The hobbit smiles faint and blinks, the strange golden tinge to his eyes fades away. As the dwarf, the soon to be King Under the Mountain, his lover, comes to take him by the shoulder, Bilbo lifts his head and then nods. "I've done it."

He pats Thorin gently on the chest and moves away to inform the others. No. He hasn't answered the dwarf's question. No. He isn't going to. Let the King stew. Wonder. Come after him.

"Tend the ponies. The dragon will be leaving. You need to be sure he won't use them for lunch."