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Summary
Bilbo felt exhilarated, like flying on an eagle without the fear of falling. It was more than the thrill of a tremendously good jig, or kissing cheeks with Daisy Cotton behind the Party Tree – more than stealing down a long dark tunnel to cross verbal swords with a dragon. Bigger than fear, warmer than sneaking unseen through goblin-tunnels with the aid of a magic ring, was this thing between them now, a handful of coals cradled close against the winter wind. Something precious, something lasting, if only they could take good care of it.