Thorin Oakenshield opened the door to his chamber and listened carefully. All was quiet, so he stepped out and started to make his way down the passageway. He had just reached the junction where he would turn right towards Dwalin’s quarters, when he heard a voice.
“And just where do you think you are going?” the voice demanded.
Bilbo Baggins! Where had the hobbit appeared from? Thorin had been sure no-one had seen him when he began his journey and now Bilbo was heading straight for him.
“I thought I’d call on Dwalin, and have a quick word with him.”
“Well, you thought wrong. You know full well you’re supposed to be resting.”
“I’m not tired.” Thorin tried to ignore the way he sounded like Kili had, when he was little.
“You can see Dwalin this afternoon, once you’ve had a rest,” Bilbo continued inexorably.
Reluctantly Thorin turned and stomped his way back to his chamber. If they were going to treat him like a tiny dwarfling, then he’d behave like one.
Bilbo followed and watched pointedly until Thorin lay back down on his bed.
“Fili and Kili don’t have to take a rest during the day,” Thorin muttered. An image of Kili complaining about going to bed when his older brother was allowed to continue playing came into his head.
“They weren’t hurt as badly as you were,” Bilbo said, with the air of one who had regularly repeated this particular argument. “And they accepted help, rather than fighting it all the way.”
Bilbo sat on the bed beside Thorin and began to stroke Thorin’s hair. Thorin closed his eyes and allowed his mind to drift under Bilbo’s gentle touch. Maybe there were advantages to being cosseted by his hobbit after all.