A/N: Thank you ALL SO MUCH for all your lovely comments on the last chapter! And now, as a thank you for all your wonderful support... Chapter 12! And I think that after this, you will either love me or hate me. (Probably the latter, actually.) That's all I'm gonna say... Please enjoy! Mwahahaha. ;)


Whole of Heart

It was a good thing that Bilbo Baggins decided to wash the next morning, eyes sore from crying and clothes wrinkled and dirty. It was lucky that he liked his hair neat and so combed it thoroughly. And most fortuitous of all, he thought as he stormed to the dining hall where all his dwarves would be eating, was that he'd found the thing behind his ear before he'd gone wandering around Erebor with it.

He walked furiously, feet hardly hitting the floor he moved so fast, one hand clamped firmly over his ear to hide it from prying, nosy eyes.

He reached the dining room and threw open the door, making the dwarves inside jump and look at him worriedly. And well they might, because he may only be four feet tall but he was four feet of complete indignation.

'Bilbo?' Bofur asked, concern in his voice at Bilbo's anger, but Bilbo waved an arm in his direction and he was quiet, looking hurt at the rebuff. But Bilbo's eyes narrowed on one dwarf only, one dark-haired dwarf with the Durin blue eyes in particular.

'Kíli, what in all of Yavanna's gardens have you done to my hair?' he said through gritted teeth.

Kíli looked stunned. 'Me?'

'Yes, you. Last night. What did you do to my hair?'

He showed them the braid that had appeared overnight, just behind his left ear, for no explicable reason. Except Bilbo remembered. He remembered a dwarf with dark hair leaning over him and smiling as they fiddled with his hair. In his sleep-addled, hazy brain he'd thought - wished - it was Thorin, but it was Kíli. Of course it was Kíli, because there was no Thorin and his stupid, stupid heart needed to listen to his brain and regain some good hobbit sense.

He saw their eyes widen at the sight as they took in the braid. Bilbo himself didn't know exactly what it meant, but he knew the rules of braiding another's hair and knew that if this was a joke, it was humiliating and not a very funny one at all.

'Bilbo, I didn't-' Kíli began.

'Fíli, were you in on it too? Did you think it was funny to do this?' Bilbo rounded on the older of the two Princes, who looked pale as a sheet as he made a strangled protest.

'Bilbo, we had nothing to do with this! Kíli and I went straight to our chambers after dinner. We never went near your rooms.'

Bilbo's conviction slipped away slightly and with it a little of his indignation.

'Bofur? Was it you?' The hatted dwarf shook his head, ear-flaps flapping in his denial.

Bilbo stared at them all, suddenly feeling very drained and uncertain and small.

'But I remember... I saw... I saw someone last night. Who looked like Kíli...' Bilbo didn't tell them that he'd seen Thorin, because he saw Thorin every night in his heart-sick sleep. 'I'm not imagining it!' he protested at the looks on their faces. 'I'm not mad. There was someone there.'

No one said anything for a moment and Bilbo stood awkwardly, scuffing his toes until Balin stood.

'Bilbo, I think you need to know now. I'm going to tell you why we invited you here.'

'Yes, you did make it sound rather urgent,' Bilbo groused to hide the foreboding that was creeping up on him. 'I came as quickly as I could but it seems you don't really-'

'Bilbo, please listen,' Balin interrupted, looking terribly serious. Bilbo frowned and crossed his arms over himself, a protective gesture, and nodded to show he was listening.

'You know that Thorin fell in the battle a year ago, and died of his wounds-'

'Yes, thank you, I don't need reminding. I've seen his tomb.' Bilbo tightened his grip as tendrils of pain shot through him at the mention of the dwarf's name. 'Sorry,' he said, when Balin looked at him pointedly.

'Well, Thorin died then. But the reason we brought you back here is because he's back.'

Bilbo just stared at Balin.

'He's back,' he deadpanned.

'As alive as you and I.'

If Bilbo's heart hadn't been doing such painful things in his chest, he might have laughed. But the pain was too much as part of him fought to believe and the other to quash such nonsense.

'What is this?' he gasped, leaning back on the door frame and holding a hand to his chest. His heart was pumping fast, too fast. 'Humiliate Bilbo day? I don't believe you.'

'I know it's a lot to take in, but Bilbo-'

'This is more than "a lot to take in", Balin! People don't just go around dying and then springing back to life!'

'Did you not listen to anything Ori said yesterday?' Dwalin asked, and Bilbo knew he was probably bright red by now.

'All of Ori's potential theories as to how it may or may not be possible for you to die and be brought back to life? They're half-baked at most, I'm sorry Ori! And even if what you said was true, how does Thorin even fit the criteria you put forward to me? You said they had to have Ones-'

The room went deathly silent, and all Bilbo could hear was his own outraged, disbelieving heavy breathing. This was possibly the only time he'd ever seen the dwarves completely silent, and it terrified him.

'Perhaps you should ask him yourself,' Balin said quietly.

Bilbo turned and in his moment of distraction two pairs of hands gripped a shoulder each and began leading him out of the room. Fíli and Kíli, each looking determinedly grim. Bilbo tried to wriggle free of their grips but they were like vices and soon he gave up.

'Please, boys, let me go!' he said irritably, taking advantage of Kíli's momentary distraction at his protests to yank his arm free of the slightly loosened grip.

'Not until you believe,' Fíli said softly, as different from his iron grip as possible but with an authority Bilbo had never heard him use before. Bilbo grit his teeth and allowed himself to be led. He recognised his corridor and thought for one horrible moment that they were going to shut him in his room, that they thought he was mad when they were so evidently delusional - tears sprung into his eyes because no matter how much he wished Thorin was alive, he couldn't be - but then they stopped outside the door before his.

Kíli knocked once and then opened the door, entering and Fíli nudged Bilbo inside too.

'Uncle Thorin,' they both murmured and Bilbo shut his eyes. He couldn't do this, he didn't want to have to face this -

'Bilbo, open your eyes,' Fíli said and Bilbo took a few deep, shuddering breaths. Fíli's grip relaxed on his arm and he opened his eyes to look down at the arm where previously there had been a vice-like hold, and he rubbed gingerly at it, keeping his eyes downcast. The boys were looking at him expectantly, smiles on their faces and they glanced at a point in front of them. Hesitantly, painfully slowly, Bilbo raised his head until he was looking at -

Nothing. There was nothing there. He exhaled shakily and looked at the boys, whose faces began to fall.

'Can you not see him? Uncle's right there-'

'I can't see anything, because there is nothing to see,' Bilbo said stiffly. 'Now if you don't mind, I've had enough nonsense for today-' He made to brush past them, shaking off their grips on his arms but suddenly Kíli tightened his.

'No! Uncle, tell him-'

'Kíli, he's not here!' Bilbo said, upset and shaken; his hands balled into fists and trembling at his sides. Oh Yavanna, he'd hoped that perhaps there could be a miracle and Thorin had been re-awoken, but it had been a fool's hope and he felt crushed, his heart bring ripped apart. 'He's dead, Kíli, and we can't change that-'

Bilbo's voice broke on the last words and he pushed past Kíli and out of the door, angrily wiping away the tears that were stinging at his eyes.

'Thorin, you have to say something -' he heard Fíli protest when Bilbo suddenly connected with a sturdy dwarf chest, momentarily knocking him backwards before the arms attached to the chest drew him in for a hug. Bilbo recognised Bofur's tunic, smelling of tobacco and mint.

He tried to draw away but the dwarf held on to him.

'Bilbo, you have to believe it-' he started but Bilbo pushed at him, Bofur's arms releasing him as they stared each other down.

'I don't have to do anything, Bofur, not when-'

'Yes you do, Bilbo, when you're just killing him all over again!' Bofur's voice rose with emotion and Bilbo looked away, his tears once again prickling at his eyes and threatening to spill. 'Thorin has loved you for so long, Bilbo, and if you could see him now you wouldn't know him as the same dwarf!' Bofur's voice was barely controlled and Bilbo looked at him, eyes glittering with tears.

'That's the point, though, Bofur, isn't it?' Bilbo hissed, his voice surprisingly steady. 'I can't see him. Because he's dead.'

Bofur shook his head. 'And you called us stubborn! Bilbo Baggins, if you ever loved Thorin Oakenshield then open your eyes.'

Bofur looked at him once more, then looked up at the open door where Fíli and Kíli were standing, watching. They walked out of the room and came to stand next to Bofur, walking past Bilbo. Bofur continued to look at a point in the doorway and he gave a rough nod.

'Tell him, Thorin. Make him believe.' With a last look at Bilbo he turned and Fíli and Kíli followed him, throwing a last glance back in his direction.

Bilbo looked around him, still seeing nothing, and huffed in frustration, tears leaking out and leaving tracks on his cheeks. This was ridiculous and painful and Bilbo wasn't even sure what he was doing here when there was no one there; suddenly he froze as he felt something on his cheek.

Something warm and gentle.

He lifted a hand to his cheek, still seeing nothing but then there was a hand clutching at his own, large and calloused and very definitely alive. His breath hitched as the still unseen hand squeezed his ever so gently.

'Thorin?' he said quietly, confusion and bewilderment in his voice. He felt another hand touch his other cheek, a feather light touch smoothing away the tear that struggled its way down Bilbo's face.

Suddenly Bilbo sprang back, fear entering his eyes. It couldn't be real, it couldn't be -

He turned his back to the unseen figure, tears streaming freely down his face. He bit his lip. Had his imagination finally got the better of him and was manifesting itself in these sensations?

It couldn't be his imagination, he decided, because the feel of a hand softly stroking a small curl at the nape of his neck was entirely too real. But then, that's what they all thought, all the mad people, and that's what made them mad-

He shivered when he felt a soft kiss being pressed to his neck, by lips warm and soft.

If he was mad, then he was mad. If this was madness, then he would happily trade his mind if it meant Thorin was there.

'I love you,' he said brokenly, his voice cracking on the words but never had he spoken a truer statement. Thorin was his heart - even dead, he still held Bilbo's heart. But after he spoke the words there was nothing but stillness and Bilbo was about to break down into fresh tears at the loss, hallucination though it might be, when suddenly hands were on his arms in a firm but gentle grip and a voice was whispering into his ear - a voice he'd thought never to hear again.

'I love you, Bilbo Baggins,' it said in Thorin's deep tone, and then Bilbo was turned around by those large hands on his arms and he was pulled close, his nose buried in furs and velvet while kisses were pressed to the top of his head and he breathed in the familiar scent of...

Of Thorin. His Thorin. He pulled back, leaving his arms and looking up at his dwarf's face. He nearly crumpled when he saw him. His knees buckled and if Bilbo hadn't managed to lean back against the wall, he would have fallen. Because there was Thorin, his dwarf. He... Oh, Bilbo couldn't look because he looked just the same but so much older; sadder and more tired and still absolutely perfect. Bilbo bit his knuckle to stop himself from crying.

'Bilbo?' The gentle gruffness of that voice, filled with so much emotion. Thorin was looking at him so sadly, so hopefully that Bilbo didn't know what to do.

Thorin looked as if he was going to move towards him again and in a sudden rush of fear Bilbo threw his arms out in front of him.

'Don't!' he said, his voice cracking. 'Don't, just stay there.'

Thorin stayed still, unmoving as rock as he waited for Bilbo to say something.

'Is it true?' Bilbo managed to get out eventually, his breath catching on his throat.

Thorin nodded.

'About... Everything?'

'If you mean that you are my One, Bilbo, and that I love you, then yes.' Yavanna, his voice was just the same, the same deep tone that vibrated in Bilbo's chest, the same voice he heard every night in his dreams and was now right here in front of him.

Bilbo just stared, his heart hammering. Thorin looked the same, smelt the same, felt the same... But he'd been dead. And now he was back and Bilbo's head hurt, it hurt so much.

'Nope,' he shook his head. He needed a moment, he needed time to think. He turned and hurried away, feeling Thorin's eyes on him as he scurried blindly down the corridors until he found a quiet staircase, dusty with its little use, and he sank down and bit his fist, trying desperately not to cry.

It was Thorin. His Thorin.

And he was his Bilbo. His One. Thorin had come back...for him. Bilbo didn't notice that for the first time in a year, his heart had stopped hurting. It felt whole again.


(A/N: Told you you'd hate me.) :3