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Running. Running as fast as possible, doing all he can to keep up with his brother. Kili had no idea how the humans discovered him, but they did. He and Fili had been trying to pass through Bree discreetly, helping their mother travel from Ered Luin to Erebor, but somehow a group of men saw through their hoods and ran after them, leading their whole group to scatter— seven dwarves— with Kili alone heading straight back towards Ered Luin.
He was stumbling through woods, no clue where he was. He could only hope that the men had lost track of him as the wound in the back of his head began to throb harder and his vision blurred. Those men had a good shot; though Kili had no idea what they threw, it had been a hard hit and he was beginning to feel dizzier and dizzier by the minute. Possibly a mix of exhaustion and blood loss, he began to see the tree roots around him moving. He needed to get out of this forest and find fresh blood to feast on and get his strength back up. Only problems were, there were no animals in sight and he didn’t have much time left.
Eventually he did make it out, practically throwing himself out of the forest and onto nice, soft grass, but he still had one issue: Starvation. He could feel himself slipping off. Almost there, he just needed more time.
Almost… there…
He had no clue how many hours, or days, had passed, but somehow he was in a grassy field, covered in blood from his mouth and down his chest. Fed. He got up, pushing through the tall corn stalks when he heard a loud cry. No, not a cry, a yell. Someone knew he was there, and was going to find him and possibly kill him.
These thoughts soon washed away when he heard squealing following the yell. Sounded like children being scolded by someone… someone, whose property he was also trespassing on.
Kili squatted down, avoiding any watchful eyes, and quickly made his way through the maze of fields until he was out in open land again, then took a sprint when he heard another loud yell, this time directed at him. With a pounding in his ears and wind rushing through his hair, he ran and ran until the exhaustion crept back in.
***
Bilbo would consider himself a respectable hobbit. Sure, he was a bit anti-social and quiet, but he visited relatives before any gossip could spread about him and he kept his garden tidy. He always dressed well, his large closet showing his wealth but avoiding tacky jewelry to not be too braggy- unlike Lobelia . His pantry was well stocked in case of unexpected guests and he made sure to take walks daily, but never too far. He only took the long trip down to Bree once in a while, and only because he enjoyed watching the strangeness of human behavior. Definitely not because of the more open-minded hobbits who allowed two males to share a room together. A single-bed room. What happens in Bree, stays in Bree.
It was on this day that Bilbo Baggins was taking a walk, a respectable evening walk, with his respectable hobbit clothes and his respectable hobbit hair. Nowhere too far, just a lovely two hour walk. Until, that is, he stumbled upon something. A bloody-hairy-sleeping something. Not knowing what to do, poor Bilbo’s first instinct was to poke this something with his walking cane, which only led to it jolting up with a yelp.
“Oh, oh! Shh, shh, I’m sorry! Are you okay?”
This thing- a dwarf, by the looks of it, looked at Bilbo and gasped. He turned to run off, but was cut short by a silly pebble that left him face down in some nasty mud.
Bilbo stepped closer, trying to get a good look, “Excuse me, do you need help? Are you okay?” Every part of his body and brain screamed at him, Get away, he’s dangerous, he’s clearly covered in blood, but something in Bilbo’s heart led him to help the dwarf stand and slowly limp his way back to Bag-End. Because, of course, meeting a stranger covered in blood and immediately bringing him into your home is an amazing idea. Especially when you live alone. Amazing.
The dwarf was heavy, not at all easy to drag back to his smial, but somehow Bilbo managed to get him through the door and sat down at the table. Bilbo had to decide whether he should feed the dwarf first or clean him, which led to him preparing soup over the fire while also wiping the mud and blood off with a wet cloth and patching up any injuries.
The stranger was awake yet unresponsive to his touch, a sickly pale color, and clearly exhausted. His slouched back led to brown hair covering most of his face, and he let out a quiet hiss when Bilbo pushed it back behind his ear, which must be some strange dwarf habit. He hardly touched his soup, mumbling about some brother or so. Bilbo cleared his throat, speaking a bit louder in hopes that this dwarf would say something understandable.
“Excuse me, but who are you exactly? You should eat! Build your strength!”
“Kili,” the dwarf sighed, “need blood…”
Bilbo cocked his head, “What?”
“Need blood. Please.”
“Blood? What for? Oh dear, are you going to hurt me?”
“Hungry. Please,” And the dwarf turned to fully face him, opening his mouth and allowing for Bilbo to see— Oh . Oh sweet Yavanna.
Fangs. Very, very sharp fangs. Vampire fangs.
“You’re—“ Bilbo squeaked as color drained from his face, similarly to this vampire dwarf, “You’re hungry for blood. And you have very sharp teeth.”
Kili choked out, “Please.”
Bilbo, panicked, with a vampire right in front of him, once again did the worst thing possible and held out his arm.
“Here. Drink.”
But, right as Kili leaned forward to bite, Bilbo quickly pulled his arm back and stuttered out, “Wait, you won’t kill me, will you?”
With a pained groan, Kili shook his head, “No, please.”
“Okay… just be gentle. And do not kill me or I will be very cross.”
Finally, Kili leaned back in and—
Bilbo woke, after who knows how long, to the dwarf holding him up in his chair and poorly attempting to fan him. He was much darker now, the sickly pale and exhaustion gone. Once he noticed Bilbo’s eyes open and staring, he moved to shove a spoonful of soup into Bilbo’s mouth.
“Here, you need to eat. And probably drink water too. You should have warned me you were scared of blood.”
Then, memories hit Bilbo at once: soft lips pressed against his wrist, a mean prick in his skin followed by a strange emptiness and sudden black. He survived the feeding part, but couldn’t handle the sight of his own blood smeared across the dwarf’s lips and promptly fainted.
Bilbo stared in shock, “You didn’t kill me.”
“Of course I didn’t, I have more self control than that. You know, I went through a lot of training for you to insult me like that. I am very well behaved.” Although his smirk suggested otherwise, Bilbo accepted this with a nod and ate his soup.
“Oh dear, eating in front of a guest like this, entirely shameful! Let me—“
“You already fed your guest, melekûn. Let me feed you.”
And, really, when a handsome dwarf such as that tells you to open wide, you do. Even if it’s just for soup.
Bilbo chewed slowly, habitually criticizing his own cooking, before swallowing with satisfaction, “Mele- huh? What did you call me? My name is Bilbo, Bilbo Baggins.”
The dwarf smiled, “Okay, Bilbo Boggins. Do you feel any better now?”
“I suppose I do feel less dizzy now. Thank you.”
“No, thank you. You pretty much saved me out there.”
Bilbo smiled back, “It was no trouble. You looked like you needed help, so I gave you help. Need anything else?”
Kili looked around and shrugged, “You live alone? It’s quite a big place, but I haven’t heard or seen any signs of family.”
He sighed, “Yes, my parents passed a few years back, so this is all mine.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. Would you like to go on an adventure?”
“An- an adventure? No, not possible. Very, very unrespectable. I am a respectable Baggins and I will behave as such.”
“I’m headed home, though I’ve been split from my group in this little… accident of mine. Figured you might like to keep me company on the way back, and get a bit of travel experience yourself.”
“Well, we Bagginses do not partake in crazy adventures. Not outside of our own land, at least.” Bilbo huffed with a finger pointed at nowhere.
“My apologies, but you should consider it. Elves,” and of course that had his hobbit ears perking up, “mountains, kingdoms you wouldn’t believe. Personally, I believe our mountain is a beauty. Ages of a terrible dragon and yet she still stands like it was just a rough night. Beautiful.” Bilbo was extremely interested now, and at his request Kili had told him more of this mountain: how the most unbelievably shiny gems grow, his uncle fighting past a terrible illness of the mind to claim his homeland against a menacing dragon, plenty of fresh meat to feed both regular dwarves and those of the vampiric kind.
By the end of it all, Bilbo’s heart was split in half; his Baggins side screamed at him to stay put, let the dwarf rest for the night and then send him on his way by morning. His Took side, however, was begging him to go. No close family, not many real friends, not much to stick around for. He could have his gardener take over while he was gone, and of course he wouldn’t be long. Just long enough to get a good look at the world before he became one with it. He could experience places he’d only dream of in his books, see a real elf, fight a real goblin— okay, maybe not that one. But, this was in no way an easy choice.
And, of course, the most beautiful vampire-dwarf he had ever seen had to just bat his eyelashes in that way, with a soft smile tempting him to just run for it. Soft lips, soft hair, beautiful eyes. How could he let that go?
And, of course, Bilbo had guest rooms. But those guest rooms were a bit unprepared for guests. He’d hope any visitors would call in before stopping by for a night, certainly not expecting one like this. So it was only natural when his own bed was occupied by two rather than one. And it was only natural that the unexpected visitor gave him more reason to want to leave. A very long, natural night indeed.
And, of course, it was only expected when an entirely unrespectable Took in denial agreed to travel to a mountain far off in a land he’d only just heard about, with a dwarf that just drank blood out of his wrist the night before.