Chapter Text
Rivendell, by far, was more hospitable than Thranduil's realm. Ori became well-acquainted with the library and the Elves who frequented it. His prior expertise endeared him to them more, as much as his grasp of Sindarin managed to, as well.
It had amused Ori to no end that Fíli was shocked by his knowledge of the language, which then led to some interesting further conversation that devolved into sharing the bed for more than cuddling. They were newly married and finally given leave to be alone for larger bursts of time. It was really no shock to Ori, at least. Nor was he upset about having privacy to do so.
Fíli, aside from their moments of newly married bliss, meanwhile, made friends in Elladan and Elrohir. Kíli, too. Whereas, it seemed, Tauriel bonded with Arwen, who was not in Lothlórien, though she typically visited where her grandparents lived. Thorin and Dwalin remained close together; gossiping like elder Dwarrow who visited food establishments and sat for hours, ordering refills to avoid returning to whatever it was they should actually be doing. Óin spoke with Elven healers, and made certain they didn't starve, which Ori greatly appreciated.
Whereas Nori avoided Dwalin, and Ori noticed, much to his continued annoyance. They had bickered incessantly or treated each other to silence more than once on the journey, whilst also protecting each other. The pair was a mixed bag of contradictions, overall. Nevertheless, the quiet was welcomed, afterwards, in contrast to those more tumultuous spans of time.
Regardless, though he had previously decided to ignore their fracture, something in him was further irritated about the matter. Which, Ori felt, might lead to him reaching a boiling point soon, because his emotions were slightly all over the place, as time went on.
All in all, despite that, Ori was enjoying himself. Not so much the being pregnant part, though he knew that being uncomfortable was simply a portion of enduring the forging of pebbles properly. However, having Fíli around more, made it all easier. His husband was attentive to him, and the soft moments amidst the more difficult ones helped.
Furthermore, Ori had literature he had never laid eyes on, and another soft bed. His closest friend was finally allowed to enjoy love openly, at last. There were a number of reasons for Ori's newfound joy. He could only hope for its longevity, the closer they traveled towards the Shire.
A place which there was far more to read about within that Elven literary haven. Though, faced with having met a Hobbit, the specific one they were to be staying with, Ori was equal parts nervous and excited. He hadn't expected what happened the day they had arrived and was still mulling it all over. However, having heard Bilbo's name, it scratched something in his brain he was having difficulty placing, in truth.
Since then, they'd occasionally noticed one another, given they both seemed to appreciate literature. Even so, despite Ori's curiosity, he gave the Hobbit a wide berth. They would soon be in close quarters; ample time to know one another. Whereas, Rivendell, they would not be there for much longer, he imagined. Enough to replenish their energy and prepare for the last leg of the journey. From what Ori had been told, that would be the easiest part, which he certainly welcomed.
Later that day though, Ori was seated at a long table in the open air, where Fíli and Kíli sat nearby, too, alongside Tauriel and Thorin. The rest of the Dwarrow were elsewhere, doing Mahal knew what. Lord Elrond wasn't even present, though sometimes he did join them to dine. At least on the less rowdy days. Ori had a book open on the table, and he would sooner glare daggers at someone who attempted to disrupt that, so no one threw food, at the very least. Which was just as well.
At some point though, his eyes had trailed away from his book to watch a late comer to their meal seating himself beside Thorin, of all individuals. Given the large table, there was ample room for Bilbo to sit elsewhere, yet he chose directly next to Thorin. Ori glanced at his husband, and Kíli, who had each taken notice of that development; both of their eyes remained trained towards where Bilbo was, before he turned around again.
"So, this is the Hobbit," Thorin said, when Bilbo flicked his eyes up to meet that of the intimidating Dwarf. He seemed to be scrutinizing the aforementioned individual to his left. With the height difference, their shoulders couldn’t brush, but they were hardly seated far from each other.
Bilbo chuckled, whilst shaking his head, as an Elf placed food directly in front of him.
"I'm not sure about the Hobbit, though certainly the only one present here in Rivendell, at this current time."
Thorin's mouth crinkled into a smile, as a small laugh escaped him. Afterwards, he said, "Well, you shall soon be amongst your own kind again, as I hear from Lord Elrond you are our host."
Bilbo nodded, then replied, "It would seem that way, yes. Hobbits are nothing if not good for playing host.” He paused for a moment, then began to fan out a cloth napkin, which he attached upon his person from the neckline of his clothes.
After he had adjusted it properly, Bilbo sighed, then glanced over at Thorin specifically, again. He seemed quite particular, in Ori’s opinion, from what little he had seen of Bilbo. In that, the Hobbit reminded him of Dori.
Eventually, Bilbo said, after grasping Thorin’s forearm, “I will warn you that I’m not well-versed in Dwarves, but I do hope you will find comfort while you visit the Shire, and my home, too.”
“If that is the case, a little cultural exchange might be in order, Master Baggins.”
The two stared at each other following that declaration, and Ori couldn't help but catch onto a strange undercurrent of something in their gaze. Whatever it was, he hoped that it would be far less dramatic than what Nori and Dwalin had between them.