I really apologize for leaving you hanging for so long. I've been both anxiously waiting for my Year 2 exam results and desperately looking for a summer job here in Brittany (which is literally impossible to find unless you've got farming/industry qualifications, which I don't :p) I haven't had much free time or motivation. Hopefully now that I actually have something in addition to working at this edition's Festival Interceltique, updates might be a little more frequent :)

Also: having never actually seen anyone fall into a comatose state, I can only base my writing on research. I have found that you can lose weight while in a coma (how much, I'm not sure though), so I hope I haven't gone and written something totally false. If it's the case, I apologize, the fault is all mine! :)

Oin's orders confining him to his bed, while he'd accepted then at the start knowing he had to allow his body time to heal and mend itself, had become incredibly hard to abide to by now. How many weeks he'd wasted laying here, Thorin wasn't really sure anymore as Bilbo had told him it would be best if he gave up on counting them (it would apparently only push his recovery back longer, so he said), and the Hobbit had become his daily dose of good company, a small opening to whatever was going on outside the bedroom door and almost the only person with whom he did not have to endure the long-suffering titles and addressed of "my liege" or "my lord".

The Company (may Mahal bless them), had also managed to drop in sporadically, Ori often giving him short updates on the restoration of the Grand Library and more in-depth ones when it came to the work he was personally seeing to –the recording of their feat, from their gathering in the Blue Mountains right up to the rebuilding of Erebor, all of which he was ensuring was as faithful to the events as possible, bad deeds and all included, and Dwalin letting him in on the arriving dwarven settlements and the repairs that were being undergone to the Grand Hall and other places Smaug had let fall into decay while he had claimed the Mountain for himself.

It had done his heart good to see they all seemed to have managed their individual recoveries and had set to making the Mountain a hospitable place once again without his supervision, even if he had to admit that he had sorely missed Kili and Fili's presence during those three weeks. Of course Thorin had asked Bilbo how they fared on numerous occasions, and to his chagrin, the same answer had always been what the Hobbit would give him –that Kili had yet to send a letter (but surely would as soon as he got the chance) and that Fili, while no longer in a critical condition, had yet to show any sign of improvement in his recovery. All those facts combined had probably been what had pushed him to try and restore his health as quickly as possible, and while he may not yet have regained the strength he once had, Thorin was immensely grateful when at long last his bed was something he could leave behind for a few hours.

"Do you think you'd be up for one of Dain's councils?" Bilbo asked, as he set the tray he'd gotten from Bombur down on the bed, the bed dipping slightly as he half-sat on the edge, picking up one of the golden pieces of toasts and nibbling the edges slightly, humming in approval when the salty butter hit his mouth. There truly was nothing better to start off a busy day with, it would seem. "I will warn you though, he makes a mountain out of nothing whenever he can." He added light-heartedly, the half-eaten slice of bread bouncing up and down as he waved his hand around dramatically, Thorin had to understand that Bilbo had never encountered such a stubborn specimen, and as a matter of fact, the Hobbit could almost safely state that the new King under the Mountain was a pale comparison when it came to his cousin, which was saying something.

Not wanting to seem overly eager when all he wished for was a meager chance to finally get escape the bedroom, Thorin nodded at first, and while Dis had always been one to remind him and Frerin the importance of good manners, he thought he could let her long-suffering lessons go out the window if it was insurance that he'd be up walking sooner, and, around a mouthful of bread, he tried to word his enthusiasm as eloquently as possible (which was to say, it wasn't really, but it made Bilbo smile, and Thorin thought he could be content with that). "If it means I can get out of here, I'd be ready to do anything Bilbo!"

"Great! I think I'd be glad for the company." The Hobbit grinned, gave his hair a slight ruffle as he stood back up (and maybe Thorin appreciated the lingering contact, but he wouldn't say it out loud), before heading towards the door, half-way into the corridor already when he turned back. "I'll wait for you here? Give you time to, well, you know…" And awkwardly gestured to whatever clothes lay at the end of the bed, knowing full well that Thorin could not afford to present himself in front of his esteemed cousin in whatever it was Oin had found for him for the past three weeks, and he guessed he would rather prefer to get dressed by himself, now that he was able for it. "Just don't think of leaving without me." He added with a wink before closing the door quietly, leaving him once again by himself.

Slipping on a tunic was something mundane, something he'd gotten used to over the past one hundred and ninety-five years of his life, and Thorin hadn't realized how badly he'd missed the small ounce of satisfaction he got when he eventually closed the last button, now knowing he'd managed to get back that meager mobility. It wasn't so much the act in itself, for it could probably have been securing a sword over his back or buckling the strap of Pepper's saddle and Thorin would have found the same amount of gratification out of it, it was the simple fact that he could now do something by himself that made all the difference.

Hastily throwing on whatever else Bilbo had given him, he slowly eased himself upwards until he was sure he wouldn't just topple back down again, and after a moment of hesitation but once again settling on the fact that he didn't think he'd be able to bear another hour lying down, Thorin slowly eased himself up, clinging to the wall so as to make sure he wouldn't fall. It was strange at first, regaining a perspective he'd barely lost for three weeks, and yet the sight of everything from his bed had become so normal that it was a little disorientating for a few moments. But eventually, as Balin would say, the world always found a way to right itself, and even if it as just soaring him a short moment of nausea, when his eyes stopped seeing a tilted chair about to topple over or a crocked window, Thorin judged it was probably safe enough to dare take a step forward.

Reaching the door a little unsteadily and not even realizing grasping the handle was probably his only link to stability, Thorin allowed himself a few moments to catch his breath and feel a small amount of satisfaction that he'd been able to take a few (maybe wobbly, but nobody was there to see him so why did it matter?) stable steps forward, a definite indicator that Oin would no longer be able to restrict him to bed on a whim anymore.

However when he opened the door and peered down the hallway, he was surprised to find that it was empty. Bilbo was nowhere in sight.

Immediately chastising himself for the small pang of loss he felt at realizing Bilbo had not waited for him and instead, feeling slightly guilty at the fact that he must be delaying him, Thorin, fueled only by worry he might be delaying the Hobbit –for he had yet to learn that while he was on the road to recovery, his body still had it's limits-, hurried down the maze of corridors making up the royal palace as quickly as his body would allow him to (and while he would not admit it, he might have taken a wrong turn once or twice –maybe Gloin could see to finding him a map of some sort, or at least do something so as to make Erebor a place he was less likely to get lost in) and by the time he'd reached what he assumed was the being used as a council chamber judging by the tapestries and rune remains that adorned the door he was quite relieved he'd have a moment to catch his breath.

Peering inside rather quickly, he was relieved to find that only Bilbo seemed to have arrived for now, their other guests probably still breaking their fast in the Great Hall, and the small privacy he was being granted did not go unnoticed by him, he rather appreciated it, whether the Hobbit had been the one behind the empty chamber or not. Thorin would be the first one to admit that he wasn't one to express his happiness often, but this time, the smile came to his face unbidden, and it stayed there until he plumped down into the seat next to Bilbo, the younger already offering him a half-filled plate.

Giving him a quick "thank you" (because Bilbo didn't have to do this for him, but he had, and Throin was grateful for it and not about to let his appreciation go unnoticed), he pulled the steel dish over to himself, already eager to finally get a bite into some real food after three weeks of nothing much only to stop abruptly when he looked down. What in Mahal's name was… Whatever that was?

Well, there was more on this little plate than what had made up his whole meals over the past several months during their quest, but the question wasn't really about the quantity, it was more along the line of "What exactly is this?"

He hadn't realized he'd asked his the question out loud until he noticed Bilbo's sharp glance towards him, and the unspoken hurt he could read in the young featured made Thorin internally wince. He knew he could sometimes (rather often) be too callous when he spoke, but he had not meant this to hurt Bilbo, it really was coming from him being genuinely curious.

"You don't like it?"

Good job Thorin, you're definitely not helping things right now. For the first time, the newly appointed King under the Mountain wished that he were slightly better versed in the art of engaging in conversations, namely being able to be less callous with his words and think what he was about to say –consequences included- before actually saying them out would certainly avoid him offending a lot of people he had no qualms with.

"No! No… I just… I've never really seen anything like this?"

"Oh! Well we'll have to remedy to that, won't we?" The initial disappointment that had colored the Hobbit's previous words seemed to have all but vanished, and the flood of relief Thorin felt as Bilbo seemed to forget his gloom and wide grin spread on his face as he delved into a tale of how, for every new year, Hobbits would gather around a dish of fine rabbit and spiced mushrooms, adding that maybe they could try it themselves when the occasion came around, arguing that a rich meal of such would probably do him no good at the moment, which was why he'd settled for the lemon seed cakes instead.

It wasn't exactly what he was used to, but Thorin could gather Bilbo had put a lot of effort into piecing the dish together if the multiple cakes set aside the broth and whatever was in the mug at the left were to go by, and it really wasn't his place to judge or refuse it.

Besides, he found that he quite enjoyed the cakes, letting Bilbo know if he could give Bombur the makings, he'd definitely be asking the cook for more (though only if Bombur wished to cook them, that was, he wasn't going to force him for it would be unwise to abuse of his powers as king when the shame and guilt of the terrible things he'd both said and done towards those he'd come to see as closest friends still clung to him. And the only way Thorin could ever be rid of the guilt was if the Company wished to redeem him, it was up to them and not him to make that decision, thus he could not –and nor would he, for that matter- force his presence upon them).

Trying to hide his discomfort to the Hobbit, he eventually managed to swallow the cake and prayed to Mahal that he would not have to go through the ordeal of concealing how much he disliked it once again. However, Fortune had never really been on his side (if his life of loss and hardships was any indication) and as soon as the Hobbit glanced at his empty hands and the trace of crumb littering the tray, he immediately picked a second one up and handed it over to him with a slight admonishment.

"You should have said you'd finished! I would have given you another one of these right away! Don't think I'd let you starve, would you?" And he gave a nervous chuckle at that, gesturing to his less-than-healthy looking body. "If you're hoping to get up and about, you really need to put a little more weight onto those bones."

Bones?

Granted, Thorin hadn't had the luxury of being able to catch a glimpse of himself in a mirror yet (and there was none in the throne room, so he could not confirm whether Bilbo was entirely true or not on the spot), but looking down to where the Hobbit had pointed, he could see the bones of his left wrist bulging out, which was definitely not how he remembered his body looking last time he'd checked. And the sight of it had a lump of dread dropping deep down in his stomach at the mere thought of what else his shirt must be concealing to both him and the world.

How was he ever going to embody the proper image of a king if his appearance was closer to that of their woodland allies (Thorin was still rather hesitant to call them friends as of yet, and would not do so until the whole fallout of this sordid battle would be dealt with) than his dwarven counterparts? Dain was sure to make it a laughing matter to alleviate the problem, for such was the nature of his cousin, but the other nobles? What would they say once they too reached the Mountain? What if they were to decide upon their arrival that he was not fit to rule their kin after all, heir to Durin's line of not?

Anxiously now, he cast a flickering glance towards the door, and the initial relief he'd experienced at the fact that he was now able to get up and around again crumbled to dust as Thorin began picturing the wide stares and raised eyebrows he would undoubtedly provoke when he would make his first official appearance in front of the vast populace of dwarves that had eventually made it to the Mountain after word had been sent out that it was now a safe place for them to come to.

He could still remember, when he and Frerin had been naught but young dwarves in their prime (before duty and responsibility had ruled his life and the slaughter of Azanulbizar had opened his eyes to the heartlessness of it all), when the Crown and duties that came along with it, while something he was made aware of daily, still seemed to be naught but a strange ad faraway concept, something he could not yet grasp the true weight of, and now that the duty was to be thrust upon his shoulders as soon as he set foot in front of the gathering of dwarves. It was as if the huge reality of his burden had just come crashing down on him once again, and all of a sudden, Thorin wasn't too sure if he actually could lead all of those dwarves at all anymore.

"Don't go fretting now, Thorin." Bilbo said lightly, putting a welcomed supportive hand on his shoulder, "With a little patience and time, everything will be fine again. One you're up and healthy again, I'll be giving you back your place in the Council and everything will be as it should, just… Well just don't rush things, we've got all the time we need."

Of course, he thought, of course Bilbo was right. There was no crisis to deal with anymore: Azog was dead, the last of the orcs had been dealt with and from what he could gather, the Hobbit was doing a fine job at ruling in his stead with Balin and the Company's help, and Throin felt guilty at the fact that he'd once again doubted his comrades' ability to deal with the fallout of the battle and the reconstruction of Erebor without him.

Maybe, for once, he just needed to calm down a little and stop trying to micromanage everything –a damn lot of good that had done him in the past. If anything, his past mistakes had taught him that maybe letting go of his responsibilities a little and letting others who could deal with them manage in his absence wasn't a bad thing, and perhaps now was the time to actively change. If not for himself, for Bilbo at least, the Hobbit deserved it after everything he'd done to help him.

"Well, now that that's settled, maybe you should try walking again? After all, you can't stay cooped up in bed to live out the rest of your days, and I think I'd actually like a little company in the Council room."

"Are you sure? Oin said-"

"Oh let's forget the orders just this once! I, for one, would like to have you with me in there, it can get quite lonesome sometimes, I have to admit. Isn't that enough motivation for you to want to come too?"

Whatever he'd planned on replying, it never made it past his lips as Thorin felt his throat clog up as a wave of guilt washed over him at the thought that he had been turning down one of Bilbo's ideas, something he wanted to do. Surely, after all this time, the Hobbit had not waited patiently for him to wake up only to be cooped up in his bedroom with him after his return to consciousness, and Thorin owed him at least that for staying with him all this time.

"Well, I guess that if you want to, there can't be too much harm in trying." He eventually conceded, pushing the (suddenly very comfy) chair back and accepting Bilbo's outstretched hand as a help to get himself up. The feeling of being upright once again after having been confined to a lying or sitting position for so long felt slightly foreign at first, and Thorin had to admit that he was glad for the anchor the Hobbit's arm provided him (for he probably would have lost his balance and ended up yet again on the bed if it weren't for him). The first few steps were slightly wobbly, but when Bilbo saw he could approximately manage to take a few steps without the looming threat of falling face first to the ground,

he let him go, judging that Thorin would probably be able to find his footing by himself and join him at the other end of the room (it was only a short distance to the door, surely he could do that at least), but instead of waiting for him outside like he had initially settled to do, he eventually opted to stay in the room, ready to lend a hand if ever the need arose. After all, Oin had barely finished his job, it was rather needless to waste the surgeon's time healing a re-opened wound caused by eagerness.

Of course, eagerness itself and will could only do so much, and he'd barely gotten to his feet when Bilbo came rushing back and the Hafling's shoulder became the only thing supporting him and preventing his body from falling to the floor in a heap. Panting and clutching the other's shoulder probably a little harder than he should, it was then that it truly hit him just how real his situation was and how true Oin's skepticism at letting him walk right away came from. Thorin couldn't feel much of his body, the small step he took feeling feather-light to that of what he remembered from the last time he'd taken one, and the poking-out bone on the wrist with which he was desperate hanging on to the Hobbit's shirt was all he needed to know for the morbid picture of what exactly his shirt must be concealing to form in his mind's eye. He wanted to deny it, to believe that this was all some hallucination his mind was conjuring up and that when he truly woke up, everything would be fine, but Thorin knew better than to take refuge in alluring-looking lies and false truths pretending to make everything easier –whatever time out cold (two? Three weeks? Was that what Bilbo had said?) had obviously severely weakened him, and with the adrenaline rush he'd felt earlier at the thought of making Bilbo wait now long gone, there wasn't anything keeping him upright other than Mister Baggins' shoulder.

"Come on Thorin." Bilbo managed to grind out (a remarkable Hobbit he might be, but by no means had this little adventure of his enabled him to suddenly bear the brunt weight of a rather heavy dwarf) as they made it to the door, stopping for a moment so the two could catch their breath before attempting the long corridor. "You can't tell me three weeks being bedridden have made your body tired, you've had all the time in the world to catch up on missed sleep!" Maybe it wasn't the best thing to do, to make a joke out of their situation, but he'd rather that than have Oin come in and give the two of them a morose diagnosis (and probably some form of reprimand too), and besides, if Thorin had made it out of the bed and all the way into another room, he could surely take at least a few steps forward, Bilbo had yet to meet a dwarf more stubborn than the King (even if he had to admit that Dain could sometimes come quite close to his cousin).

Instead of taking offense, Thorin chose to see it as an encouragement, that Bilbo turning his glum state into a laughing matter was supposed to help. It might not have been what he would have said had their positions been reversed, but maybe it was the Hobbit's way of showing he cared and why exactly he should be trying a little harder to regain his mobility, because, if anything, remaining confined in his bed was definitely going to have him miss out on time with Mister Baggins, something Thorin was set on ensuring wouldn't happen, the small breakfast the two had just indulged in in a proper setting was definitely motivation enough. Besides, didn't he still need to make up for how badly he had treated him before deciding going out to battle would be a good idea anyway? And if this made Bilbo happy, well he thought he might as well go with it, especially given the fact that with his support, they had already made it out of the council chamber and Bilbo's incessant chatter on how he wished he'd have brought his very own collection of books from Bag End with him and how he missed his pantry was a welcome distraction of the dull ache in his side. Trying to engage with him even though he knew very little of the customs of the Shire (to which Bilbo quipped that it just wouldn't do and he would take it upon himself to personally verse him in the ways of his home), Thorin welcomed the distraction, giving a rather un-kingly snort at the mention of a certain Lobelia Sackville and how she had a nasty habit of trying to make away with Bilbo's pumpkins when she thought he couldn't see her.

"Twice in a day, I tell you! It's a good thing I have sharp ears, or she very well would have taken them! My prized pumpkins!" And maybe Bilbo's delivery of the whole ordeal was slightly over-dramatic, but the light-heartedness of it all, and the fact that Thorin found himself indulging in the slight respite of worries and crown duties was more than welcome, and when Bilbo confided that he would eventually manage to tell him all about the nasty episodes the poor soul had been through with his unsavory neighbor, he couldn't help but laugh and appreciate the fact that Mister Baggins was willing to share his private history with him. Divulging such personal memories was not exactly common among the dwarven folk, and the Hobbit's eagerness to share what there was to know about him so quickly was a testament to his trust in him. A trust Thorin knew he still had to earn and respect, for while Bilbo's carefree persona and exuberant face were (at least he hoped) a testimony of his enjoyment of being here in Erebor with him, deep down he knew he did not deserve such a forgiving partner to live out his days with, and that the actions he had taken while entrapped deep within the claws of what Balin referred to as "Dragon Sickness" still needed to be answered for and mended if that bridge of faith between him and the Hobbit were to ever be rebuilt.