Chapter Text
She should never have opened her door. The minute she heard the frantic rapping at the entrance to the room the Elves had been so kind to give her (that she had eagerly accepted even if the rest of her ridiculously stubborn Company members had refused their own rooms and insisted on camping out together in the garden that connected said rooms) she should have dove under the large feather bed, curled into a ball, and waited them out. Instead, as the fool of a Took she was she opened the door. And still, there was a split second after she had recognized the Durin boys that she could have slammed the door in their unholy gleeful faces, rather as she should have done at Bagend. But instead she gaped at the frantic lads and asked the same question that had turned her into a troll’s handkerchief, “What’s the matter?”
No answer was forthcoming but a united effort in shoving the littlest member into the room and slamming the door shut behind them. Staring up at the panting lads from the floor where they’d knocked her down she felt her concern quickly shifting into irritation and anger, “What the hell is that?!” for clutched in the young princes’ hands was a rather lumpy and familiar brown hat.
Before either lad could respond to the irate Hobbit’s query another voice floated through the door, “Alright lads, fun’s fun but if’n I don’ get me hat back in the next ten seconds I’mma cut through that door and flay the pair of ya like a pair of ragged cat.” The threat was delivered in a lilting growl, and even with the happy overtone, the steel underlining the menace was frightening enough to have the Durin boys glancing at each other in concern. Bilbo was about to demand they fix their trouble and leave her and her room intact when that unholy light beamed into their eyes again as they turned twin demon smiles onto her prone body. Terror spurred her up and away but not fast enough to get away from Kíli as he leapt after her, sweeping her up into his arms with a cheerful laugh, Fíli hissing behind him, “Come now, Miss Boggins, you asked what the matter was and we’ve the perfect way to fix this little mess…”
Bofur wasn’t one to deny himself a bit of fun. Normally he was the first one there with a joking comment and a ready laugh. And he could certainly appreciate the Durin boys and their youthful enthusiasm, encouraging them with his cheerful disposition. But there were just some things a dwarf did not play with. His hat would be a prime example. So he felt fully justified in hefting his pick on his shoulder and preparing to destroy the barrier between him and the dubious dwarf duo on the other side. So intent on his hat he didn’t take the time to realize exactly whose room the two little shits had taken refuge in until he found himself suddenly dropping his pickaxe and replacing it with arms full of Hobbit Burglar.
Now he’d taken note the first night in the Shire the little thing was comely when flustered, downright pretty when embarrassed. Mussed and fussed from travel and a rough night she made a sweet picture, and he’d recognized a certain attractive quality to her pouting continence when Balin compared her little sword to an elfish letter opener. But as sweet and eye-catching as she could be, he’d yet to realize how much unadulterated cuteness could be displayed in the round face until he found it framed by squashed black curls, with those overlarge amber eyes looking up at him from under the brim of his own oversized hat.
Shock registered in her owlish eyes, as she lay there, supported by Bofur’s mine toned musculature. As she stared up in confusion and growing trepidation she felt a warmth spread through her face, and it only intensified as she felt those quite nice arms contract around her, drawing her up and closer to the toymakers body. So preoccupied with her own sensory overload she barely registered the door to her room slamming shut behind her and didn’t see the growing blush behind Bofur’s mustache.
He didn’t even mean to close in on her but it was becoming harder and harder to deny that his favorite hobbit expression was, in fact, her blushing. It was the slamming of the door and the shameless giggling he heard coming behind it that had him finally yanking his gaze from the glory in his arms to the barrier saving the line of Durin from a tragic ending. Apparently that was all it took to break whatever had kept Bilbo cemented to him as she quickly gained her feet and placed a few feet of distance between the two of them, leaving Bofur’s arms bereft and achingly empty for a moment before he quickly retook his pickaxe again and looked at his shuffling feet a moment to gather himself before looking once more on the overly adorable little Burglar where she stood in his hat. “Um… it’s quite fetching on ya lass…” he barely recognized the gruff tone he managed as his own voice.
Shaking off the shock (definitely not shivering from the low resonance of the toymakers voice) of being thrust into this precarious situation, Bilbo finally whipped the hat from her head and extended it to her friend, “I’m so sorry Bofur, I had no idea what those two imps were up to.”
Retaking his shabby hat and replacing it on his own head Bofure chuckled carelessly, “I’m sure you didn’t lass, no harm done… made quite a picture… Ah, um, I’d best be getting back to Bombur before he breaks anymore elfish woodwork… um, see you at dinner.” And with that Bilbo found herself suddenly alone, Bofur’s retreating form whipping around a corner as she watched. Inhaling deeply she was awarded a second of calm before she let loose a high pitched squeak as Fíli and Kíli popped out of her room and grabbed ahold of one of her arms apiece, raising her from the ground and taking off with their new favorite little ally.