Bilbo's Vermilion
Thorin stared down at Bilbo, watching in horror as blood poured out from a deep wound in his gut and pooled on the hard ground, mixing with the dirt.
"Oin!" the king yelled desperately, pressing his hands down hard on the Halfling's fragile stomach in and attempt to stop the blood flow.
"Stupid Halfling," he muttered anxiously, ripping his tunic to press against the gruesome wound. "Why did you do something so foolish?"
"I had to save you, my king. I could not allow you to perish here, not when you were so close to accomplishing your goal," the injured Hobbit rasped, wincing at the pressure on his wounded abdomen.
"I cursed you. I named you traitor and nearly killed you. Why would you care what happens to me?"
"I love you," Bilbo replied simply. "I have since you walked in my door, though you were unbearably rude." He could feel the area around his wound beginning to numb, which he knew could not be a good sign.
"I love you too," Thorin declared, cobalt blue eyes suspiciously wet as he stared into Bilbo's pain-filled green ones.
"Thorin," Bilbo began, taking a deep breath, "I am going to die." Already the pain was ebbing away, leaving a sweet numbness in its stead.
"You will not-" Thorin protested, but was cut off by the small, impossibly weak hand pressed against his mouth, silencing him.
"I can already feel it," the Hobbit whispered. "All I ask for before I depart from this life is your forgiveness."
"There is nothing to forgive," Thorin assured, his shoulders slumping. "Please do not give up. I will even ask the Elves for assistance-"
"I am dying. The Elves must help those who have a chance." Why was it so dark? The light was fading fast, and apprehension filled him as his vision dimmed. "Will you lay with me?"
Thorin shook his head, sending his wild dark hair flying. "If I stop putting pressure on your wound, you certainly will die."
"I am as good as dead! I am joining my parents in Lady Yavanna's fields." Bilbo's voice cracked and he paused. "I am afraid. Please do not make me leave the would alone."
The King Under the Mountain slowly removed his bloody hands from his Hobbit's wounded torso and intertwined his thick fingers with Bilbo's much smaller ones. He drew the Halfling into his arms and cradled him gently, whispering soothingly as the Hobbit whimpered in discomfort as he was shifted.
He sang gently as the light faded from Bilbo's leafy green orbs, a lullaby he has once used to calm Fili and Kili after a night terror. His beloved passed peacefully, a smile gracing his pale lips. And only then did Thorin allow the tears to fall in clear rivulets down his face, streaking his dirty cheeks.
_
Thorin sighed to himself as he placed the bouquet of white carnations, red roses, pink amaryllis, blue hydrangeas, and purple hyacinths on the freshly dug grave. There were already bundles of lilies, tulips, and orchids, courtesy of the rest of the Company and Bilbo's family. They had returned their burglar to the Shire, to be buried in the earth he so loved.
"I miss you, Âzyungel." the king whispered.
The wind ruffling his hair spread up, and Thorin smiled at the words it carried down to him.
I am waiting for you, my king.
Notes:
Disclaimer: All familiar events and characters the esteemed J.R.R. Tolkien.
Amaryllis-This flower is symbolic of splendid beauty. It is also used to indicate worth beyond beauty.
Hydrangea- This flower symbolizes heartfelt emotions.
Hyacinths – For those who want to show their share of sorrow and grief over the death of a loved one
Rose- Love and passion.