Chapter Two
Bilbo groaned and rolled over, yet despite his various aches and pains; he found that he felt quite comfortable. Probably more so in fact, than he had been in almost a year.
That knowledge bought with it the pain of realisation. The quest. The battle. Thorin.
Thorin was dead.
Bilbo felt the heat behind his eyes and pressed the palms of his hands to them. No, no, no, no. no. All of that time, all of that effort and for what? The King to be killed just after his victory. It didn't seem fair.
Bilbo felt the urge to scream, he wanted to shout, wanted to punch something - no matter how unbecoming that was of a hobbit. But in that moment he couldn't bring himself to care.
Bilbo released a shuddery breath and rubbed the spot in the centre of his chest in a effort to alleviate the pain he felt.
"Bilbo?" Gandalf's voice reached his ear's, but Bilbo ignored it. For once, manners didn't seem that important.
"My friend, are you alright?"
Bilbo sighed, the kind tone of Gandalf's voice making him feel guilty.
"I am as well as can be." The hobbit muttered finally, keeping his eyes closed.
"Perhaps some tea then?"
It wasn't what Gandalf had said that made Bilbo turn over to look at him sharply, it was the jovial tone of his voice.
Bilbo opened his mouth to berate the wizard on his unseemly attitude in the wake of Thorin's death, but immediately shut it again, studying the wizard.
Although the aftermath of the battle was obvious in the tired lines on his face, Gandalf's eyes sparkled in good humour, seeming lighter than they had in days.
"What's happened?" Bilbo asked. After all, what he lacked in physical skill, he more than made up for in matters of the mind.
"I thought perhaps a nice cup of tea would steady your nerves before I told you, but I suppose there is no reason why I cannot inform you now."
Bilbo supposed Gandalf's words were meant to be reassuring, but instead he found himself tensing with foreboding. "Inform me of what?"
Gandalf's face broke into a wide grin then. "Thorin lives."
Bilbo could only stare uncomprehendingly at the wizard, certain his mouth was agape. "I'm sorry?"
Gandalf chucked. "Thorin lives, Bilbo. The King was revived and the healers are sure he will make a full recovery."
Something dangerously close to hope flared in the hobbit's chest before it suddenly overcame him and without warning, tears were streaming down his face in never ending rivers.
"My dear boy, I thought you would be happy with this news?"
Bilbo's smile was blinding. "Oh Gandalf! I am! I am!" And in the next instant, the wizard had an armful of overjoyed hobbit.
O-O-O-O-O
Bilbo later found out that he had been unconscious for the most part of three days due to a fever. Gandalf also informed him that the rest of the Company were awake and healing from the various injuries they had each received. It turned out that Thorin, Fíli and Kíli had sustained the worst; the young princes still unconscious, as was their uncle, but on the slow road to recovery.
Bilbo felt a bit guilty that he hadn't gone to see the brothers before he had succumbed to his own wounds, but his joy at finding out they were alive soon overcame those feelings.
"May I see them?" Bilbo asked Gandalf once they had drained their cups of tea.
"I don't see why it will be a problem. No doubt you will want to see the King as well."
Bilbo hesitated before answering, nervously wringing his hands together. He did want to see Thorin, more than anything, but the memory of Thorin's goodbye was still painfully fresh in Bilbo's mind. "Yes." He said finally. "Of course."
After taking a moment to freshen up and wash his face, mindful of the bandage around his head, Bilbo and Gandalf left the tent and made their way towards the one where Fíli and Kíli had been moved after Thorin's almost death.
The tent was not empty when they entered and Bilbo smiled when he saw Bofur whittling away in the far corner.
"Bilbo!" The toymaker cried with a wide grin when he spotted them. "How are you? I heard that the fever had quite the hold over you for a while."
Bilbo was touched by the dwarf's concern. "I am much better now, thank you Bofur. And how did you fare in the Battle?"
The toymaker waved a dismissive hand. "Nothing but a few cuts and bruises. It will take more than an army of orc's to truly injure me."
Bilbo tried to laugh at that, but it was weak and came out sounding more like a wheeze.
Gandalf's chuckle also seemed quite strained before he addressed Bofur. "Come now, Master Dwarf. Let us leave our burglar to see the young princes in peace."
They left soon after and Bilbo finally looked upon the sleeping forms before him.
It was odd and entirely unnerving to see the usually boisterous duo so silent and still, but as he gazed upon their pale faces, he was just purely grateful that they had lived. The thought, the very idea of never hearing them joke, or playing tricks again was inconceivable, and entirely too painful to dwell over.
Bilbo spent a good long while just sitting on the stool placed between the two prince's cots, alternating between washing their fevered brows and humming a tune well known in the Shire.
It was almost nightfall when the hobbit emerged from the prince's tent and he wasn't surprised when he saw Gandalf waiting for him.
Before the hobbit could voice his need and want to see Thorin, which after spending the afternoon with the King's nephews had grown unbearably, Gandalf was herding Bilbo towards a hot meal and a look that said he wasn't to be argued with.
His stomach full, Bilbo finally walked up to Thorin's tent a little while later.
Dwalin was standing outside exactly as he had been those few days earlier, but instead of going straight inside, Bilbo hesitated.
"Is he-is-is he…alright?" The hobbit knew that it sounded like a silly question, but Dwalin thankfully didn't point that out.
"Go and see him, Bilbo. Thorin would like knowing that you're by his side."
Bilbo fought to keep the shock of his face at the usually gruff dwarf's statement, but only nodded in greater confusion before walking into the tent.
What exactly had Dwalin meant by that?
All thoughts fled from Bilbo's mind then at the sight of Thorin lying so pale on the cot.
He almost looks dead. Bilbo couldn't help but think, swallowing thickly before moving to stand beside the King.
Perhaps Bilbo should have been wary of Thorin after the incident at the Gate, but the hobbit knew that the King hadn't been in his right mind, too overcome with the Gold Sickness to see sense. But if Thorin's last words were any indication, the King had finally broken free from the illness that had invaded his mind.
Bilbo prayed with everything he had that the same could be said for when Thorin finally awoke.
Clutching at the King's cool hand, Bilbo sighed, feeling the tears pricking behind his eyes.
"Don't ever do that again." He murmured, his voice suddenly choked with emotion. "Don't you dare leave me. Do you hear me, Thorin Oakenshield? You will never die again!"
Of course there was no indication that the King had heard his words, he remained utterly still and pale. Bilbo bowed his head, his forehead pressing lightly against the skin of Thorin's arm.
The sudden need to tell Thorin that he loved him was on the tip of Bilbo's tongue, but he didn't utter those words, couldn't. Not yet.
Instead, the hobbit lifted his head and gazed at the sleeping King, inhaling deeply.
"Wake soon, Thorin. I-we wish to see you well." Bilbo took one last look at the King and unable to stop himself, pressed a kiss to his brow before leaving.
To be continued...
