered by the clawed fingers of some terrible creature. The man winced and locked the door behind him. The dragon watched him go and pulled the Silver Heart out of his pocket. He ran his clawed paw along the smooth surface of the stone and licked it, after which he hissed again and clicked his tongue several times.

- Our little vampire decided to hide the truth. So his mind is already saturated with poison. His lips are poisoned too, and carry only lies and wounds. How much longer will he resist?

- Thorin, those marks on Bilbo Baggins' neck still affect him, even though they haven't penetrated his brain directly. - Gandalf sat opposite Thorin and occasionally glanced at the vampire, who seemed to be acting normally, happily chatting with Ori and Nori during dinner. But Thorin felt it too, as did Bilbo himself. The vampire had become more nervous, and even now the werewolf could see how his hands were shaking, how he was biting his lips, cracking his fingers and scratching himself with his claws. His neck, especially around the marks, was all red and irritated, and even now Bilbo sat, looking around, and scratching his neck with his claws. This was not typical of him before. Uzbad also noticed that Bilbo showed signs of hunger more often than before, although he denied everything and refused to drink more blood.

- And what will this lead to?

- I don't know. He has a very kind heart, and I fear that this pure whiteness will be tainted by the dragon's magic. Since he refused to come with me, I will be forced to go alone. - the wizard put aside an almost full plate of soup, from which he ate only a couple of spoons. - Try to make it so that by the time I return, we will not have to plunge a silver dagger into his heart.

Everyone turned around at once when the crash of a broken plate swept through the hall. Thorin was clutching Gandalf's collar tightly, shards of dishes lay on the floor and a couple of shards dug into the king's bare feet. Angry tears gushed from the werewolf's eyes.

- Don't even dare talk about such a thing, do you understand me!? - the uzbad growled and shook the wizard. Even the old man didn't expect such an outburst. - If you dare bring even a gram of silver to Bilbo, I will tear you to shreds!

***

- What are you doing to us? - Bilbo asked hoarsely, standing in front of the dragon's cell. It had been about four days since their last meeting. The serpent looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

- What a bold claim, doll. - the false Bofur touched the vampire's hair. - I love it when you're angry. Come on, maybe you'll yell at me some more?

Bilbo's face instantly twisted into a grimace of rage. The same as when he killed Alfrid. It was as if all the skin had peeled off his arm, and the muscles had dissolved, leaving only bare bones. He pushed his hand through the bars and grabbed the dragon's throat tightly. His claws dug into the creature's neck just as they had into Alfrid's skin. Smaug's cold blood slowly flowed over his fingers.

- Laîr gull lin úvorn, garlô nîn athenor*. - Bilbo's lips were letting out words in that unknown language again. At least, he himself didn't know what his speech meant, but he wanted to say something like "stop evading." The realization that he was losing it again brought him back to reality. His hand was covered in skin again, and he jumped back from the bars. Due to the fact that his hand had increased in size after his skin and muscles had returned to it, it almost got stuck between the bars. Deep cuts now adorned the vampire's pale skin. He glared at the dragon, who was rubbing his neck with a satisfied smile.

- I suppose you mean what just happened. This only happens to you, doll. Werewolves are the same as before. - The snake leaned against the wall and bowed his head. Bilbo frowned.

- Then why...

- Why has everyone become irritating? Where has your angelic patience gone? Why are you always in a panic? Why did you snap at your beloved Thorin today?

"- Ghivashel, what are you…?

- Shut up and don't call me that! If you're going to act like a spoiled brat, get the hell out of here and hand over the throne to a more sensible person! Echor aran dulmîr úmarth*!

- Bilbo! – the wizard's voice brought the vampire out of his trance. His furious look immediately changed to a frightened one, and he ran away, profusely apologizing, not even letting Thorin get a word in."

- …yes. Explain.

- I can't until you get over here. I need to tie your tongue.

- Why do you need it? – the dragon only laughed in response to these words.

- Well, how so? You'll go and tell your crazy husband everything, and he'll come running here and just tear me to pieces. Do you think I want that? Don't you remember how after those wonderful four days we spent alone, he broke a bunch of my bones?

Bilbo frowned and pressed himself against the wall. Those memories should have left him by now, but the snake considered it his duty to remind him.

- I won't tell anyone. I'm already ashamed to look Thorin in the eye after today. Don't push it.

- Well, you know, there is one option for me to agree to tell you everything, and at the same time risk my life. - the vampire looked expectantly and suspiciously at the snake. - Kiss me, and then I will tell you everything.

Mahal, have mercy! Are they in some kind of a novel!? Bilbo sighed in irritation and shook his head. He was ready for many things, but certainly not to betray Thorin. Even if he never knew, how the vampire would look him in the eyes, lie next to him, accept his love and affection? Moreover, sooner or later, he himself would crack and dump everything on the poor werewolf, and this would definitely not be good for their relationship. But he needed an opportunity to tell Thorin about everything, to explain his actions, to somehow justify his words today. Although he didn't seem to know Sangtarin that Bilbo would blurt out during his fits of anger, the vampire himself remembered exactly what he wanted to say today.

- Then nothing is needed. - Bilbo got up from the floor and headed for the prison exit. The snake was unhappy with this outcome. He really hoped that the vampire would succumb to provocation and either let him tie his tongue or kiss him. He wanted to control, to dominate, but he certainly didn't want to allow Bilbo to exercise free will. He wouldn't agree to such a dismissal. The dragon's tail swept Baggins off his feet and dragged him back to the bars. The vampire only had time to squeak before the dragon's hands jerked him to his feet and the creature pressed its lips to his. In order to reach his face, the false Bofur leaned Bilbo against the bars. The vampire hissed and tried with all his might to push the serpent away, move away from the bars and free himself from his grip. The Silver Heart was in the dragon's pocket, now at an unsafe distance. Bilbo felt his skin unpleasantly scorched by heat, his head began to spin and he could not breathe.

When the serpent finally pulled away, Bilbo jumped back from the bars as if scalded and greedily inhaled the damp air, mentally thanking Lady Yavanna that it was over. But he was too early to rejoice. The voice he heard from behind him made him pale.

- What was that? - Bilbo was too panicked to understand what Thorin's face was expressing. All he could think about was: he saw the kiss, he thought he was a traitor, he was disappointed and was going to leave now without giving him an opportunity to explain.

This time Bilbo clearly felt how the very breakdown, that had caused him to quarrel with Thorin today, was happening. His eyes were covered with a bloody veil, his body stopped obeying, it moved, drawn by some outside force, and his speech was uncontrollably torn in this strange language, which he, it seemed, wasn't supposed to know. Everything was happening as if in slowed time.

The vampire jumped up from the floor and his eyes flashed bright red. The door behind Thorin slammed shut, pushing the werewolf off his feet and into the prison, and he almost crashed face first into the floor after flying down the steps. In the blink of an eye, Bilbo was at the bars. His hand lost its skin again and he grabbed the snake by the throat.

- Laîr gull lin úvorn, garlô nîn athenor!!! - Now these words sound even more eerie than last time, as if it wasn't his voice at all, and someone else is speaking with him, but this doesn't bring the vampire out of the trance. He only squeezes the snake's throat harder. The scales make a light crunch and the smile on the snake's face is replaced by a grimace of pain.

- I kissed him myself, by force! First I offered, in exchange for information, and he refused! - the words involuntarily poured out of the dragon's mouth, he did not even control himself. - That's it, I confessed, let me go, you son of a bitch! - the snake screamed hoarsely, but the grip on his neck only tightened, and the scales crunched and fell off under the pressure of bony fingers. The dragon looked at Thorin. - Don't just stand there! Help me!

Thorin jumped up, ran up to Bilbo, turned him around and shook him hard, grabbing him by the shoulders. The vampire's eyes stopped glowing, and he looked at the werewolf in fear. His hand took on a human form, and was all wounded by pieces of scale stuck in it. Thorin's gaze looked at him far from disappointment, anger or disgust. He was worried, even a little scared, the blue eyes looking at him from under thick eyebrows were filled with anxiety.

- Thorin, it's not as you thought, I really didn't...

- Ghivashel, I didn't mean to suspect you of anything. - uzbad didn't lie, he really was confident in his beloved, although jealousy was raging in his heart now. He was terribly angry at the snake, and was ready to tear him to pieces, but after Bilbo's reaction, he calmed down a little. He had never seen his vampire like this, and the change frightened him. Not only because he was aggressive and snapped at everyone, but also because of the stress it put on Bilbo. After each outburst, he would sit in a corner, sweating and shaking like a leaf, and then spend the next day following the person he had snapped at, apologizing profusely. Uzbad turned to the serpent.

- You will explain everything to us right now. What is happening to my consort? Is this your doing? - he barely restrained himself from punching the snake when it smiled maliciously.

- Yeah, I'm not telling you. Now you will send your husband away, and then come back and do the same thing as you did to that man earlier. The dark-haired one, with the strange eyebrows. And then the poor vampire will waste his blood to heal me, and that is bad for his health. Isn't it, doll?

- Stop provoking him. Talk to me.

Thorin's tone was firm and confident, as always. And all that artificial disgust for him, created by the snake's magic, immediately disappeared from Bilbo's heart, even without the use of magic, when he heard the king stand up for him. He immediately remembered how his father had defended his mother when she was accused of vampirism. Baggins allowed the warm hands of the uzbad to pull him closer.

- You are so positive. - the snake bared his teeth. - If his behavior changes so much, then he must have had some kind of affection for this werewolf," he pointed to the half of his face that still belonged to Bofur. "Friendly, romantic, I don't care, the fact is, it was there. You can make your jealousy eat you up from the inside, Thorin Oakenshield. I'm interested to see how you'll suffer. You know how many people love "exotic creatures".

Uzbad's eye twitched.

"What a wonderful creature."

"Such a beautiful creature..."

"Everyone just adores you, master Baggins!"

"Are all vampires this nice?"

- Get to the point. I asked you a question. Is this your doing? - Thorin was in no mood to think about all those who could potentially want something more from his vampire. One of them was standing in front of him now, and that was enough to make his head spin with possible scenarios if he gave in to the snake's provocations.

- Mine, mostly. And then what? Will you give the order to cut off my head? Will you forbid the vampire from seeing me? You are trying to fight for your friend's sanity yourself. Tell me, doll, how are you doing with that?

- Terrible. - Bilbo answered shortly. - No matter how deep I dig, even if his sanity returns during the action of my spell, as soon as I am about to leave, everything immediately collapses.

Thorin listened to his consort, then took him by the arm and led him out of the dungeon.

- Enough dragons for today. You need rest, you are shaking all over.

***

Later that evening, Thorin and Bilbo sat quietly together at dinner. They had been busy with the incident in the dungeon, and everyone else had already eaten. Bombur had mistakenly filled two bowls of cold soup, even though he had long known that Bilbo didn't eat normal food, and placed them in front of the vampire and the werewolf, then went out, leaving them alone. Thorin was picking at the cold broth with a spoon without appetite, and Bilbo was just silently examining the vegetables floating in it. He was hungry too, but he didn't want to attack the werewolf now - or at all, considering how bad he felt. And the incident from the morning didn't give him peace. It felt as if he didn't even deserve to be in the same room with the king now.

- Thorin, you need to eat. - Bilbo whispered. Uzbad sighed and tried to shove at least some food into himself, but the nerves and stress made it difficult to swallow. The most he could eat was half a plate, and after the first five spoonfuls it was all eaten forcefully. He wanted to lie down in bed, hug Bilbo, talk to him, touch his golden hair, kiss him... But he couldn't show his weakness here, Bombur could come back at any moment, and he didn't want to blush in front of the cook.

- Let's get out of here. I'm not hungry anymore.

Thorin couldn't sleep. He laid and stared at the ceiling, afraid to touch the vampire. He wasn't sleeping either, uzbad could hear his restless breathing and from his angle he could see how his fluffy light eyelashes lowered when he blinked. His words from this morning were spinning in his head.

"Shut up and don't call me that!" But Thorin thought it was a very beautiful and sweet nickname. His heart gave an unpleasant pang.

- Bilbo... - he called quietly. The vampire didn't turn to him completely, but slightly turned his head, showing that he was listening.

- If you don't like me calling you ghivashel, I could choose another word. For example, gilduz, or maybe zarakul. The first means "golden one", and the second...

- I want you to continue calling me ghivashel. - Bilbo whispered in a trembling voice. Thorin turned him around and saw tears in his beloved's eyes again. - I'm sorry I yelled at you today, Thorin. Please don't take me seriously when I lose my temper, I don't know what's wrong with me at those moments...

The king tucked the braid with Durin's bead behind the vampire's ear and kissed him tenderly. He wiped the tears from his cheek and pulled him into his arms. Before coming to Erebor, Bilbo had looked much happier, and it broke Thorin's heart that in his homeland his beloved consort felt so bad that she cried into his shoulder almost every night and suffered from nightmares. He would have liked to relieve Bilbo of all the work, to let him lie in bed all day, walk the streets of Erebor or run in the nearby forest, but he knew that the vampire would flatly refuse.

For the past week they had simply come into the room, collapsed on the bed, and after Bilbo had stopped crying, fallen asleep in each other's arms. But today was not such a busy day, so when the clock struck midnight, they were still sitting next to each other and talking quietly. Bilbo had calmed down, and was now telling about the Shire, about vampire culture his mother has taught him, and his past. Thorin listened, staring at his beloved with fascination. At the way the moonlight fell on his pale skin and golden hair, at the way Durin's Bead glittered in his hair and the fire of the only burning candle in the room reflected in his scarlet eyes. It seemed as if nothing had happened: not the dragon, not those disgusting marks on Bilbo's neck, not his illness.

Because of their nerves, they couldn't fall asleep even when they both laid down and tried to sleep. Thorin tossed and turned under the blanket for about ten minutes, while Bilbo looked for a comfortable position and couldn't find one. They eventually laid down in an embrace, but were still awake.

- Thorin, are you asleep? - Bilbo whispered, turning his head slightly. Thorin shook his head, his beard tickling the vampire's neck.

- I'm not. It's impossible to just fall asleep with you when I'm not dead tired. - the vampire felt a burning kiss on his neck. He smiled and turned to face the werewolf. For a second, memories of those four days flashed through his head again, but Bilbo quickly pushed them away. The dragon wanted this situation to weigh on him, preventing him from living in peace. But the vampire was terribly stubborn, and in response to Thorin's passion, despite the occasional panic and desire to distance himself, he responded with passion. He couldn't hide forever, and he needed to start fighting back the dragon as soon as possible, even if it started with a simple thing like intimacy.

Bilbo's nightshirt and Thorin's tunic landed on the bedside table, followed by all the other clothes they were wearing at the time. Now that he was so close to his consort, Thorin was sure that tomorrow would be better than yesterday. The vampire's body was already smooth and whole again, without a single scar or scratch. Bilbo leaned toward his neck and gently dug his fangs into the king's skin. Thorin arched slightly and a quiet moan escaped his lips, followed by barely audible words of love in Khuzdul. No one had explained their meaning to the vampire yet.

- Thorin, remind me what that word you keep calling me means? - uzbad was usually verbose in the heat of the moment, but only in his native tongue, and Bilbo had to bring him to his senses.

- Ghivashel means "precious." - the king translated in a half-whisper. The vampire smiled and wrapped his arms around his neck, slowly lowering himself onto his spouse's lap. Thorin looked at his consort with a desperate and thirsty look. His hands buried themselves in Bilbo's golden curls and pulled him closer, but not close enough for them to merge in a kiss. The vampire resisted a little and kept the intrigue.

- What a pleasant meaning. Only living creatures can be called that, or maybe that's also how you could call Silver Heart?

- I will only call you that, and not some boulder.

Passionate kisses didn't give Bilbo a chance to say anything more. And Thorin only now realized that he really had forgotten about the existence of the Silver Heart. And why would he need it? He would deal with the council of werewolves later, now it was important to restore Erebor, not lose Bilbo and, when everything settled down, to decide the issue of accepting him as the royal consort. And this piece of white stone, even if it was found, was better to hide somewhere and never take it out. Maybe, if possible, even destroy it.

Chapter Text

A few days later Dain arrived with his men, and Thranduil also joined them, at Bilbo's request. Bard and the rest of the men also decided to stay and help the werewolves in return for giving them such a large sum of money to help. With so many people, the work in Erebor began to boil with renewed vigor, and the werewolves were given a rest. Bilbo felt better when he worked less and didn't have contact with the dragon. But Fili and Kili were especially happy. The last week had been extremely stressful, and they almost never left the cellars of the royal palace, helping to clear them of rubble along with Gloin, Dwalin and Nori.

Sometimes Thorin came to them, but Bilbo wasn't allowed there, since many different metals were mixed in the treasuty, and if he stayed too long in a closed room near the silver, he could get pneumonia. This had already happened when he was pulled out from under the rubble with the dragon, but thanks to his regeneration and Oin's healing potions, he came to his senses very quickly, but no one wanted to put him at risk again. Who knows how this could end?

In general, the brothers did not see the vampire at all for about a week, and they constantly bothered Thorin about him while working in the cellars. Every time they found some trinket, like a hairpin, bracelet, bead or earring, they ran to the uzbad and offered to give him something from it to Bilbo, to which they always refused, since often these decorations were silver, which wasn't visible in the dark.

When they were finally allowed to take a day off, they didn't even think about staying in bed longer and sleeping. They jumped up before dawn and, as soon as Thorin left his house, immediately ran there and unceremoniously shook the sleeping vampire.

- Auntie, wake up! We missed you so much! - Bilbo, half asleep, didn't perceive any information, and didn't even get angry at the way Kili called him. He mumbled something inarticulate and almost dozed off again, but the blanket was mercilessly torn off him, and the youngest son Dis fell right on him, happily wagging his tail.

- Kili! What are you doing, what if he was naked there! - Fili was indignant and wrapped the vampire in a blanket, who at that moment was simply trying to understand who he was, where he was and what was going on.

- He couldn't have been naked, I saw the collar of his shirt. Oh look, uncle gnawed him. - Kili giggled and poked his finger at Bilbo's collarbones, on which scarlet bite marks flaunted. At this point, Fili couldn't maintain the image of a strict older brother anymore and laughed.

- I thought it was the other way around. Well, did he bite anywhere else? - Bilbo, who had almost fallen asleep, was unwound again, so quickly and abruptly that he almost fell off the bed onto the floor. After that, a thorough examination for Thorin's bites awaited him. But he didn't care, he was only concerned about the possibility of getting some more sleep, and opening his eyes was definitely not in his plans. But the second descendant of Durin settled down next to him, and his happy tail began to beat Bilbo very actively on the thighs and chest. He definitely couldn't sleep in a situation like that.

When the vampire finally woke up completely, his hair looked more like a washcloth, the hairs on his eyebrows stuck up after Kili had joyfully licked his entire face, and the two brothers were running around the house with Thorin's pants on their heads.

- Okay, stop it! You're going to... - Bilbo said in a strict voice, as Fili ran into Thorin's bedside table, knocking it over completely, and all of the uzbad's things fell out. - ...break something.

It was the end for Thorin, and he didn't even know it. Along with a pile of underwear, clothes, jewelry, cosmetics, and some official papers, a huge pile of his personal notes fell out of his bedside table. The brothers and the vampire crowded around this pile. Bilbo tried to force the werewolves not to touch anything from there, but it was useless.

- Mahal, what a tirade! Kili, look! "My consort is so beautiful today that I can't think of anything but him. I wanted to put off the paperwork, but that meant that I wouldn't have an excuse to go to him and ask him to sign it. He has beautiful hands." - Fili laughed, and Bilbo's cheeks began to heat up. At that moment, Kili stood and looked at some piece of paper with wide-open eyes.

- Look, brother, I think I found some dirt on uncle. A list of things to try with Bilbo... a date in the forest... blah-blah-blah, the romantic ravings of Thorin in love... playing cards... taking him to the forge... binding...!? - at that moment, the vampire, red as a boiled lobster, snatched the paper out of Kili's hands. He himself didn't know about Thorin's plans, and was going to read this interesting list at his leisure.

***

One of the things on Thorin's list was to perform the Zaglakh-Kurum ritual. This is a mandatory tradition in the courtship process of werewolves, during which a werewolf in love must symbolically "hunt" for the attention of his or her chosen one. This tradition had existed for a very long time, since the time when werewolves lived in tribes, and it was so popular with the people that it was preserved to this day. Fili and Kili had heard a lot about this tradition from Dis, and since childhood they had been waiting for the moment when they would be invited to such a celebration.

From the very morning of that day, Thorin went to Balin to start planning everything. There were no special preparations needed, just to invite everyone and choose a suitable clearing. It had to be large enough to accommodate the musicians and the dancing werewolves. Uzbad's heart fluttered when he thought about how Bilbo would look at him with a smile, dressed in ceremonial robes. Werewolves loved challenges, and so they had a great many such rituals during their courtship of their beloveds.

- Well, how quick. I thought you needed at least some time to recover after this week." Balin pulled out his green notebook and carefully read his notes. - Well, you've already done everything with Bilbo that should precede this ritual, so I don't see any obstacles. But we still have a problem. If Bilbo has any family or friends besides us, they all remained in the Shire. And his side must be present too, and it can't be just those who will be helping him with the preparations now.

Thorin thought and scratched his beard.

- Well, Gandalf can be considered. The main thing is that he doesn't run away. We need four more, I'll take care of that, and you find Fili and Kili and ask them to inform Bilbo of the situation and prepare him for tonight. Today is the perfect phase of the moon for the ritual.

Balin nodded and left, and Thorin went first to Bard's chambers. He sighed and looked back at the house where him and Bilbo were currently living. Since he had decided to hold the ceremony today, he had no right to see the vampire until nightfall.

- Yes, come in. - Bard was quite surprised when he saw the uzbad in the doorway. He rose from his seat and bowed. Thorin nodded to him and sat down on the chair opposite the man. - Do you need something, Your Majesty?

The werewolf shuddered at such an address. He wasn't used to being called that.

- You are close to my consort, aren't you? - only after a few seconds did Thorin realize that it sounded like a complaint. Bard's eyes widened and he began to justify himself, hoping to avoid the wrath of the king, who was jealous of his consort, but the latter quickly reassured him. - No, no, that's not what I meant. I meant, are you friends? Or at least acquaintances?

- Phew, thank Eru... - Bard visibly relaxed. - I suppose I could say that. Why?

- I wanted to ask you to be present at a ceremony tonight. All of Bilbo's friends remained in the Shire, and we need those who can be there with him, in addition to our company.

And again, the uzbad was misunderstood. Bard is a human, which means he is not familiar with the traditions of werewolves, he doesn't know any ritual of Zaglakh-Kurum. The man thought that he was being invited to a wedding.

- Shouldn't you at least prepare a little? Is this how werewolves invite guests? I thought that all folks have similar traditions for weddings, and it is done by letter. And the costumes? The rings? Have you found everything yet?

- Oh Mahal, we aren't getting married yet! - Thorin laughed and briefly explained everything to the bewildered man. About dancing, winning the attention of the beloved and the obligatory presence of witnesses from both sides of the couple. Bard listened to the story of the uzbad with interest, after which he immediately gave his consent, but on the condition that he could take his children. This was not a problem, but the children were not considered full-fledged witnesses, since they were not as closely acquainted with the vampire as Bard, and Thorin still had to find four more. He reluctantly went to the elven camp.

***

Balin hadn't yet left when Fili and Kili began to tell Bilbo about the ritual. He looked at them in bewilderment and listened to this fascinating story. Balin was about to leave, but the vampire grabbed his hand and looked at him imploringly. He didn't want to be left alone with the princes, especially when they were in such a cheerful mood. Fundin's eldest son sighed and sat down on a chair.

- Easy, boys, you'll fly away on your tails now. - even when they fell silent, the silence was broken by the noise of their tails, which swung from side to side at incredible speed. - Bring Master Baggins suitable clothes from what we found, call Dwalin and Ori for me, and then run after the elf.

There was no need to repeat, the brothers immediately jumped up from their seats and rushed towards the door. Balin brought a bucket of water and some ointments from Oin's house.

- Wash yourself, and then rub your neck with this ointment. - the vampire obeyed. The ointment smelled very pleasant, and he noticed the changes in Balin's face when the scent reached him. The werewolf's pupils dilated, and he leaned toward the bottle to sniff the liquid. Noticing the confusion on Bilbo's face, Balin cleared his throat, shook his head, and hurried to explain the reason for his behavior. - This is a mixture of misty sage and sunfall spruce. It works on werewolves like catnip. It is customary to rub yourself with this to suppress the desire of the werewolf to touch their lover more difficult. Thorin must really feel a test in all this.

After that, Bilbo took a bath and washed his hair with some solution from Oin's house. By the time Dwalin and Ori arrived, he had already left and was drying his hair with a towel. He looked at himself in the mirror. His previously short golden curls had grown and were now curling around his neck, sticking out in all directions and twisting awkwardly near his ears. The vampire was very unaccustomed to seeing himself like this. He took the scissors from the table and reached for his hair, but was stopped by the frightened squeal of the werewolves. Dwalin snatched the scissors from his hands.

- What are you doing!? Just try to cut them! You look beautiful as is!

- But they need to be shaped a little, look, everything is sticking out…

Dwalin squinted and looked at the vampire's hair, then stuffed the scissors into his pocket.

- We'll make it look presentable, nothing will stick out. Balin got permission from Thorin to braid your hair.

***

- No, Thorin Oakenshield, do not even dream about it. I only agreed to come here and help you because Bilbo Baggins asked me to. Do not even hope that I will participate in your events. If a vampire needs it, let him come and ask me about it.

Thorin sighed heavily, barely restraining himself from yelling at the elf. And these creatures still complain about the stubbornness of werewolves! Thranduil himself is worse than a donkey!

- Bilbo can't ask you about this, he is currently being prepared for the ceremony. And since he has no friends here apart from us, I must look for witnesses of this event. Thranduil, please, this is really important, he would be very glad if you came. - yes, the entire family of Durin's descendants knew how to make puppy eyes. Apparently, they got it from their mother, because Thrain wasn't famous for such an ability. Thranduil thought for a second about agreeing - it was a complete miracle to hear Oakenshield say "please", but at the last moment he remained adamant and shook his head.

The elf was about to say something as an argument, but then Fili and Kili burst into his room without knocking or warning. The forest king rolled his eyes, and Thorin looked at his nephews with a smile. Even at such an important moment, it was a sacred thing to taunt Thranduil, and he could not help but rejoice at his irritation.

- Eru, have mercy, I cannot stand three wolfhounds... - Thranduil muttered regretfully and rubbed the bridge of his nose. Fili and Kili did not even pay attention to the elf's irritation, nothing could spoil their mood.

- Lord Thranduil, will you help with auntie's costume? - Kili asked, happily wagging his tail. The elven king raised one eyebrow in bewilderment, and the youngest son of Dis hastened to explain. - Oh, I mean, master Bilbo's.

- I certainly can't stand it. - croaked Thranduil. - I only told your king that I'm not going to take part in this farce. If the vampire wants to see me there, have him write me a letter.

- Can we get some help?

Legolas appeared in the doorway, and next to him was a pretty red-haired elf. The woman immediately attracted Kili's attention, and he went to sniff her. Such attention from the prince visibly embarrassed her, but at the same time amused her. Werewolves seemed cute to her, and when Kili, wagging his tail, tickled her with his breath, she barely restrained herself from laughing. Fili nodded happily.

- Yes, since your father is picky, then you may go, Prince Legolas. And you...? - He glanced at the elf, who was now being licked. She laughed anyway, pushing Kili away from her.

- Tauriel. I would like to join in too. I crossed paths with master Bilbo a few times while he was in Mirkwood, and I would be glad to attend the event. He is a very pleasant person, we had a nice chat.

Thranduil gave in. Despite his dislike for werewolves, if even his son agreed, then what was there to lose. Moreover, Thorin's words that Bilbo would be glad to see him there made him feel proud of himself in his heart. He rose from his chair and silently, without even looking at Thorin, followed his son, and Tauriel trudged after them, vainly trying to peel Kili off her, who now, after the ban on licking, ran around and looked at her carefully. During the waxing moon, many werewolves' animal habits became more acute, and the youngest son Dis was one of the most sensitive to the phases of the moon. Even during the day, when the moon was not visible, he was still subject to the indirect influence of its position.

"Excellent. Only the wizard remains." - Thorin thought and headed to the royal palace in search of Gandalf.

***

There was such a huge crowd in Thorin and Bilbo's house that the vampire felt sick. He already had a headache from how long his hair had been tortured by the rough hands of the werewolves, and he even sighed with relief when Thranduil stepped in to take care of it. The elf's gentle hands didn't pull his hair so hard, and the braids turned out neater. Balin watched with envy as Thranduil skillfully dealt with Bilbo's curly and unruly hair. At that time, Dwalin was doing the vampire's makeup, and Ori and Legolas were adjusting the chosen clothes to the proportions of the future royal consort's body.

- Are we going to braid the stones of Lasgalen in? - Thranduil asked, looking at Balin. The werewolf was taken aback, not even knowing what to say. The elf, apparently, was so carried away by the process that he forgot about his dislike for werewolves and even considered it important to consult with them. Fundin's eldest son quickly brought him the box with the stones. Thranduil frowned when he saw that some of them were missing.

- There are about fifteen missing. Where did they go? - he was about to make a claim against the werewolves, or even accuse them of stealing, but Bilbo stopped him.

- I gave them to Bard when he transported us. I paid for his services. - the elf, although calmed down, was still a little dissatisfied. Fifteen stones, even such small ones, were worth a fortune. You could buy a huge house for them! But it was a gift, and the stones belonged to Bilbo.

The sun began to sink behind the mountains, and Bilbo was given his costume to try on. A shirt with a small neckline and puffy sleeves, a vest with runes embroidered on it, knee-length shorts made of light fabric and an almost transparent scarf that covered half of his face. On his head was a headband with red stones, beads on his neck, and gold ornaments on his pointed ears. When the vampire came out from behind the screen, even Thranduil froze with his mouth open.

- Thorin will absolutely lose his mind. - Ori said proudly, clearly pleased with his work. The clothes fit perfectly.

***

Thorin was also being actively prepared for the ceremony. Despite the cold, uzbad could not wear a shirt, as there were patterns and runes painted on his chest and arms, and they had to be visible during the ritual. The king's hair was left loose, only a few braids were braided and secured together jn the back of his head, so that the rest of the hair wouldn't get into his face. On his legs were wide trousers and heavy-looking boots. Oin and Gloin painted runes on his arms, while Kili and Tauriel, who joined them not entirely of her own free will, emphasized the scars on the uzbad's chest with brown powder. This was also one of the traditions. In werewolf culture, scars signified life experience and acquired wisdom. During many rituals, it was customary to inflict and emphasize scars received in battles.

While Bilbo looked graceful and refined, Thorin was given a rougher look, but he still looked very impressive. That was the whole idea of ​​the ritual: the one who fell in love first was the "hunter", and the one whose attention he was trying to win was some sort of "prey". If Bilbo had declared his feelings first, he would have to "hunt".

They also began to draw patterns on Thorin's neck. Fortunately, werewolves were quite resistant to low temperatures, and it was not too severe of a frost outside, otherwise the uzbad risked laying down with a fever the next day. Of course, he was much stronger than the others, but that didn't make him stronger than mother nature.

- Ready, handsome. - Gloin slapped Thorin hard on the back, he rose from his chair and looked in the mirror. He was already impatient to see Bilbo, but he had to wait about four more hours, since the ritual began two hours before midnight. In the meantime, they were preparing the guests.

During the Zaglakh-Kurum process, the king also had to "fight" with other werewolves from his entourage for the attention of the future consort. Gloin and Dwalin were chosen as his opponents. After the second one returned from Bilbo's preparation, he brought the smell of all those ill-fated herbs of Oin into the room. Thorin instinctively sniffed the pleasant smell of the herbs, his pupils dilated.

- Mahal, just don't tell me that my consort smells like that, I'll go insane there... - Thorin muttered and was about to rub his eyes, but received a slap on the wrists from Gloin.

- Where are you reaching you damn hands, you'll smear everything! Wait, your makeup hasn't dried yet! - he growled. Dwalin sat down next to the red-haired dwarf and the others began to conjure over their makeup and body drawings.

- Your vampire smells twice as strong as mine. - said the youngest son of Fundin with a smile. Thorin exhaled loudly. They clearly hadn't spared him. Bilbo was driving him crazy as it was, and now he smelled of intoxicating herbs.

- Tell me, Dwalin, how beautiful is he now? - the uzbad asked in a whisper while Dwalin's hands were being painted.

- How beautiful? - He let out a quiet laugh. - Even Thranduil was speechless. We decided not to spare you and to arrange a real challenge, you will have to call upon all your patience and endurance not to let yourself touch him until the end of the ceremony.

Thorin sank into a chair and tried to imagine what Bilbo looked like now. His heart was pounding wildly in his chest, and when he began to nervously tap his boot on the floor, everyone sitting with him in the room sighed sadly, realizing that the uzbad wouldn't calm down before the ceremony began. But, fortunately, the work on Gloin and Dwalin was quickly completed, and when their drawings on their bodies dried, everyone threw on fur coats and went to decorate the clearing, so Thorin's nerves didn't have enough time to drive everyone crazy.

***

Bilbo and the others went to the clearing a few minutes before the ceremony itself, when everything was ready. Thorin, Gloin and Dwalin were already waiting for them. For the first time, everyone had seen uzbad so nervous. This werewolf fearlessly threw himself at enemies with a sword and proudly led the army into battle, but now he was shaking like an aspen leaf, and certainly not from the cold. Gloin, standing nearby, felt how uzbad's body was breathing heat. He came closer.

- What's wrong with you? - he whispered to Thorin.

- What if I faint when I see him? What if I can't hold back and rush at him? Dwalin said that he was more beautiful than ever now. - the king sighed loudly. Gloin patted him on the shoulder.

- Relax. That's what the challenge is for, to make it difficult for you. Do you hear the footsteps? It's about to begin.

Thranduil appeared first from the forest and bowed. Bombur, Nori, Dori and Bifur grabbed the musical instruments and began to play the opening melody. Thorin stopped shaking and with a confident movement greeted the forest king, who sat down opposite Oakenshield's company. Behind him appeared Legolas, Ori, Balin, Gandalf and Bard with the children. Finally, the music became quieter, the vampire should have appeared.

Thorin looked around, looking for his consort, and then heard a soft whistle from one of the trees. He turned and saw Bilbo. All the air seemed to be knocked out of his lungs, he froze, as if enchanted. Dwalin was not lying, the vampire looked simply stunning, and the gaze of the smitten king multiplied his beauty by ten. Bilbo smiled, his scarlet eyes narrowed, and he jumped from the tree. His feet touched the ground and the smell of herbs hit Thorin's nose. His pupils dilated, his vision became slightly clouded, and the wolf tail, that had appeared under the moonlight, began to wag furiously from side to side. It took a huge effort to concentrate and not to rush at his consort when he came closer. The ritual was beginning.

To the surprise of Gloin and Dwalin, Thorin composed himself surprisingly quickly. He bowed to Bilbo and extended his hand. He desperately wanted the vampire to ignore the rules of the ritual and take it, but this didn't happen. As expected, Bilbo ducked, gave Thorin a light finger-flick on the forehead and turned away from him. Now the main act began: the "hunt" for attention. Bombur hit the drums, and the other musicians joined in the performance.

Thorin did not remember the last time he had performed something like this. Werewolves' dances were famous for their difficulty, and Thorin chose one of the most difficult - Dragmawirr. Constant jumping, somersaults and other acrobatic elements required great endurance. When uzbad stood on one hand upside down on Dwalin's shoulders, the only thing he thought about was that Bilbo was watching and he had no right to make a mistake.

The vampire wasn't supposed to show any signs of approval or that he liked the show, such were the rules of the ritual. The king had to go out of his way to get at least a drop of his attention, and he only got it after the dance was over. But he couldn’t help but watch everything Thorin did with his eyes sparkling with admiration. Just think, all of this is for him!

It was obligatory during the ritual for the werewolf to receive some minor injury, for example a scratch, a bruise or a bump. This way he proved that he was ready to do anything for his chosen one. Bilbo wasn't supposed to help Thorin at this moment, if possible even laugh at him, but when the werewolf deliberately did an unsuccessful somersault and after landing painfully hit his head on a tree, the vampire closed his eyes and turned away. No way, he would never understand such werewolf traditions.

Finally, when the show was over, Thorin did a final somersault and slid down on his knees to Bilbo, holding a beautiful wreath of the only white flowers that bloom in winter. This was the end of the solo dance, and if Bilbo accepted his gift now, Thorin's courtship would continue. If he refused, then in a month the uzbad would have to repeat it all. The vampire looked at his lover with a smile. The king was breathing heavily, steam pouring from his mouth, and beads of sweat were running down his entire body. He would have liked to see it again, and he was tempted to play on the uzbad's nerves a little, but his puppy eyes, full of hope for approval, made the vampire abandon this idea. Bilbo endured the intrigue, then leaned over and allowed Thorin to place the wreath on his head. Everyone who was watching shouted joyfully and began to applaud, even Thranduil smiled. Now the couple had to perform at least one dance with the others.

The musicians began to play, and the uzbad finally touched his consort and could speak to him. Bilbo's cold hands laid on Thorin's burning-hot shoulders, and the king greedily wrapped his arms around his vampire's waist. The kiss was supposed to happen at the very end, after their joint dance, and Oakenshield could hardly hold on any longer. Now that his beloved was so close, he was losing his head.

- You are absolutely stunning. - Thorin whispered haltingly. Their faces were close to each other, they were both clearly waiting for the end of the dance. Their feet moved in time with the music, and although they had never rehearsed, it turned out quite well. Thorin only stepped on Bilbo's feet a couple of times, and Bilbo, in return, only once got tangled in his partner's feet and almost fell. When the music finally died down, Thorin immediately pressed his lips to Bilbo's. He had been waiting for this for too long, and he couldn't wait for a second longer. The music started playing again and all the guests had already gone to dance.

- Ghivashel, let's get out of here. - Thorin looked at the vampire pleadingly, but the latter had plans to torment the uzbad a little. He smiled slyly and dragged him to the middle of the clearing again.

- Be patient a little longer, I want to dance. - Bilbo felt how madly Thorin's heart was beating, and how the reason for such a strong desire to leave was pressing against his thigh every time the werewolf came too close. Today, he wanted to drive Thorin crazy.

- Little devil. - the uzbad croaked with a smile, and somehow found the endurance to perform another dance.

The others were dancing too. According to the rules, everyone had to dance in pairs. Initially, Fili and Kili planned to dance together for fun, get closer to Thorin and Bilbo and step on all their feet, but the elves ruined their plans. Kili invited Tauriel, and Fili invited Legolas. Thranduil watched with irritation as his son joyfully twirled in a dance with the werewolf, when suddenly a quiet cough from the side brought him out of his thoughts. He looked around and met Bard's gaze. The man cleared his throat again and extended his hand to the elven king.

- Will you join me, Lord Thranduil? - he asked. The forest king clearly didn't expect this. After a few seconds of thought, he stood up and took Bard's hand.

- But it is only for today, Lord Bard. Don't get your hopes up. - Thranduil said with his signature arrogant smile and placed his hands on the man's shoulders. Even Thorin and Bilbo were distracted from each other and stared at the elf and human couple who were now twirling with them.

- I thought this donkey would only agree to dance with his elves.

- Thorin! Why are so narrow-minded? Lord Thranduil hates only werewolves. - they looked at each other and giggled, watching Bard trying with all his might not to step on the forest king's shiny shoes.

After the end of this dance, Bilbo decided not to torment Thorin any longer. They escaped from the forest under the noise of the celebration and went into their house. Unfortunately, Ori's filigree work with Bilbo's costume went down the drain, Thorin has lost all of his patience on the clearing during the ritual. He didn't bother with the buttons, took off his vest and, without moving away from his lips, simply tore Bilbo's shirt. The buttons flew to the floor, and after them the shirt itself. But they had to suffer over the huge belt on Thorin's waist. Bilbo's whole body trembled from excitement, and his fingers twisted, as he tried to undo it desperately, cursing under his breath. When the long-suffering belt was finally on the floor with the other clothes, they finally dropped on the bed. Thorin looked at his vampire, at the desire in his eyes, and a shiver ran through his whole body. Such a creature, and it belongs to him... 

Bilbo was all naked, sitting on his lap, and Thorin didn't even dare touch him. He looked at the bright-red bite marks on his collarbones, chest and shoulders, that looked like patterns on porcelain. He had to hold himself back from finishing within mere seconds, as Bilbo's body squeezed him inside. He couldn't hold himself back, grabbed his vampire's waist and groaned loudly. 

- Ghivashel... How do you keep getting more and more perfect every day..? - he croaked and buried his nose in Bilbo's shoulder. The vampire smiled and kept slowly moving his hips. He loved driving Thorin crazy, and loved being cherished like that.

- Every single day, hm? Well, then I must be a real treasure. - Bilbo wrapped his arms around Thorin's neck and leaned in for a kiss.

- Yes.. yes.. ghivashel, you're.. my treasure... - Thorin murmured into the kiss desperately. But didn't manage to say anything else, their tongues tied together and the only sounds they could let out were sweet moans.

The festivities were still going on, but Bard and Thranduil decided to leave as well, and now they were sitting on the street where Bilbo and Thorin's house was located. The lights in the house were out, so it was impossible to tell that they were there, the soundproofing did its job. They sat next to each other, smoking and chatting about everything. They had much more in common than they had expected, and the conversation flowed naturally.

Thranduil stopped following the flow of time or their movements. As they walked down the street, the elf mistook his house for the home of a vampire and a werewolf. In the heat of passion, the lovers forgot to lock the door, and Bard and the forest king were pulled out of their little world by the vampire's sudden loud moan and the creaking of the bed coming from the house. The elven king quickly closed the door, and Bard laughed at the shocked expression on Thranduil's face.

- No shame, no conscience in these werewolves... - the forest king muttered, red with shame.

- Come on, he's been holding up well all evening. - while everyone was sitting together, the werewolves were betting on how long Thorin would last. In the end, the uzbad exceeded everyone's expectations, and lasted for two dances after the main act.

- If I find out that any of my elves allowed themselves to do such a thing, I will have a very serious talk with them about etiquette! - Bard smiled at this statement and continued to listen to the indignant elf with interest. "But this is only for today, Lord Bard." Yeah, right.

Chapter Text

The fun didn't last long. Despite Thorin's ban on Bilbo meeting the serpent and his initial success in healing his beloved, the vampire only got worse with time. Rest no longer helped, he was just going insane from boredom, and it was impossible to leave him without work. He spent a huge number of spells every day to get rid of his rage or disgust towards werewolves, which made him suffer from hunger more and more, and he was always nervous and aggressive. The only moments when he calmed down were in the evenings in Thorin's arms. At first, the vampire sobbed uncontrollably, clinging to his spouse's chest, but, to the horror of the uzbad, even such emotions soon left his consort.

Bilbo stopped crying, laughing, sleeping normally, drinking blood and generally showing any signs that he was still a living being, and not just a shell. But it was very easy to get him mad, and in moments when he was pulled out of his own world by the touch of someone's hand, too loud a sound, some action or even just someone's presence, the vampire immediately exploded and his rage splashed on an innocent werewolf, human or elf. At first, such outbursts frightened him, and then he spent days running after the one he had offended, tearfully begging for forgiveness. But not much time passed, and he even stopped apologizing. Thorin watched with sorrow as his beloved lost his mind. His eyes were dead, soulless, even the wizard Saruman, who had recently arrived to help Gandalf, did nothing about it. The spark that lived in them a few days ago died out. The only thing that distinguished the vampire from the imp was his beautiful appearance and the lack of tattoos. Bilbo was more gentle with Thorin, never even shouted at him during all this time after the ritual. This gave uzbad hope that his vampire's mind could still be restored. He tried in every way to find out what could pull his spouse out of the abyss of madness. Later, he found out that moments of clarity only came during their lovemaking.

- Thorin... I didn't want to yell at Bard today... I don't know what's wrong with me. - Bilbo whispered desperately, scratching Oakenshield's back and interrupting his confessions with soft moans. The king slowed down and looked into the eyes of his consort.

- It's not your fault, ghivashel. - he said and brushed away the strand of hair that had fallen on his beloved's face. - I'm glad that your mind can hear me now.

- The dragon is trying to settle in my head, Thorin. Soon I won't hear anything at all. Please, just don't tell Saruman. Anyone, but not him... - Thorin was about to question Bilbo further, but Bilbo wrapped his legs around his waist, looked imploringly into the eyes of the uzbad and quietly moaned. - Darling, faster..! - It was impossible to refuse such a request, and Thorin immediately gave in to his beloved's request.

This conversation flashed through the king's head a week later, when during their foreplay Bilbo, sitting on his lap, looked at him with his empty eyes, burning with desire and touched the cheeks of uzbad with his cold hands. The shirt slipped off his shoulder, exposing snow-white skin that sparkled in the moonlight. Thorin looked at his consort with half-closed eyes, fascinated, unable to even move. As if this beautiful creature in front of him would instantly disappear if he made too sharp a movement. He could not believe that such a man could belong to him.

- Why are you looking at me like that? As if in front of you is not a person, but a huge hall with treasures and the Silver Heart in the middle. - Bilbo ran his finger along Thorin's burning cheek, smearing his makeup. This action brought the uzbad back to reality and he again began to shower the vampire's collarbones and shoulders with kisses. He arched slightly and squeezed his curls.

- You are more valuable than any treasure. More precious than gold, crystals, Lasgalen stones, mithril... And certainly more precious than this damn piece of white cobblestone that is so dear to my people. - the enchanted king croaked. But the look of his beloved made him wary. A spark of madness flashed in Bilbo's usually empty eyes.

- That doesn't sound like the words of a true werewolf king. Why don't you give your soul to treasure? It is the fate of Durin's line: to conquer your gold obsession after falling into its depths. And without succumbing to your curse, you will not become a true descendant of Durin's line. Your soul must belong to something.

- Perhaps I eradicated this obsession the moment I saw my grandfather go mad? Have you not thought of that? - Thorin's voice was tense and even a little harsh, like when they had not known each other for so long. Bilbo suddenly became as frightening as those forest spirits from his mother's stories. Beautiful, but at the first opportunity he would grab his hand and drag him into the forest to be eaten by wolves, or drown him in the river. He knew that now his beloved wasn't in front of him, he was somewhere deep in the well of madness. This broke his heart and caused pure hatred for the dragon who had driven his consort to this. Desire and excitement washed away in an instant, and when Bilbo made a mockingly offended face, Thorin wanted to push him away.

- And you, it turns out, aren't the real Durin. Then, will you give me your soul?

Bilbo's words knocked all the air out of Thorin's lungs. His heart ached with such pain, as if an elven arrow had pierced it. Doubt about his belonging to the family, this crazy look and creaking voice. This only increased Thorin's desire to yell at his beloved and kick him out of the house, but he understood that this would definitely not bring him back to sanity, so he bit his tongue.

- And why are you silent, aran*? Will you give me your soul? - the vampire, whose voice was unrecognizable, would't calm down. Thorin frantically tried to think of what action would bring the vampire back to reality. He closed his eyes. It was extremely easy to imagine that Bilbo was not in front of him now.

- Sirtha vel mordhân*. - this frightening tongue escaped the vampire's lips and made Thorin unconsciously grab him by the shoulders and shake him hard.

- Bilbo! - uzbad's voice echoed throughout the house and Bilbo's eyes stopped glowing frighteningly. He blinked several times and looked at the king. Notes of bitterness and guilt were read in his empty eyes.

- I did it again, didn't I? - silence followed, but Thorin was extremely grateful that he managed to somehow tear his husband out of it. Bilbo covered his face with his hands and dropped his head on uzbad's shoulder. Oakenshield hugged the vampire. He was still angry at him, but common sense was winning the battle with unconscious burning rage.

- Maybe it's time to ask Lord Saruman for help? He is a white wizard, stronger than Gandalf, I am sure that if our wizard cannot help, then he will definitely…

- No, please. - Bilbo switched to a whisper and Thorin felt two hot tears on his shoulder. - Not Saruman.

***

The next day was very tense, even the usually cheerful Fili and Kili were in a bad mood. There was only half of the dragon's carcass left in the treasury, but the smell was still unbearable, so everyone who worked there tied rags soaked in Oin's strong-smelling brew over their noses and mouths to keep from feeling nauseous. Thorin was helping everyone clear away the rubble in the treasury, gloomy and lost in his thoughts. His feet got tangled in some beads and he almost fell right on top of Fili. Cursing at Khuzdul, he wound them around his fist. The prince looked at the uzbad, then looked around. Kili stood at a distance and didn't plan to join the conversation.

- Uncle, what's going on with master Baggins? - Fili asked quietly. Thorin sighed heavily and rubbed his eyes. A sore subject, but princes deserve to know the truth.

- The dragon is poisoning his brain, such a number of marks, even if unfinished, is too much. Gandalf doesn't explain anything, damn Thranduil is also keeping his mouth shut...! - Thorin growled and squeezed the beads in his hands. His paws covered with fur for a second and fragile precious stones crunched, small fragments fell from the king's palm. Kili shuddered from the sudden flash and the terrifying echo that rushed throughout the hall.

- Lord Oakenshield, what are you doing? I ask you to concentrate on your work, and not to wag your tongues with your nephews! - the voice of the white wizard came from above. Thorin frowned. Saruman came to help them, and not to tell him what to do in his own kingdom!

- I don't remember another king of Erebor being here besides me. Or perhaps you are of Durin's line? - he quipped, earning a disapproving but understanding look from Dwalin. Saruman cursed and left. Something about this wizard was unnerving.

"Not Saruman."

Bilbo's words flashed through his mind. What if it was the dragon speaking? What if it wasn't Bilbo himself who was afraid of the wizard? Could he help?

- What a snob. - Fili grumbled. Saruman turned around with a murderous glare, to which the werewolf bared his teeth and growled. The wizard muttered something and slammed the doors of the hall. From the movement of the white wizard's lips, Thorin understood the only word he had uttered: "animals."

After a few more hours in the treasury, Thorin almost threw up from the constant stench, since he was the only one working without a mask on his face, so Dwalin sent him on a break. Uzbad decided not to waste time and went to Gandalf while the wizard was still available and hadn't fled.

"Not Saruman."

There was something creepy in that whisper. Genuine fear, no one knew what caused it. It was true that few people liked the White Wizard, but to be so afraid of him... Something was not right. Thorin knocked on the hall where the wizard was supposedly located and entered. Bilbo was also sitting inside the hall, looking melancholically at the papers in front of him.

As soon as the door opened, uzbad noticed how the vampire's face instantly twisted in rage, but he immediately stopped himself when he saw Thorin. His expression only slightly softened, he snorted and returned to reading. Uzbad came closer to the vampire. He was reading the agreement with the merchants, which he had just signed. But the parchment was turned upside down. What was happening to him, Mahal take it!? But the king, despite his gloomy thoughts, couldn't resist leaning over and kissing his consort on the forehead. Bilbo's eyes cleared for a short moment, and he even managed to smile before sinking back into the abyss of madness.

- Don't distract me. - his voice, although softer than when talking to everyone else, still sounded like a needle running over metal. Thorin quickly looked away and, after whispering an apology, approached Gandalf.

- We need to talk. Let's go. - the king didn't even listen to the wizard and his possible complaints, simply grabbed him by the wrist and dragged him along. The poor fellow could only quickly grab his hat from the table and head after the werewolf.

They walked quite far from the hall where Bilbo was sitting and entered one of the corridors. Thorin would have continued to drag Gandalf, but he pulled his wrist out of the king's grip and crossed his arms over his chest.

- If I were you, I would have started talking already, Thorin Oakenshield.

- He's getting worse every day, Gandalf. I don't know what to do. - Thorin admitted regretfully. The wizard frowned.

- I noticed that. Our burglar is slowly losing himself, but I haven't had a chance to tell Saruman yet...

- You don't need to tell him anything. Bilbo asked not to do it. - the king snapped.

- And why do you think it wasn't the dragon in his head that spoke? Why do you think it was Bilbo who asked? - Gandalf gave Thorin a distrustful look.

- He is afraid. He is afraid of this white wizard, and I haven't yet been able to find out the reason. But I wanted to ask you not to tell Saruman anything. Let him not interfere for now. - Uzbad paused. - I don't trust him myself.

- You have no reason for this, Thorin Oakenshield. And we cannot detain him here, he has more than enough work to do. I give you time until tomorrow afternoon. If by tomorrow you don't give me a reason for Bilbo Baggins's fear that is convincing enough to postpone Saruman's intervention, then he will go back to Isengard. If tomorrow there is no news from you, he will interfere, whether you like it or not.

***

Bilbo's head was splitting, he wanted to curl up into a ball and cry under the table from the pain. His whole body ached terribly, as if all his bones were broken and his organs were chewed. He was like a doll, and some nasty thing in his brain was pulling on these disgusting black threads, and he constantly heard his voice coming from outside this vacuum. He moved at the will of that very clot of black magic, this clot also spoke for him. And he was terribly ashamed to admit that only Thorin could somehow lead him out of this whirlpool. But only in the evenings, when they were alone, and fatigue, bitterness and resentment couldn't interrupt the passion bursting out. How disgusting. He felt worse than a slut, even though Thorin was his husband.

The arrival of the white magician nevertheless diluted his spectrum of emotions. Now, in addition to constant irritation and rage, the vampire could also feel fear. There was something about this wizard, and this "something" was definitely not pleasant. It caused some kind of animal horror in Bilbo, and he couldn't explain it. He was just afraid, that's all. Every time the wizard approached him, or simply passed by, the vampire's breath caught, he broke out in a cold sweat, and his instincts beat in his head, ordering him to run without looking back. This had never happened to any person before, he hadn't even been so afraid of bloody imps. Something was wrong, but now he couldn't figure it out while he was drowning in a pool of madness.

He doesn't remember his interactions with the others. Only some echoes of his screams, curses or something like that. Oh, how ashamed he was at that moment! But he couldn't do anything, the spell wouldn't work, the speech flowed by itself, and he was forced to do nothing, to leave the spell to fight for his mind. He just had to sit and try to untangle this disgusting ball of magic. Well, and hope that Saruman, who scared the hell out of him, would soon disappear.

And again, despite the unbearable pain, he has to force himself at the moment of enlightenment and reach for closeness to Thorin, to somehow prolong it while he slowly falls back into abyss. He doesn't like forcing himself, and he might develop an aversion to sex because of it, but what can you do? Better this way than never being able to talk to the king in a relatively sane state. But, apparently, Thorin notices his efforts and tries to stop him.

- Bilbo, ghivashel, I can see that you don't want to. Don't force yourself, please, it hurts me to watch. - the king gently embraced his consort, and Bilbo sighed heavily. Well, then today we will have to hope for this short moment of enlightenment, so that it lasts as long as possible.

- Thorin, apologize for me to everyone tomorrow. I don't want to be rude to anyone, this is all breaking out against my will. - Bilbo himself was surprised at how his voice sounded. As if someone else was speaking, and he was just listening from the side. A terrible pain pierced his head again and he closed his eyes.

- You are in pain. Maybe after all it is worth letting lord Saruman intervene?

At these words, Bilbo turned pale. No, not him!

- No, please, anyone but Saruman! Ask Thranduil, Gandalf, Radagast or Tauriel, but not Saruman! - the vampire begged, clutching his beloved's tunic. Thorin looked at him with concern.

- Why are you so afraid of him? What happened? - the king's warm hand on his cheek calmed him down a little. Bilbo sighed intermittently.

- It will sound strange, but I don't know myself. As soon as I saw him, my heart sank into my heels, and my instincts screamed: "Run!". Something is wrong with him, Thorin, I can feel it. Please, don't tell him anything.

The king looked at his beloved's eyes with regret. The lights of madness danced in the scarlet irises, Bilbo was delirious and out of his mind, but Thorin couldn't tell him that for sure. He was afraid that he would lose him again and would have to let Bilbo make love to him through force.

He had already made his decision. The dragon must be eradicated, no matter what the cost, since it puts the life and sanity of his consort at risk. Tomorrow he would have to betray his lover's trust and tell the wizard. And now I'll have to lie, so as not to provoke another outbreak.

- I won't tell, ghivashel. Don't worry.

***

- What a foolish gesture on your part. Why leave the one stricken by Smaug alive? And even more so, allow your consort to see that vile creature? Even a fool would understand that he would lose his mind under such circumstances.

Thorin had been listening to the white wizard's scolding for about half an hour now, and was trying his best not to punch him. Gandalf was with them, too, and occasionally cast apologetic glances in Thorin's direction. Saruman had finally calmed down, and agreed to listen to the king further.

- That dragon devoured one of our friends. Bilbo simply wanted to at least try to help him, as we all did, so at first I did not prevent him from meeting Bofur. But now that I see how it affects him, I have certainly forbidden these meetings. He is in pain all the time, Master Saruman. He sometimes has moments of clarity, but usually only in the evenings, and most often during... our intimacy. - Thorin said the last with shame. No one should know about his personal life, but what can you do, there is no other way to help Bilbo, you need to lay out all the details. Saruman thought for a moment and nodded.

- Do not worry, lord Oakenshield, I will take care of your consort. By the end of the week he will be as before.

These words seemed to foreshadow nothing bad, but Thorin still felt goosebumps run down his skin. Some part of his mind desperately insisted that he had made a mistake. As soon as the wizard left, Thorin hurried away and went to his friends. For the first time in so long, he didn't want to see Bilbo at all. Remembering the horror in the vampire's eyes yesterday when he begged him not to tell Saruman anything, the king was already beginning to regret that he had revealed the truth to the white wizard.

He needed a break from all this, and went to the smithy with Balin. They were not yet working, but it was a secluded place where Thorin could talk without prying ears and work on restoring those relics that didn't require a hot forge. Fundin's eldest son sat opposite his king, carefully mending large silver earrings, as big as a man's palm. Such earrings were worn by the wives of noble werewolves.

Balin's mother had worn such earrings too, and he distinctly remembered how she would take them off in the evenings and complain about how uncomfortable they were to run in. His mother had been one of the guards of Erebor, but she still wore such earrings, heels, and various ornaments in her long braids. No one had interfered with her, since even with such strange habits she was an excellent warrior. Now her son sat in the recently recaptured Erebor, carefully gluing the precious stones back onto the silver plates.

Thorin was usually taciturn, but only with those with whom he was not close enough. Balin had known him since he was a small, beardless urchin, running around Erebor with his brother Frerin and making the lives of werewolves a living nightmare with their antics, and then getting slapped by their older sister, who would drag them back to the palace by the ears while they wagged their tails and growled at her. And at that age, Thorin was certainly the most talkative boy Balin had ever met. He could talk for hours, and he and Frerin would tell each other everything they had learned that day in Lady Zirra's class.

In fact, this talkativeness hadn't gone away with age, but Thorin had cooled off considerably and become less trusting, so the desire to talk was put on the back burner. Something had broken inside him several times, making him what he was now. The first time was when his mother died. The second time was during the beginning of his grandfather's madness, when for the first time he suffered a beating instead of a fair fight. The third time was the night they lost Erebor. And finally, the fourth time was the day Frerin died. No one talks about the last event, but Thorin remembers well why it happened.

-------

"- Varrhild, you damn whore!" - his father Thrain grabbed a bottle from the table and threw it at the wall. It broke a few centimeters from Frerin's face. Thorin quickly covered his younger brother with his body and glared at the king.

- Father, you are out of your mind! Calm down! - Thorin, then still a prince, growled, but Thrain didn't listen to him. In blind anger, he was smashing the small house they had found in Ered Luin. Five minutes later, despite Thorin's attempts to calm him down and stop him, the table was broken in half, the shelves in the cupboards were broken, and all the contents laid in a thin layer on the floor, the candlesticks were torn from the walls, and the mirrors were broken. And all because Frerin's real father had shown up.

Thorin, even as a child, understood that his mother wasn't faithful to his father. She played the role of a proper wife well, but she knew terribly little about her own children, although she loved them. So she didn't know that her eldest son suffered from insomnia, and on those nights when everyone was asleep and Thráin wasn't home, Thorin saw her bring home a man. A beautiful man. Golden curls down to his waist, a radiant smile, blue eyes and a slender, almost skinny build that was unacceptable for a werewolf. The little prince, who had only recently begun to learn to read aloud, stood in his stretched nightgown in the hallway and watched this awkward interaction. How they laughed quietly in the kitchen over a cup of ale, how their hands lightly touched. And most importantly, how the man looked at his mother. Not the way Thráin did, no. There was such pure, somewhat childish, innocent love in the man's eyes that little Thorin never had the courage to tell his father about it. He didn't dare. His mother Varrhild was happy. He didn't want to ruin this happiness. And then, after so many years since his mother's death, after the crossing into the Ered Luin, Frerin's real father was finally found. Though he was considered horrendous by werewolf standards, Thorin still found him stunningly handsome, but his eyes held the sorrow of many years. The man's name was Firiin. It was clear where Varrhild got the idea for her son's name. He turned to Thorin for help. He confessed that he had had an affair with his mother, and that he had been grieving for her for forty years. It had become unbearable for him, and he wanted to see his son. Thorin would have refused, if images hadn't appeared in his head of how happy his mother had been with this man, and how his beautiful blue eyes had shone with love. His heart was overcome with longing, and he allowed Frerin and Firiin to see each other in secret from Thrain.

But all secrets come to light.

Thráin caught father and son at one of these meetings. At first, he even believed the fable that they were just friends, but then his gaze fell on the birthmark on the man's shoulder. The same as his son's. Well, as it turned out later, not his son's. And then Firiin confessed. And Thráin simply lost his mind. Varrhild's lover managed to escape the king's wrath, but Thorin had to fight with the maddened Thráin.

A fight broke out between father and son. In the end, Thráin grabbed Thorin by the hair and slammed his head into the corner of a broken table with all his might. The blow was strong, and Thorin's vision darkened. He didn't know how much time had passed, but when his vision cleared, his father was holding Frerin by the neck so tightly that he could not breathe. His face was red, almost crimson, tears streaming from his eyes, and his beautiful features were twisted into a hideous grimace of pain and fear as he struggled desperately against Thráin's grip. And before Thorin could get up from the floor, his brother's body went limp. A chill ran down the crown prince's spine, and he instantly jumped up from the floor and for the first time was able to transform completely into his beast nature. In wolf form, he rushed at his father and almost tore him apart, but Dwalin and Balin arrived. Thráin survived, and was banished without the right to return a week later. A stigma was burned into the former king's skin and he was thrown out of the Ered Luin. Thorin was broken after his brother's death and mourned with Dis for several years. He would never confess, but he still has not forgiven his father. He never would."

_________

And now Thorin, so grown up and serious, sat opposite Balin, and clumsily poured out a stream of some incoherent information. He hadn't done this for a long time, and now he even sounded stupid, constantly stumbling, falling silent, jumping from topic to topic. About Thranduil, about the progress of the restoration of Erebor, about his plans, about Bilbo. Halfway through the story about the latter, he stumbled for a long time. He sighed heavily and did not continue the story. He twisted his lips in the same grimace that Frerin made when he was on the verge of tears. After another heavy sigh, he finally rubbed his eyes.

- Well, well, where are you putting your hands? - Balin stood up, took off his gloves and fixed Thorin's makeup. The black charcoal pencil that all werewolves traditionally used to line their eyes was awkwardly smeared across the uzbad's face. - What's wrong with Bilbo?

- He's really bad, Balin. He is in pain all the time, I can no longer watch him crawl out of my arms at night and, thinking that I am asleep and don't hear anything, go and drink that strong tincture of Oin, which he forces on the seriously wounded. Bilbo drinks it, and then at night he can hardly breathe, I check every ten minutes to make sure his heart is beating. I am not even talking about his mind, you can see for yourself. - Thorin's voice became a couple of tones higher than usual. He rarely showed himself so weak, but sometimes it was simply necessary. Balin was like a father to him, since Thrain was more busy with ruling and politics than with his own children. Fundin's eldest son allowed himself to embrace the king.

But this moment of weakness didn't last long. A muffled scream came from the corridor. Quiet, since the source was far away, but so heart-rending and heartbreaking that it was impossible to even make out who it belonged to. Thorin immediately got up and jumped up from his seat, and Balin ran after him to find the source of the scream.

Chapter Text

There was hardly anything in this world that Bilbo Baggins hated more than pain. He cursed his immortality every time he had to endure the kind of pain that would have knocked mortals unconscious or even killed them. Ever since that day in his childhood when a bullying boy stabbed him twice with a kitchen knife, he had secretly hoped that one day he would be able to faint from pain and not have to endure it, even if he died afterwards.

But he never fainted, never. And without noticing it, he took revenge for the pain caused to him every time.

"As a little boy, Bilbo stood over the boy's beaten body. The poor fellow's face was a bloody mess, two teeth were knocked out and his nose was broken. Now Bilbo could no longer remember his name. The other children gathered around looked at him in complete horror. Bilbo licked his bloody fingers and pulled out the knife from his stomach, which the boy had plunged into him a minute earlier. And it had been just a harmless game at first: they had glued together armor from branches and tested its strength with blows. It seemed that the armor was perfect, and one of the boys decided to test it with a weapon, of which only his mother's kitchen knife was at hand. Without warning anyone, he took the knife out of the house while the vampire was talking to another boy, swung it and plunged it deeply into Bilbo's stomach several times. It became so painful that his eyes were covered with a bloody veil.

- Velmarth êdhras! - a wave of magic tore the vampire out of his trance, and he turned around in fear. The children who had been watching him were now lying on the grass. Belladonna carefully turned them over, laid them in the shade and went to Bilbo. He turned away guiltily and looked at the boy lying on the ground, whom he had brutally beaten until he bled. The wounds on his stomach ached terribly, but the fear was stronger than the pain. Would he be thrown out of the settlement? Would his entire family be disgraced? Or, worse, would they plunge a silver sword into his heart? Would they cut off his head on that terrible guillotine standing in the middle of the square?

- Mom, I really didn't mean to... - the vampire whispered and quietly sobbed. Belladonna crouched down, carefully bit the finger of the crippled boy, her eyes turned black. She injected him with some of her blood, and the wounds on the offender's body quickly healed. Then she stood up and took her son by the hand, quickly leading him away from the scene.

Avoiding people, they quickly reached the house. In the house, the mother washed little Bilbo from the blood and read a spell, thanks to which his fangs became smaller and his scarlet eyes stopped glowing so much.

- I am a monster because I do this. Right, Mom? Are we monsters? - He received a loving look from his mother in response.

- That brat who stabbed you with a knife is three times more of a monster than you are, my ray of moon. You defended yourself and your life today, and no one has the right to judge you, even though you may not have been right. - She ruffled little Bilbo's tousled golden hair. - But today we will learn to keep our fangs under control. We don't want our little secret to be known, do we?

The vampire stopped crying, wiped his tears with his sleeve and nodded. "

He sat at the table and stared blankly at the papers, but he saw nothing in front of his eyes. He was trying with all his might to unravel that terrible tangle of black magic. Slowly but surely, he was succeeding. Vampire spells were deadly to dragons, and Bilbo managed to destroy the ends of the threads that he got. When the terrible hunger began to hit his head, the vampire could already speak on his own, without the dragon magic affecting his words. Yes, it was very painful, but it was his small victory. He needed to find Thorin.

He walked out of the corridor, leaning against the wall. It took him a few seconds to stand up straight and not stagger. When he looked up, he almost fainted. He saw the white wizard in front of him. His heart sank into his heels, and instincts hit his head. Despite the fact that there was a painfully small amount of spell left, they were enough to unconsciously sharpen his fangs and claws.

- There you are, master Bilbo. - Saruman reached out to Bilbo with his hand. The vampire jumped back and hissed at him with hostility. The wizard frowned and took the staff in both hands to cast a spell, but by that time his victim had already managed to run away.

- Well, well, where are you going? - he had to catch up with the vampire. The creature was fast, agile, and when Saruman's hand was already a few centimeters from his hair, Bilbo suddenly turned around and struck the wizard. He cut his hand deeply, and hot splashes of blood stained the wizard's snow-white clothes. He quickly jumped back, and the vampire ran into the hall nearby. Saruman's nerves were on edge.

- Do you think I can't defeat one mad bloodsucker?

- Well, let's see. - Bilbo licked drops of his blood from his fingers. The wizard tried to grab him again. The wizard's blood was quite nutritious, so Bilbo could use the spell again. Fear was stronger than the unbearable pain. The vampire's body flew into a swarm of bats, and he tried to escape from the hall, but Saruman hit the floor with his staff, read some spell, and all the doors and windows slammed shut at once. Bilbo cursed and tried to think of other escape routes, but nothing came to mind, his head hurt too much. He had to fight.

- Come on, vampire. Prove your madness. Fight the only one who is trying to help you in this damned kingdom. - Saruman raised his hands to the ceiling and began to read some other spell. Bilbo no longer knew what to do. He had never fought such a serious opponent with his spells, and the simplest ones that he mastered perfectly would certainly not work on the wizard. Yavanna, and where did the knowledge of that terrible dialect go that he communicated with during the outbreaks!? After he had managed to reduce that ball of magic with sweat and blood, he certainly did not want to force it to return its spells to his brain and poison his mind with rage. But still, he needed to provoke himself somehow, he needed to speak, and certainly not in harmless Westron!

Bilbo gathered himself from the swarm of bats behind the wizard and directed a stream of simple spells to increase his physical strength. Not enough to cause the wizard any harm, but enough to knock the staff out of his hands. Saruman's face twisted with rage. He waved his hands and ancient runes appeared on the walls. Bilbo felt how the spell stopped obeying him, and his lungs were scorched with heat.

- You have defiled this place. - the vampire croaked and grabbed his throat, which refused to take a breath. Saruman allowed himself to approach Bilbo and lifted his head by the chin.

- I cleaned it, - he corrected. - So that you would finally stop resisting, vile bloodsucker, and let me do my job. Do you think I want to chase you all over Erebor?

Bilbo grinned.

- Then why are you chasing me?

- You are mad. And you need to be cured of this madness.

- I am doing fine on my own. Just give me another day, and I will…

But the wizard didn't let him finish. Saruman drew his sword from its sheath and slashed Bilbo across the shoulder. A wave of such hellish pain passed through the vampire's body that he screamed shrilly and grabbed his wounded limb. A blade of pure silver.

- Now close your mouth and follow me.

***

The next three hours were the worst of Bilbo's life. Saruman threw him into the dungeon, where Bofur's cell had been, and put a silver collar around his neck and cuffed his ankles and wrists with silver cuffs. He kept reciting some spell that made it seem as if the vampire's head was being split in two and his brains were being eaten with a silver fork. He saw nothing but a bloody haze before his eyes, and heard nothing but his own shrill screams, and felt nothing but excruciating pain and a desire for someone to plunge a silver sword into his chest and stop torturing him. Even the snake in the next cell felt sorry for Bilbo. For the first time, compassion was visible on the face of Bofur's body, which was owned by a dragon. It hurt him to admit it, but he had become attached to the vampire. This kills his whole being, but what can you do? The heart of the werewolf, in whose body he was now, didn't belong to him, and he couldn't go against his will. The wolfhound was stronger. The stupid snake. He already regretted that he had decided to play with the vampire's mind like that. He didn't deserve this.

- Stop it already, you sick bastard! - the snake still held out and grabbed the wizard by the leg with his tail. - Can't you see that it hurts him!? I have already removed all the spells, he can get rid of them himself! He doesn't need your damn help!

Saruman threw him a murderous look, but didn't stop reading the spell. He pulled his sword from its sheath and, without thinking, chopped off the snake's tail. It hissed loudly, growled and began to spit curses in the Black Speech. But before the white wizard managed to return to tormenting Bilbo, he felt the werewolf's sword on his neck.

- Shut up now. - Such an ultimatum, of course, made him shut up. Bilbo coughed violently, but still stopped shouting.

- I'm getting old. I wouldn't allow this if I were younger. - He turned to Thorin, who was looking at him with eyes full of hatred.

- Let my consort go immediately. Who gave you the right to treat him like an animal!? - The white wizard only laughed at this.

- Well, how interesting you are. You! You gave me this right! You yourself ask me to help your vampire, and now you accuse me. Well, congratulations, you interrupted the ritual. You can say goodbye to him.

That was the end. Bilbo was just starting to come to his senses after everything he had been through, when he suddenly heard this from the lips of the wizard. He asked himself. He asked Saruman. He gave the right. Thorin told him. But he promised. He saw how afraid Bilbo was, and he told him anyway. He didn't hear. He didn't believe. He lied. He betrayed.

The bridge he had built back to his consciousness collapsed in an instant. Bilbo sank into the abyss, and black magic covered his eyes, plugged his ears, tied his hands and covered his mouth. He no longer heard or saw anything, and his body passed into the power of a ball of black magic, which began to grow with renewed vigor in his brain. The vampire arched unnaturally and growled like an animal. Even Thorin shuddered from that. When he turned to his beloved, he didn't recognize him. His scarlet eyes were black, and the whites were red. He looked absolutely mad, his beautiful face twisted with inhuman rage. He threw terrifying glances in Thorin's direction and began to spit curses in that incomprehensible dialect.

- You... What have you done to him!? - Thorin roared, but Saruman was already gone. Even the thunderous voice of the uzbad was barely audible over Bilbo's screams. Bofur stepped away from the bars and collapsed on the floor. The snake felt himself losing control of his body at that moment, and it was beginning to pass into the hands of the werewolf. The dragon sighed and sent a wave of energy through his body to push away the awakening Bofur.

- You shouldn't look at that, doggo.

When Gandalf burst into the dungeons with the keys, he brought with him a calming incense, the smoke from which immediately spread throughout the dungeon, but Bilbo didn't calm down. Thorin approached him, freed him from the silver shackles and took off his collar, after which he held out his arms for an embrace, but none followed. The vampire painfully slashed Thorin's hand and scattered even more terrifying curses. Gandalf had to drag the uzbad out of the cage and lock the vampire in it. The king felt his heart break into pieces as Bilbo tore the braid with the Durin Bead from his hand and threw it to the floor.

- Velkhad! Mordhath! Treh'tor! - you didn't need to know the vampire tongue to understand the meaning of his last word. Traitor.

- You had better go, Thorin Oakenshield. - Gandalf said slowly and carefully picked up the Durin Bead from the floor.

- But Gandalf, I...

- Ithil Treh'tor! - the vampire's broken scream began to hurt again. The wizard frowned and looked at the deep cut on Thorin's arm.

- Go away, Thorin. At once.

- I'm not going anywhere, don't you dare tell me where to go in my kingdom! I won't leave my consort in this state until I'm sure he's free of the spell and back to his senses!

- He was already free of the spell until you dragged your flea-ridden carcass in and decided to argue with Saruman by interrupting the ritual! Now they have swallowed him whole.

Thorin was silent. He bit his lip and looked at Bilbo, who now didn't even turn to look at him. He sat with his legs tucked under him, rocking from side to side, and repeating that disgusting word. Treh'tor. Treh'tor. Treh'tor.

- Get out before you do something worse, you stubborn ram! Get out, and if I fail to save what is left of your precious consort, then get to work, choose a beautiful coffin for him! - Gandalf croaked and also turned away from Thorin. And something in the king's chest split again.

***

Uzbad had given up on decency and manners. He had been sobbing into Balin's shoulder for the second hour in a row. He hadn't even thought about calming down, and he didn't care that the whole company was watching. And what's more, not just the company. He didn't even pay any attention to Thranduil, who was standing in the corner. He often blamed himself for everything that happened to his loved ones and wound himself up, but this guilt was rarely really confirmed, and now this. Gandalf himself said it. Thorin himself killed Bilbo. First, he exposed him to terrible danger and betrayed his trust by telling Saruman, and then finished him off by interrupting the wizard's ritual.

The others reacted no better when Thorin brought the news. Bard was gloomy, and Thranduil looked so nervous and irritated for the first time. At first, the elven king almost shouted at Thorin, but then stopped himself when the latter, without looking at him, fell onto the bed and helplessly sobbed. Thranduil stood in the house for a while, hoping that the uzbad would come to his senses and explain in more detail what was going on, but this was no longer expected, so he left. Bard followed him.

- King Thranduil, how are you feeling? - the man asked when they stopped on a fairly empty street. The elf sighed heavily and sat down on a bench. His face was gloomy, grim, irritated, but also worried.

- These werewolves always ruin everything. This idiot could have given me another day, and I would have found another way to get Bilbo out of this madness! But no, I had to involve a white wizard, who clearly does not inspire confidence, and then interfere in the middle of the ritual! - Thranduil clenched his fists. - Now do you understand that my dislike for these flea-bitten creatures has its reasons?

Bard sat down next to the elf and put his hand on his shoulder. Thranduil didn't remove his hand.

- His Majesty blames himself terribly for this. You know how much he loved Bilbo, and you saw what state he was in now. Perhaps that wizard did this ritual in such a way that it seemed that it would only make things worse? In that case, it is necessary to interrupt it. - Bard began to stroke the elven king's shoulder, but received a slap on the fingers and quickly stopped. - I believe that master Baggins can get out of this. He healed you with his own powers in Mirkwood, didn't he?

Thranduil's darkened even more, although Bard thought that there was nowhere else to go.

- Yes, that is true. But it is one thing to get out of this on your own when you are simply being directed. It is another thing when everyone and their dog has already interfered with your mind and turned your mental order into absolute chaos. I swear, if master Baggins survives and shows no desire to stay here, I will take him to Mirkwood, away from these flea-bitten freaks.

- But I think he will stay. No matter how much master Thorin hurt him, he will forgive him, sooner or later. - Thranduil snorted in displeasure. Bard allowed himself to sit a little closer. The elf looked around. They were alone. He didn't move away. - Master Baggins has an incredible heart.

- Indeed. And I am not sure that flea-bitten upstart deserves it.

The bard smiled. This smile was so infectious that the corners of Thranduil's lips involuntarily climbed upward.

- If he gave it to Master Thorin, then he deserves it. No one is perfect, and the king of werewolves doesn't seem like a bad creature to me. Master Baggins could see something in him that was hidden from the eyes of others, and revealed only to those dearest to him. If he accepted his courtship and had been in a happy relationship with him up to this point, it meant that he was ready to put up with all the flaws. And that is the most important thing that is needed when two creatures love each other.

- How philosophic. And where did you pick up such a thing, hm? - asked the forest king, looking sideways at the man. Bard was in no hurry to look away.

- That's what my wife said. - these words made Thranduil move away a little, but Bard didn't pay much attention. - She loved to read novels. Probably, this is from another romantic drama that she read over the weekend.

- Don't you think, master Bard, that over the past week your conversations with me have become too heartfelt and personal? Here, we are so little acquainted, and you are already telling me about your wife. - Thranduil quipped with his trademark, slightly arrogant smile. Bard laughed.

- I didn't even notice. Talking to you turned out to be a little more pleasant than I expected, so I'm pushing such topics. Be careful, otherwise you'll get so interested in me that you won't be able to leave. - the man retorted.

Bard was the first of the whole large company to hear Thranduil's sincere laughter. His heart jumped, overflowing with pride in himself, and he broke into a slightly silly smile. The elven king looked so alive for the first time, and from this his perfect appearance by all standards - except for werewolves - became even more beautiful. And when the king looked at him with blue eyes that were slightly teary after laughter, Bard froze for a few seconds.

"Oh, I'm such a fool..."

Dwalin was on edge. He had been about to beat someone up several times, but he had been stopped each time, and when he suggested beating up Bilbo, Thorin yelled at him so loudly that even Bard and Thranduil heard it.

- Don't even think about it! Just try to approach my consort with your sword! - no one even tried to separate them, in such a state they were afraid to approach Thorin again. Balin was already beginning to fear that he would go crazy after Bilbo. Dwalin raised his hands up in defeat, but his expression didn't change.

- He is no longer your consort. If you say that he tore out the braid with the bead of Durin's line, then he has broken the connection. He has two days to restore this connection of his own free will, and let you weave the bead back into his hair, otherwise either he or you will face exile.

Thorin stopped screaming and just looked at Dwalin with a disappointed, pained look. The youngest son of Fundin couldn't help but feel very guilty and lowered his eyes.

- Dwalin, what are you saying!? - Ori intervened. - Did master Baggins mean nothing to you? He did so much for us! It's not his fault that he lost his mind! We need to help him, be with him, not against him! Master Baggins is not our enemy!

- He wounded my king, which means he can become my enemy. And if you heard what Gandalf said, it would be easier for us to plunge a silver sword into his heart so that he wouldn't suffer. - Dwalin blurted out without thinking, and then fell silent. The face of the young werewolf in front of him expressed such a degree of disappointment that his heart sank. And Thorin didn't even look at him. He hurried to explain. - Thorin, Gandalf says there is no light in sight, and that this may be the end of it. These rituals, magic, spells - everything causes him incredible pain and suffering! If Gandalf cannot save him, he cannot be forced to endure all this, just because he cannot die from this pain! He will simply suffer, sinking deeper and deeper into madness.

Dwalin was right, but he was very bad with words, so it all sounded like he was some kind of monster. Bilbo himself would ask to be killed, and according to Gandalf he had done so more than once, but the others wouldn't accept this fact. Especially uzbad.

- Go away. - Thorin croaked. - Get lost before I kill you.

The king understood in his mind that in this case death would be the best outcome for his beloved, but in his heart he refused to believe it. Losing a loved one who was supposed to be immortal! Where has anyone ever seen such a thing!? Dwalin left, followed by Ori. He was alone with Balin again. The old werewolf sat down closer to him and gathered his ward's disheveled hair into a ponytail.

- You need to calm down and believe in master Baggins, Thorin. That's all you can do to help now.

Thorin nodded and wiped his eyes. They stung unpleasantly from tears and makeup. He washed his face, and when he returned to the room, Kili and Legolas were already standing there. Tension was visible on their faces.

- Bloody Imps, Master Thorin. They will be here soon.

***

Bilbo sat in the green glade of Yavanna's garden. Belladonna was with him, and Bungo was busy with the house they had built in the tree. The vampire was telling his mother about his life after her death, and she listened with a gentle expression on her face. Her black hair shone in the sun, and her red eyes were as bright as they had been in life. The sun in the garden didn't burn, but gently caressed her cheeks, leaving not a single red spot. But Bilbo didn't feel that his soul had found peace, even in the gardens of Lady Yavanna. His mother and father, and all the dead friends and relatives he missed so much, didn't give him peace and spiritual satisfaction. And yet in such a place he should be ignorant of the troubles of the other world. Belladonna noticed the anxiety on her son's face and smiled.

- You understand that you have come too early, my moonbeam? - she laid her hand on Bilbo's cheek. He blinked in surprise. - Your time has not yet come. You are here only because I asked Lady Yavanna for permission to see you before the coming. You must be ready, and I must teach you something. Something I did not have time to learn in life.

- But… Wasn't I pierced through the heart with a silver blade? I thought that happened as soon as I completely lost myself. - he frowned. His anger at Thorin hadn't yet died down. It was unpleasant even to think about him - or so it seemed at first. But when he reached for the braid with Durin's bead, and discovered with horror that a clump of his hair had been torn out, he immediately jumped up. - Oh, Yavanna, where did it go?

He ran through the garden to the place from which he, by all logic, came, hoping to find the bead, but his mother's hand stopped him.

- It is in good hands. There, where you came from. And since you are looking for it so much, it means that your soul has already forgiven that werewolf. Or am I wrong? - Belladonna asked, and Bilbo sighed sadly. He loved Thorin, and his heart wanted to forgive him very much, but his mind refused.

- He betrayed me, Mother. He deceived me, and then, because of his betrayal, I was subjected to terrible torture. I won't forgive him. - He said sullenly. Belladonna took his hand and led him to a small lake. Her thin fingers ran through the water.

- Athra vel dor'khalis. - she said, and in the water, instead of their reflections, an image of Thorin appeared. With tear-stained eyes, such as Bilbo had never seen, smeared makeup, and such a broken look that the vampire's heart involuntarily sank. He reached out to his husband and touched his hair. The strand of hair that Bilbo touched stirred, and the uzbad quickly turned around, looking for the one who had disturbed him. The vampire himself didn't notice how he began to smile. He didn't forgive Thorin, but this didn't stop him from loving this insufferable, impudent werewolf just as passionately.

- He would do anything to earn your forgiveness. But before I return you to him, you need to learn something, my moonbeam. I will teach you Sangtarin - the ancient language of vampires. In fact, you already know it, but you must be able to use it. A storm is coming, and you will need to protect yourself.

***

Gandalf and the false-Bofur had been sitting over Bilbo's nearly lifeless body in the middle of the dungeon for a whole day. The serpent was carefully removing the marks from the vampire's neck, his expression no longer as smug and impudent as usual. The dragon was really worried, and he hated this feeling. After all, the werewolf he was absorbing was stronger, and the moment when he would completely displace him was only a matter of time. Gandalf sat and continuously recited some very long, complex spell. This was already the third or fourth in the last few hours, the dragon lost count, but the goal was to bring the vampire to his senses. The wizard fell silent and looked at Bilbo. Still not breathing. The wizard sighed heavily and reached for his sword.

- It's time to end this. He's suffered enough ... - but he received a good slap in the face from the dragon's tail and dropped the weapon. The false-Bofur looked at him with fury in his eyes.

- Don't even think about it! Give him a chance! - the snake turned to Bilbo, grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him hard. - Come on, you damn bloodsucker! You're always so stubborn, why don't you want to be like that now!?

No reaction. Gandalf sighed and shook his head.

- Report to Thorin. Tell him that Bilbo didn't survive. - the wizard pulled his sword from its sheath. As soon as the blade approached the vampire's chest, the snake closed his eyes and turned away. He was about to step away, but accidentally stepped on Bilbo's finger. The lifeless body immediately tensed up, and his face twisted in pain. His chest rose, filling with air, and his dry lips parted, and he began to cough. Gandalf immediately threw the sword away.

- You were right, we can't lose hope so quickly. Water for him, now!

Chapter Text

Yavanna didn't usually allow vampires to manifest their true nature in her gardens, but she created a special, small garden for Bilbo and Belladonna, which she would later allow her husband Aule to destroy. The vampire tongue wasn't the same as the language of Mordor, but if spoken too much, it could disturb the well-being of everyone there. And from the lips of Bilbo's mother, this was the only language that flowed.

It turned out that it wasn't so difficult to use. But speaking it clouded the mind, especially if you didn't know how to control the spell. Spells in Sangtarin fed on the dark thoughts of the vampire casting the spell, and if much magic was needed, then those who were around him at the time. The more such thoughts the vampire absorbed during the casting of the spell, the darker his thoughts would become each time after using the language, until the creature turned into absolute evil. Belladonna was a powerful vampire, and Bilbo was her son. It wasn't difficult for him to learn all this in a very short time, since he already knew most of what he needed.

Sangtarin was ingrained in every vampire's knowledge, as if from birth. No one could explain it, but even if they never taught it, immediately after the children of vampires learned to speak, they knew all the learned phrases in Sangtarin as well. And now that Bilbo had learned to provoke speech in it, he became a more dangerous opponent. Not as strong as his mother, or his grandmother, but certainly a worthy vampire, who had in his arsenal not only simple dope, strengthening of his physical abilities and transformations. Bilbo's mother could wield the blood of the enemies she killed as a weapon, and his grandmother, they say, could even resurrect the creatures she killed and make them her servants. But whether this is true or not, no one will ever know, since Lily Took wasn't in the gardens of Lady Yavanna.

His family was older than one might think. To hide their immortality, they changed many settlements during the life of little Bilbo, but the Shire was still his favorite, and so after the death of his mother, Bilbo returned there, to Bag-End. According to people, he was now no more than thirty, but in fact, he had lived for about a century, and his mother Belladonna was older than many of the Elves of Rivendell. There were only rumors about his grandmother, and therefore, in order to have nothing to do with these rumors, Belladonna took her husband's name, which was later passed on to her son.

Bilbo's training with his mother seemed to last for days and nights. The grass around them turned black, the trees withered, and the sky was covered with dark clouds. Bilbo himself felt the changes in himself: if before his conscience continued to gnaw at him for killing Alfrid, now he discovered with concern that he didn’t care at all. He sat by that very lake and looked at his reflection. It seemed to him that his face had become terribly distorted, his eyebrows had dropped, and his gaze had become cold and heavy. Belladonna sat down next to him and smoothed his golden curls.

- This is necessary so that you can protect your friends. The darkness that is born in the south is much stronger and more impenetrable than that which naturally lives in your heart. You should resign yourself, moonbeam, and stop suppressing who you have always been. Do not be afraid of change, do not be afraid of your cold. Your skin is icy for a reason.

- But what if I become a monster? What is the point of me being able to do all this? It will only get worse, and I will be no different from bloody imps.

The vampire smiled.

- It is these thoughts that distinguish you from them. You are right, a madman is always more dangerous with a knife in his hand, but it is even worse if he waves this knife at random and chops up everyone in a row, even his near and dear ones. You will definitely not fall to absolute evil if you use everything I have taught you wisely, which means you have nothing to fear. - she ran her fingers through the water in the lake. The world of the living appeared there again.

- You can go back to where you came from, my moonbeam. - Belladonna said in Sangtarin. Bilbo sighed, went up to her and hugged her tightly.

- I missed you, Mother. - He whispered, also in Sangtarin. His mother smiled, kissed him on the top of his head and smoothed his golden curls for the last time.

- I missed you too, Bilbo. But still, I hope that I will never see you here, like your husband. - the vampire's ears turned slightly red when the woman called Thorin his husband.

- We aren't officially married yet! And anyway, he is mortal... - on the last words his voice died down, and he sighed. Belladonna lightly touched his fangs with her finger.

- If this is truly your Chosen One, then you must hide him from the all-seeing eyes of death. Give him a piece of your soul, and he will give you a piece of his. Just like your father and I did. But, unfortunately, death threw two silver arrows at random, and hit us. I hope the same fate will not befall you. And if the silver arrows find you, then Bungo and I will always wait for you here, in the green gardens of Lady Yavanna. She is the spouse of Aule, which means he will be able to allow his child to move between his forge and her garden, or even allow your souls to be together forever.

Her image began to fade.

- Now come to the world of the living, and show the skill that I taught you.

***

The slaughter began at sunset. A huge army of bloody imps appeared at the gates of Erebor, but the humans, elves and werewolves were ready. Thorin stood at the head of his own army, along with Dain. The wizard was nowhere to be seen, which could mean two things: either Bilbo was still alive, or he had not yet been buried. Uzbad gripped his sword tighter.

- Standing so gloomy on the threshold of battle is a bad omen, Thorin. - Dain patted his cousin on the shoulder. The king glanced at the approaching imps. All were armed to the teeth, with thick armor and sharpened swords. He turned his gaze to the sun, from which only a few last rays remained.

- Thank goodness, today is a full moon. There is simply no end to these creatures. - Thorin croaked. The only advantage in Bilbo's absence was that they wouldn't have to restrain their beast nature and could cut with silver weapons. Uzbad ran his fingers along the blade of his sword.

- We can only hope that we won't have to rescue the forest princess from the clutches of the imps. - Dain grinned and cast a contemptuous glance at Thranduil. The elf, sitting on his favorite deer, only rolled his eyes. He was in no mood to sneer back, not before such a battle.

Finally, an imp horn was heard. Thorin exhaled and smiled as good as he could. Dain was right, and according to werewolf beliefs, if you start a fight with an anxious or dejected look, then the outcome of the battle will also be disappointing. Dain also grinned and prepared his axe. Thranduil's elves drew their bows and waited for their king's command. Bard's men stood behind the werewolves and waited for them to begin moving. When the first rows of demons began to draw significantly closer, Thorin raised his sword. All the werewolves prepared for battle.

- Baruk Khazâd! Khazâd ai-mênu! - the thunderous voice of Dain and Thorin rang out across the valley, and the werewolves rushed to attack after their leaders.

At first they fought with swords, since there was no moon, and they wanted to conserve their strength until it appeared. The army of demons was simply enormous, the elves and people began to slowly retreat, but the werewolves held on better, since there were more of them. The sun had completely set, and darkness was beginning to descend on the battlefield. Thranduil and Bard fought shoulder to shoulder in a huge pile of demons.

- There is no end to them! - Bard shouted and fired an arrow into the forehead of one of the creatures. - We cannot hold out for much longer, Lord Thranduil! We must break through to our people and order them to retreat!

- It is too early for you to despair, Bard. - the elven king beheaded several enemies at once with one graceful movement. – The wolfhounds haven’t even seen the moon yet. And the wizard hasn’t arrived yet. Either he’ll come himself and disperse the clouds so that the moon can shine upon us, or he’ll bring another significant advantage. And you know very well who I mean.

A roar so deafening came from Erebor, that even the demons froze for a few seconds. Enormous snake paws covered in fur appeared on the walls, followed by a dragon’s head, also covered in wolf fur. The creature was, of course, much smaller than Smaug, but still, its size was impressive. Bard froze with his mouth open, and the creature flew up into the sky, its chest beginning to glow with flame. At that moment, the man noticed a huge chain on the neck and in the mouth of the snake – or whatever kind of monster it was – and a familiar figure on its back. Red eyes and the bead of Durin’s line gleamed in the moonlight.

The next moment he felt the elf's strong hands grab him by the collar and pull him aside before a stream of flames fell on the imps. Bard fell on his back and closed his eyes. From such a close distance, they were still scorched by the heat quite strongly. When he opened his eyes, he met the gaze of the elven king. He was covering them with a large shield and looking at the man with a smile.

- Now I definitely won't be able to leave until you pay me back for your life. - Bard prayed to all the gods that he was just dreaming, or was simply delirious, otherwise how could this be explained at all!? So it turns out that the elf was communicating with him closest of all for a reason? But they are so unfamiliar! So Thranduil is also a man! While Bard's thoughts were trying to gather together, the stream of flames stopped, and the elf stood up and threw away the shield. He helped Bard get up and looked somewhere to the side.

- Hey, flea-bitten! - Thorin, standing in the distance, who had just crawled out from under Dain's shield, didn't even swear, but simply turned to Thranduil. - Your vampire chose a good pet! Look how he cleaned up the ranks of these creatures!

Uzbad smiled proudly, and his baritone reached Bard and the elf.

- And did anyone doubt him? But I'm afraid we won't be able to keep such a beastie at home!

It really looked impressive. The dragon incinerated a good half of the enemy army, greatly equalizing the forces. The vampire jumped off his back, and the animal flew back into the walls of Erebor. Thorin looked around. A bunch of incinerated imps, and in just a couple of minutes! Dain grabbed his axe and threw it at the head of one of the surviving imps, who was running at the king.

- Thorin! Brother, damn you, don't get distracted! - Thorin caught himself staring at the place where Bilbo had landed, without taking his eyes off it. His vampire was cutting the throats of the imps with simple movements, and when he caught the king's gaze, he smiled that same smile that made Thorin lose his head. It took uzbad a few seconds to come to his senses, grab his sword and continue hacking at the Imps. He glanced at the mountain where Azog and his minions stood and gave orders. The moon came out from behind the clouds, and Thorin's body immediately began to grow fur. He transformed only halfway to preserve his human mind, and rushed towards the mountain where the white Imp stood. Dain was about to run after him, but Thorin stopped him with a loud roar.

- I'm going alone! Don't even think about it! And don't let any of ours up to the mountain! - Thorin growled and continued on his way. On the way to the mountain, a crowd of imps followed him, and quite a few. He had to engage in battle, and at the same time not succumb to the beast essence. Fighting them was quite simple, but balancing on the edge of the human mind, so as not to transform completely - that was what caused the difficulties. One of the demons jumped up from behind and struck the uzbad in the shoulder. The werewolf hissed in pain and tore the axe out of his shoulder, after which he threw it at the attacker's head. Due to the significantly increased strength of the werewolf, the weapon went right through the enemy's skull.

There was no one at the top. Well, except for Fili and Kili. The princes had just dealt with another crowd of imps and were heading to the tower to look for Azog.

- What are you doing here!? Down immediately, fools! - shouted Thorin, running up to his nephews. The princes hadn't yet transformed, but the beast essence was already beginning to take over. They ran up to their uncle, wagging their tails in displeasure.

- Yeah, so they can kill you here? We want to help too! - the stubbornness of the brothers was no longer even annoying. Uzbad sighed. As soon as he inhaled the air, he immediately felt the smell of demons on the abandoned tower. This disgusting, rotten stench. He grimaced.

- If you want to help, then inspect the tower. As soon as you notice something, come back immediately. Don't even think about fighting alone.

The brothers nodded and headed into the ruins, and Thorin finally succumbed to the beast's essence. Oh, this blissful feeling, when a wave of slightly painful goosebumps runs through the body, gums itch from quickly growing fangs, and hands tremble slightly, turning into wolf paws. But uzbad turned not for battle, but for the sharpening of his animal senses. Fili and Kili were supposed to be safe, and he was going to check by ear if anyone was waiting for them in that terrible tower.

He curled up on the ground and began to listen. In addition to the unbearable noise of the carnage below and the footsteps of his nephews in the tower, he suddenly heard weightless movement. Someone was heading towards the tower. He had told Dain not to let anyone to the mountain, so it must be an enemy! Thorin immediately jumped up, turned into a half-man, took his sword and rushed at the one who was about to approach the square in front of the tower. His mind, still clouded by the beast essence, didn't distinguish the face of the creature in front of him, and he plunged his sword into it. And only a few seconds after the incident, he recognized the red eyes of his consort. The sky began to lighten slowly.

- What have I done... - Thorin pulled the sword out of Bilbo, turned around and threw it at the wall. Just then, Azog appeared in the passage, barely moving, covered in elven arrows, Fili's daggers and Kili's sword, stuck in his liver, from whom the princes ran away and whom Legolas and Tauriel were catching up with. Fortunately, they didn't separate, and with joint efforts it was much easier to defeat the enemy. Legolas had already drawn his bow to plunge the last arrow into the back of the imp's head, but his moment of glory was brazenly taken away from him. Oakenshield's sword pierced Azog right between his eyes, and the imp fell to the ground. Thorin didn't even pay attention to it. He knew perfectly well that there was silver in the alloy of his sword, and he felt perfectly well that he had plunged his sword very deep. He bent over the vampire and looked in horror at the wound inflicted on him. That was why he didn't like turning into a wolf.

Bilbo lay on his knee and looked at his husband's frightened face. How stupid, he hadn't seen him happy or smiling for so long. He touched his cheek with his cold fingers. Thorin was cursing loudly in Khuzdul, clutching the blackening wound on his lover's stomach, then cursing again. The vampire's gaze began to cloud over. "I hope I don't see you here again." Well, his mother would be very happy to hear that her son would fall at the hands of his own husband.

- No, ghivashel, stay with me, just a little longer! - the uzbad begged. He felt incredibly pathetic, every last interaction he had with Bilbo had been reduced to tears and pain. Horrible. These weren't the emotions he wanted from his beloved. - Please, tell me there is a way to keep you alive. Any way...

Aulë must have heard Thorin's pleas. There really was a way. Bilbo pressed lightly on the king's neck, forcing him to duck, since he could speak very quietly.

- I must vampirize you, Thorin. Take a piece of your soul, and give you a piece of mine. - Bilbo whispered. - Your blood will heal my wounds, and your soul won't allow mine to dissolve and leave this world forever.

Fili and Kili ran up to them and also bent over Bilbo. The brothers, frightened, tried to squeeze Bilbo's wound, from which blood was gushing tirelessly. Right now it wasn't the vamire's one yet, it was still the blood of the king that he had drunk earlier. Thorin unfastened his breastplate.

- Back off, everyone! - uzbad roared and quickly took off his armor, after which he tore the collar of his tunic to give Bilbo access to his neck. Fili and Kili quickly jumped back and stopped the elves. - Go ahead, do whatever it takes. I'm ready.

The vampire smiled weakly.

- And yet you give me your soul. - a hot tear of Thorin's fell on his face.

- When you're yourself, like this, I am ready to present my heart, torn from my chest, on a golden platter, if by doing so I earn your forgiveness.

- Stupid werewolf. Crowned ram.

Bilbo raised himself with the last of his strength and gathered all the magic in his fangs. By this time, a good half of the Erebor liberators had gathered on the rock, but no one came up, as Fili, Kili and the elves who had joined them stopped everyone. Thorin leaned closer to the vampire.

- Luthra vel mordhân, vel luthra thar mordhân velis. - Bilbo croaked and sank his fangs into his neck. A shudder and a strong frost passed through Oakenshield's body. It felt as if he had a fever. His mouth was very dry, it became difficult to breathe, but this feeling faded for moments when Bilbo poured his blood into him. The fangs of uzbad began to itch slightly again, as it usually happened when he turned into a wolf and his teeth grew and became sharper. The entire company watched what was happening to their king until Dwalin sent them all away.

Thorin had guessed that vampirization was a very long and tedious process, but he hadn't suspected that it would feel so strange. Halfway through the process, it was as if his soul began to leave his body. He was used to feeling the weight of his body in his paws, the weight of his armor and weapons in his hands. And now everything became weightless, as if the wind was about to blow him away. It felt like he was no longer the master of his body. He liked it when Bilbo subdued him with his magic before drinking his blood, but to feel it on a regular basis was frighteningly new.

The blood in his veins no longer belonged entirely to him, as Bilbo slowly poured his own into him, and in return drank his. It created a strange connection, their dead hearts beating in unison, their breathing synchronized, and their bodies seemed to become one. Thorin wanted to be closer, even though only a thin layer of clothing separated them at that moment. And it wasn't some kind of lustful desire, no, he literally wanted to merge with Bilbo, to become one shell, under which two souls lived. The vampire's body no longer seemed so icy to him, it only slightly froze his skin. Such a ritual created, albeit temporary, but a very strong connection, and since Thorin was already head over heels in love with Bilbo, now it wasn't difficult for him to reach the level of feelings that the vampirization process implied. Bilbo felt the same connection, and although he was still terribly angry at Thorin for everything that had happened, and wouldn't even think about quick forgiveness, but as soon as he could tear himself away from the uzbad's neck, they immediately merged in a kiss. Gandalf found them lying side by side in the snow, Bilbo's legs wrapped tightly around Thorin's waist, and the uzbad's arms were holding the vampire so tightly that the wizard barely managed to tear him away from the king's grip.

Oin came with Gandalf. He helped the wizard tear the vampire away from the werewolf. Gandalf wrapped Bilbo in his cloak, picked him up and carried him away from the cliff. Oin began examining Thorin and was horrified to discover that his king's body had become icy and his heartbeat had slowed considerably.

- Thorin, look at me! Where are you wounded!? You're dying! - but, to the healer's surprise, uzbad calmly pushed him out of the way, jumped to his feet and, cursing, rushed after the wizard who dared to take the vampire away from the king.

- Well, of course, what am I even saying!? Death itself would rather die while looking for this idiot! Get back here! - Oin ran after uzbad, who, for some reason, became even faster than before.

***

Although Bilbo survived, the silver wound would have terrible consequences for him if nothing was done in time. Therefore, despite the general indignation, after a few days of minimal recovery, the vampire was loaded into a cart heading to the Shire. Surprisingly, it wasn't even Thorin who was the most indignant about his departure. Although, to his credit, Gandalf's eye began to twitch from his lamentations. But Fili and Kili were simply unbearable, worse than uzbad.

- Gandalf, but how will we cope without him!? And uncle! Have you thought about him? - Kili screeched, snatching one of Bilbo's shirts from the wizard's hands, which he was going to put with the rest of the vampire's luggage. - You're taking all his things! As if he will never come back!

- Enough, Kili. - Thorin croaked, sitting in the corner. After the vampirization, it was terribly unusual for him to feel the constant cold, so he sat wrapped in three warm blankets, but still shivered. - After all that I have done, it won't be surprising if Bilbo doesn't want to come back.

Uzbad was gloomier than a rain cloud. In general, his condition didn't change for about a week, and he sincerely smiled only that time, on the battlefield, when Bilbo appeared with Bofur, who, it turned out, was able to negotiate with the snake to help them during the battle. The werewolf's disease passed, nothing remained of the dragon, and he was released from the dungeon. But he was also badly battered, so he was sent to the Shire together with Bilbo and they prayed that none of the people living there would find out about his beast nature.

But Gandalf only smiled at the indignant prince. He no longer had the strength to resist his and Fili's screams.

- Okay, you can keep this shirt if you want to. Bilbo Baggins will come back here, sooner or later he will be able to forgive Thorin. And even if he doesn't want to, he will have to. There is an unbreakable bond between them now, and this morning, when he was conscious, he hissed at me and scratched me when I tried to take the Durin's bead from his hair. - everyone in the room fell silent and looked at Gandalf, in complete shock. - This vampire has already become your family. But you will have to endure his stubbornness for a while.

- Gandalf!!!

The growl of the uzbad swept through the whole house, and the werewolf slowly approached the wizard.

- What, did you dare touch his hair!? Did your stupid head decide to braid his hair with the bead back!?

Gandalf had to ride in the cart with a black eye. Telling the jealous king that he had literally touched one of the most sacred and intimate things for werewolves of his beloved consort was a clear mistake.

Before leaving, Bilbo woke up again, and Thorin was allowed to see him. He was lying in the cart, just as he had been in Mirkwood - transparent, shining, lifeless, discolored. The king simply fell to his knees in front of him and hugged him to his chest so tightly that Oin had to kick him so that he wouldn't break the poor vampire's ribs. Bilbo was very weak and looked at him with a clouded gaze. The icy hand now touched the equally icy cheek of Oakenshield.

- Stupid werewolf. - Bilbo whispered, and Thorin desperately pressed his lips to his. There was no longer that difference in temperature between their bodies, but still, the lips of the uzbad remained warmer. He smoothed the vampire's golden curls while he continued to rant, looking at him with a loving gaze. Their connection seemed to grow stronger with every touch, and the vampire even wondered if he could survive without Thorin. Oin even had to collect his blood for Bilbo, but would that be enough? Or would he have to drink Bofur's blood? - A blockhead and a crowned ram. Don't even think that I will forgive you so easily.

- When you look at me like that, I want to laugh at your words. - Thorin answered in the same quiet voice, and finally a smile blossomed on his face. The corners of Bilbo's lips also crept up, and he left a weak kiss on the werewolf's cheek. His heart involuntarily squeezed at the thought of separation, but he had to keep a serious and firm face.

- But that doesn't change the fact that I'm terribly angry with you. Just try to show up on my doorstep again, I'll pluck all your fur and glue your tail to a scarecrow.

Thorin laughed and began to shower the vampire's face with kisses again. The wizard had to tear him away from Bilbo again, and they almost came to blows again. In the end, Thorin stood on the road until the cart was out of sight. Then he stood there for a while longer, staring into space, and went into the house, slamming the door so hard it seemed like it would fly off its hinges.

Chapter Text

Living with Bilbo in the Shire turned out to be so wonderful that even after healing, Bofur stayed with him. Peaceful existence, kind people, constant festivities, holidays, hot springs... Like paradise. And there was a vampire nearby. The first month he was recovering, constantly lying in bed, and then he began to return to his normal rhythm of life. Bofur woke up in the morning, and Bilbo was already bustling about in the kitchen, running around the house with a mop, or lying on the branch of a large tree right next to his house.

But this whole idyll, which even the people living in the Shire made think that they were married, was ruined by Durin's family bead, which, despite his resentment towards Oakenshield, Bilbo refused to take off. The first few months Bofur even hoped for something, but after the feast of the beginning of spring, he shrugged his shoulders and gave up on his attempts to get this vampire. Well, he had accidentally ruined Thorin's chances of forgiveness, and now every time he noticed a vampire in the crowd, he made a mental note that if he saw the uzbad again, he should apologize to him. But it seemed that such a chance would not present itself anytime soon, since staying in the Shire and choking on Bilbo's murderous looks was unbearable, and he decided to leave without even saying goodbye.

***

The end-of-winter festival is a very big celebration in the Shire, with a huge fair, dancing, fireworks, contests and drinking. Bofur had already fallen in love with this settlement: with the joy of life, the love of drinking, the colorful costumes at the festivities, the loud music and that wonderful dialect of Westron spoken by the locals, and the way it sounded charmingly when performed by Bilbo only added to its charm. This strange pronunciation of some letters, and that wonderful accent that he had lost during the entire campaign, but was now slowly starting to return ... Before the festival, those feelings that Bofur seemed to be suppressing inside himself came out again.

At the fair, Bilbo looked simply stunning. He wore light clothes with interesting embroidery, a sweeping wreath and many rings. At first, Bofur was scared that they were made of silver, after which the vampire quickly assured him that it was just ordinary iron. And despite his reputation as an unsociable and eccentric recluse, he was still in great demand among women, as he was almost the standard of local beauty - if only he had a little darker skin and gained some weight, there would be no end to the brides. But Bofur noticed with what a bored expression on his face he saw off all the girls he didn't know. He had happy conversations only with the gardener Hamfast Gamgee and his wife, a couple of other friends and cousin Primrose, who, as Bofur already knew, wasn't really his relative, but her vampire mother was a good friend of Belladonna. Primrose was born human, and therefore he had to hide his true nature from her.

- Mary, Pippin, put down the firecrackers! - the vampire grabbed the red-haired boy by the collar and looked at him with his stern gaze, while his nephew Frodo sat in his arms, and Sam and Mariadoc were spinning at his feet. Some woman sat down next to Bofur.

- What a handsome man, and yet you stare at Baggins. Why are you running around with this madman?

- I seem handsome, but master Bilbo doesn't? I thought he was the standard here. - the woman laughed and adjusted her dress so that the neckline, revealing her ample breasts, didn't slip too low.

- Everyone has different tastes. Well, since you're staring like that, the dancing is about to begin. Invite him. And if this madman refuses, then I'm all at your service. - she smiled, winked at Bofur and left. He watched her go and again stared at Bilbo. The music began and the children ran away to avoid being trampled by the adults, while Hamfast went to dance with his wife. The vampire caught the werewolf's eye and smiled at him. Bofur felt his cheeks heat up as he stood up and walked over to him, holding out his hand and bowing slightly, as all Shiremen did when inviting each other to dance. Bilbo bowed too and took the werewolf's hand.

It was a fast dance, all the couples whirling around the square, the women's skirts fluttering in the wind as they turned, and the men's heels tapping on the flagstones in time with their movements. Bofur had learned many of the local dances in his time in the Shire. He had discovered to his dismay at one of the festivities that he could not work perfectly with the vampire as Thorin had, and during the dance he had stepped on all of poor Bilbo's feet. The werewolf was quietly envious of how the uzbad danced with the vampire on the first try as if they had been rehearsing for months.

Even now, after so much training, he could barely keep up with Bilbo's feet and stepped on his new shoes more than once. But now the vampire didn't even grumble or complain about anything, but simply enjoyed the fun. This gave Bofur a little confidence, and soon he stopped thinking about the correctness of his actions, moving intuitively. It turned out a little ridiculous, but no one paid attention.

Now Bofur understood very well why Thorin was so crazy about Bilbo, and he mentally thanked Aulë that the uzbad wasn't with them now, otherwise he wouldn't have been allowed to admire such a beautiful sight, much less touch it. The vampire's delicate skin was a little sunburned this afternoon, and now, in the light of the lanterns, his red cheeks and shoulders, showing from under several unbuttoned buttons of his shirt, shone a little like porcelain, and in his disheveled golden curls were tangled petals of white flowers from a wreath that had slipped to the side during the dance. Bilbo was already a little drunk, and there was a veil over his scarlet eyes, and the corners of his lips curled into a cat's smile ... Well, of course, everything wasn't so fabulous, and any of the shires looked no worse, but it was impossible to convince a werewolf in love, and for him Bilbo was the most beautiful creature in all of Middle-earth.

A light push on the elbow brought Bofur out of his enchanted dreams. A dark-haired man was sitting next to him, holding out some pink flower, the petals of which resembled hearts. The werewolf looked at the plant with bewilderment and turned his gaze to the man.

- You've been staring at Baggins all evening, so I decided to help. - he explained. - This is the flower of the Heart of Yavanna, it grows only today. If you put it in his drink, he will tell you the name of the one he wants to be with today. Well, and not only today. You get my point. If the name is yours, then congratulations, he is yours. And if not, then to remove the effect, and for him to see you again instead of the one his heart is crying for, you will need to pinch him, or somehow cause him pain. Just not too hard, you don't need to hit him, even if you really want to.

The werewolf listened attentively to the man's explanation. It sounded tempting. What if he had fallen out of love with Thorin? After all, they hadn't seen each other for about four months and hadn't been in touch in any way. He had to check. Bofur put the flower in his pocket, and then, when no one was looking, he crumbled some of its petals into Bilbo's cup of ale.

After the vampire had drained the mug, he began to look at Bofur in a completely different way. It was a misty, loving look that made the werewolf's legs buckle - he didn't even want to remember that Baggins had looked at Thorin like that before. They continued to dance together, and Bilbo became much more insistent: he touched the werewolf's neck and hair, and their faces were always dangerously close. After a few more mugs of ale and a couple of dances, Bofur finally got it. Bilbo grabbed him by the collar and pulled him in for a kiss. Baggins' friends then happily congratulated the werewolf, but it was only at the beginning of the next dance that he realized that he had had an idiotic smile on his face the whole time.

It was not yet dawn, and the party was not over, but the vampire and the werewolf retreated to Bag-End. The tension became unbearable. Behind the slammed door, they kissed each other again and again. Bofur looked at Bilbo with eyes darkened by passion, leaving a red bite mark on his burnt shoulder. The vampire arched and bit his lip.

- Thorin, stop... - everything collapsed at once, as soon as Bilbo said this. Bofur had already caused him that "little pain", which meant that the effect of the Heart of Yavanna had dissipated. The vampire looked down and realized that before him wasn't the one he had called. The next moment, the werewolf was hit on the head with a heel, and the vampire instantly extricated himself from his embrace. Bofur looked at him guiltily, while the creature simply boiled with rage.

- Are all you wolfhounds like that!? Stupefied me! No shame, no conscience! - the vampire hissed, and when Bofur tried to take a step towards him, he bared his teeth in hostility and hissed only louder.

- Bilbo, forgive me... I didn't think it would end like this, I just wanted to check, maybe you had already fallen out of love with him... - the vampire turned white, and then red with anger. So that's what they stuffed him with! The Heart of Yavanna! And how could he not notice!?

- Get lost. - Bilbo croaked through his teeth. Bofur hesitated and opened his mouth to say something else. - I said get out of here! - the vampire shouted, and the werewolf immediately left. The same black-haired man who had given him the plant was waiting for him on the street.

- How is it? - a frying pan flew at the werewolf's head, and the man nodded. No further explanation was needed. - Got it. Well, in that case, we need a drink to keep us from being sad. Come on, friend, let's go, there's still some ale left.

A dejected Bofur followed him back to the feast. But the festive mood was already irrevocably spoiled.

***

Thorin was slowly going crazy. No, not literally, he was very calm during the day, reserved, serious, sometimes even frightening. But those who knew him well enough, like Balin, knew that when he acted like that, his head was in disarray. He would answer questions mechanically and do his job, while being somewhere in his own world. When it was the height of the day in Erebor, twilight was beginning to fall on the Shire, and in the early evening and at dinner, it was already the dead of night. And although Thorin no longer needed to eat, he still attended all the meals - his vampirism was a secret. The food was tasteless and didn't give a feeling of satiety, which he hadn't felt since the moment Bilbo left Erebor. At breakfast, uzbad looked bored, at lunch he was tense, and at dinner he stared blankly at one point, his head resting on his hand. He didn't explain his behavior, and when they started to interrogate him, he growled and bared his fangs, which were now always hostilely sharp. And how could he explain such a thing!?

Because of the connection he had formed with Bilbo, the vampire's voice periodically sounded in his head when he called him by name. At first, it seemed to uzbad that he hated him, because he only mentioned his name when he cried in the evenings. For the first month, this was true, and then complete nonsense began. The vampire seemed to experience the whole range of emotions and memories associated with the king. Sadness, when he dreamily pronounced his full name. Rage, when everything was limited to a simple "Oakingshield", and then some insult followed. Shyness, when his name was pronounced quietly, sometimes with laughter or hesitation. And on some lonely nights, Thorin's head would split from the vampire whispering his name every now and then while he was laying alone in bed - at such moments, uzbad would sit, propping his head up with his hand, and stare blankly at one point, barely restraining himself from visibly jerking from another moan of his beloved. Well, how can you even sit calmly with everyone and pretend that everything is fine when Bilbo's whisper is ringing in your ears, calling him by name so sweetly?

Dis arrived in Erebor exactly a month after Bilbo left, and gave her brother a dressing down from the very beginning. Thorin's ears were red from how much they were pulled, and his head was splitting from how many hours he had been yelled at. He had certainly gotten out of the habit of his older sister's steely character. Well, and at the same time, now he understood how Bilbo felt that day when they first came to him, and Fili and Kili were torturing his ears.

- Come on, Dis, stop it! - Thorin begged. Yes, it was good that the people didn't see their king like this. - I was going to go to the Shire after him as soon as I finished settling everything here! I can't just give up!

- Excellent, and it better be true! You crippled the poor vampire! I wouldn't be surprised if he hadn't vampirized you, but simply drank all your blood, and used your withered corpse for a scarecrow! Thorin, you stabbed a vampire with silver! Unthinkable! And don't you dare not bring him from the Shire back here, or not stay there with him - I will beat you so badly you will forget your name! You won't be able to sit for a week!

- That's it, that's it, I understand! Let go of my ear, it hurts!

Dis narrowed her eyes and finally let go of her brother's angular ear. Thorin rubbed it and quickly hid it under his hair, but the tip still stuck out. Bilbo's voice flashed through his head again, and Uzbad had to sit up quickly, because his legs treacherously buckled from its sound. He sighed heavily and rubbed his forehead.

- As soon as I sort this out, I'm going to the Shire right away... He'll drive me crazy.

More time had passed since then than Thorin had expected. But they had survived the winter just fine, with the help of Dain, Thranduil and Bard there had been no problems. Everyone was well-fed, no one had frozen, the restoration of the kingdom was progressing slowly but surely, and Thorin was perceived as a fair and wise ruler. But exactly until the moment when the people began to suspect vampirism. That was when rumors began to spread, and the situation in Erebor began to deteriorate. One day, while he was giving a fiery speech during a feast, a werewolf of aristocratic blood sitting at one of the tables looked closely at Thorin's fangs. They were larger and longer than expected, and a red spot left by a vampire's bite was barely visible from under his tunic. No one else noticed these details, but long tongues won't keep you waiting.

Dis saved the situation, and also gave Thorin the opportunity to finally leave Erebor and go to the Shire, having attributed his new vampire nature to an "unknown virus" that urgently needed to be treated - and the Shire climate, doctors and hot springs were famous for curing even the most advanced diseases. Therefore, immediately after this announcement from Dis and Thorin, the whole company mentally prepared themselves for the unbearable behavior of their uzbad while he was waiting for the ferryman. Of course, if he were not a king, he would have packed his things that very evening, turned into a wolf and ran away, only his heels would have sparkled. But he had to behave appropriately, and diligently wait for the one who would take him to the Shire.

- A week!? Dis, for Mahal's sake, we will go crazy here! Couldn't you find any other ferryman? - Dori begged. Oin was also displeased, and Balin and Gloin watched the reactions of the others with interest. Dwalin and Ori were just standing in the corner, looking like they'd eaten a sour candy, Nori was just lying at the princess's feet, grabbing her by the legs of her pants and tearfully begging her to lock Thorin up somewhere until they left, Fili and Kili were laughing their asses off, just lying on the floor and coming up with the wildest ideas on how to keep their uncle busy, and Bifur and Bombur were betting on the moment everyone's nerves would start to give out. Yes, no one doubted Thorin's leadership qualities, but when he had to wait for something he really wanted, he was simply unbearable.

The fears of everyone around him were justified. They refused to load Thorin with work, since he was "sick", and this didn't help at all. Not only did he spend all day hanging around doing nothing, which was simply incomprehensible to him, but Bilbo wasn't there to entertain the king simply by existing. And, to everyone's horror, Fili and Kili came to the rescue...

It was very lucky that there were no strangers living in the royal palace, and the meetings were held outside the residential part, because the princes and the king turned the whole palace upside down. Starting from competitions like "who can stand upside down on one hand the longest", to something that even out of boredom Thorin didn't agree to. Well, for the first ten minutes.

- Why are you so quiet? It is suspicious not to hear... Oh, Mahal... - Dis entered the room and almost fainted. Fili was standing on Kili's shoulders, while he was standing on the ladder, which Thorin was holding below. The whole tower was held together by a kind word and the desperate attempts of the uzbad to keep their balance while the princes tried to reach the chandelier. A candle landed on Thorin's head, fortunately it had gone out, otherwise his entire head of hair would have burned to ashes.

- Uncle, stand still! We're going to fall on you!

- Can someone please explain to me what you blockheads are doing!? - Dis roared and jumped up to Thorin. He recoiled, and the princes above whined in displeasure because they were pushed away from the chandelier.

- Mom, don't disturb us! We decided that this chandelier should be brought to master Baggins as a gift and an apology. He liked it when he was here. - Dis narrowed her eyes, then jumped onto the ladder, causing Thorin to grunt in displeasure at the sudden weight added to his shoulders.

- Come on, move closer, brother, I'll help you now.

Balin entered the room just as Dis was already sitting on her eldest son's shoulders and skillfully unscrewing the chandelier from the ceiling. The old werewolf sighed heavily and theatrically covered his eyes with his hand.

- It seems to be a family thing...

- We're bringing this as a gift to master Baggins! - a voice came from above. Balin stood to the side for a while, looking at the whole thing.

- I'll call Dwalin now. We'll need to lower it from the ceiling carefully so that nothing breaks. Master Baggins will definitely like it! He loved looking at the chandeliers in Erebor!

The whole family of Durin's descendants seemed to blossom. These words were a major mistake, because the next day the tapestry was dragged out of Dori's room, two huge golden frames were taken from Ori, and poor Bifur's pillows were taken away. But after the words "We are doing this for master Baggins" everyone joined the procession. By the end of the week the ferryman's cart contained: the leg of someone's bed with a beautiful pattern, a chandelier, a tapestry, sheets with traditional embroidery, frames, three blue bricks with different patterns on them, a golden figurine of a wolf with a missing paw, and a piece of a sofa. Of Thorin's things, there was only a small bag with personal belongings and an extra pair of boots. Dis proudly loaded her brother into the cart.

- Give your vampire my regards, and tell him I can't wait to see him. If you decide to stay in the Shire, write a message. - she touched Thorin's forehead with hers and smiled. - Good luck.

Thorin's carriage began to slowly disappear from sight when one of Dis's maids came out and looked after the king.

- Your Majesty, why does His Majesty need a chandelier and a sofa?

***

Thorin arrived in the Shire faster than expected. He had no idea that he really became so unbearable when he was waiting for something he really wanted. The ferryman drove the horses almost without breaks, because the king's constant lamentations were already impossible to listen to. But, nevertheless, they had to cover an impressive distance, and he arrived there when the sun was already hot, and the air was damp and heavy.

Having finally sent the king away and left him with all his junk in the tavern, the ferryman accepted the payment and ran off wherever his eyes looked, swearing on the way never to get involved with werewolves again.

Chapter Text

The Shire greeted the king with green landscapes, cheerful people, heat and life in full swing. He arrived early in the morning, it was necessary to prepare in advance for the meeting with the vampire, but the sun was in the way. Thorin was not used to such sunny weather, and in the mountains the new properties of his skin did not make themselves felt, but here, under the scorching sun, the uzbad was mercilessly sunburned before noon. When the sun finally disappeared behind the clouds, Thorin went to bother people, since he realized that he had completely forgotten where Bag End was and how to find it.

- Excuse me, but can you tell me where Bilbo Baggins lives here?

A man trimming bushes near one of the houses first looked at the uzbad in surprise, and then, measuring him with a curious look, smiled affably and extended his hand.

- So you are his friend? Well, I thought no one would come to see him anymore. Can you introduce yourself? He listed about twenty different people, I'd like to know which one you are. - The king's gaze clearly demanded an explanation for such a friendly tone, and the man hurried to introduce himself. - And my name is Hamfast, I'm also a good friend of Bilbo's.

Thorin nodded and shook the man's hand.

- Nice to meet you. My name is Thorin. Thorin Oakenshield. - uzbad watched as Hamfast's smile widened even more.

- Oh, wow, did I really get to see you in person? Bilbo has been telling me all about you! He's become even more unsociable since his return, especially after that failed affair with master Bofur. - Thorin's eye twitched. What affair!? - Well, of course, he denies everything, but they kissed at the festival. But, just know, to talk to him, it is enough to mention you, and you won't escape from him! Either an angry tirade about how stubborn and unpleasant you are, or an embarrassed story about your virtues, or sad memories will begin. Sorry if you had to hiccup all the time for the last few months, he always remembers you.

- Always remembers ... - the king's heart sank painfully. Bilbo's voice was heard in his head again - this time just as a memory - and Thorin had to try to continue to keep his face and not turn into an unbearable version of himself, who couldn't wait to meet the vampire for another second.

- Could you show me the way to his house? And on the way, tell me what kind of affair he had with master Bofur? - Thorin said in a gloomy tone, and Hamfast noticed this sudden change in the mood of his new acquaintance. People are perceptive creatures, so it wasn't difficult for him to guess what had upset Thorin so much.

- Well, so it turns out he was an eligible bachelor among you! Maybe you could take him then? The local life is a burden to him, he's suffering here. He can't sleep, he's quarreled with everyone, he sits at home all day. He's become so miserable it's almost painful to look at!

Thorin sighed and rubbed his eyes. Well, hearing such things about his beloved wasn't the most pleasant thing. And he had hoped that Bilbo was living well. Well, on the other hand, why complain? At least it would be easier to persuade him to leave.

- Actually, that's why I came. So what's up with Bofur?

- How persistent you are! - Hamfast smiled. - Nothing special. We arrived, and this strange young man settled in with Bilbo. He kept throwing ambiguous glances at him, flirting in every possible way. We all told him, like, what's wrong? Good boy, stop playing the fool and agree to his advances, why not just marry him? - the king's eye twitched. Playing a dangerous game, Hamfast. - But you know that stubborn Baggins - he ignored everything, refused flowers, refused dances, rejected gifts. And then some time passed, he calmed down, and allowed to dance with him, and even the flowers given to him bloomed in the garden for a while. - Thorin's heart pricked unpleasantly. - And so, at the first spring fair, he danced with this Bofur, then he, it seems, crumbled Yavanna's heart into ale for him, and so they started kissing. And then Bilbo suddenly sent him away, and since then he doesn't even want to see him. Probably didn't see him. - the man finally fell silent, turned around and caught Oakenshield's questioning gaze.

- What is Yavanna's heart? And what do you mean "didn't see him"? Was Bofur poisoning my con... Bilbo!? - Thorin almost blurted out his vampire status, but stopped himself in time. Hamfast shook his head and waved his hands.

- No, what are you saying! It's a plant that grows once a year, and it allows a person to find out the identity of the one for whom his heart cries. Instead of the person who slipped it to him, he sees his beloved, and only some small pain, for example, from a pinch or a bite, will bring him out of the illusion. Well, and, apparently, Bilbo didn't see master Bofur, that's why they quarreled.

They approached Bag-End, and Thorin recognized the door from which they left, setting off on a journey. Hamfast offered to stand with him, but Thorin refused. When the man left, uzbad ran into a nearby field and picked some white and pink flowers - he wouldn't come empty-handed, and the gifts from Erebor were in case he didn't get forgiveness the first time. With a beautiful bouquet, he went to the door, exhaled nervously and knocked. His heart sank when he heard the sound of heels from inside. The door swung open, and Thorin finally saw him.

His golden curls were uncut, now they fell on his shoulders, and his pale skin was a little red from the sun on his cheeks, shoulders and ears, just like Thorin's. There were bruises under his scarlet eyes, deeper than before, and his gaze looked very tired. He was simply beautiful, and Thorin caught his breath when he noticed a braid with a bead of Durin's line in his hair.

- Bilbo, ghivashel… - the vampire's eyes opened wide and he froze for a couple of seconds, then slammed the door in Thorin's face as he took a step towards him.

- No, no, no more of you flea-bitten freaks in my house! I've had enough of your antics! - he protested from behind the closed door. - Get out! No one's home!

- Wait, come on! Bilbo, please, let's talk! - uzbad begged and knocked on the door again.

- I told you to get out! - yes, he had picked up some stubbornness from the werewolves. But he had to fight the one whom even he called "the crowned ram".

- I'm not leaving until you hear me out! Face to face, Bilbo Baggins, I won't agree to anything else!

- Then you can kiss Durin's ass, - that's exactly what he picked up. Thorin began to think about behaving more appropriately in the company of a vampire, - Because I'm not going to talk to you face to face!

- Well, why is that?

There was a silence, and Thorin recognized Bilbo's embarrassed tone.

- Shut up and get out, Thorin, I've told you everything!

Uzbad grinned. There was no progress yet, but he believed in himself. Since the flowers were not helping, it was time for more active action - it wasn't for nothing that he had dragged so many things from Erebor with him.

And so in half an hour he had already dragged all the junk to the doors of Bag-End. People who occasionally passed by looked at all this action with amazement - the chandelier was simply enormous. Thorin even doubted whether it would fit through the door of the vampire's house, but after a short fitting he realized that it would fit perfectly sideways. He knocked again, this time a little weaker. The vampire didn't open the door right away, but he was lucky that he did - fortunately, Thorin was not visible from the window behind the chandelier, and he did not know who was knocking.

Seeing all the things in front of his doors, Bilbo froze with his jaw hanging open. Thorin was pleased - even if he wouldn't forgive, at least he would let them look at him for a while. And while he wasn't visible behind the chandelier, he could look to his heart's content. Only here's the problem, because of the long separation, Thorin was simply going crazy, and when the vampire bent down to examine the chandelier, the king's head started spinning, and he shamefully fell out of his hiding place onto the ground. Bilbo's face immediately twisted with rage.

- Idiot! I've said it! We have nothing to talk about! - Bilbo turned and started to leave, but Thorin quickly stood up and tried to grab his hand.

- Wait! I brought all this especially for you. Even if you don't forgive me, please, keep it. Let me help you carry all this... - the door slammed in his face again. - ... in.

- I told you to get out of here. I'll carry it myself, but only when you drag your shaggy ass away from my door. Otherwise, don't even expect me to come out!

Thorin frowned. Insufferable. But so beloved... And what to do with him? The solution came rather quickly. Why not fight fire with fire? Since Bilbo had decided to be stubborn, the uzbad might as well show his horns. He sat down brazenly on the porch.

- In that case, I'll sit here. And don't even think that I'll budge, even if four trolls drag me!

And Thorin, as always, stubbornly followed the stupid plan that he himself had come up with. He sat motionless near Bilbo's house until nightfall. At first he smoked, then simply laid around doing nothing, then looked at the flowers in his garden, then began to quietly hum some songs in Khuzdul. Deep night was descending on the Shire, people were putting out their lanterns, and Thorin began to feel sleepy. He even dozed off for a while, when suddenly a quiet voice was heard from behind the door.

- Thorin, are you still there? - uzbad knew that tone well. Bilbo was slowly giving in. He decided to keep quiet and endure the intrigue. - Thorin? Are you here? Do you hear?

- I hear. - he still couldn't stand it. The door opened slightly, but Thorin didn't push and didn't force Bilbo to open it completely and let him in. He was already immensely happy that his vampire had finally softened.

- Why did you come? - the tone was sad, and Oakenshield's dead heart clenched.

- I missed you very much, mizhimel. And I wanted to ask you for forgiveness. I betrayed your trust, and then almost killed you. I'll understand if you take off the bead and never want to see me again, but I still decided to try my luck. - He touched the door with his hand. - The boys miss you very much. Fili was beside himself for the first week, and Kili even threatened to run away to his elf if I didn't promise to try to ask for your forgiveness and bring you back. Then Dis gave me a dressing down. We all need you. I need you. I can't live without you anymore.

Bilbo was silent for a while. And then his voice softened so much that Thorin thought his heart began to physically ache when he heard this tone.

- You gave me some new nickname. Will you translate it? - the vampire asked in a half-whisper, and the uzbad barely held back his tears.

- It means "my soul." - he whispered, and a quiet chuckle was heard from behind the door.

- Only half of it. So, you want me to forgive you? What if I told you that I want you to walk naked through the market square and shout "I am Thorin Oakenshield and I am dumber than a wine cork" and then I would forgive you?

There was no answer, but from his little crack the vampire saw Thorin's tunic fall to the ground. He immediately jumped up and threw open the door, behind which he found Thorin, who was already ready to take off his trousers.

- What are you doing!? Are you a complete fool!? - Bilbo ran up to him and, standing on tiptoe, pulled the tunic back on him. Thorin looked at him with his clear blue eyes, adoring so much that it took the vampire's breath away. Stubborn ram, he got his way! That's why Bilbo didn't want to talk to him face to face! How can he even be angry with him when he looks at him like that?

- You asked. I can do anything, if only you would forgive me. And when I say "anything", I mean even something that would hurt my honor so much that I would be ridiculed in ballads or expelled from Erebor in disgrace because I behaved unbecomingly for a king. Even shave my head or carve your name on my chest. - and Bilbo knew perfectly well that he would seriously do all this, if only he asked. And that was the end of everything. His stubborn resentment towards the werewolf was already bursting at the seams. The vampire sighed.

- Come in already. - Thorin beamed and happily followed Bilbo. They went into the house, and he closed the door behind the uzbad. - Just no dirty boots on my carpets!

Thorin turned around and with the most innocent expression on his face pulled out slippers from a small travel bag. Fluffy, white, not at all in keeping with his clothes, with little bows.

- Here, I took these especially. I remembered that you don't like it when the house gets dirty, so I asked Dori to help me make them from Dis's old baby clothes. I think it turned out well.

Damn it all. Bilbo simply gave in, grabbed Thorin by the collar, pulled him towards him and kissed him. Uzbad was taken aback for a moment, then returned the kiss and wrapped his arms around the vampire's waist, his hands moved higher, to the golden curls that had grown out. Their dead hearts were pounding in their ears, their tongues were desperately intertwined in an attempt to close the pathetic distance between them, and their legs were no stronger than cotton wool. When they pulled apart after a few long moments, breathing hard, Thorin smiled, and his eyes briefly turned red, as if signaling hunger. Only now did Bilbo realize that now might be the time for the king's first thirst.

- I take it that meant "I forgive you"? - he asked with a smile. Bilbo didn't even resist. He just looked at him, as if enchanted, and nodded. The thought that Thorin might want to drink his blood sent a pleasant wave of goosebumps down his skin. He remembered how the uzbad had teased him before, and decided to do it to him now. He wondered how he would react.

No one was going to drag it out - they hadn't seen each other for almost half a year, so it was no surprise that kissing quickly led them to the bedroom. With his shirt already unbuttoned, Bilbo looked at Thorin, who after such a long separation was simply losing his head from every touch. He touched his vampire's body weightlessly, as if he was afraid that this was a dream and everything was about to disappear, kissed his neck and collarbones. And time after time, Bilbo noticed how his fangs sharpened and his blue eyes pulsated red when the werewolf touched his neck. On the one hand, he really wanted it, but on the other hand, he was still a little worried. Only vampire spouses could drink each other's blood, and if he let Thorin drink his blood now, he would never be able to be with anyone but him. What difference did it make? They certainly wouldn't be able to get divorced or separate, their bond was too strong, and, no matter how you look at it, they loved each other madly.

- Bite me, Thorin. Drink my blood. - the vampire caught the king's frightened gaze and smiled. - Don't resist, silly. If you don't do it to me, you'll attack someone else, a stranger. And then we'll have very big problems.

Bilbo's fingers slid gently over the uzbad's lips, and he, as if hypnotized, nodded obediently. The vampire threw off his shirt and, closing his eyes, beckoned Thorin with his finger. He felt the king's warm lips on his neck and sighed intermittently in anticipation.

- Tell me how to do it. - Thorin whispered barely audibly.

- Bite my skin, and then your instincts will guide you. Don't resist anything you want, except the desire to pour your blood into me. Exhale after each sip, and do not send impulses of magic through your fangs. - Thorin listened as attentively as his condition allowed him. Bilbo's pale body, his cold touches, sweet sighs and seductive whispers simply turned off the uzbad's mind, his groin ached so much that it was painful. All he heard was "instincts will tell" and "do not resist anything you want." So, as he wanted, he sat Bilbo on his lap and pressed his whole body against him. His vision darkened as the vampire arched towards his touch and weakly squeezed his hair.

Sharp fangs carefully passed through Bilbo's skin, and the king felt how he squeezed his hair a little harder and sighed heavily. Then he took the first sip, and a moan escaped the vampire's lips. Thorin was on a thin line of reality, for so long he had heard this voice in his head and had not had the opportunity to touch its owner, and now, finally, after so much time and waiting, Bilbo was here, in his arms. A complete idyll. Only this strange sixth sense that Thorin had developed after vampirization told him that this calm time would not last long. Another storm was approaching.