A/N: Written for prompt over at hobbit kink meme:

Story idea where when hobbits experience grief, usually over loss of a loved one, they sometimes close of their hearts, stopping them from feeling emotions. As Bilbo travels with the dwarves their actions and insults cause him to close off his heart, he no longer smiles as he no longer feels happiness, he no longer frowns as he no longer feels sadness, he is just a body that moves through the motions of daily life.

What can I say? This hit me right in the feels.

Disclaimer: I own nothing but my cup of coffee and copy of The One Ring. My precioussss!

Flow My Tears

Sometime before the fateful night of troll trouble happened, Bilbo started to feel himself slipping. His smiles, rare as they were lately, came less and less easily, and the longing he felt about speaking of his home lessened by each day, by each passing snide tossed his way.

More of a grocer than a burglar.

Burden.

Dead-weight.

Useless.

He felt the walls of the fort of his heart to close in; inching to close itself off from the world outside, from the danger that lay behind the walls, from the coldness he felt radiating from others. Sure, not everyone from the company viewed him with disdain, but the distance they all kept from him from those few and far between chats hurt just as an unhealed wound would, stabbing at him every time he thought it gone.

The Rivendell was like an oasis in the wastes of boiling desert, water to the wilting flower that was Bilbo's heart, since the elves seemed just as curious in him as he was in them, eagerly seeking his company, showing him around the elven city and engaging him in conversations about various subjects.

Of course his dwarven companion didn't take that very happily, testy as they were towards the elves even without Bilbo being friends with them.

Tree-shaggers.

Weed-eaters.

Pointy-eared pansies.

They left the city of elves in a hurry, sneaking away like thieves, and Bilbo felt his smile, small as it was, slip away again at the first snipe of Thorin's tongue at him, when he looked back at Rivendell one last time.

He was lost ever since he left his home. He has no place among us.

And that was when the gates of the fort of his heart finally snapped closed. He felt the weird looks he received when he sat in corner of the cave they took as their shelter for the night, unmoving and not speaking, just looking around with wide and strangely calm eyes. It was strange, to look back at all those times he felt down and not fully realize why he felt like that anymore.

But it was okay. It was better now, when his heart was locked, and his silly feelings (pointy eared pansies!) won't get in the way and make him even weaker in the eyes of the dwarves.

Still, he was positive his escape from the Goblin Town would once upon a time give him nightmares for years to come. Like this? Like this, he was able to think more clearly, calmly playing game of riddles with the strange creature in the caves, with its big and pale eyes that seemed to be all-seeing (although that was not true, he learnt, his ring – its ring, its precious – showed that claim to be false), and wait for his opportunity to escape.

He was questioned upon his arrival to the rest of the company, but their leader's words no longer held the same hurtful quality to them as they once did. Calmly, he explained why he followed after them; to help them recover their home. Only Gandalf's eyes seemed to be filling with suspicion, as the wizard gazed upon him, but before he could question him, they were once again on the run for their lives.

It was perfectly logical, if he were to say so, to climb up the tree and run to Thorin's help, as the Pale Orc prepared for the one last hit to the unconscious dwarf – he didn't even need to think about it much. Thorin was leader of the company; leader of his people, King-yet-to-be-crowned, while was only a burden, a pointy-eared pansy and a grocer.

They were saved by King of Eagles, carried from Misty Mountains to a place they called Carrock, Gandalf immediately went to Thorin's side, and Bilbo sat a bit aside from the others, looking at the missing buttons with a small frown. His body ached after all the acrobatics in the goblin caves, and the following run for their lives sure didn't help anything.

Where is the burglar?

He thought that the words would have hurt, if they had been told to him sooner, but now, all he can do is just hang his head down, because he thinks he should do it as not to alert anyone to the fact that his well-protected heart does not care anymore.

Then Thorin just hugged him tight, and all he could do was to stand there limply, Thorin's arms around himself and half the company cheering. When Thorin stepped back, Bilbo nodded his thanks and said: "I do not wonder you doubt me – there was little, if anything, about me what would inspire confidence."

His voice is monotone, and he can see the dwarves exchanging uneasy glances, which, he supposes, is quite understandable, as he never spoke like that before, at least not anywhere they could hear him, or at least pay more attention not to what he was saying, but how he was saying it. There is sharp intake of someone's breath, and suddenly, Gandalf is kneeling before him, his eyes looking studiously into his.

"Bilbo," he says, and his voice is deeply pained. "Is this what I think it is?"

"It is, Gandalf," he nods his agreement, and feels Gandalf's arms envelop him in an embrace as well.

"I'm so very sorry, my dear hobbit," the wizard says, and all Bilbo can do is nod his understanding, as he lets his arms embrace the man back. The wizard understands what this means, and feels guilty for not being able to put a stop to it, but Bilbo does not blame him. Their leader, after all, warned him beforehand, that he will not be responsible for his fate, and he says so, when he and Gandalf finally start their explanation to the demanding dwarves who want to know what is happening.

He supposes it would be rather amusing to watch the dwarves gape at him with their mouth open, but all he can feel is being slightly uncomfortable with all the attention they suddenly pay to him, every single one of them telling him they are sorry, the younger ones even going as far as to hug him tightly, and that they never meant for it to happen.

"Is this… condition… reversible, Gandalf?" asked Kili. The wizard thought for a moment. "I do not know, young one," he confessed, looking at Bilbo for an opinion. "I do not think anyone ever tried to reverse this," says Bilbo. "It's widely known that we hobbits escape into heart-lock only when experiencing extreme grief. Thus it is viewed as doing something very unkind to break those hobbits out of their heart-locks, where they are not suffering anymore. But," he adds as an afterthought, "I suppose it could be reversed. At least in theory."

"We will not do you wrong ever again, Bilbo Baggins," Fili swears, and others join in.

The journey onward was curious one, to say the least. Their stay at Beorn's house was very refreshing, and Bilbo found himself slightly amused at how protective the dwarves suddenly were of him, when Beorn would pick him up and carry him around while calling him 'little bunny'.

The skin-changer took just one look at him, and his eyes saddened, making something in Bilbo's heart-fort flutter around wildly. The huge man before him understood, and felt for him, his arms lingering around him, as the company pressed forward, and they said their farewells.

Their journey through the Mirkwood affected him less than the dwarves, who were still in their full capability to feel. He didn't feel the need to start arguing with anyone just because he would be stressed and others were fair game when it came to pointless arguing.

Often, it would only take his softly spoken "could we please stop this?" for the situation to defuse in guilty air, as the dwarves stopped immediately, their eyes drawn to him. After several long weeks in the darkness of Mirkwood, not even his interference would stop arguments from continuing, and Bilbo felt his heart-fort strengthening its defences when someone would snap at him to 'mind his own business, burglar!' Before, he would probably be blinking back tears at that. Now, the tears are unable to fall anymore.

It almost came as a relief, when the spiders attacked, and Bilbo had no time to over-think things, as he was too taken up in trying to free the dwarves from spider webs. He was moving around, unseen by the spiders, before he stroked, again and again and again. Once the dwarves were freed, he would lure the spiders away, his voice adding only further salt to the injury of spider pride, as he calmly sang his mocking song to them. He followed his once again captured company to elven stronghold, watching the way the elves lived their lives, keeping his eyes open at all costs, while searching for his companions.

He run into the elven King once; the elf's eyes sweeping through the room, as if he knew someone was there, before he turned to his companion, younger elf of obviously close relation to him. And they were speaking in this particular prisoner, and Bilbo just knew the prisoner to be Thorin, because no one else could be so arrogant in captivity than Thorin, and so rude to those he viewed his lesser – which, if Bilbo understood it correctly, had been all of the elves, and elves of Mirkwood in particular.

Figuring the plan of escape for them all had actually been quite easy, although to follow up on that plan proved to be quite a challenge. Who would have thought that the dwarves would feel it so much bellow themselves, this plan of his. No, Bilbo didn't feel annoyed at their arguing that he find them another escape route, but he certainly wasn't going to let it slide.

"I can't be responsible for your fates, if you choose to stay here, instead of escaping through the only way I had been able to discover," he told them, and it was like watching balls lose their air. Without further protests they jumped into the barrels Bilbo picked up, and they left the halls of elven King in secrecy.

And Bilbo in illness, since his stay in halls of elves had been much less comfortable as the one of the dwarves. He wasn't fed regularly, didn't sleep as much and was not as protected from the cold water as his companions were. When they arrive to Laketown, his illness shows itself in its full glory, and Bilbo is left in bed for several days, his fever high and his breathing heavy and difficult, the dwarves fluttering around him in worry which once would be heart-warming, but the logical piece of Bilbo's mind supplies a thought that they know they would never retake Erebor without him, so they are doing their best to make sure he will be capable of finishing the journey.

It's probably unfair to think so about his companions, but it does make lot of sense nonetheless..

So it wasn't any big surprise to him (not that he could show surprise anymore anyway) when majority of the dwarves, baring Kili and Fili, fell to the lure of gold in the treasury. And Bilbo felt a flutter around his heart, as he gazes upon the shining stone in his hands as he hands it over to Bard, thanking him and the King of elves for their offer to stay with them, before he returns to the mountain. Next day, he comes over to them, being exiled from the mountain and branded a traitor to the dwarves.

It's not like he cares about how others view him now anyway; yet, he feels a stab at his heart when he remembers the way Thorin held him high above the ground, strangling him with the grip of his hands, and no one else doing anything.

Dain of the Iron Hills arrives the very next day, and soon after him, news of enormous orc horde on way to the mountain, prompting the armies under the Lonely Mountain to unite and stand side by side against the dark ones.

And once again, Bilbo moves around with his ring shielding him from others' eyes, helping his once-friends (he doubts they would consider a traitor a friend) as much as he's able; he stabs an orc attempting to sneak upon Kili there, and jumps at the orc just about to overwhelm Bofur here, his voice raising to warn Balin about the danger just about to fall upon him.

Eagles come and join the battle, and that's when he's hit with a flying stone in the head and he knows no more.

When he comes around again, his whole body aches from injuries he sustained, but most of all the pulsing wound on his head is giving him trouble, making the world run in circles before his eyes. That's how he's found on otherwise rather deserted battlefield, and quickly upon being found he's carried to the healer's tent that hosts the Durins, as all of them had been gravely wounded in the battle, Thorin's injuries worst by far.

Thorin's eyes are once again clear, if full of pain, not dulled by the gold-sickness, as he looks into Bilbo's and says his apology.

And Bilbo just gazes back, a single tear running down his cheek his only answer.

A/N: Vague and open endings are vague and open.