[ … It's rather embarrassing how heavily his mood hinges on Thorin. Well, clearly it isn't embarrassing now, at least not for Bilbo, but perhaps later, much later, he'll cover his face and groan at how utterly rotten he's being, more or less demanding Thorin move a few feet to appease him. For now, he's rather content. Blissful even. Though, of course, there's still a span of space between the edge of the bedroll and Bilbo, which is synonymous with distance still remaining from Thorin to Bilbo.
… He'll take care of that.
He scoots and scoots and eventually settles, edging right on the rim and nearly finding his nose pushed into dirt. Retucks the pillow and recurls his body, scrunching about as close to that folded leg as he can without actually spilling off the bedroll and there, done. Perfect. Well, not perfect, he knows that, but it'll do. He breathes in and then exhales, lips quirking at the familiar scent of pipeweed and leather, and he thinks, maybe, if he concentrates hard enough, he can feel the radiating warmth of being close again. The ground still digs in and tweaks the line of his body in ways that will give rise to aching joints, but he is almost comfortable. Almost.
He still can't imagine growing used to this though. Sheer exhaustion had been the greatest contribution to his supposed adjusting before. So the knowledge of a nice bed waiting for him is grand and all, but that's a reward made true only— ] After weeks and weeks and weeks... [ So it hardly helps soothe him. Not that he needs much soothing anymore, if the faint smile is any indication. There's amusement in that too. Distant, but there, the mutters having trailed off into a breathy laugh. But then he lets his eyes slip closed and he tries burying part of his face into the pillow once more, voice drawing out on a hum.
Even with long travel ahead and horrid sleeping accommodations all around— ] I'm still glad I followed you. [ And it's possibly the drink—no no, it's most definitely the drink, that has him babbling and so very greedy for closeness. All of which leads to a yawn and him blindly reaching forward to pat, then settle against Thorin's thigh. Fingers grasp and then he's merely holding onto a pinch of fabric, seemingly needing an anchor and reassurance that Thorin will stay. ] I would follow you anywhere.
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… He'll take care of that.
He scoots and scoots and eventually settles, edging right on the rim and nearly finding his nose pushed into dirt. Retucks the pillow and recurls his body, scrunching about as close to that folded leg as he can without actually spilling off the bedroll and there, done. Perfect. Well, not perfect, he knows that, but it'll do. He breathes in and then exhales, lips quirking at the familiar scent of pipeweed and leather, and he thinks, maybe, if he concentrates hard enough, he can feel the radiating warmth of being close again. The ground still digs in and tweaks the line of his body in ways that will give rise to aching joints, but he is almost comfortable. Almost.
He still can't imagine growing used to this though. Sheer exhaustion had been the greatest contribution to his supposed adjusting before. So the knowledge of a nice bed waiting for him is grand and all, but that's a reward made true only— ] After weeks and weeks and weeks... [ So it hardly helps soothe him. Not that he needs much soothing anymore, if the faint smile is any indication. There's amusement in that too. Distant, but there, the mutters having trailed off into a breathy laugh. But then he lets his eyes slip closed and he tries burying part of his face into the pillow once more, voice drawing out on a hum.
Even with long travel ahead and horrid sleeping accommodations all around— ] I'm still glad I followed you. [ And it's possibly the drink—no no, it's most definitely the drink, that has him babbling and so very greedy for closeness. All of which leads to a yawn and him blindly reaching forward to pat, then settle against Thorin's thigh. Fingers grasp and then he's merely holding onto a pinch of fabric, seemingly needing an anchor and reassurance that Thorin will stay. ] I would follow you anywhere.