Title: Numbers Don't Lie
Fandom: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (2012 Cartoon)
Characters: Bilbo Baggins, Thorin Oakenshield, Fíli, Kíli, & Frodo Baggins
Pairings: Bagginshield
Genre: Angst/Family
Rating: PG
Word Count: 400.
Summery: Donatello had an appreciation for numbers, because unlike certain sentient beings, they don't lie.
Author's Note: My first foray into the Hobbit fandom. Yes, I've written LotRs before. Bagginshield is just such an angsty couple, and you know I'm all about that angst.
-o-
Bilbo still dreams about the King under the Mountain.
His waking thoughts of Thorin Oakenshield were painful and full of longing. Those who would see him when the fallen dwarf would cross his mind would swear his eyes became sad and his focus grew distant. The lines around his mouth would grow deeper and his already quiet demeanor would shrink until he was absolutely mute. Though there weren't a great many visitors he cared to deal with during these times, so it wasn't a well-known thing. He would sit back, rigid with grief, and remembered a time filled with grief and lost-chances.
But his dreams were of a different matter altogether.
When he slept, and Thorin would grace the hobbit with his presence, Bilbo only dreamed of nice things, of good things. He would see the dwarf lying against the bark of the tree he had planted upon his return to the Shire. The metal crown upon his salt-and-pepper hair, more salty with each passing year, was replaced with a crown of poppies. The wrinkles that adorned his face were more from laughter than worry, and his eyes twinkled as he watch Fíli and Kíli wrestle with little Frodo Baggins, who was a new addition to the dreams as well as Bilbo's life.
Fíli would then part ways from his brother and the young rascal and saunter up to his uncles, kingship wore well on him. He would report news from the Lonely Mountain, which was lonely in name only now. Erebor was prosperous, and trade with the survivors of Laketown and the Mirkwood Elves were going very well. Bilbo would then laugh at look of disgust on Thorin's face at the mention of the Elves, but the look would fall away and be replaced with fondness as the former wonderer looked upon the Hobbit's happy face. They would then drink in the sight of each other, as if it would be the last they saw of each other and Fíli, knowingly, will fade away, leaving the two alone.
No words were spoken, nor were there need of any. Their eyes spoke enough to fill volumes of books. Bilbo drunk in the sight, of a happy and healthy Thorin, and that would be the image imprinted on his mind as awoke in the morning. These dreams were always the same, soft and sweet, and always left him with a smile.