The Only Right
True greatness only comes to those who realize they are not great.
A cold west wind was blowing and with it came snow, as if the sparks that had risen at the beginning of their journey had turned cold and were falling again like ashes to blanket the ground. Frantically, Bilbo scrambled over the rocks down to the ice where Thorin lay like a fallen oak. He was not dead, but as Bilbo took his hand, he felt that there was no strength left in it.
Thorin was speaking, but Bilbo barely heard him as he searched for the wound. He started back as he saw it, wondering how the Dwarf could possibly still be alive.
"I wanted to part from you in friendship," Thorin's northern accent was thick in his pain.
"You are going to live, Thorin," Bilbo heard a voice say hopelessly and realized with a flip of his stomach that it was his own.
"Go back to your books…and your armchair…plant you trees…"
"You'll go back yourself…Thorin-"
Thorin coughed, his fingers twitching against Bilbo's palm. He spoke with difficulty, his voice so low Bilbo could barely hear it. It was gentle, not accusing. "Where is the Arkenstone?"
Bilbo's face was pinched; he shook his head. "I don't know."
Thorin closed his eyes again and sighed like the earth sighing, "I wish I could have held it one last time…I will never be King under the Mountain...I did not deserve to be."
"Thorin-" Bilbo said abruptly. "Thorin, listen to me. Did you never consider why they followed you?… Fili, Kili, Dwalin and Balin, Bifur, Bofor and Bomber, Oin and Gloin, Ori, Nori and Dori…You called and they answered…you knew they would-"
"Loyalty…honor…courage…" Thorin murmured with a gentle smile.
"We never doubted you because you never gave us reason to doubt you. You did not need an Arkenstone to win our trust, you all ready had it," Bilbo continued earnestly, clasping the Dwarf's great hand in both his own. "The Arkenstone is a trinket, a pretty bauble. It is the symbol of your kingship only because your grandfather said so. You are not your grandfather; I believe that with all my heart. You did not need an Arkenstone; the qualities that make a King are here-" gently he tapped Thorin's heaving chest, "Truly, you were King Under the Mountain long before you ever reached it."
Thorin closed his eyes and Bilbo saw something pale and fresh like a spring river tracing its way through the dirt and blood on the Dwarf's haggard face.
"I know I'm not a Dwarf…" Bilbo spoke haltingly, trying to swallow back the pain that was rising in his throat. "But I don't think it matters. You are my king…and…and…my friend."
Thorin's eyes were open, but Bilbo somehow knew as he looked into them that life had fled softly away while he was speaking. Desperately, he tried to raise Thorin's hand once more, but the arm had become suddenly heavy. Bilbo looked up again as the dancing snow began to catch and settle in Thorin's wild hair like icy sparks, then he reached out a hand that was strangely steady and closed the Dwarf's eyes.
The King Under the Mountain was dead.
Authors' Note: I never thought I'd find myself writing movie-verse fanfiction, let alone Hobbit movie-verse fanfiction. Unfortunately, we found The Battle of the Five Armies deeply disappointing on many levels. The only scenes we actually enjoyed were the very end when Bilbo returns to Bag End, and the two minutes of Thorin dying. That scene was beautifully written and acted, but I felt like it was missing some things.
We hope you enjoyed this quick one-shot; reviews are welcome!
~(Rose and) Psyche
