Bilbo stood staring impassively out over the soon-to-be bloody field. Battle loomed on the horizon, and Bilbo was ready. Since his attempted rescue of Thorin from death at the hands of Azog and his band of orcs, Bilbo had requested that the dwarves teach him how to fight with a sword so that he could properly defend himself and others in the company. Thorin had heartily approved and taken time out of each day to personally instruct Bilbo. The two had grown closer since their embrace on the plateau: Thorin would walk alongside Bilbo on the path they tread, and would even sit with him while they enjoyed their dinner in companionable silence. When rations grew short, Thorin insisted that Bilbo take part of his share. The other dwarves watched in approval as the hobbit - or, the Halfling, as Thorin often called him - slowly became integrated into a group that was already fond of him.
This closeness between Hobbit and Dwarf changed irrevocably upon the Company's imprisonment in the Elves of Mirkwood's fortress. Bilbo, thanks to the magic ring he had acquired in the cave of that Gollum creature, was able to remain free, invisible to the eyes of his would-be captors. He spent his days lurking about in the shadows, searching for a way out, until he discovered that Thorin was imprisoned as his compatriots were. Bilbo instantly sought the Dwarf leader out, and they spent many hours conversing quietly together. Thorin shared stories of his travels over the years, while Bilbo talked about the Shire. He revealed that he had often felt discontent with his former life, isolated and alone: the Took blood that flowed through his veins made him an outcast among his fellow hobbits. He therefore hadn't needed much persuading by Gandalf to agree to come along on this adventure, though a part of him undeniably missed the safety of his comfy hobbit-hole and the security that came with knowing where his next meal was coming from.
Over the course of their many whispered conversations, Bilbo had shared the story of the ring with Thorin, and how it made him invisible. Having not seen Bilbo with his own eyes since the night of his capture, Thorin was therefore shocked when the Halfling was at last revealed to him, when he came to set him and the other Dwarves free in order for them to escape. It hadn't occurred to Thorin to wonder how Bilbo was managing to acquire certain necessities, such as food - or if he was even bothering to worry about himself at all. The hobbit's appearance was considerably diminished since their last meeting; Thorin wondered if Bilbo had been eating at all. As he would later discover, Bilbo had only been able to sneak the occasional scraps when no one was looking - and very rarely, at that. Bilbo hadn't wanted to attract unwanted attention by giving the Elves cause to wonder where all their food was disappearing to.
Thorin's acceptance of Bilbo's plan touched the hobbit deeply; the Dwarf's words signified his implicit trust and faith in Bilbo with his and his comrades' safety. Bilbo vowed then that he would never betray that trust, but he was soon forced into a cataclysmic decision: hand over the Arkenstone to the Elf-king and hopefully save the lives of Thorin and his friends, or do nothing and watch innocent blood be shed. Though Thorin might hate him forever, that was a risk that Bilbo was willing to take to ensure his safety; Thorin's life was infinitely more precious to Bilbo than his own.
As it turned out, Bilbo's actions proved pointless: Azog and his followers, as well as the newly-crowned Goblin king, were headed for the Lonely Mountain, intending to wage war against Thorin and his company. Thorin's reaction to what he perceived as a personal betrayal was understandable, even desired by Bilbo: as he was lifted into the air by Thorin's strong arms and violently shaken, he wished that Thorin would do as he pleased, throwing him over the edge and onto the rocks below; Bilbo's guilt weighed heavily on him, and he wished for his life to end.
Even when Thorin had him lowered down to where Gandalf stood waiting to receive Bilbo, the hobbit vowed that he would not desert his friends - specifically, Thorin. Slipping the Ring on his finger, Bilbo watched as Thorin and his company made their way down to stand alongside Man and Elf, ready to face the oncoming storm. Taking his place beside Thorin, Bilbo slipped his hand into the substantially larger one, squeezing Thorin's fingers with the lightest of touches. He would do no more to alert Thorin to his presence, though, however much he wished to reveal himself and thereby hopefully proving his loyalty, which he knew had been put into question with his actions where the Arkenstone were concerned.
There was no more time to dwell on past regrets, though. Azog and the others were upon them. Drawing Sting from its scabbard, Bilbo prepared to wage war on those who would hurt Thorin. He asked for no recognition; all he wanted was for the dwarves - his friends - to survive. Step for step, Bilbo matched Thorin's pace as the dwarf rushed the opposing army. Bilbo slashed left and right with his sword, invisible, silently defending Thorin and his companions.
Orcs, Wargs, and Goblins mysteriously dropping to the ground, clearly wounded, yet without a sign of any attackers, drew strange looks from those nearby, but no one thought to question their luck. Bilbo wove in between the legs of those taller than him, slashing at the underbellies of wargs, and remaining close to Thorin the entire time. He refused to leave the dwarf, whom Bilbo had viewed as his king for many months now, having become convinced that Thorin would die if the dwarf left his sight for even an instant.
He and the others were fighting fiercely, surrounded on all sides, when Azog approached. Bilbo began to tremble; although his last encounter with the Pale Orc had given him enough courage to fight today, he still didn't fancy facing down the orc for a second time. Yet if that's what would secure Thorin his life, then so be it. Seeing his chance, Bilbo, still invisible, darted out of the circle that the dwarves had formed to protect each other's backs. Azog continued his steady approach, but there were now no orcs to back him up; the others seemed to have faded away - he was alone.
Perfect! Bilbo thought seconds before removing the ring. He could see the moment recognition dawned on the face of Thorin and the other dwarves. Unlike their last encounter, there was no hurt or anger of betrayal: only pure unadulterated fear - for Bilbo's sake.
Bilbo smiled reassuringly at Thorin and the others; Azog still hadn't seen him yet, but that was all about to change. Picking up a rock from the ground, Bilbo threw it, aiming for the back of Azog's head. He had perfect aim and Azog subsequently changed his course, turning about to face Bilbo and ignoring the dwarves - exactly as Bilbo had planned.
Sinking into a low crouch, Bilbo shot a feral smile up at the orc; from his conversations with Smaug, he knew that he could appear more confident than he felt - in fact, he was counting on that! "Remember me?" he asked, and though his voice was no more than a whisper, it carried clearly to Azog, the dwarves... and Thorin.
"Ah, yes - the little one!" Azog sneered.
Although the insult to Bilbo rankled, Thorin sought to take advantage of the opportunity that the Halfling's stupidity had granted himself and his companions.
"That's right," said Bilbo, surreptitiously watching as Thorin and the others crept up on Azog from behind. "I would have fought you, you know," he whispered to the orc looming above him, though his eyes were locked on Thorin.
"Is the dwarf-prince really worth throwing your life away for?" Azog inquired.
Bilbo didn't have to stop and think on his answer. He replied with absolute surety, "Yes, my king is most definitely worth dying for." In the pale light, he saw Thorin's eyes widen at his words, moments before he sunk Orcist in the back of Azog, piercing his heart and killing him instantly. As Thorin made to approach Bilbo, his gazed locked on the Halfling and hardly sparing a glance for his slain enemy, their respite was abruptly cut short as all were quickly drawn back into the fray of battle. In the rush and confusion, Bilbo managed to slip his ring back on, wanting to disappear from Thorin's sight before his current wonder, even admiration, was replaced by his earlier anger.
Though Bilbo remained close to Thorin, invisible as he was, he was unable to prevent the dwarf from sustaining a number of injuries caused by goblin spears. Despite Gandalf's earlier words about recognizing when to take a life and when to spare one, Bilbo retaliated with surprising alacrity, showing no mercy as he slayed the goblins that dared to harm his Thorin... his king. His rage knew no bounds, which was what prevented him from guarding his own back as he was struck down from behind by a rock to his head.
When Bilbo came to, all was silent around him. Slowly sitting up, Bilbo waited for the world around him to stop spinning before he scrambled to his feet and stumbled off in the direction of the mountain. He walked for many minutes, finally coming across a camp made up of the remnants of the three armies that had fought against the various Dark creatures. Remembering to take off his ring so that he could be seen, Bilbo wandered about, looking for Gandalf, Thorin, or any of the other dwarves. He eventually came across a tent that was off on its own. Peering inside, Bilbo discovered the entire company of dwarves gathered around a single bed that housed their leader.
At this realization, Bilbo gave a startled cry, like that of a wounded animal, before stumbling away as fast as his short legs could carry him. He was completely unaware of his surroundings, and thus didn't hear the dwarves calling for him. He did, however, feel when he was bodily picked up and carried back to camp, his limbs flailing the entire way as he struggled to be let down and allowed to run back to the Shire, away from the pain that came with loving and losing one as dear to him as Thorin was.
"Pull yourself together, Mister Baggins," said Gandalf serenely. "He isn't dead, merely sleeping. He was injured while defending his nephews, who were near to death. Luckily, I was able to get to them all in time and thus save their lives. All three will live, Bilbo."
Bilbo sagged with relief against whichever dwarf was currently holding him. At the news that Thorin would live, Bilbo's eyes had lit up with joy, before his face had fallen again. Even once Thorin woke, Bilbo doubted that the dwarf-king would want to see him. Why would he, when Bilbo had betrayed not only Thorin, but the entire company? What did any of them want to do with him? So he'd saved their lives, almost at the cost of his own; he wasn't looking for favors, not when any of them would have done the same. His actions didn't prove anything, not really.
"I think that Mister Baggins is in shock," Gandalf announced. "Why don't you show him to his tent?" the wizard suggested to Bofur, who was currently supporting Bilbo's insubstantial weight. "See that he stays there!"
Sweeping Bilbo into his arms, Bofur carried the hobbit off and saw him settled into what was probably the first warm bed he had slept in since leaving the Shire. Once Bilbo was properly tucked in, Bofur settled himself on the floor so as to keep watch; others would be by to relieve him, he was sure, Gandalf having probably already organized a schedule for observing the hobbit. After all, Thorin wouldn't thank them for losing his Halfling before he'd had a chance to speak to Bilbo himself.
Both Thorin and Bilbo slept for three days before rousing enough to be able to receive visitors. When Bilbo was informed that Thorin wished to speak with him privately, his insides quaked, melting to little more than butter. However, he gave no outward sign as to his inner turmoil, merely nodding that he was ready. When Thorin entered the tent that Bilbo was housed in, the hobbit fought every instinct that told him to bow and scrape, groveling at Thorin's feet and begging his forgiveness.
"Have you come to kill me properly this time, my king?" asked Bilbo calmly, instead.
Although momentarily startled, Thorin soon recovered. He walked slower than he would have ordinarily, but Bilbo offered him no assistance, correctly surmising that Thorin would be loath to admit such a weakness in front of anyone, even a lowly thief and vile betrayer as Bilbo was.
"Once more I am in your debt, Halfling," said Thorin, having arranged himself on the floor, though Bilbo had instantly risen to offer the dwarf-king his own seat. "Why would I kill you when I owe you my life?"
"I betrayed you and your company, milord," Bilbo whispered, giving in to the urge to lower himself to his knees in Thorin's presence and bowing his head in shame as he spoke.
"Come here, Bilbo," Thorin commanded, watching as the hobbit shuffled forward, still on his knees, until he was directly in front Thorin with his head still bowed. Seeking to look directly into Bilbo's eyes, and thus hopefully ascertain the truth to his many questions, Thorin reached out a hand to gently tilt Bilbo's chin upwards. The hobbit's eyes were squeezed tightly shut, but he soon couldn't resist the temptation of opening them, only to find himself face-to-face with Thorin. He gasped, trying to wrench away, but Thorin held him firmly, though his grip was considerably lesser than it would have been had he been handling one of his fellow dwarves.
"I'm sorry," gasped Bilbo, his breath coming in short harsh pants from being in such close proximity to Thorin, whom he believed to still hate him. "I was only trying to save your life. I thought that by giving away the Arkenstone, you would be less inclined to fight -"
"Hush," Thorin quieted Bilbo by placing a single finger against his lips. "I understand. I was wrong, as well - to treat you as I did was uncalled for and far from befitting a king. I... did not imagine that you held my hand before the battle started - did I?"
"No, majesty," Bilbo replied.
"Bilbo, enough already!" snapped Thorin, a trifle sharper than he had intended if the way Bilbo flinched was any indication. "There is no need to treat me with such deference," he whispered softly. "I'm still your friend."
So saying, he gathered the hobbit into his arms and held Bilbo close to his chest. Bilbo burrowed his head into the fur cloak that Thorin never seemed to be without, savoring these few precious moments in such a great one's arms. When Thorin eventually released him, Bilbo made to scramble away and once more put a respectful distance between them, but Thorin would have none of that. Keeping his arms securely wrapped around the small of Bilbo's back, Thorin settled the hobbit on his lap.
"Bilbo... oh, Bilbo," he whispered, tenderly tracing the Halfling's cheek with one of his monstrous hands. "Why..." his voice trailed away as he struggled to form even a single question.
"Because..." Bilbo started to speak, though he was unsure whether Thorin required an answer or not. "I consider you my king, whether you'll have me or no."
"And is that reason enough to needlessly throw your life away?" asked the king sharply.
"My death would not be needless if it secured your life, Thorin," said Bilbo, quite serious in his determination to die for the dwarf-king should there ever be a need for such a sacrifice.
"Where does this deep devotion of yours come from?" Thorin was in awe of the hobbit's persistence; even when he was constantly ridiculed and made to feel left out, Bilbo stayed by his side, refusing to desert Thorin and the other dwarves. But for what purpose, Thorin could not discern.
"I doubt my reasons would be of interest to you," said Bilbo, dejectedly, yet with a hint of wry amusement in his voice.
"I'll be the judge of that," Thorin replied. "Tell me, please."
Bilbo remained silent for many moments, steeling himself to share his most closely-guarded secret. As he sat perched on Thorin's lap, his idle hands began to nervously play with the dwarf's beard, finding some measure of comfort in the mindless action. Thorin, for his part, waited patiently for Bilbo to speak. Clearly, then, whatever reason for his devotion was distressing. Unless...
Thorin thought back to their many adventures together, and saw Bilbo in his mind's eye: Bilbo flushing under his steely gaze; the look of shock on Bilbo's face that had quickly morphed into contentment as he wrapped his arms around the sturdy dwarf's waist, each forgetting about those around them on the plateau; Bilbo's shy glances from across the campfire the night after his and the others' escape from Azog and his orcs; the feel of tiny fingers gripping his through steel bars before a pair of lips tenderly kissed his knuckles; the look Bilbo had sent his way moments before engaging Azog in an effort to distract him from the dwarves...
There were so many instances where Bilbo had shown an interest in Thorin; yet he'd held back, almost as if he was waiting for Thorin's permission to proceed, or as if he thought himself unworthy. Thorin was horrified at such a thought. Surely he had undone the harm of his earlier actions by embracing Bilbo whole-heartedly into the company following his brave actions where Azog was concerned! Bilbo surely couldn't still think himself useless or a burden... could he?
"Bilbo," he whispered, extending a finger and tilting the hobbit's chin up so that they were looking each other in the eye. "What do you think that you mean to me?" the dwarf asked.
Thorin's question caught Bilbo off guard. "Well..." he began hesitantly, stalling for time. He wasn't sure what answer Thorin was expecting, if any. "I hope you think of me as a friend, though I can understand why you might not, considering my actions as of late. If that be the case, then I hope you can manage to look upon me as one of your many loyal subjects and find comfort in knowing that I would be willing to lay down my life for you at a moment's notice."
"Oh, Bilbo," Thorin chuckled wetly, Bilbo's heartfelt speech having brought tears to his eyes at the hobbit's simplicity. "You mean so much more to me than that."
"I do?" Bilbo gaped openly at him.
"Yes," said Thorin. "I doubt that Gandalf or any of the other dwarves have had the time or the wherewithal to tell you, but I woke briefly before you happened upon my tent. My first thought was for you and your safety; in that moment, I wanted nothing more than to see you, my dear Bilbo."
"Me?" Bilbo squeaked. "But... why?"
"Because I care deeply for you," Thorin replied. "Truth be told, I have grown quite... fond of you these past months over the course of our journey together. I thought I was going to die, and I wished to make amends with you before my passing."
"I wouldn't have let you die!" Bilbo exclaimed heatedly. "I would have gone before the Valar themselves to beg for your life, even offering my own in exchange had they asked it of me."
"Of course you would," Thorin muttered good-naturedly at yet another example of Bilbo's willingness to risk himself for Thorin's sake.
"Thorin, speak plainly, please, and stop talking in riddles," Bilbo demanded of him. "What exactly do you feel for me?"
Thorin sighed deeply, steeling himself as Bilbo had before him, prepared to act on his heart's desires and be judged accordingly. "Bilbo..." he whispered, leaning forward to press his lips to his companion's forehead. Trailing kisses down along Bilbo's gaunt cheeks and across his slender nose and fluttering eyelashes, he halted his movements a mere hair's breadth away from the hobbit's lips. "Tell me to stop, and I will," he murmured.
"A king need not ask to take what is rightfully his, and always has been, and always will be," Bilbo whispered before closing the miniscule distance separating them. At the first touch of Thorin's lips on his, Bilbo gasped, his mouth yielding to the dwarf as he deepened their kiss. Though Thorin's beard tickled and burned his clean-shaven face in equal measure, Bilbo couldn't find it in himself to care or complain.
"Do you understand now, Halfling?" asked Thorin, withdrawing to allow them both space to breath.
"I'm beginning to," Bilbo responded, smiling shyly up at Thorin. "I love you, too," he whispered, tracing the curve of Thorin's mouth, only for the dwarf to purse his lips and kiss Bilbo's fingers, much as the hobbit himself had done so long ago in the Elf-king's dungeons.
"And will you remain by my side?" asked Thorin. "Call me selfish, but I don't think I could bear the separation were you to return to the Shire."
"You aren't selfish, Thorin," said Bilbo, smiling reassuringly at the dwarf. "Not when I would have asked you myself if I could remain in Erebor with you and the others, though only if you forgave me for the Arkenstone incident."
Instead of replying with words, Thorin chose to brush their lips together again, granting Bilbo forgiveness with every touch. "Will you lie with me?" he asked. At Bilbo's slightly-terrified glance - clearly, then, the hobbit had never lain with a man before, and possibly not even a woman - he sought to clarify his intentions. "I find that I am tired, and while I would dearly love to consummate our love this very night, I can see that you're nervous. I wish for our first time together to be special, and while it would certainly be memorable in our current state of fatigue, I doubt I would be properly able to see to your needs or be an attentive lover. I fear driving you away above anything else."
Thorin's frankness, which the dwarf might have seen as vulnerability, was refreshing to Bilbo, who was used to Thorin hiding his feelings from those around him. Raising Thorin's hand to his lips and kissing the knuckles with the utmost tenderness, Bilbo kept his eyes locked on Thorin the entire time. Pulling away, he whispered solemnly, "I would be honored to lie with you, now and forever, Thorin Oakenshield."
Carefully, Thorin lay down, his fur cloak doing much to soften the rocky ground around them; Bilbo lay with his back pressed against Thorin's chest, the dwarf's expansive hand pinning Bilbo in place. Bilbo smiled at the sensation of being cared for, of having a protector. For so long he had felt himself undeserving of anyone's affection, much less Thorin's; he had thought he would die a bachelor with no one to mourn his passing. And while he still doubted his own worth, he was beginning to see that maybe he had been wrong: if as great a king as Thorin would shed a tear at his loss, perhaps there was more to him, a mere hobbit, than he had previously thought.