Seeing Bilbo fall paralyzed Thorin.
Seeing the memory of his grandfather was even worse.
The lifeless body of Thrór still haunted Thorin every single night, falling without any effort into the dirt and the blood of his own kin. Beheaded, bereaved from his dignity, not even given a chance to look back and search for his son, for his grandson. He fell, and his head rolled, stopping right in front of Thorin, not yet Oakenshield. Tears of anger, sorrow and grief choked the prince, his throat too tight for words but burning for a scream. And he let it out, let his soul crack, let his mind darken.
Azog took Thrór's head on that day, and Thorin took his arm in return. The desire for vengeance, however, did not remit, and the dwarf thought it never would.
To see the hobbit losing his balance and giving himself over to fate in the same fashion, eyes closed and arms stretched out like he was about to fly away, turned Thorin's stomach. He wished the hobbit could fly, that he could soar on the sky like a bird and never fall, but it was impossible. Bilbo never ceased to amaze and surprise the dwarf king, but this time Thorin knew that he asked for too much.
He never quite noticed the fast blur gliding beside him. It moved so quickly, with such swiftness that Thorin only saw how it arrived to the edge of the piton just in time to catch the hobbit's vest. Everything happened in slow motion for the dwarf king, and he could hear nothing save his heartbeat. At first, he didn't feel panic, he just stood and stared. He felt fear in the pit of his stomach, spreading around his body gradually. The panic came once he realised the figure that saved his hobbit was Dwalin, and he was yelling for Thorin to come and aid him.
Thorin moved slowly, his legs trembling underneath him like he was running since they left the Shire. Then, as he saw Bilbo's chest rising and he could dismiss the horrible thought of the hobbit being dead, his steps sped up and he was soon kneeling by his friend and the halfling, his hands all over Bilbo's face.
"He is burnin' up," Dwalin murmured, and Thorin could feel his worried look on his face. "I don't know how long he's been sick, I guess we didn't pay enough attention to the small thing."
I didn't, Thorin thought, more bitterness colouring his inner voice than anytime before in his whole life and he took a deep breath. He desperately wished the wizard could be here to help them, to help Bilbo, but Thorin knew wishing did no good. If everything he had ever wished for would've come true, he wouldn't be on this quest right now in the first place.
And Bilbo would be fine. They would've never brought him out of his cosy home, and he would've never met Thorin.
The dwarf shivered at the thought, thinking about the life where he wouldn't know Bilbo, and he decided that life would be unbearable then. It was nearly unbearable as it was, but Bilbo brought some light into it, keeping the dwarf king sane. Thorin knew that without it, he wouldn't have made it this far.
"Bilbo!"
The desperate cry of Rose broke Thorin's train of thoughts, bringing him back to reality and he quickly shifted in his position to give space for the hobbit girl. Rose was breathing heavily, obviously overwhelmed with worry and blank despair, and Thorin knew she needed to make sure Bilbo was alright. Not completely, but alive.
"Water! We need water!" Dwalin yelled down from the piton, ordering someone to bring up some water from their packs and Bofur soon arrived with it. Dwalin took it from his hands, gently raising Bilbo's head by his nape and oozing some water down the hobbit's throat. The halfling slightly trembled, swallowing the water with gratitude but he still wasn't quite awake.
"We need to take him down," Rose stood up abruptly, tears welling in her eyes and in her voice alike, but the hand that appeared on her shoulder soothed her only a little. It was Fili beside her, stroking her arm until he could entwine their fingers and Rose gave him a watery smile. Thorin watched the youngsters carefully while Dwalin kept helping Bilbo to drink, and he swallowed back a smile.
First was Kili with Legolas, now it's Fili with a hobbit, Thorin thought with wonder, turning his head back to look at his burglar. The Durin line is helpless, indeed.
"Carry him, Thorin," Dwalin pushed the flask closed, standing up to gather the others to the stairs, giving his friend a moment with Bilbo alone.
Thorin took in the sight of the hobbit truly for the first time in days. He was terrifyingly thin, he had dark circles under his eyes and his vest he got from Beorn was torn and dirty. Dwarves were used to such circumstances ever since they left Erebor, but this hobbit was way too innocent and pure to endure this.
The king's stomach dropped again, and he ran his fingers through the messy locks of Bilbo, brushing them away from his forehead. The skin felt way too hot against his palm and, without making sure whether the others were already gone or not, he leaned down to press a kiss between Bilbo's brows. Thorin closed his eyes, lingering there like this for a moment, trying to recall the image of the hobbit when they first met. The halfling was so oblivious then, so awkward that Thorin could find nothing likeable in him. It all changed when he proved his true worth, just like Gandalf had already told them. Bilbo saved his life more than once, and Thorin still felt like he was in his debt.
Even now, he couldn't do anything to return the favour. He was helpless against this sickness, and all he could offer was this kiss, a kiss that couldn't have been rejected.
He pulled back after a few moments, sliding his arms under the hobbit's body. He was so light and so small that the weight reminded Thorin of the times when he had to carry his sister-sons around in his arms. He held Bilbo close to his chest, carefully taking the steps, focusing on every single movement. The winds were only blowing delicately now and they brought warmth with them, even after sunset - Thorin was glad they didn't try to push him off his feet.
The company was already waiting for him, Óin preparing to have a look at Bilbo immediately. He already lost most of his healing ingredients and accessories while they were the prisoners of the Goblin King, but he still had his knowledge, and it was more than nothing.
Thorin gently lay Bilbo down on the king's own furs and cloak, careful to place his head with special care. He had enough bruises and scars as it was, he certainly didn't need more. He wasn't a war hero, he wasn't a warrior. He was only a hobbit, and hobbits didn't require scars at all.
"Give Óin some space, laddie," Thorin could hear the murmur of Balin from his side. His old friend pulled him away tenderly, and Óin knelt beside the hobbit to have a look at him.
Silence was thick around the camp, only Óin's half-audible curses broke the quietness sometimes when he complained about the lack of light. The sky was pinkish-blue, burning in more vivid colours around the lost sun on the horizon, and the light was indeed not enough to properly see everything. Óin had to be quick, but Thorin trusted him. He trusted every single person in his company, and he knew that if it was upon them to heal Bilbo, they would do whatever they could.
"The sickness has a simple explanation," Óin stood up at last, drawing everyone's attention to him. He turned to face Thorin, his lips pressed into a tight line as he looked up at his king. "The lad hasn't been sleeping well for a while now, and the cold nights must've tired him entirely. To sleep while being so close to danger is not easy, and our burglar must've found it even harder. He needs to rest, and he also needs water. Maybe some warm food-"
"We can't make a fire here," Glóin shook his head, his voice bitter and low. The dwarves knew he was telling the truth, but Thorin knew it was their only way.
"If he needs warmth to recover, then he will have it," the King under the Mountain muttered, earning shocked looks from his companions. "We stand no chance without the hobbit, and he can't go in there while being shaken by fever."
"Thorin-" Dwalin tried to resist but was abruptly cut off by Thorin, earning a pointed look from his friend.
"I made my decision," the king said, turning to Fili and Kili after a while of silently eyeballing each other with Dwalin. "Go to the borders of the desolation and bring some wood as quickly as you can. Dwalin and Bofur will go with you."
"Yes, uncle," the brothers answered in sync and smiled at each other quickly before making their way to climb out of the shelter of cliffs around them.
"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Dwalin asked him one more time, worry buried deep in his voice. It didn't miss Thorin's attention, though, and the king blinked back at him, shaking his head slightly.
"No," he sighed, his tone low and uncertain. He looked down at the hobbit, the small creature shaking with his ever growing fever and, to try and ease the heaviness of his heart, Thorin turned to Dwalin with a helpless expression. "But what else could we do?"
"You know the risks, Thorin," Dwalin leaned even closer, barely murmuring into the small space that was left between the two of them. Thorin knew that he would've been wise to take the dwarf's advice, for he had knowledge that always turned out to be useful, but the king couldn't be convinced now. The hobbit needed aid, and he feared for him not only because the fate of their journey but because of how he felt for him. How deeply he cared for him, how much he would've sacrificed for him, how he would've given his own life for him without a second thought. It was overwhelming him sometimes, but the fact that Dwalin knew him better than anyone was a great comfort for the king. Yet, he still couldn't listen to the younger dwarf in conjunction. "Once you light that fire, we are all doomed."
"What else could we do?" Thorin repeated the question, much more firmly now, and it put Dwalin into silence. The king could see his own reflection in his friend's worried eyes, but he held his ground, for he hadn't any other choice. "I can't let him die, Dwalin. You know that."
Dwalin let out a long breath, growling silently as he tore his glance from Thorin, then, he nodded. Thorin took it as the sign of surrender, and he grabbed Dwalin's shoulder to turn the other back so he can touch his forehead to the younger one's. Thorin felt the firm grip on his arm as Dwalin held him, pushing closer to him, and the king closed his eyes for a short moment. It was a comfort that not many could give him, and he was thankful for the presence of Dwalin.
"Take care of the lads and get back soon," Thorin said after his friend pulled away, looking him in the eye.
"Aye," Dwalin muttered from behind a small smirk, then, he walked past Thorin with long steps to join Bofur and the youngsters.
The desolation of the dragon wasn't quite that huge, but Thorin knew still that making the way in the dark, collecting the wood needed and coming back would take at least a good two hours. He knew they had to keep Bilbo warm for the time being and give him water constantly, to avoid him drying out. He took off his vest and wrapped him in as many layers as he could. The others offered their cloaks as well, but if everyone's clothes were to be lay on him, the hobbit would've got lost under the mountain of warmth, and Thorin didn't want that.
He always stayed close to the hobbit, never straying or sitting farther then a few steps so he could reach out anytime. Rose took the halfling's head in her lap, splaying her water soaked handkerchief on Bilbo's forehead to try to keep his fever down. Thorin eyed her carefully, and he couldn't ignore the coldness that radiated from her whenever she looked at him. The dwarf king grew to like her over the days, but the girl became more and more distant, focusing her attention on everyone but Thorin. He found it odd, but now that they seemed to be alone for a moment, he took the chance to ask questions.
"You seem to be fond of my sister-son," Thorin said, his voice low but hiding a small smile. He still couldn't push aside the image of Fili's face everytime he locked eyes with Rose, and Thorin found joy in his nephew's happiness. "And he seems to be fond of you."
"That's what you would call it?" Rose asked, turning the handkerchief over on Bilbo's forehead. The burglar finally stopped shivering, but he still hadn't woken. "That he is fond of me?"
Thorin couldn't help the chuckle that escaped his lips.
"Why, isn't that accurate? Or am I mistaken?"
A sarcastic laugh left Rose's mouth, but her smile didn't reach her eyes when she turned back to face Thorin. The king froze, his amusement quickly fading.
"How do you, dwarves, express your love, Thorin Oakenshield?" she asked, something dangerous flashing in her eyes, and Thorin did not like that tone, not one bit. It felt like Rose forced herself to stay calm and not start shouting, and her hand went shockingly still in the abundance of Bilbo's locks.
Thorin was caught off-guard at the question and his eyes widened. Nevertheless, he tried to give a proper answer.
"Well, we have only a few dwarven women but... When we feel love, we usually try to do everything to make our loved one happy," Thorin started, holding Rose's gaze without uncertainty. "We respect our women and make them presents. We often braid their hair, showing our affection that way."
Rose's face only hardened at that and Thorin was truly confused now. He did not understand this girl, this strange hobbit lass that seemed to enchant anyone in her way, but was so utterly cold and repulsive now. He agreed to bringing her with them only for Bilbo, and now, he started to regret it.
"Is that all?" she asked, her voice sharp like a knife. Thorin swallowed hard.
"I suppose there is more, but-"
"Then why didn't you include completely ignoring your loved one in the moment when he needs it the most?" Rose snapped, her voice louder than before but still not quite a yell. Thorin stared at her, and he could feel the blood running out of his face. "Why didn't you include acting like a child when your loved one doesn't react the way you'd like him to? Why didn't you include rushing up to your loved one, overwhelming him and leaving him there, without any explanation whatsoever?"
Thorin had not the faintest idea of how to react. The other members of the company were staring at them oddly from the distance, listening to their argument that wasn't quite an argument (for it should've had at least two people arguing, but it was only Rose so it was more like a scolding), and Thorin grew more and more uncomfortable with every moment.
"You are speaking to a king, hobbit," he regained his composure quite quickly, but it wasn't the same. His voice sounded weaker, even to his ears, and it was a poor excuse of an answer that made Rose laugh with disdain.
"You see, that is why you can't just accept that you are a feeling person, Thorin," Rose shook her head and Thorin couldn't quite believe his own eyes when he saw pity in the deep blue gaze of the hobbit. "You are not a king in love. You shouldn't be. It's not me who should be sitting here, it is you. Bilbo needs you, not me, and what is it he is hearing? That you are a king, not a simple dwarf who has feelings. You know what? We have never had a king in the Shire, and we never will. We had each other, we had love as a ruler, and we did much better than how your kin does with you!"
Thorin fell into absolute silence, his heart beating heavily in his throat. The burning feeling on his skin returned, but it wasn't because of the distance between Bilbo and him. No, it was because of the shame. The words didn't hurt him, only the truth behind them, and he felt honestly ashamed, like the times when his mother scolded him. Thorin sometimes feared his father's anger, but while he feared the yells and shouts of Thrain, he feared his mother for an entirely different reason.
He feared her because he knew she didn't have to raise her voice to make him feel bad. To make him feel ashamed. And now, it was the exact same situation.
"Easy, girl," Balin stepped ahead slowly, making Rose turn back to Bilbo and turn the handkerchief again. Bifur was right by Balin's side, both approaching with their hands close to their weapons, but Thorin just looked up at them, shaking his head slightly.
"It's fine, Balin," he said, his voice barely audible. "Rose speaks only the truth, and I thank her for it."
"There will be nothing to thank if Bilbo won't recover because you are too stubborn to tell him how you feel," Rose murmured, earning frowns from Balin and Bifur alike that she didn't even see. "Then again, it might turn out you are only fond of him, like Fili is fond of me. He has strange ways to show it, though, I must give him that."
Thorin looked up from his lap slowly, only to gape with utter awe at the sight, for Rose was pulling her dark locks over her left shoulder, leaving out only one mop of hair.
It was braided. A complete, real dwarven braid with dwarven beads, beads achingly familiar from Fili's hair. Thorin's stomach sank and the way Rose looked at him over her shoulder made the king catch his breath right away.
"I wish you would be as wise in love as you are in ruling your people, Thorin Oakenshield," she whispered, her expression not as hard as before, but it contained no sign of softness, and she turned back to Bilbo.
Thorin knew the argument was over with that.
The mountain was gone. Erebor, the dwarves, the wealth of Thrór and the dragon that protected it... They were all gone. Nothing but the desolation remained.
Desolation as wide as the whole of Middle-Earth.
Bilbo was alone, choking on the smoke that still blackened the air and the fog that thickened it. His lungs were overwhelmed and his heart beated heavily in his throat with gut-wretching fear. He didn't have his backpack, he didn't have his friends. All he had was his torn, dirty clothes, a band of cloth tied around his wrist and his ring.
The band. Tears welled his eyes as he realised that Thorin was gone as well. The hobbit knew there would be no use to yell, no use to ask for help, for there would be nought to come. He held onto the cloth tightly and let his tears roam free on his cheeks. He couldn't see but they left trails in the soft layer of dust and dirt that was covering his face. He slowly dropped to his knees, the charred ground ruining his trousers and bruising his skin. He didn't care.
Put me on, little hobbit.
The voice came so suddenly that Bilbo shivered, started to his bones, twisting his neck frantically. He saw no one, but he was positive it wasn't only a trick of his mind. It sounded too real, yet, absolutely different from an actual person's voice. It was strange, but it kept talking.
You can get rid of this burden, of this pain. You won't burn anymore.
Bilbo didn't even notice the burning on his skin until the voice pointed it out. The itching and stinging of his skin was already a part of his life, and getting rid of it would've been odd now. The pain, namely, reminded him of the insuperable abyss between him and his dwarf, the dwarf that wasn't quite his but he liked to believe that. Against the burning, against his common sense. He feared that, had he not been reminded of this distance, he would've believed he still had a chance.
He needed to know that he hadn't. He just wasn't sure he was strong enough to bear it now.
You will not be alone anymore, Bilbo. You will see your friends again, you will see the Shire. All you have to do is to put me on.
The hobbit slowly bowed his head, staring intensely at his vest-pocket. He already could tell that the ring was talking to him, and he took it out with firm hands. His tears were falling to the ground silently, he never made a sound. The ring lay on his open palm now, burning his skin more than being separated from Thorin. It called him, and he listened.
"The Shire," he whispered, turning the ring between his fingers. It shone brightly, even in the dim light, and Bilbo caught himself smiling. The thought of his homeland always made him smile, and he never once had any aching spots in his memory while thinking about it. The Shire meant love, warmth, food and comfort, peace and safety. The Shire meant home. And he missed it more than anything.
Just do it. You can be free of burdens and pain once more, little hobbit.
Bilbo raised the ring close to his face, studying it carefully. His smile was soft but wide, and he already knew what he was going to do.
He slipped it on.
And then, all hell broke loose.
Bilbo fell from his knees, the side of his face on fire from the sudden burning of the ground. Flames rose around him, consuming him while he screamed, screamed until his lungs gave out. He saw the image of a wide, fiery eye staring at him, like it was about to tear a piece out of his soul. He saw people he had never seen before, men, elves, dwarves and hobbits alike. He saw Gandalf, he saw himself, and last but not least, he saw Thorin.
He wished he hadn't.
The king lay on the ground, in a pool of his own blood, with his back facing the hobbit. He wasn't breathing, and he was terrifyingly still.
He was dead. And that was the last thing Bilbo knew, the last thing he could take.
He woke to much more pleasant circumstances.
A small fire heated him from his right, clicking and popping only slightly. There was the smell of warmth in the air, and, after analyzing the scent for a bit longer, he could smell food as well. Not marvellous and enticing food that he was used to while living in Bag-End, but warm food. Something he hadn't eaten for way too long.
Bilbo looked around as best as he could while he tried not to move too abruptly. He felt dizzy and he ached everywhere, but moving his eyeballs, luckily, wasn't such a torment. The first person he spotted was Rose, talking to Fili on a voice that was barely a whisper. The young prince was sitting close to her and Bilbo could tell they really tried to keep calm and not to wake him. The hobbit gently smiled to himself, watching them carefully for a few seconds.
After a moment he looked to his other side, but he was met by an enormous amount of furs, his face immediately disappearing in their abundance. He breathed in, mostly out of reflex, and he had his heart beating in his throat right away once he recognised the smell it gave off.
It was unquestionably Thorin's.
He stayed motionless for a good while, closing his eyes to the feeling that washed over him. He caught himself smiling into the furs, imagining he was curled up against Thorin instead of his belongings. He held the vivid picture in his mind with such persistence that he could actually hear the dwarf's steady heartbeat in his ears, feel the king's smile in his hair and savour the taste of iron and sunshine on his tounge. It was the perfect mirage, but it was shattered soon enough.
"Are you with us now, burglar?"
Óin's voice came directly from next to him and Bilbo jumped slightly. He snapped his head to the other side, staring at the dwarf with fear in his eyes, then, once he met the kind smile and the softness of the healer, he relaxed into the furs again.
"Are you alright? We were so worried!" Rose jumped up immediately, not waiting until her friend could give an answer. She rushed to his side, stroking her loose locks back behind her ear with an excited smile. "Do you feel better?"
"I think so, yes," Bilbo muttered after taking in his surroundings for a while. His voice was raw and hoarse from the lack of usage in the last hours and he cleared his throat shortly.
He made an unavailing attempt to sit up and get more comfortable, but when he realised his arms were too weak to hold him properly, he could see Óin smiling. The healer shook his head only slightly.
"Let the lads help you up, burglar," he advised gently and Bilbo obeyed. Rose and Fili were next to him in mere moments, supporting him from both sides as he sat up with a suppressed moan. He soon regained enough of his composure to notice Óin's outstretched arm, with a bowl of steaming food in his hand. He heard his stomach rumble right away, and he blushed. Óin just laughed. "Bombur made it for ya. Spoon it quickly, you never know when you can eat a proper meal again."
Bilbo blinked at his bowl, eyeing the stew-like stuff in it like he was given a ton of gold. He didn't know what to say, so he just raised his head to look for Bombur. The dwarf sat not too far from them, half-asleep, but Bilbo gave him a small smile, nevertheless. It touched him how these dwarves cared for him - which brought him to look for the others. His brows rose in surprise when he saw no one else but the five of them.
"Where are the others?" Bilbo asked Óin, curiosity evident in his voice. The dwarf sat down with a heavy sigh, warming his palms at the fire while he answered.
"On the piton. They carried up the rest of our belongings," answered the dwarf, something concerning ringing out from his words.
"Why? I thought Balin said the winds had no mercy up there during the night."
"Don't worry yourself, just eat," Rose gave him a reassuring smile. Bilbo knew her better than that, of course, and he could tell whenever she was lying. She was doing it right now, without a blink. "You will need your strength."
Bilbo wanted to argue, but Fili took the spoon out of his hand and pushed a huge bite into his mouth to keep him silent. The hobbit tried to talk through the mouthful of stew, but it melted on his tounge like golden toffee and he closed his eyes for a second, appreciating every moment of this rare satisfaction.
"Good, I see ya like it," Óin noted with a small chuckle, but before Bilbo could've answered, Fili was there to fill his mouth again and the hobbit almost choked. "I will have to look at ya later, to see if y're well enough to walk around without a close eye watchin' ya."
"I'm fine," Bilbo muttered, trying not to open his mouth too wide for he was taught it was rude to speak while eating. He might've been at the end of the world, with dwarves and his body sweating from the aftermath of fever, but it didn't mean he was allowed to ignore his manners.
"You almost fell off that cliff, so no, you are not fine!" Rose snapped, her voice low but sharp. Bilbo's eyes widened as he looked at her, questioning without words. "You were lucky that Dwalin was swift enough to catch you. Otherwise, you would be dead by now!"
Bilbo swallowed the bite, staring back at his bowl silently. He didn't remember much, honestly. He could recall the moment when he rushed up to that piton to look for the door in the sunshine. He remembered seeing a hole in the wall, and he also remembered Thorin yelling at him only moments before. The hobbit wanted to tell him he found it, he wanted the dwarf to see that he was useful, that he wasn't only a burden. Then, he felt like falling.
So he did fall. Interesting.
"I found the keyhole," Bilbo announced, drawing attention to himself immediately. Even Bombur seemed a bit more awake, snapping up his head from his slumber. Bilbo slowly raised his head, looking at the gaping Óin.
"You found the door?" Fili whispered, his voice full of hope that he tried to hide the best he could. Bilbo could hear it perfectly, though, and he smiled a little as he turned to the prince.
"I will show you if you take me up," Bilbo offered, and Fili immediately moved to stand up but Óin's protests stopped him.
"The door won't go anywhere, lad," he waved his hand for Fili to sit down again, and the dwarf obeyed without a word. "Our burglar has to eat first, then, we will join the others."
Bilbo saw a lopsided smile on Rose's face while he put another spoonful of food in his mouth, enjoying the cavalcade of savours. The hobbit found it amusing that the youngsters didn't even try to hide their affection anymore, but it was only right this way. There was no point in acting like there was nothing at all between the two of them. Love wasn't something that one would be ashamed of, and that is why Bilbo didn't understand Thorin. If the king cared for him, which seemed only possible since he kissed the hobbit in such rush, then why would he act like this afterwards if not out of shame? There was no explanation, and it hurt Bilbo more than what he would've liked to admit.
"Are you alright, lad?" Óin asked, shaking Bilbo out of his thoughts. He nodded absentmindedly, having another bite and trying not to think about the matter anymore. It could wait when he actually had time to figure out the strange behaviour of the king - now he had to focus on getting them inside the mountain as soon as possible.
"So, Bilbo," Fili broke the silence after a minute and the hobbit raised his head to look at him. The young dwarf seemed a bit bothered and nervous, and Bilbo couldn't possibly imagine what he was about to ask for. "I am not quite familiar with these ancient customs, neither on the dwarf's or the hobbit's side, but-"
"Fili, not now," Rose interrupted, her voice containing the same nervousness, only mixed with a bit of careful sensitivity. Bilbo was truly surprised now, for he had never heard Rose speaking like this. He became really curious really quickly, and he put his half-empty bowl down to turn to Fili with a questioning look.
"What is it, Fili?"
"We cannot know whether we will have another chance to ask or not, Rose," the prince looked at the hobbit girl, and Rose took a deep breath. She didn't answer, just looked away silently and Fili turned his glance back to Bilbo. "I would like to ask for your blessing."
Heavy silence fell on the small camp and Bilbo slightly gaped. He had to twist and turn the words in his mind for a while until he completely understood what they meant, and his first reaction was a shocked blink. Then two, and then three, and it went on like this until his eyelids started to hurt and his tears started welling up without a reason.
"What?" he blurted out, jaw still hanging as he switched his look between Fili and Rose. They both were so painfully young compared to Bilbo, even if Rose was almost at his age. Their cheeks were red, their breathing heavy, and Bilbo let out an incredulous laugh. "Blessing? From me?"
"You are the closest thing that Rose has to a family, and I didn't have the courage to approach uncle with the matter yet," Fili spattered, his eyes frantically jumping around, desperately looking for something to stare at. "Although Kili said he would surely give his blessings and he wouldn't make a big deal out of it, but I am still a bit ner-"
"It's an easy question, lad," Óin spoke up, first time for minutes. Every head turned to him, looking at the healer expectantly. "Do ya love her?"
Fili grew silent at that, closing his parted lips softly. Bilbo gently turned his glance to eye him and he was surprised to see the endless range of emotions on the young dwarf's face as he looked at Rose. The small smile on his lips was an answer alone, but he nodded and turned back to Óin, his voice steady as he spoke.
"Yes. I do."
Bilbo saw Rose's watery smile from the corner of his eye but said nothing. There was no need for his blessing: they all knew he had already given it. He would've given anything for Rose, and the girl knew it well.
"Then I wouldn't worry about your uncle," Óin waved, an unusual smile playing on his lips. It was strange to see him in such a soft state, but Bilbo already knew that the dwarves could always surprise him. "My dear cousin can have a hard skull sometimes, but he understands love, for he feels it too. He is just too proud to admit it."
At the exact moment when Bilbo felt his cheeks heating up, for there wasn't anyone else the dwarf could've been talking about, a loud growl shook the whole mountain, and the hobbit's heart quickened for an absolutely different reason. It wasn't from the embarassment or the feelings that seemed to only deepen for Thorin.
It was from fear.
"What was that?" Bilbo asked, his voice barely a whisper, but he received no answer. All the remaining four who were there in the camp jumped to their feet, even Bombur, and Fili was already helping Bilbo up. The hobbit did not like this secrecy, not one bit, and he decided to not let it go so easily this time. "Fili, what is happening?"
"We don't have time," the prince answered with pure struggling in his eyes, and he picked up his uncle's furs and cloak from the ground as he passed the halfling. Bilbo did not understand what was happening, but Óin was at his side all of a sudden, pushing Sting into his hands.
"You have to run to the stairs as quickly as you can. You have to tell Thorin where the keyhole is," Óin grabbed his shoulders firmly and Bilbo's throat tightened. He didn't like this tone, for it had never been followed by good news. "Do not hesitate, do not look back, just run, d'ya understand?"
Bilbo nodded, desperate to ask questions, to ask someone to come with him, but Óin pushed him in the direction of the stairs and he knew he had to run. The mountain was shaking underneath his feet as he approached the long staircase and he suddenly understood. It wasn't an earthquake or a thunder. It was something way more deadly, something that came to destroy. And once it put his mind up to ruin, cost what it may, it was inescapable.
He had his mind absolutely elsewhere by the time he reached the stairs, and he ran right into a hard chest. For a moment Bilbo felt utterly dizzy from the crash, but when he looked up only to see Kili's desperate face, he gaped.
"Are you out of your mind? What are you doing, Kili?"
"Where is Fee?" the dwarf asked, his voice full of exasperation. Bilbo knew they didn't have time for this and he remembered Óin's cautionary words clearly. He grabbed Kili's wrist and started pulling him up on the stairs, but it was harder to keep a hold on the dwarf than Bilbo imagined. "I'm not leaving him here!"
He tore himself out of Bilbo's hold without a real struggle and Bilbo stared at his distant figure for a few seconds before he heard the mountain growling again. It was dangerously loud now, and the following shake was definitely stronger. He started taking the stairs without thinking for any longer, and he tried to hold back his tears as he thought of his friends still being back in the camp. He prayed to any higher power who might've been listening; he prayed for the well-being of his friends.
Bilbo didn't need more than a minute to climb the stairs and he stopped at the top, gasping heavily as he stared at the alarmed company of dwarves in front of him. They stared at him in return, Thorin stepping out of the group immediately to walk closer. Bilbo tried to ignore the mixture of worry and relief that he saw in the dwarf's eyes, for he was well aware they had more burning problems right now.
"Give me the key," he rushed forward, looking for the keyhole on the wall. It was still in the middle of the night, only the moon providing some light, and the hobbit started to run his palm over the stone wall in his search. He felt cuts and bruises covering his palm as the sharp edges touched his skin, but he did not care.
"What are y'doing?" Glóin asked, but Bilbo didn't answer. He focused, trying to absolutely shut out the ever growing sounds coming from the sky now, and once his finger slipped into a hole, he smiled brightly with relief.
"Quickly, the key!" he turned to face Thorin, and the king was already there to push the key into his hands.
Bilbo could hardly fit the key into the lock, for his fingers were shaking too wildly, but once he succeeded, there were several clicking sounds before the door opened and almost pushed him off his feet. Balin was behind him to catch him, but he regained his balance soon enough so they could force the door wider together. It was a perfect hole for their size, and Bilbo finally saw why it was so hard to catch a glimpse of it for so long.
"Hurry, get inside!" Dwalin ordered, and no one hesitated to obey.
No one but Thorin.
"Thorin, for Mahal's name-"
Dwalin was interrupted violently by Thorin, the king trying to yell louder than the growling of the beast that was closing dangerously.
"I won't go in there without the others!"
Bilbo couldn't decide whether he should've stayed on the inner side of the door or his place would've been next to Thorin, but he didn't have to keep guessing for much longer. An overwhelming wave of heat pushed him back against the tunnel's wall, and he knew they were in serious trouble now.
"Close the door!" Dori shouted. Thorin, who could be finally convinced by Dwalin to at least use the door as a shelter on the inside, turned to him with lightning in his eyes.
"We can't open it from the inside!" he yelled back and kept his foot between the wall and the door. It was almost completely dark in the tunnel, and the heat was close to unbearable, but Bilbo tried to press close to the door, listening for any sign that their friends were still alive. All he could hear, though, was the dragon's roar and the sound of flames melting the stones and setting the cliffs on fire not too far from there. His whole body was trembling from the wild images that were roaming in his head, and his heart was hammering in his throat.
"We will die if we don't close the door!" Ori tried, voice dripping with despair, more than the hobbit had every heard him speaking before.
"And so will they!" Bilbo answered, his voice far not as steady as Thorin's, but it was better than nothing.
He could feel it on his skin. Not only the burning, not only the sticky sweat from the heat, but the cold touch of death as they were running out of time. It was the most terrible feeling he had ever experienced, and he closed his eyes to hold the tears back.
"Come on," he could hear Thorin murmuring next to him, eyeing the gap between the wall and the door intensely, and Bilbo's heart ached for him. "Don't abandon me, my friends."
Moments grew into seconds, seconds into minutes, and the waiting felt more and more useless. Grief and loss painted the expression of the dwarf king, and Bilbo could see hot tears welling in his eyes. His own ones were already rolling down his cheeks, for thinking about his friends dying by the fire of Smaug was too painful to bear. He wanted to tear apart the dragon with his bare hands, he wanted to go out and see the beast for himself, but he knew it wouldn't have made sense. All he would've achieved was becoming a pile of smouldering ash, nothing more. And then, he could've never fulfilled his destiny.
Yet, destiny wasn't even a crumb of comfort when your loved ones were gone.
"My dear brother," Bilbo heard Glóin's sorrowful sob from behind his back, and he knew that it was a barrier they couldn't get pass so easily. The hobbit saw the absolute agony on Thorin's face, and he knew the king succumbed at last. He held himself so far, but now, he slowly pulled away his foot from the door to let it close.
And in that moment, something absolutely unexpected happened.
Someone grabbed the door and pulled it open from the other side.
Both Thorin and Bilbo backed away from the door in shock, their tears stopping immediately, and the moment they realised they were facing their missing friends, they were crying for an utterly different reason.
"You wanted to lock us out?" Fili asked, panting heavily as he hurried inside, Bombur, Kili, Rose and Óin following closely in his tail. The door closed without anyone paying attention to it, and stunned silence fell on the dwarves that was soon broken by the heir of Ereborn. "Poor Bombur couldn't climb the stairs so easily! I would be ashamed in your place!"
He was cut off by the firm hand of Thorin, pulling both him and Kili to his chest and hugging them tightly. Bilbo watched for a second before he embraced Rose, holding his friend like he had never wanted to let her go.
"Do not do that again," Bilbo could hear Thorin murmuring into his sister-sons' ears. The brothers only nodded with their soft smiles as they clung onto Thorin like a child could cling onto his father.
"Foolish dwarves," Dwalin muttered from the background, immediately earning a grin from Bilbo as he pulled away from Rose. Glóin and Óin were still holding onto each other, and so were Bifur, Bofur and Bombur. The loss of these dwarves would've been beyond all bearings, and Bilbo tried not to think about it at all.
Silence eventually fell on them, nevertheless, as they got calm enough to take in their surroundings. They could hardly see anything, but the faint, glimmering light at the end of the tunnel provided enough light to make out each other's silhouettes. They were soon settled on the ground, leaning heavily against the wall as they listened to their own breathing. The dragon was quiet now, wreaking havoc somewhere else or maybe preparing to return and guard his gold. Still, it was a peaceful moment.
Peaceful, yet, the longer it stretched the more it felt like silence before the storm.
It was Bilbo who spoke his mind first.
"I wonder what lured out the dragon," the hobbit muttered, and he felt most of the dwarves' eyes snapping to him. His voice sounded louder than it actually was, and he curled up closer next to the wall as if it would draw back the echo of his words. "He seemed quite peaceful for a week."
"Dragons are unpredictable," Balin offered him an answer, tired and hoarse. "They are wild beasts, driven by their nature. They can sense the most irrelevant happenings and these can wake them abruptly."
Bilbo fell in deep thinking at that, trying to put two and two together. There must have been something that woke him, otherwise, none of this hectic escape wouldn't have happened in the first place.
Dwalin's voice shook him out of his thoughts, his tone gruff and low, even for him.
"How long do you wanna keep him in the dark?" he asked, immediately earning a growl from several dwarves. Bilbo looked up with curiosity, trying to figure out what was happening.
"Keep me in the dark about what?" Bilbo asked, his voice full of confusion.
"Nothing," Rose snapped, and Bilbo could actually feel the pointed look she gave Dwalin. It was the second time that night that Rose lied to him, and he wasn't about to let it slip so easily.
"It would be terrific if someone could tell me what is going on!"
Bilbo was close to snapping, and he frantically eyed the shapes in the dark, waiting for an answer. No one seemed to give him a proper response for a painfully long while, but, after even a minute of absolute silence, Thorin took a deep breath. Bilbo already knew it was going to be hard to digest if only the king was brave enough to talk about it.
"The fire lured out the dragon," he said, his voice deep and indifferent. "We made the fire for you, so you could regain your consciousness sooner. We expected it would wake the beast so we moved most of our camp to the piton. We didn't want to move you, so some of us stayed with you."
Bilbo's face fell and he didn't even realise his jaw was hanging until his lips and throat went utterly dry.
He remembered now.
The moment they arrived to the shelter of the huge cliffs to make camp, the moment they had still been so full of spirits and hope, that foggy evening. Bilbo asked why they couldn't light a fire, only a little, and Dwalin just shook his head with his usual grim expression.
"It brings out the worms," he said, his voice rough and ill-omened. Bilbo stopped asking, for he didn't quite understand. Nevertheless, he accepted.
Now that the hobbit got his answer, he fully understood.
And he was furious.
"What on Arda were you thinking?" Bilbo almost squeaked, and it required all of his willpower to hold the volume down. They really didn't need another attempt of the dragon to roast them and swallow them whole. "You knew the fire could get you killed and you did it anyway? Are you mad?"
"I was thinking the same," Dwalin noted dryly, but his voice was lost in the tension.
No one else in the company felt courageous enough to answer the fuming hobbit, so the halfling went on without stop.
"And anyway, how were you so sure that fire could help me? What would you have done without me?" he asked, his voice growing more and more incredulous with every word. "It was the worst decision, ever!"
"I regret nothing," Thorin answered, his voice steady, and Bilbo could feel the dwarf's eyes directly on him. It placed a tingling sensation under his skin, but he tried to ignore it. It really wasn't the right time for that.
"Oh, I don't think you would say the same if you had closed the door only a second sooner and five of the company would've been lost!" Bilbo was stubborn enough to not let it go so soon, but he knew he had to watch his tounge. Thorin was pretty unpredictable lately, and the hobbit wouldn't have been surprised to end up in the dungeons once the dwarf reclaimed his kingdom successfully.
"I won't apologise for saving your life!" Thorin snorted with a short, sarcastic laugh, and Bilbo swallowed hard.
No, Bilbo, you are not going there, he held out to himself, repeating this one sentence over and over again in his mind. He won't get away with a bit of manipulation, oh no. He apparently doesn't know me if he plans on that.
"It wasn't about saving my life, and you know that!" Bilbo pealed, exasperation creasing his brows. "I wasn't even dying! You want to make it look like you acted selflessly but all you need me for is to reclaim your gold!"
Thorin let out an incredulous laugh at that, not even caring about the loudness of his voice anymore. It was absolutely odd to see him behave like that, but Bilbo was way too angry to care about it at the moment.
"Why is it so hard to believe I wanted you safe?" the king asked. "In the beginning, I might've taken you as a burglar only, but now I..."
His voice faded by the end of the sentence, rendering the whole company breathless. Everyone was staring at them now, but Bilbo had eyes only for Thorin. It was the closest they had ever gotten to talking about how they felt, talking about what had changed exactly, for the hobbit couldn't put his finger on it all alone. He needed Thorin's help, and it was the first occasion the king showed notion to share this burden.
Bilbo was waiting patiently, waiting for the king to gather his thoughts and have the courage to finally talk. His own heart was beating restlessly and rapidly in his chest, almost like it was trying to escape his ribcage, and it dulled all of the hobbit's senses.
He needed to hear the words.
"Zu zâyung hi," Dwalin muttered, his voice almost swallowed by the deafening silence. He gently turned his glance to look at Thorin's struggling face, but the king never met his eyes, for his own were settled on Bilbo. The hobbit looked back, not having the faintest idea about the meaning of the harsh dwarven words, but he knew they were really close now. The breakthrough was standing on the doorstep, only waiting for a push from behind. "Aglâb yomul khi."
Thorin stayed silent for a little longer, taking short breaths to control his hammering heartbeat. Bilbo wanted to yell at him already, to start begging so the dwarf could finally say what he needed to hear so desperately, but he was rooted to the spot where he was sitting, his eyes wide with anticipation. The tension was palpable in the air, and, after another minute of the seemingly neverending silence, Thorin opened his mouth.
"Bilbo, I-"
Bilbo couldn't hear the rest, for the agonizing roar shook the whole mountain and everyone snapped their heads in the direction of the light at the end of the tunnel. Blazing heat washed over them and redness coloured the air, overwhelming them with its intensity.
Smaug returned.
And Bilbo knew it was his time to fulfill what he came for.
TRANSLATION:
Zu zâyung hi. Aglâb yomul khi. = You love him. Tell him. (Own translation, there might be a problem there. I'm sorry if there is.)
