Work Text:
Bilbo did not wear boots.
This, Dwalin had learned, was not carelessness. It was simply how hobbits were—barefoot on stone and soil alike, toes toughened by the road, foot-hair thick and curled like a second pelt. It was… unsettling, but efficient.
And it explained why Bilbo attracted dirt the way a fauntling attracted leaves.
He was always off foraging. Slipping ahead of the Company, ducking beneath branches, climbing banks and crawling through brush with a quiet ease no dwarf could match. He returned every time with full hands and flushed cheeks—and mud.
Always mud.
It clung to him in places Dwalin could almost tolerate: the hem of his trousers, the cuffs of his coat, smudges on his hands. But his hair—by Mahal, his hair—was forever tangled with twigs and leaves, curls catching whatever the forest shed.
Dwalin tried not to notice.
He failed.
What truly tested him, though, were Bilbo’s feet.
The hobbit sat by the fire now, carefully washing them in a small basin, brow furrowed in concentration. He scrubbed between his toes with reverence, combed his foot-hair free of dried mud with his fingers, and rinsed again until the water ran clear.
Only then did he relax.
Dwalin frowned. “You wash those every night.”
Bilbo glanced up, surprised. “Well—yes. Of course.”
“But not the rest of you.”
Bilbo blinked, then laughed softly. “Oh. That.” He shrugged. “Feet are important.”
Dwalin stared.
Bilbo, oblivious, continued, “It’s like—well. Like beards, for you.”
That stopped him cold.
Dwalin looked again. Really looked. The care in Bilbo’s movements. The way he checked each foot, each curl of hair, making certain nothing was pulled or damaged. The quiet pride there.
Something in Dwalin eased.
Later, when Bilbo returned from foraging with leaves in his curls and dirt on his cheeks, Dwalin did not scold. He merely reached out, removed a twig from Bilbo’s hair, then another.
Bilbo paused. “Oh—sorry. I didn’t notice.”
“I did,” Dwalin said gruffly.
Bilbo smiled and leaned closer to the fire.
And Dwalin, muttering under his breath, decided that if the hobbit was going to bring half the forest back with him each day, someone would have to see him properly tended.