Bilbo seeing portraits in Erebor, ones that survived Smaug and ruin, and getting excited to see Thorin's family portraits.
Thorin is one Bilbo obviously recognizes. Dís too, if only because of her sons' likeness. His eyes linger on their brother, but truly stop when he sees Thorin's mother.
She was gorgeous. A simultaneously stern and warm look in her eye. Her nose was a defining feature, cutting a regal and imposing profile. There was the faintest hint of a smile on her lips. Her hair was a silky, almost iridescent black, like a raven's wing and it hung in curls over her broad shoulders.
"That is my mother." Thorin stood beside Bilbo, taking his hand in his own.
"You look so much like her."
His hand tightened around Bilbo's, his heart constricting in his chest. "You truly mean that?"
"I do," Bilbo said, light and sincere as if the simple statement didn't make Thorin's world spin on end.
Thorin felt no shyness for how his voice shook. "You do not know how much that means to me."
