Needless to say, I do not own anything related to The Hobbit, Lord of The Rings, any of J.R.R. Tolkien's works, or Peter Jackson's versions.
He Walks Unseen
If there is anything that the inhabitants of Middle Earth know, it is that Gods are real, they are dangerous, and they can be quite literal. If given the opportunity, Bilbo Baggins would tell anyone who would listen just how true that was.
Thorin Oakenshield and his sister-sons lay as still as death on the white sheets, the setting sun painting their skin with bloody reds. The healers had done what they could for the warriors, but even they had given up in order to treat those less grievously injured. Only Bilbo remained, hidden by the magic of his ring, watching those that he would have called family. No one saw him bow his curly head and whisper words only Gods could hear.
"Let them live."
"I would give anything."
"I would trade my life for them."
Another voice spoke in the shadows of the setting sun. "I have heard you little one, and answered. But your part in this tale is not done. You will walk unseen, or you will walk unseeing, until the ages take these Khazad back to stone."
Bilbo was again left alone with the dwarves, but he raised his eyes to see their chests moving easier and the color returning to their skin. Hours later, healers returned to prepare them to enter the Halls of Waiting to find the king and his heirs healed. All agreed that the Gods had taken extra care over the last of the line of Durin but none questioned what the sacrifice had been, for the Gods did not act on their own and always took payment for their deeds.
The hobbit left the tent when the king finally opened his eyes and took in the new sunrise. They were safe, and he was likely to be noticed if someone bumped into empty air. And yet he could not leave the mountain despite his banishment. Something nagged at the halfling, as if there were words left unsaid. Perhaps the company was not yet ready to be broken.
As Erebor came alive with torches and the sounds of hammers, the hobbit found a small room to call his own while he lingered. Hardly bigger than a closet, but not likely to be disturbed. Alone, the halfling slipped his golden ring from his finger and felt the weight slip away. But at the same time it was if a curtain had been drawn before his eyes, blocking out all light. Panicked by the sudden change, he pushed the metal band back on his finger and was relieved to make out the corners of the small room.
The words from the healing tent came back to Bilbo as he sat, turning the ring between his fingers. "You will walk unseen, or you will walk unseeing." How fitting that he could only look upon the world around him, if no one could see him in turn.
Life on the road had taught him to be content with the necessities of life so the lack of books or comfortable armchairs meant little to him. What mattered was being able to slip from his hole and tiptoe through the corridors for glimpses of the company. Bombur had taken up residence in the kitchens, Bifur and Bofur migrated towards the mines. Ori scribbled endlessly on rolls of parchment, trying to remember every detail of their adventure. Oin tended to those still grievously injured in the battle while Gloin immediately set out to gather his family. Nori found meat for the mountain and Dori set about making wine and ale. Leaving Dwalin to direct the diminished army and Balin to tend the court.
Thorin sat heavily in the throne with his sister-sons at his side, making the choices that had to be made. First was to send word to the other kingdoms of their success and to initiate trade with the men of Dale and by extension the elves of the Greenwood. Gold was dispensed with more argument on Balin's part than Thorin's, and the king came to wonder what had happened to the little burglar that had made it all possible.
There had been no sign of Bilbo's body in the valley and no word that he had returned to the Shire. Despite the betrayal that still stung sharply, the dwarf could take no satisfaction in the thought that the gentle halfling likely never survived the battle. Seasons passed and the king would often visit his slightly diminished treasure chamber and wonder what had truly happened to the burglar. As Erebor grew once more, the king slowly forgave the desperate actions of the Shireling.
Whispers reached him that there were some that thought Bilbo had been correct in taking the Arkenstone. Without his actions, there would have been no well timed peace between dwarves, men, and elves to join against the goblins. And then there were the theories that the halfling had made a bargain with the Gods to heal the king and his nephews. He had given up his small life so the king could rule under the mountain again. Thorin dismissed this out of hand as their Gods never took notice of mortals, no matter how much they prayed. But he sometimes couldn't ignore the fact that he bore no scars from the battle despite having been grievously wounded.
Watching dwarves was only so interesting to the halfling and yet he could not seem to bring himself to leave. It would be easy enough to slip out of the mountain as if he had never been, but something always drew him up short at the gate and he would return to his hidden room. Eventually the halfling began to meddle in small ways. Someone would misplace their axe and it would turn up a short while later where it couldn't be missed. Or herbs would appear next to a dish the cooks were preparing. Once even he had managed to lead a lost dwarrow child out of long abandoned tunnels unseen by humming and dropping stones.
And then stories of spirits began to drift among the people. Not the usual of mischievous creatures that lured unsuspecting dwarves into ponds or tricked them out of their gold. They were stories of helpful deeds and kindnesses passed to those that needed it. Bilbo continued to help in small ways and no one suspected anything but magic when their lost trinkets were returned to them.
It was completely by accident that the hobbit was in the library when everything changed. He hadn't looked in on Ori in some time and sought to remedy it when he caught sight of a series of drawings. Thorin was depicted in a contemplative mood, and Fili and Kili smiled up from the page while the others of their company were sketched playing music or tending their weapons. Lastly there was a detailed drawing of him, soft as he was at the beginning of their long journey. The paper was snatched off the table and Bilbo had to stop himself from crying out in frustration only to be standing inches away from Thorin Oakenshield.
The dwarf stared hard at the drawing and the hobbit was afraid he was going to crumple it up carelessly but then his eyes softened. "I wonder where you really went, little one." The king sighed and tucked the paper away close to his breast and left Bilbo standing invisible and silent in the library. Suddenly he didn't want to see Ori any more.
During the journey, it was not uncommon for tempers to flare and as suddenly as spats happened, the dwarves would wander off only to return later looking much more relaxed. The hobbit was not sure of the significance of their actions until he had gone looking for mushrooms and stumbled upon Thorin laid out on his coat, pants around his boots, one hand on his cock, and two fingers working his hole.
Curious about the action, the hobbit had taken his own leave and discovered that while his hand was pleasurable enough, stars burst behind his eyes as he fucked himself with his fingers. Thorin knew he had been seen by the burglar and he had followed to explain the dwarfish custom only to find Bilbo in the same position. He ended up teaching the halfling many things before they faced the dragon. But the desire for gold had wiped all desire of flesh from the dwarf's mind.
Bilbo had always avoided the royal wing that housed the king and his family because it still hurt to look upon them and know what he had lost. It was a simple thing to creep into the king's bedchamber in the very dark of night. There was just enough light from the coals in the hearth to avoid bumping into any furniture and to make out the dark pile of Thorin's hair. There was more gray in the dark tresses and it was slightly longer but what really made the hobbit stare was his bare chest. The sheets were kicked down, barely covering the dwarf's hips, bearing the broad chest sprinkled with dark hair. Bilbo wanted to run his fingers through the crinkly hair but he held back.
Thorin shifted in his sleep, turning to one side and seeming to reach across the bed for someone before his eyes fluttered open. "Bilbo."
The whisper startled the hobbit and he quickly fled the room, still seeing blue eyes softened by regret. When he reached his hidden room, Bilbo threw himself on the pile of blankets he had collected and pulled off the ring. Surrounded by blackness, the hobbit almost wished that he was really a spirit so he wouldn't have to feel. He didn't want to feel the desire for company or the pleasures of the flesh but the halfling would never regret his deal with the Gods.
Invisible as ever, the halfling took more time to visit the line of Durin. Dis was an intimidating woman, but fiercely protective of her family. She was the only dwarf that could, and regularly would, stand up to the king. Fili and Kili had quickly remembered how to smile despite the hardships of the road and how close they came to death. But they also remembered how to scowl if anyone mentioned the Arkenstone or the disappearance of the halfling.
Bilbo was drawn inexorably towards the dwarf king despite telling himself to stay away. The drawing Thorin had taken from Ori was placed in his study where it was easily seen and the dwarf himself had taken to speaking to it. Late one night, the hobbit had come upon the king asking the parchment desperately where he had gone and if he was alright. The drawing never answered, but the halfling had to stop himself from reaching out.
One night the halfling slipped into the dwarf's room watch him sleep for a moment when he realized Thorin's eyes were closed but he was not asleep. The king was bare on the bed, spread out across the sheets, palming his cock and thrusting into his hand. Bilbo felt strange enough for watching the dwarf sleep but he could not tear his eyes away as Thorin wrenched his pleasure from his flesh. Something seemed to lurch in the hobbit's chest when the dwarf found his release and painted his belly with messy stripes.
Thorin let his body go limp as he stared at the ceiling before letting out a broken sigh. "I'm so sorry Bilbo."
The halfling had to leave the room before he could make a sound and alert the dwarf. Wiping away tears, Bilbo found himself looking at his portrait. Perhaps Thorin did regret his words at the gate but the Shireling couldn't bring himself to reveal his existence to the king. Nor could he simply leave the mountain. But perhaps he could give some peace to the dwarf. Using his neatest hand, the hobbit traced out three words on the back of the picture.
"I forgive you."
This time the hobbit managed to avoid the royal family for a whole week until he snuck into the kitchens for a spot of elevensies and found himself cocking an ear to listen to the gossip.
"It's no lie. The king asked me about spirits in the mountain and I told him about the one what finds lost things."
"You've been at the ale again."
"I haven't! I told him what I knew and he smiled. Actually smiled!"
"Now that's far fetched."
Forgetting his meal entirely, Bilbo sprinted for the throne hall. He was sure several guards turned their heads at the sound of pattering footsteps but he didn't care. It wasn't often that Thorin smiled and he wanted to see it for himself. When he arrived, the king indeed looked lighter than he had in ages, even if he wasn't smiling right then.
That night, as he wandered through the sleeping halls of the royal family, Bilbo spotted Thorin's door slightly ajar. Tookish curiosity got the better of the halfling and he slipped inside. The king was not in bed, but the fire had burned low in the hearth. The dwarf had fallen asleep at his desk, looking at Ori's sketch of the halfling. For a long time, he just watched the dwarf sleep, eyes brushing over every inch of the monarch.
Before he realized what he was doing, Bilbo had run his fingers down one of the long braids and undid the clip. He knew how much Thorin hated sleeping in his braids and gently undid the rest. Perhaps the last bead had snagged some of the king's hair or the hobbit had made too much noise, but the dwarf's eyes opened and he looked through the hobbit.
"Bilbo, wait!" Thorin called to the seeming empty room, sitting up from the desk.
"I know you're here. Will you show yourself?"
The hobbit was conflicted about removing his ring. If he did, he would not see the regal dwarf. Though perhaps it would be safe to speak only to realize he hadn't used his voice in years. Mute, Bilbo stared at the king, unseen
"If you cannot, would you at least show me where you are?" The dwarf slowly held out on hand, palm up at just the right height for the halfling to slip his own into.
Thorin sighed and closed his eyes. Perhaps he had been imagining the gentle presence near him at times. But he had not hallucinated the words that appeared on the drawing he had taken from Ori. And now, in his dim room, he was missing one of his beads and the other braids were quickly unraveling. Almost hesitantly, the weight of his clasp settled in his palm and he swore he felt the brush of delicate fingers against his palm.
Allowing the hobbit a chance to pull away, the dwarf closed his hand around the smaller one, so sure he would never have touched the halfling again. He never wanted to let go and gently pulled Bilbo closer.
"Th-Thorin." The Shireling finally found his unused voice, embarrassed by how weak it sounded in the quiet room.
The king gasped to hear the halfling after so long and began to open his eyes. "Don't look!" Bilbo cried desperately, trying to pull away.
Obediently, the dwarf closed his eyes before he could look at the smaller creature. "Why can't I see you? It's been years." Hesitantly, he raised his other hand a reached towards the hobbit.
"Because I made a choice as you lay injured."
Thorin followed the halfling's arm to his shoulder and then to his face with his hands, feeling the linen of his tunic and his smooth cheek. "What did the Gods demand in payment for our lives?"
Bilbo nuzzled into the dwarf's rough palm and recited the words he had heard in the tent. "I will walk unseen, or I will walk unseeing, until the ages take you back to stone."
The dwarf fought not to crush the hobbit to him in a fit of possessiveness. "I do not deserve such kindness after my harsh words."
"The past has long been done." Bilbo couldn't bring himself to be angered at the king, especially as he turned out to be ill suited for the task. "Perhaps we should meet again, for the first time."
As of realizing what the hobbit was offering him, the king nodded. "Thorin Oakenshield at your service."
"Bilbo Baggins at yours."
When the dwarf finally opened his eyes, he was shocked to see the halfling standing before him. His hair was long but well kept, clad in old linen clothes that had clearly belonged to a dwarrow child, but Thorin was caught up in his eyes. The dark centers had been clouded over, blending into blue at the edges. It was a balm to his heart to see Bilbo again, but he would always be reminded of his selflessness and endeavor to earn his forgiveness.