So this is a style story for Toddy! I wrote it so she could get a feel of my writing style! But I figured I would post it for reading convenience and in case other people wanted to ruin their day.
Enjoy!
A lot of people would call me foolish right about now. Just an ordinary Hobbit, crouched low over myself, clutching tightly to an acorn, the last thing he smiled over, close to my heart. The tears didn't fall. I wasn't sure why, but I had a hunch that some stupid part of me, some absolutely idiotic portion of my heart believed that he was still alive. That part of me said, "Hey now. There was nothing to cry about.". In journey from my home in Hobbiton to help a band of misfit Dwarves reclaim their home, I had gotten far too close to the flame. What had started as a small crush on the dwarf king, bloomed into a soul shattering love. The kind that took far more than it gave. By the end of my journey, I had seen fire consume trees, grass, life, and love. The sky had crashed into Lake town bellow us as it kept up the enemy advanced up the mountain side. The ugly, bloody truth of war had spread itself before me like a lover and had plagued my thoughts since.
Hustling and bustling sounded from the medic room right across the hall from where I was sitting. I knew they were working to save him. Thorin. But they hadn't seen what I had seen. They hadn't watched his blood soak the snow a brilliant red beneath him, and run off into the frozen cracks of the lake. They hadn't watched the life fade from his eyes as his soul flew off to be with the Eagles. Just as proud, and just as beautiful. The second his eyes closed, I felt like I had lost my home. The world was suddenly a much duller place in his absence.
I remember what he had said to me.
"Go back to your armchair and your books. Plant your trees. Watch them grow."
I lifted myself off the small bench across from the medic bay. I decided I would go home. I would plant this tree, if only in Throin's name. Besides, if somebody, anybody, confirmed that Thorin was actually gone, the tears may never stop again. I padded out of the mountain entrance as silently as I could. The path home would be silent and lonesome. I would be constantly looking ahead for Thorin. Perched high on his pony. Proud, and strong. He was a king. He was my friend. He was my…. Thorin was gone. And in the dark of night under the loss and victory of battle, I was too.
KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.
I had pulled myself out of bed many times. Forced my weak body out of its comfortable prison to sort out a day's work. Most of those days included starring longingly out the window at the young acorn tree sapling. It was only a year or so old now. It is tended carefully, with strong steel rods to insure a straight trunk, fertilized dirt sprinkled around the soft bark, and a small fence to keep out root gnawing critters. I love that tree…
KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.
Once I had gotten out of bed, I opened the curtains. Light streamed in and I cringed and blinked in response. I was beginning to sleep in more and more nowadays. I reached for my robe that was laid on the back on my reading chair. I hadn't used it in many months. Somehow the chair wasn't as comfortable as it had once been. The leather wasn't as warm, and the cushions weren't as soft and inviting.
KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.
"I'm coming!" I snapped at the door as I shoved my feet into my slippers and tied my robe tight around my torso. The knocking ceased and I ran a hand over my tired face. I didn't get many visitors nowadays. I was mostly regarded as the cranky hobbit at the top of the hill. The one who unceremoniously took off one fine summer day. An indecent hobbit. A hobbit who had seen far too much of the world. I laid my hand on the door and took a deep breath.
I opened the door to braided ebony hair, a strong stature, and a humble figure before me.
"Thorin." I breathed. He looked exactly how I remembered him. A strong jaw. Long, proud hair in braids. A comforting and burly figure. Strong and warm hands. And his eyes. So sharp but in secret moments of love and compassion, were the softest things I had ever seen.
"Bilbo." He breathed. My eyes widened suddenly as tears began to swell in my eyes, and I took a step back. My hand covering my sobbing mouth.
"Bilbo. My love, don't cry. I'm sorry I did not send a letter… No written word could capture what I wanted to say." Thorin stepped into my home and suddenly, it felt right again. My armchair once again seemed inviting. My books contained worlds again. My life became brighter. Before Thorin could embrace me I rushed forward, wrapping my arms around his neck and buried my face in his chest.
"You're alive!" I sobbed into his jacket, which was light for traveling. "Am I dreaming, Thorin?" Thorin wrapped his arms around me in return and laughed. A deep chuckle that reverberated through his body. A laugh that you could feel.
"They wouldn't let me go after you until I made a full recovery." Thorin muttered pressing his lips softly to the top of my head. "Defying their king's wishes like that…" Thorin grumbled. I sniffled and looked up at him. I traced the lines of his face carefully. As if I was seeing it for the very first time. Or the very last. I laid my hand on his cheek. His skin was rough, and cold, and soothing. I traced the crinkles around his eyes with my thumb. I knew in that moment that I wasn't going to wake up like I had so many times before. Thorin was real. And he was here.
"Don't you have a kingdom to run?" I whispered with a small smile on my face. Thorin smirked and leaned down close, our foreheads resting against one another.
"I handed the kingdom over to my sister. I figured I would come East Farthing. And learn a thing or two about armchairs, and books, and trees." Thorin whispered.
"You're in the right place."
"If you'll have me of course."
I didn't even justify that with a response. Instead, I did the one thing I had been waiting almost two years to do, and brought his lips down to mine. He tasted like home.