A/N: This whole chapter is all from Bilbo's fevered-clouded point of view, so enjoy! (Bit lacking, I know but I'm trying to add a little more as I try to think what'll happen next XD) Just a warning, if you're a little squeamish, be careful when reading this.

Pain. That was all Bilbo Baggins was aware of. A searing, hot, pain that wrapped around his bones and set his body ablaze.

What had happened?

Why did everything hurt?

When was he hurt?

Who hurt him?

He thrashed around, trying to throw off the things that were holding him onto the floor and letting out a wail of pain and fear and frustration. He tossed his head back, willing the pain to go away as it flared through his veins like poison and he screamed, louder than he had ever done before as his back left the ground.

He couldn't take it.

It was too much.

Why did it hurt?!

A large, warm hands were placed on his flaming forehead as tears rained down his cheeks.

"Please" he had no idea he had started speaking until the words scraped at his throat like a dozen knives as he shivered "Ple-ase stop"

Whatever was hurting him was removed but the agony still lingered through his body, he whimpered. He gave a small, not even there; tug at his restraints testing them for any weakness when he knew there would be none. Somehow, he managed to open his eyes but they refused to focus on anything

"It'll all be over soon, lad" a calm, gentle voice whispered. It sounded so far away but Bilbo actually believed it.

Then he saw the needle.

And he knew things were going to get much, much worse.

He started to struggle, trying to back away and hide. He knew the attempt was futile to his lack of strength and hands holding him down to the floor.

This couldn't be happening.

This could not be happening.

Bilbo whined when the thin metal was heated over a flame and he knew his body had seized up in terror. The hand was back again, pushing his head down and onto something soft and stroking his brow.

Who was doing that?

It could not have been the touch of a dwarf. Dwarves were hard, brutal beings and this touch was gentle, almost like his mothers. He snapped out of his reverie when whoever was holding the needle moved closer. Who was that? His name was on the tip of his swollen tongue…

Boin?

Doin?

Oin?

Oin!

Oin, you betrayer! How could you?!

He may have been sick, but it didn't mean he couldn't have been as angry as Thorin. He breathed out heavily through his nose and his mouth was prised open, something firm and long being placed into his mouth and his jaw instinctively bit onto it

"Bite that, Bilbo" Oin whispered "Cover his eyes"

What? Cover my eyes? What for? Why do my eyes need to be covered?!

A cold hand was placed on his bare stomach.

When had his shirt been removed?

A gloved hand was placed over his blurry eyes; cutting off his limited vision and making him panic even more as he strained to see what was going to happen.

Where was the needle going to go?

Where exactly was he hurt?

Wh-

All he could see was white.

He aware of something screaming in his ears through the brandishing pain that washed over him 10 times worse than before.

Oh.

It was him who was screaming.

But it wasn't a loud scream. No. It was muffled by the strap in his mouth. It made breathing hard and screaming even more so. He felt something hot and metal force its way into his skin and then back out.

It was excruciating.

He jerked his head from side to side as he chomped harder on the object in his mouth and the hand slipped from his eyes, only slightly.

Through the wetness in his eyes he finally saw who the one was holding him by the head.

It was Thorin.

That wasn't right.

Thorin couldn't have been doing that.

He wouldn't have been doing that.

He shouldn't be doing that.

Bilbo must have been dead but the agony was all too real. Thorin was holding him. Not fully of course. But he cared. He did didn't he?

He wouldn't be doing what he was if he didn't, right?

But why did he care?

He had treated Bilbo with such ferocity for the past few months of this damned journey. Was he only helping because his burglar was hurt?

You had better not gotten yourself injured, Halfling. You're no good to us dead.

Maybe he didn't care

But his touch was so gentle.

He just wants you better as soon as possible so he can go back to shouting at you as soon as possible

But he is holding me with such kindness

He doesn't actually care for you

Then why does he look so concerned?

And why was everything going dar-

And a quick chapter that was! Sorry :/ I just really wanted Bilbo's POV in there and how his mind would contemplate what was happening. This whole chapter probably seems really muddled but that's kinda what I was aiming for. Bilbo is really, really ill right now and he doesn't really know how to carry a train of thought and thinking on the whole. He's confused and disorientated and jumping to conclusions every now and then and having a battle with himself as he tries to make sense of it all.

Anyway, please Review, (constructive NOT destructive or telling how much you don't like it, please) they keep chapters coming!