Bilbo and Thorin were in the same bed but in two totally different worlds. Bilbo stared blankly at the wall, her arms over her chest. Her long hair was sprawled out on the pillow.

Thorin was thinking back to her grandmother Thror. This had been her room. The golden paintings around the room were magnificent, but they no longer held Thorin's eye.

"I am sorry," was all Bilbo said.

Thorin spoke. "Don't be. In the end all of our company is alive and peace has been made. That's all that matters."

Bilbo gives her a weary look, then scoots a little further away from her.

Thorin doesn't know why she suggested that they go to bed together. It had seemed so right at the time, but now she could see just what she'd caused, who she'd hurt.

Who she had hurt the most.

The burglar's neck is curved to where it leans to face Thorin. Other than the orange-brown hair blocking it, she can see the halfling's neck perfectly.

And more importantly, the scars that cross it. The scars that she herself inflicted on her halfling. Those scars are her fault and her fault entirely, and Thorin only has herself to blame for them being there.

They remain in silence once again. It seems neither will ever actually try to sleep.

Thorin gently reaches her finger onto Bilbo's cool skin, then traces her finger along her neck. It is no longer smooth.

Bilbo swats her finger away, anger in her eyes. "Don't you dare touch that!" Thorin has never seen the halfling so angry.

Thorin pulls her hand back. She was actually slapped rather hard. "I'm so sorry, Bilbo, I was just curious to what it felt like, that's all."

Bilbo's body curled into itself. "It hurts." She swallowed. "It stings really badly."

"Do you need Oin to get you anything?" Thorin asked.

"Already did," Bilbo replied. "I applied it before you came inside."

"Oh."

Thorin remembered the gold sickness. She remembered grabbing the halfling by the throat and squeezing, looking into her fearful eyes and demanding that she submit to her authority. When she'd squeezed she'd tried to force the halfling back into her subservient role, one that would never question or defy Thorin.

"I am sorry." Thorin says. Tears burn at her eyes, and she fears being seen as weak. She's the queen of the dwarves, held as sovereign, and yet this insignificant in class and rank halfling brings her to tears. "For the war, for making you fear, for that bump to your head, for..." She couldn't bring herself to speak. "I wish I'd never hurt you, caused those scars."

Bilbo sighed. "You can't change the past." She pulled her half of the covers around her tightly.

Thorin let the tears fall. The halfling wasn't looking at her any longer, so what did it matter?

Bilbo's words and actions stung Thorin, just like the scars Thorin caused stung Bilbo's neck. That was just a fraction of all Thorin deserved.

Thorin had never felt so far away from someone in her entire life. She'd been forced to work for years in cities of men, and yet she'd felt closer to those humans than she did now with her own burglar.

Thorin did not know how sleep came to her, but it did. When she next woke up, perhaps minutes or perhaps hours later, the bed was empty and she was all alone.