Gems.
This is me being a naughty girl and basically not being able to resist starting ANOTHER story. Really, I need to control all of the ideas in my brain.
Oh well. These are mostly one-shots centred around Thorin because he has become my favourite character as of late. Anyway, this chapter is based off a scene that was taken out of AUJ, where Thorin apparently tells Bilbo about his birth, love of fireflies and insular childhood. I wanted to recreate this scene, so I hope it's good enough.
Fireflies.
It had been quiet the night Bilbo overheard a particular conversation that changed his perspective of Thorin Oakenshield yet again. It was clear, remarkably so, that Lord Elrond did not trust the blood that ran though the Durin line. Gandalf made some half-hearted attempts to reassure him of those thoughts, but he seemed to fear it too.
It made the kind-hearted hobbit rather sad. Surely, whatever the sickness was that ran through the previous generations was, it would not ensnare Thorin. He seemed far too hardy for that sort of thing. Bilbo chanced a glance over his shoulder idly as he listened in the still night air and nearly jumped at the sight of said dwarf standing silently behind him.
Did they really need HIM as a burglar when it appeared that Thorin could move just as quietly?
However, looking closer revealed that while Thorin's face was blank, his blue eyes held a deep sadness that conflicted with resignation and a tinge of fear; he must have heard all of this before.
"A strain of madness runs within that family. His grandfather lost his mind; his father succumbed to the same sickness. Can you swear that Thorin Oakenshield will not also fall?"
Nothing came from Gandalf in retaliation to that last sentence, which Bilbo personally found very rude. He would have at least tried to defend Thorin. Unfortunately he also couldn't help that little niggle of worry that wriggled in the back of his head.
When he looked behind him again, suddenly wondering whether the dwarf was alright, Thorin was gone. Concern swelled up in his stomach and the hobbit carefully left, determined to not stop until he found the exiled-king to be. To his surprise, he didn't have to go very far, for he spotted the dark head upon turning the next corner. The position he was in made the dwarf appear oddly vulnerable and Bilbo just watched for a moment.
Thorin was tucked away in a little alcove, his knees drawn upwards and his head turned upwards towards the stars. His hands were folded against his chest and his whole body was hunched, hiding from a world that wouldn't let him.
Without a word, Bilbo walked over and sat a few metres from his companion. After a moment of fumbling, the hobbit managed to light his pipe and enjoyed it for some time.
"I was born in a cave."
Bilbo, surprisingly, didn't start at hearing Thorin's soft voice. He didn't reply either, for Thorin was opening himself up to him of all people and it would do no good to interrupt now.
"It is strange…few remember anything from their time of birth, but my first memory was of gazing up at the ceiling from my mother's arms. It was so dark, but there were these fireflies…"
The dwarf trailed off and for a moment, Bilbo thought he didn't want to continue, but then Thorin shifted and absentmindedly started playing with one of his braids. His eyes were seeing into another time.
"Actually, it was supposed to be a private nursery for the line of Durin. I ended up there often during early childhood -,"
Thorin paused as he caught sight of his unlikely companion's facial expression of dismay and gave a wry turn of his lips.
"Yes, I suppose I had an insular childhood. The line of Durin are very protective of their children," he murmured, staring down at his hands. "I remember wishing to go outside from time to time…I never understood why I was in a dark nursery. The fireflies were one of the few sources of comforting light."
A tiny smile lit his face that softened every line and he tilted his head to the heavens again.
"It made me feel special. As though those fireflies loved me enough to watch over me as I slept in my cot…"
Suddenly, his face dimmed as Thorin bowed it away from the twinkling lights.
"I have never seen a firefly since."
The sentence weighed heavily in the air between them, as if implying that those fireflies weren't the only things he had never caught a glimpse of again. A metaphor, perhaps, for the care, family, help and respect he'd naively assumed would be given to him always.
Those words continued to echo in Bilbo Baggins' mind after Thorin slipped down from his marble spot and faded away into the darkness.
He never understood why Thorin had chosen to reveal something so significant…so personal, even after the Quest for Erebor ended.
Old Bilbo just hoped, whenever he stared out of his window with a cup of tea in his hands at the stars, that Thorin was dancing with fireflies in Mahal's Halls.
Yeah, short-ish, but hopefully alright nonetheless.
Love Lily. X