Disclaimer: All the characters appearing in The Hobbit and Lord of the Rings are copyrighted by Warner Brothers and the J.R.R. Tolkien estate. No infringement of these copyrights intended, and is not authorized by the copyright holder. I write this fanfiction only for love of the The Hobbit and not for profit.

The cotton sheets were soft against my skin and the pillows cradle me like a the arms of a welcoming lover. I was in that twilight state between wakefulness and sleep when I felt a pleasurable heat in my chest, one that a hobbit gets when her heart is set aflutter by an unexpected affection. I snuggled deeper into the sheets, pulling my favorite quit around me.

I turned on my side, feeling something cool against my cheek. In the blackness, I trace a path along the cool something meeting my touch. I recognized it to be tanned leather and I inhaled deeply, taking in the lingering scent of hickory and smoke with a touch of ash for good measure.

Beneath my touch, I feel warmth capture my hand in the darkness. Callused fingers catch my hand, firmly holding where a large thumb is right over my pulse point on my inner wrist. In the dark, I feel lips press a kiss along my skin, causing my breath to catch in my throat. Through the window above my bed, I glanced out the window to see the dark clouds move out of view, revealing a full moon made of silver. When it broke through the cloud break, beams of light streamed through the small window, gently illuminating the area of my bed so that I could see around me.

Across from me, only inches away were two eyes that shined in the moonlight like faceted sapphires, refracting the moonlight when I looked into them. My eyes widened as I felt warm breath tickle against my ear and the rough silk of a full-grown beard brush against my lips. Black braids adorned with a silver bead on each gleamed with a cobalt tint in the light of late summer night and the warmth in my chest coursed through my limbs. One thickly padded thumb came to my lips, tracing a slow path from one side of my astonished smile to the other.

"What are you doing in my bed?" I whispered to the one in my bed.

Eyes the color of midnight crinkled slightly at the edges, matching the smile that answered me. "What are you doing in my dreams, little Hobbit?"

The endearment was whispered in a deep, strong voice that I immediately recognized. My inner Took whispered to me, you only get one chance and I took it. Tentatively, I reached out, letting my fingers entwine in those dark flowing locks spread out across my pillows. The moon shone brighter now, casting his handsome features in a mixture of light and shadow. I traced a slow path along his high brow, along his angled cheekbones and I let the course texture of his beard tease my sensitive fingertips.

He brought his finger to my lips, brushing it lightly along the contours of my smile. This time, I quickly caught it in my teeth and held it fast, letting my tongue flick slowly across the callused pad. I heard a low moan rumble within his chest. "By Mahal, you will be the death of me!"

Feeling brave because it was only a dream after all, I savored him in my mouth, gently running my tongue along the entire length, tasting a hint of my soup mixed with salt. This time, my I heard a quiet moan, masculine and deep in timber. I felt him quickly withdraw his hand from my explorations and both hand land on my waist. As he rolled onto his back, I felt his hands lift me as though I were lighter than paper, setting me astride his waist. I felt his heat press against me, and when he moved, oh by the Valor! It was sweet heaven. Frissons of energy flowed from me throughout my body and now I heard a small mewl of pleasure in the darkness. Embarrassment flowed through me when I realized the wanton response was mine.

I looked down, seeing raven tresses fanned out across the stark whiteness of the pillows, blue eyes gleaming with starlight and desire as he focused his gaze upon me. He slowly moved upward again, pressing his body against mine while holding me in place with his strong hands on my waist. My breath caught in my throat.

"Look at me, Bella," he commanded me. "I have waited a century for you and now you are mine."

"Only in my dreams," I quipped between liquid streaks of pleasure coursing through my body followed by shallow gasps as I tried to breathe.

"And I have dreamt of this night, every night," he growled as he pulled me forward, "for a thousand nights. Menu zirup men."

How I know he whispered a sweet intimacy in Khuzdul, "You complete me?"

I felt him rise to meet me so that his lips brushed mine. I flicked my tongue against his chaste kiss, silently begging him to deepen it and with a hoarse gasp, he complied. I tasted ale and sweetbread from the dinner earlier that night after a tribe of heathen Dwarves raided my pantry. I felt his arms tighten around me as he moved to meet me and this time, I felt a rhythm as old as time guide me as I moved my hips to match.

"Even in a dream, I will not dishonor you," he whispered in a hoarse, ragged voice against my ear. "I will court you rightly, protect and cherish you always, Bella. Men lananubukhs menu, men Kala."

The next few whispers were a mixture of Khuzdul and Common while I couldn't find myself doing anything but sob as the pleasure racked through my body. With the final pulse of pleasure, I heard him bellow my name and a flash of moonlight burst through the window, blinding me in silver light.

The next morning, I awoke, still in that pleasurable haze when one wakes feeling refreshed from a good night's sleep. I listened in a half-daze, expecting to hear the rustlings and rumblings of roused Dwarves and an occasionally grumpy wizard. The only thing that met my ears was the usual silence that greeting me every morning when I woke: the sound of only my own solitude.

My eyes snapped open and I rose from my bed faster than I had in an age. I felt something pressing against my hip, small and concentrated and not at all comfortable. It was a small silver bead in my bead that I had seen the previous night in my dream as it gleamed in the moonlight. I had seen it on one of the braids of Thorin Oakenshield.

My mother often told me the reason the Tooks were considered wild and unpredictable, by Hobbit standards of course, was because of the ancient Fae blood rumored to flow in our veins. Occasionally it lent itself to vivid dreams and, in rarer events, visions of the future. If the veil between dreams allowed a path between the present and the future, sometimes a tangible item may be left behind as proof of things we wish for. . .or things to come.

Was it only a dream of my lonely heart, longing for a strong Dwarven prince to make me complete or was it a portent of things to come. As I walked through my home, I saw the contract laying on the table from where it had been the night before, witnessed by Balin and signed by Thorin Oakenshield. At that moment, I knew no matter what last night meant, I knew in that moment I had to go on adventure.

I snatched it from the table, thinking about what I needed to pack. Mental note to self, I thought, don't forget to pack extra handkerchiefs.