The door closed behind Bilbo, the thud echoing through the hall. Thorin stared at the door for a beat longer than usual before leaning back in his chair, sighing. If anyone suspected anything—and Thorin believed there was at least one—it'd be Balin, Dwalin, and the boys.

Sure enough, Balin is sending glances his way. His advisor approaches him. "Thorin, he leaves tomorrow."

"I know."

"Then go talk to him. Tell him the truth."

Thorin heaved another heavy sigh. "I can't."

"Can't or won't?" Balin asked, crossing his arms. "Thorin, you need to make amends with him before it's too late. You may very well not get another chance."

"How can I?"

"That is entirely up to you and how you see fit," Balin said. "You've outwardly forgiven each other, but do you feel forgiven? He doesn't."

"He didn't do anything wrong, so there is no need for him to be forgiven," Thorin said. "He did what he deemed necessary. He's…Bilbo's the truest friend I've had in my entire life. I know that now. I've had friends whom I've known my whole life and none of them is the kind of friend Bilbo has been to me."

"And you're going to just let him walk away without a real reconciliation? He's going to leave, Thorin. When I asked him about it, it didn't seem to me like he was intending to return any time soon if at all."

Thorin's throat felt tight; constricted as though by an invisible hand clenching around his neck from the inside out. He stood and left, tightening Orcrist around his waist and ignoring that he was being watched.

Outside, snow fell in giant flakes. The halls were cold and he tightened his fur cloak around him, trying to keep out the chill. Bilbo's new clothes would keep him warm on the journey and the Wizard would be going with him, so Thorin was confident that he'd be safe in his return journey…

He stopped outside Bilbo's room, wondering what he'd do. What was the best way to show his Hobbit how deep his remorse went?

Thorin pounded on the door. Waiting for Bilbo to answer left him wallowing in anxiety. The tightness in his throat would not lessen. Finally (what seemed like an hour to Thorin) the door creaked open and Bilbo blinked at him.

"Thorin? What are you doing here? Shouldn't you still be at the feast?"

"My presence will not be missed," he said, waving it aside. "Can I come in?"

"Oh! Of course. Silly me, forgetting my manners like that! My mother would have a thing or two to say about that! Come in, come in." Through his rant, Bilbo swung the door open wider to admit Thorin. The door closed behind them. "What can I do for you, your majesty?"

Thorin stared at him as though Bilbo had just slapped him with that last statement. What can I do for you, your majesty?

"You need not be so formal, Master Hobbit," he said. And winced at the cold formality. A slap for a slap. Bilbo seemed unfazed, staring at Thorin and still Thorin hadn't an idea how to apologize to Bilbo. So he just did what seemed right.

He removed Orcrist from his belt, still in its scabbard, and knelt down. He extended the hilt toward Bilbo, hands shaking.

"What are you doing?!" Bilbo demanded.

"Apologizing."

"You already have."

"But you have not forgiven me. Not really. So take my sword and do what you seem fit for the crime I have committed against you."

Bilbo's shoulders fell. He took Orcrist away from Thorin, still in its scabbard, and set it aside. "If anyone should be asking forgiveness, Thorin, it's me. I betrayed you. I stole the Arkenstone, an heirloom of your family, and gave it to your enemies—"

"An heirloom is nothing compared to a true friend. You were right to give it away and I was so lost in a madness I should have been able to overcome that—"

"You were mad, yes. But look at you now: you're a good and sensible leader, Thorin. I know you'd not have let anyone die of hunger if you were in your right mind."

"But—"

"And what have I done since we took the mountain? I stole from you, betrayed the trust we had—"

"For good reason. I do not fault you that. I am glad you tried to do something. If I had not fallen into madness, I'd never have done that. I won't say I wouldn't be mad, but I wouldn't have tried to kill you without knowing why you stole from me."

"Thorin—"

"Of the two of us, my actions are the unforgivable ones," Thorin said. "I tried to kill you. Does that mean nothing? I want your forgiveness and yet I am the most wretched and unworthy to receive it of all our companions! You really think that what you did was worse? Attempting to kill someone outside of self defense is a cowardly thing to do! That day I was a coward and you were always the one who stood up to me. You never saw me as a king who demanded respect. Not like the others…I care for them, but I've never had a friend as dear or as important as you. And yet you were the only one I tried to kill!"

Thorin bowed his head and closed his eyes. He had not wept in years. At least, not in front of others. As a king, and before as a prince, Thorin hadn't the luxury of crying.

You will one day lead them, his father's voice rang in his head. They must never see you doubt yourself, or your choices. Do not let your tears be seen, for you are their King—you will be the Dwarf they look to for example and you must be strong in everything you set your mind to.

But now, he could not hold them back. Not anymore.

His head was lifted up and a kiss planted on his forehead. "You were mad, Thorin. Now you're not. You did defeat the madness and you didn't kill me and in just a few months since then, you're already working on alliances and agreements with the neighboring Kingdoms—even if I think you should be a little kinder to Thranduil—and Erebor is well under way to becoming the kingdom it once was. It might not be as grand as it was before, but at least you're actions now show the dream you want to make reality: a good kingdom filled with prosperity and peace. I'm glad I had a part to play in it—"

"Don't go."

"Pardon?"

"Don't go," Thorin repeated, encircling his arms around Bilbo. "I need you. Please don't go."

"What do you mean you need me? Thorin, I'm just a Hobbit. What have I done that you'd say so?"

Thorin looked up at him, astounded.

"What have you—Bilbo, for once will you not sell yourself short? You're smart, sensible, strong, and braver than anyone I have met be they Man, Elf, or Dwarf. You're not afraid to tell me when I'm being a fool unlike so many I know. Even my own nephews will not speak to me with what I used to think was blatant disrespect. I need you to tell me when I'm wrong, to snap me out of the madness if I ever fall into it again—Aulë forbid!—I need someone I can trust to keep me sane and tell me the truth. Even lock me away if necessary and appoint someone, be it Fili or Kili or anyone they deem trustworthy to rule in my stead while I combat my own insanity."

"I thought that was Balin."

"And it is. But you say things to me that Balin would never dare and do what he would never think to try. I need someone like you by my side. An outside perspective with a voice of reason—I need you, Bilbo. So please don't leave me."

"I know nothing of Dwarven politics or culture."

"You can learn. It is rare to teach outsiders anything about us, but you've proven yourself to us a thousand times over. No one will contest your right to know Khuzdul or to sit at our councils. Not after what you've done for us. And if possible, I'd also like to extend a trading post with the Shire and you're presence here would aid that."

"It would…but I already—"

Thorin tightened his embrace and laid his head upon Bilbo's shoulder. "If you must go, then please come back. You will be missed in your absence, Bilbo Baggins."

He held his breath, waiting for whatever Bilbo would say next.

"Two years," Bilbo said. "Give me two years to set everything in order in the Shire. Then I'll come back before the third begins."

Thorin pulled away and stood. "Then I will see you in two years, Bilbo. In which time you'll be sorely missed."

Bilbo beamed. "Thank you. I wasn't sure where I stood since…you know. I really thought I should leave and that it was better to just observe how things go back in the Shire."

"Don't you dare follow that through," Thorin growled. "Otherwise, you'll be Hobbit-napped."

Bilbo stared at him and laughed. "Don't be ridiculous!"

"Am I ever ridiculous?"

"Always."

For the prompter of this prompt:

"Bilbo and Thorin still have the reconciliation that was in the book, but then Thorin survives the BOTFA. While they're outwardly civil to each other, things are still awkward because both are still emotional wrecks over what happened.

"Bilbo's conflicted because on one hand, he knows that it wasn't Thorin's fault because the dragon-sickness literally takes one's reason away. However, Thorin tried to kill him! Bilbo still feels a bit guilty for betraying Thorin (even though he had his reasons), but he's not ready to think things through. He decides to go back to the Shire where he's away from everything and can just see things from a distance.

"Thorin feels awful. He always dreaded the dragon-sickness hitting him but somehow feels like he should have been able to sanely deal with insanity. He can't let Bilbo go without at least trying to make amends. So, Thorin goes up to Bilbo's quarters the night before Bilbo's about to leave, gives Bilbo his sword (in the scabbard so Bilbo doesn't think he's going to kill him) and kneels before him, apologizing and offering himself up to whatever justice Bilbo sees fit."