[ Bilbo may not fully grasp what has just transpired, however, he isn't completely lost to the change in Thorin. It's just that the blossoming sense of acceptance is far too new for Bilbo to expect any time the two of them share words. It'll become easier with time and routine, to relax and not wonder, constantly, if he's on the verge of doing something to taint Thorin's new-found respect for him. Because to Bilbo, in his sheltered, humbled mind, there is no debt or heroic deed between them. Even though Bilbo more or less saved Thorin's life, that's not something, Bilbo feels, warrants permanent, life-lasting respect. Don't misunderstand him; Bilbo is glad, so glad and relieved that they've turned a corner, but he does wonder how strong their friendship can become.
Well, according to Thorin, it endures until the end. Bilbo merely needs to catch up and accept that fact.
… Perhaps later. For now…
He settles closer and again – always with the hesitation – pauses, eventually grasping Thorin's foot. It almost seems... small. Not overtly so, no. It's properly proportional with the rest of him, ahem, but Bilbo often feels so slight in comparison to the rowdy bunch. Dwarves with their wide shoulders, solid bulk, and dense weight, and Bilbo with naught beyond his narrow build and missing inches. So it's almost amusing; any set of feet would seem wee in comparison to a hobbit's, true, but Thorin's especially…
That fascination hardly lasts though. The wound is not something to be ignored, even though, for some unfathomable reason, Thorin decided to tromp around in search of a pub, rather than wrap this first. Don't lecture, don't lecture, don't—he huffs instead, the words ridiculous and stubborn coming to mind once more. Especially when he gently coaxes Thorin to raise his foot, just enough for him to peek underneath. Straight through; wonderful. So all right, he will keep the reprimand to himself – no need to start up that bickering again – but he will level Thorin with an unimpressed stare and a short— ] I don't believe I will ever understand you dwarves. [ How can one race be so, so frustratingly careless with their own well-being? ]
/still gently touching that icon. Watch, youll never edit ever again bc I've been such a jerk c:
Well, according to Thorin, it endures until the end. Bilbo merely needs to catch up and accept that fact.
… Perhaps later. For now…
He settles closer and again – always with the hesitation – pauses, eventually grasping Thorin's foot. It almost seems... small. Not overtly so, no. It's properly proportional with the rest of him, ahem, but Bilbo often feels so slight in comparison to the rowdy bunch. Dwarves with their wide shoulders, solid bulk, and dense weight, and Bilbo with naught beyond his narrow build and missing inches. So it's almost amusing; any set of feet would seem wee in comparison to a hobbit's, true, but Thorin's especially…
That fascination hardly lasts though. The wound is not something to be ignored, even though, for some unfathomable reason, Thorin decided to tromp around in search of a pub, rather than wrap this first. Don't lecture, don't lecture, don't—he huffs instead, the words ridiculous and stubborn coming to mind once more. Especially when he gently coaxes Thorin to raise his foot, just enough for him to peek underneath. Straight through; wonderful. So all right, he will keep the reprimand to himself – no need to start up that bickering again – but he will level Thorin with an unimpressed stare and a short— ] I don't believe I will ever understand you dwarves. [ How can one race be so, so frustratingly careless with their own well-being? ]