"I could put it off..." Thorin suggested forlornly, eyeing the door that stood as the only barrier between him and the duties he had that day, as if it had personally offended him.
Bilbo smiled benignly, shaking his head with a chuckle. "Duty calls, your majesty. The people will not be patient for your sake." He reached up, tugging gently on one of the braids framing Thorin's face, before attempting to kiss away the dour expression he bore. "Go, I'll be fine. I plan to visit some of the others, and I will be here when you get back." Seeing doubt, and the smallest flicker of long held fears, he squeezed Thorin's hands reassuringly. "I promise."
At last Thorin sighed, turning for the door, something in Bilbo's earnest gaze managing to resolve his worries. They had returned to the room after breakfast with the company, only so Thorin could change into more formal attire and reluctantly prepare for the day. Despite the presence of his beloved, he could already feel his mood souring at the thought of hours of meetings and paperwork. The meetings were deadly dull, and unfortunately unavoidable. Perhaps he could skip some of the paperwork, he mused. He might foist some of it off on his idle nephews, they needed the work. Grinning at the picture this conjured, two young heads bent over a desk, he was a little more uplifted. The memory of Bilbo's lips on his didn't hurt either, and he carried the feeling with him down the hall, unaware of the silly quirk to his lips that left those to spot it with knowing smiles.
Bilbo left the room not long after, feeling eager to see more of the mountain, and to spend quality time with the company that he had missed for so long. He had been besieged with questions at breakfast, and being surrounded once more by the merry energy of his friends was a balm to his loneliness. Strolling down the halls, he contemplated who he might see first. He knew some of the company were at jobs of their own, and could not be interrupted, but Ori had mentioned working at the library, and that he would not mind company in the slightest. It had been an obvious hint, and Bilbo smiled in anticipation of the heady smell of old books and quiet conversation with his soft-spoken friend.
After a couple wrong turns, and the advice of some of the dwarves that were in the halls, Bilbo at last found his destination. He was quick to slip inside, shoulders dropping in relief to be out of sight of the crowds. He had been the object of many curious stares, from anyone who had yet to hear the news of a hobbit in the mountain. It was rather unnerving, and he relished the opportunity to escape the intense scrutiny of so many judging eyes.
Ori spotted him almost right away, waving him over from where he was seated behind a towering stack of scrolls and tattered books. "There's always more to do," he explained as the hobbit joined him on the bench. "These need refurbishing, and there's not many that are willing or skilled enough to take on the task, never mind that it is important history that ought to be remembered." The dwarf scowled lightly, his long-suffering tone one of a lecture that had likely been repeated many times to deaf ears.
"I'd be glad to help, though I know little of your writings," Bilbo offered, glancing over the nearest text with a scholars interest. He picked it up, blowing off the dust, only to let out several rapid-fire sneezes while he hurriedly placed the old parchment out of harms range. "Whoops, bit of dust there," he remarked wryly as he recovered. His nose had begun to clog, a fact he attributed to the general atmosphere of the room, and he gave it not a second thought.
"Perhaps we had better leave off for now," Ori suggested uncertainly, getting to his feet. "I could use a break anyhow, I've been at these particular scrolls for days."
Bilbo shrugged, deciding it might be a good idea after all. "Alright then, did you have anything in mind?" He trotted after the longer legged dwarf, until Ori noticed and considerately slowed his pace.
"We can visit the kitchens," Ori informed him with an almost dreamy expression. "Bombur likes the visitors, it gives him people to taste test his inventions before they go to table." Seeing Bilbo's more dubious look, Ori laughed. "Don't worry, it's more a formality than anything, he's never turned out anything inedible yet."
Sure enough, the rotund dwarf waved them to a table with a smile as he hurried about before the ovens in his domain. The two were treated to a feast of magnificent proportions, as numerous dishes were sampled one after another. Bilbo, who was a rather good chef in his own right, and very much enjoyed food even on the worst of days, had only praise for his friend. "These are fantastic!" he exclaimed around a mouthful of some sort of cheesy concoction. This he chased with a shot of ale, followed swiftly by some meaty tarts that oozed gravy, to his intense delight.
"Here, try these next," Bombur offered, pushing a dessert crumble under his nose. Bilbo took an appreciative sniff, prepared to dig right in, only for his stomach to take that moment to give a roll of protest. The hobbit frowned in apology, swallowing down sudden unease. "You know, this smells wonderful, but I don't think I could eat another bite."
The two fell silent in shock. "A hobbit, not hungry?" Bombur joked, thinking Bilbo was just teasing them.
"Yes, it is odd," Bilbo replied almost absently, tiny wrinkles appearing at the corners of his eyes and mouth as his look of discomfort increased. "Is it just me, or is it quite hot in here?" he inquired of his friends, and they noticed then the rising flush on his cheeks. Even Bombur, who had been in front of the ovens all morning, was not so affected, and the two dwarves exchanged alarmed glances.
"Are you feeling alright?" Ori asked worriedly, reaching out to place a palm on the hobbits neck. He retracted it almost instantly as if he had been scalded. "Mahal, Bilbo you're burning up. We need to get you to Oin, that can't be normal!"
Bilbo snorted, still in denial. "Nonsense, it's just hot in here. I need a little air, that's all. I'll take a walk out to the balcony, come on. See you later Bombur, and thank you for the food, it was delightful." Striding out the door with a genial wave, he left behind an anxiously floundering Bombur as Ori raced to catch up with him.
They made it to the balcony rather quickly, as it was one of the only places Bilbo remembered, and the hobbit sighed in relief to feel cool air wafting across his burning cheeks. He began to feel better right away, and leaned happily against the wall. Ori wrung his hands nearby, wondering how to politely suggest that the hobbit was not at all well, his concern not to offend his friend warring with that of the rising flush on Bilbo's pale skin. He could not understand how he hadn't seen it when first they met that morning, but perhaps it had been the dim light that hid the evidence. It was obvious enough now. He had just opened his mouth to beg Bilbo to come inside when the hobbit turned to him, swaying slightly.
"That was quite nice, I think I'm ready to go back in now."
"Maybe you could take a nap?" Ori suggested timidly, shrinking a little when Bilbo raised an indignant brow. "The trip cannot have been easy, getting here," he clarified.
"It wasn't so bad," Bilbo argued. "No trolls or goblins this time round." He headed for the door leading inside, cursing when he stumbled over his feet. "Perhaps you're right though," he conceded. "After all, I'm not as young as I was last time. A nap might make all the difference." So saying, he wandered off in the direction of his and Thorin's room, unaware of Ori following closely as his mind began to wander in exhaustion. By the time he reached the bed he was too tired to even undress, and Ori had been supporting him by the arm for a good bit. He didn't know how it had come on so fast, but now he was ready to sleep, and he fell gratefully under the covers. Ori left quietly after settling him, already headed for aid as Bilbo's fever rose.
When Thorin got back to his room after a hard day it was to find a madhouse. Nearly all the company was there, shuffling around in various states of agitation, and Thorin was just about to roar at them to get out when he noticed Bilbo sleeping. He was immediately on the alert. Bilbo had been fresh as a daisy that morning, there was no way he should have felt the need to go to bed so soon.
"What's going on?" he barked authoritatively, gaining the attention of all but the nearly deaf Oin, who was still rummaging through some things at a nearby table.
"Our hobbit appears to be ill," Balin informed him with a frown, the elder dwarf appearing to brace himself for Thorin's inevitable blow up. To the surprise of the others, Thorin ignored them once he had gotten his information, hurrying to Bilbo's side to check for himself. He brushed a hand over Bilbo's cheek, smoothing sweaty curls off his face and wincing at the temperature of the hobbits skin.
"He was fine this morning," he muttered to himself. "Surely I would have noticed..."
Behind him he heard Ori making some sort of apology. "I should have seen it, he must have been sick already when he came to see me, but I kept him out of bed all morning," the scribe wailed, guilt washing over him. Thorin didn't bother to acknowledge this, as Ori's brothers were already attempting to assuage his concerns.
"How could this happen?" he asked no one in particular, not even expecting a response.
"If you'll recall, I got sick the last time I came through lake town as well," a hoarse voice said dryly from the depths of the covers.
"Bilbo!" the others exclaimed, crowding around to watch as one green eye cracked open to gaze up at them in exasperation.
"You should be asleep," Thorin chided gently.
"Because that's so easy when there are a pack of dwarves in the room wailing as if they were at a funeral," the hobbit sniped back, earning several looks of guilt. "I'm not dead yet, so you can just relax," he admonished them grumpily.
"Don't even say that," Thorin pleaded, promptly grabbing Bilbo closer as if to ward off the death he had so casually mentioned.
"You should all go, I don't want you getting sick too," Bilbo encouraged, though he was muffled from his face being pressed against Thorin's shirt.
"Then they had best bring extra blankets, because I am not leaving your side," Thorin announced firmly.
Bilbo soon got better, and Thorin managed to avoid getting sick at all, but it was clear something had changed, and the hobbit wasn't sure he liked it. The dwarves hovered more than ever, making sure he always had food, or an extra jacket, and asking all sorts of prying questions about his general health. He even found himself sneaking off at times, finding small places to hide and be by himself, just to escape the interrogations. He had been alone for so long, that having people care felt smothering instead of bringing the comfort that it ought. Yet Bilbo was stuck. He was a hobbit, and his people would no more tell others to sod off than they could fly. It just wasn't done.
His rescue came in an unexpected form, and gave him a new friend to boot. The Lady Dis was a formidable presence, all clothed in furs and leaving grown men trembling when they fell under her ire. It was she that noticed the way the hobbit would frown almost imperceptibly at times, and begin to fidget with his pockets, as if he might turn inside out and climb in one to get away from the overbearing ways of his friends. One roaring tirade from here sent them packing, and he was grateful to note that they settled down quite a bit from then on. He had invited her into his room for tea in thanks, beginning a tradition that would last them many years.
Author's note: Hurrah for Dis being her awesome self! This chapter was a bit lighter, but the next is going to be rather angsty again, as more of the past gets dragged up. At the risk of offering spoilers, Bilbo and Thorin were not the only ones to suffer from this loss, and a conversation will take place between some of them that brings to light a few things that had been kept secret.