Seeing the Mountain, his home, in the distance, gave Thorin the courage to continue this journey. It was worth it, he thought. All this would be worth it. He glanced over at Bilbo, that little Hobbit, with a fondness and a warm smile he didn't easily give away. The dwarves looked out, atop the Carrock, with a sense of pride. Bilbo, however, could not feel the same pride, as Erebor was not his home. Yet he would do everything in his willpower to help his friends get to theirs.
Traveling with a group of fourteen hungry mouths on a journey across the world was not an easy feat. Food and supplies were scarce, and their list of allies were growing thin. In spite of their hardships, they managed to sing and cheer and laugh all the merry way. Campfires at night did not stop them from telling stories and being overall cheerful. One hot summer night was no exception. They stopped to make camp, just outside the Misty Mountains, and in spite of the heat, built a fire and made a wonderful roast, the catch of the day.
"Kili, put out the fire. It's time for us to sleep. We head out at dawn." Thorin said with a sharp tongue.
"Yes, Uncle Thorin. Why are you getting ready? Aren't you going to sleep?"
"Do not worry about me, I will stay up a while longer. I-I just, I just need to think."
With that, Kili made his way to his sleeping area, and left his uncle alone. Thorin sat on a nearby rock, endless thoughts running through his mind. He busied himself by cleaning his sword, admiring its form, the sharpness of the blade, the detailing on the handle. It was of elvish make, but he had to admit to himself it was no less a magnificent piece of craftsmanship.
It hit him like a bolt of lightning, a startled sensation ran down the length of his spine when he noticed Bilbo standing behind him.
"I'm sorry for disturbing you, I-I will leave." He would not admit to anyone but himself that he quite enjoyed the little moments he spent with Thorin, even if they were for a short while. They have been on the road for just over a year, but he grew very fond of the dwarves, Thorin in particular.
"N-no, no, you are welcome. Please, Master Baggins, it will be my pleasure." Thorin turned his head a little to hide a faint blush that threatened to creep up. It wouldn't matter, though; it was nighttime, and no one would be able to notice. The little stutter in his voice didn't really help, either. How could this wee Hobbit render him a sappy mess? He learned to hide his emotions quite well. Keeping up the image of stoic king in exile was a task he did not like all too much, but he had to, for his people.
"What are you doing out here? It's very late, you should get some sleep."
"I could say the same for you, Master Baggins." This time he managed a somewhat straight reply.
"Well, I, uh, just have a lot on my mind. Sometimes, when I can't sleep, I'll make myself a cup of tea and curl up on my armchair by my fireplace. Being as that is no longer an option, I opted to stay up, look up to the night sky." Bilbo was a bit hesitant at sharing something so intimate with another being, but it felt natural to him at the same time. At least, that's what he made himself believe at that moment.
"You must really miss your home. I understand what it's like, to miss home, and the comforts it brings." Thorin felt himself loosen up, and he recognized the faint hesitance in Bilbo's tone. But he could sympathize. He admired his courage, his never-ending optimism, that he would one day return to his home. It made him smile a bit.
"Yes, I do. And I know you miss yours, as well. It's like I told you, all of you, that I would help in any way I can, to help you return to your home." Bilbo couldn't sense it, he didn't notice, but Thorin kept an attentive eye on him, not just at that moment, but the whole journey so far. Thorin was actually a very caring person, that he did sense.
"And I thank you for that. I really do. You know, when I was a young lad, growing up in those halls, there wasn't much sunlight, nor moonlight. No stars; they were my favorite. But every so often, at times when I wanted, needed, to be alone, I would sneak out. I would go atop Ravenhill and lie down, look at the sky at night. I loved looking at the sky at night. I felt most at peace, gazing upon those twinkling jewels, laden on a field of onyx. It is a luxury I am no longer afforded." Thorin realized he had just shared a piece of himself he had stored so deep within himself, to no less a Hobbit. But he somehow felt free, as if it were natural in Bilbo's presence. He was relieved, like he could could open up for the first time in a long time.
Bilbo himself realized the immensity of Thorin's confession. He thought maybe he should thank him for sharing such a personal thing with him.
"Thank you."
"For what, might I ask?" Thorin was a bit confused.
"For sharing such a lovely story with me. I imagine you don't tell that to very many people, no less someone willing to listen."
"No, I do not. But I am glad you are here, willing to listen. I feel comfortable sharing this piece of me with you. And I thank you for that." A heavy weight was lifted off his shoulders. That story, in and of itself, was very deep and personal to him. Nevertheless, he was comforted in knowing he could confide in Bilbo, just let go, let his worries melt away when he in his presence.
They remained silent for most of the night, save for a few little Do you know what that star is? Eventually, Bilbo grew tired, and he fell asleep on the ground where he lay next to Thorin. He, too, began to feel the weight of night on him. Just before falling asleep himself, Thorin lay a blanket over Bilbo. He then lay down, closed his eyes and whispered to himself, "I'm glad you're with me, with us." A small voice replied, "As am I."