AN: Hi all! Thanks for the awesome support! It does motivate me to keep working! Sorry the updates might be a bit slower now that classes are under way. Anyways, I hope you enjoy this one! Not too much action, but well, He's finally here :D Please let me know what you think of things .. also totally open to suggestions for what you want to see in the future! I've really only planned up through a few more chapters :) Happy reading!

thirteen

Thorin

en Route to the Shire

early November 2958

Thorin always prided his people for their loyalty. When Dwalin's message had arrived, Thorin had stormed out of his Small Council Meeting. He had of course intended to leave for the Shire alone. He shouldn't have been at all surprised, however, when the entire Company showed up. He had paused just long enough to send a message off to Dáin. In it, he begged with no uncertainty for his cousin to come and take charge of Erebor in his absence. Then, he had changed from his royal robes into his traveling tunic and coat. He had gathered the necessary rations and a bedroll and been out the door. Or well, tried to be out the door. He'd still been in the courtyard, arguing with a groom about mounts when the rest of the Company had arrived. It hadn't taken a genius to realize the mastermind behind the delay. Balin and Oín were the eldest of the Company, and good old Balin wasn't about to see them left behind.

As soon as his advisor had made an appearance, the groom's complaints had ended. Suddenly, there had been enough mounts for all of their party. It was a large party too, Thorin realized as they clattered out of the courtyard. The whole Company was there. Well, all eleven of them seeing as Dwalin and Fíli were already there. Then, additionally Glóin had his son, Gimli, along. His wife Lívói had also stubbornly refused to be left behind while her husband and son went.

"I can fight as well as any soldier." she had declared when Thorin fixed her with a dubious look. He had nodded and then fixed a glare on Bombur. Elsba sat atop a large pony at her One's side. Bombur sat tall and proud in his saddle, silently supporting her decision. Beside her, two young boys shared a pony. Their eldest son, Baldur, could be no more than thirty. His younger brother had been a babe when they left on their Quest. Therefore, he had to be sixteen at youngest, and twenty at oldest.

"This is no place for children." Thorin declared cooly.

"With all due respect, your majesty, we are journeying to retrieve your own bairn. Perhaps, she might like some youthful company? Some other dwarrow children to help her adjust?" Elsba said, her head held high as she met Thorin's gaze.

"They won't slow us, Thorin, no more than Oín and I will slow you, but you wouldn't dare dream of leaving us behind now, would you?" Balin had interjected on behalf of the boys. Thorin in turn had glared at his advisor, but agreed nevertheless with a non-verbal grunt. He had mounted his own steed, and thus led his Company of sixteen dwarrow and a dozen guards from the courtyard. He didn't look back.

Traveling should have felt freeing. Thorin had expected it to be what with the relatively small traveling group. They made good timing. It was nice too to be living simply, not as their king but merely a leader of a Company. It was odd how being an exiled monarch was so different from being a proper one. He had no heavy bejeweled robes on the road, he wore no crown and, best of all, there were no meeting or other social obligations thrust upon him. At least, not in the way that he had become resigned to. With his steadfast companions, out here on the road, he was simply Thorin. He was still their leader, but he had always been their leader.

At times Thorin still hated the way that his position had distanced him. Since he had become king, only Dwalin dared still spar with him. Even Balin's harsh advice had simmered down and that was to say nothing of the other dwarrow. His previous Companions met him with bows and spoke so formally. At first, it had been nice when they fell back into their old selves. They did not dare to openly disrespect him, but there was no bowing on the road either. They each had tasks to do each night, and he was happy to pull his weight. He knew that their change of behavior was all in deference to him, but it still felt strange. As king, Thorin could no longer walk through a crowd without the conversation ceasing and everyone bowing to him.

What was worse, he could hardly imagine Bilba accepting such a future. She was such a free little thing, she hardly cared for titles or wealth and what was worse, she was a child of the earth. If logic dictated whom he should love and choose to be his Queen it would not be Bilba Baggins. It was not logic though that had made that ultimate decision. It was his heart. So, if he could be the king of Erebor then he could do everything in his power to make Bilba happy. He had to. She was the only thing that mattered to him. He'd spent years trying to reclaim his home, but it was cold and empty without his One and their daughter. Especially cold now that he knew about them.

As they had ridden away from Dale, Thorin had inexplicably waited for the sense of freedom to descend. It hadn't. He had managed to remain civil with the Elvin King, but they had not lingered. He insisted that wherever possible, they press on. That had, unfortunately, included declining Thranduil's offer to let them stay the night. No one had argued. Instead, Tauriel had skillfully led them through the forest. Commenting only a few times at its progress. Apparently, the Mirkwood was no longer so Mirky, apparently it was now to be the Greenwood. Thorin had to agree it was less gloomy than during their first trip through it, but it still was a far cry from pleasant.

They had crossed then into the Bear's territory. It hadn't taken their host long to appear. The Beorning had challenged him, changing skin to speak with them. Thorin had tersely answered the questions. Part of him had to admit he was surprised that Beorn hadn't killed him and their entire party on sight. After all, the Bear was partial to Bilba; not to them. Perhaps, however, they yet again owed their lives to Bilba. Thorin didn't exactly like the thought. He already owed his hobbit too much, but the Bear did seem to know how much Bilba cared for him. Or had cared for him. Thorin hadn't missed the way that Beorn had said so. She had pined for him on her trip back home. So why then did you go? he wanted to demand, but she wasn't there to answer. Only his own cynical inner voice.

All the way across the Misty Mountains Thorin had been in a mood. Kíli yelled at him once for it. He claimed that they were all worried about Bilba, and Thorin had to stop being so self-centered. Thorin hadn't responded well, and the fight that followed had to have been one of their worst. He wanted to say that he was defending himself, that Kíli had attacked him. But that wasn't exactly true. He had lashed out and been unreasonably cruel to Kíli, and it was all because he knew that his nephew was right. He hated what he'd done to Bilba. His self-anguish was getting to him and he'd lashed out at the Company. They hadn't deserved it anymore than she had. Kíli was angry because he hated that he had sided with Thorin. In that terrible moment before the gates of Erebor he had let his love for his uncle blind him. Thorin couldn't blame his nephew for his anger. Before the Quest, before Thorin had fallen to the Gold Sickness, he had been his nephews' hero. He had been the hero of his entire Company. All during the journey they had trusted him and loved him. They had called him King and when he had begun to court Bilba then they had called her Queen. They welcomed her as no outsider had ever been welcomed. Then he had turned on Bilba. He had demanded that they choose between their sworn King and their beloved Queen. It was hardly surprising that in the heat of the moment they'd all chosen him. They had seen Bilba to safety, but they stood with their King because that was what was expected. That was what their culture taught them.

Oh Bilba, Thorin mourned, you who, of all of us, was the best. The most innocent. He had not only turned on her, his One, he had wrapped his fingers about her neck. He had tried to squeeze the life from her, and all the while she had been carrying their child then. Their daughter.

Thorin had a hard time grappling with the knowledge that Bilba was alive. He had even more difficulty imagining his daughter. Still, Bilba was alive, according to Dwalin's missive, and the dwarf would never be so cruel to them. Dwalin knew what Bilba meant to Thorin, and especially to the others. His friend was still angry with him about what transpired but he wouldn't do this. He wouldn't lie.

Therefore, as they entered the elven valley, Thorin's nerves were at the breaking point. He had spent much of the time since the mountains withdrawing into himself. He seemed to be stuck alternating between periods of guilt, worry, and shame. He had no place, not to be here begging for her forgiveness and certainly not leading them. Or so, he'd tell himself until the wave of longing hit him. She was alive! Bilba was alive! Every time he told himself that his heart would leap. Then, he'd want to dig his heels into his mount's side and not stop until he saw her again.

"Don't Laddie." Thorin turned to look at where Balin had pressed a hand to his arm.

"Don't what?" Thorin growled.

"Don't go off without us. We're all here for you and for Bilba both. Her and the bairn, you cannot just off and leave us. We've come this way to be with you." Thorin growled under his breath, but he turned back to the Last Homely House. If Balin smiled then, well, Thorin pretended not to notice.

Thorin tried not to glare, but he was fairly certain that he failed. Lately, however, he seemed only ever to be glaring; regardless of if he was speaking to an elf or a dwarf. Throughout the exchange of pleasantries with the Lord Elrond the elf lord was polite, if curt. They were all given rooms and, unlike before, Thorin allowed his Company to take them. Alone in his room, the idea of a hot bath and the going straight to bed was undeniably tempting. Instead, with great reluctance, he forced himself to wash quickly and then go down for dinner. Unlike last time, there was meat on the table. From the way that the elves doted on Bombur's young children, Thorin figured that they could owe them the meat. It would appear, Thorin reflected, that children are a weakness for the elves too. At least, to some elves, Thorin's inner voice sneered. There had been plenty of dwarrow children fleeing Erebor, but Thranduil hadn't cared.

"Thorin." he turned to see Balin glancing worriedly in his direction. "You were growling under your breath." his older companion warned.

"Oh." Thorin finally said, rather lamely. "I believe I should take myself to my chambers. We'll leave in the morning, at dawn, the day after tomorrow." he said, pushing back his chair from the table. Balin nodded, courteously with a smile for the sake of their elvish company. Thorin, however, knew his friend better, and he could tell that the dwarf seemed glad that he was leaving. Likely, Thorin mused, he's worried I'll do something to cause irreparable damage in our relationship with the elvish scum. The worse realization was that Balin wasn't completely wrong in his fears either. Especially given his current state of mind, who knew what Thorin might do or say. He was just in a foul mood and he did not need to impose that on the rest of the Company.

"I wouldn't presume to prevent you from going to your chambers, King Thorin. However, it might interest you to hear tidings from the Shire first?" Thorin was halfway out of his chair when the elf lord spoke. He froze, and then turned slowly to his host.

"The Shire you say?" Thorin was certain that he growled then.

"Indeed. There is nothing emergent anymore, however, and the news can wait. I would be remiss though if I didn't at least mention it to you." Lord Elrond held his gaze with would-be innocence. Knowing that he was trapped and that, once again, the elf lord had won one over him, Thorin sat back down. He was aware of the eyes of his entire Company on him. The desperation that suddenly filled his veins distracted him from their attention. Bilba. Her name filled him with a nervous excitement. The news had to be about Bilba and their daughter.

Thorin had spent many a night contemplating his daughter. He did not know anything about her. He had dreamed of having children once. After he had tried to throw Bilba, his One, from the ramparts of Erebor, however, he had given up on the hopes. They had once dreamed of starting a family together. Now, it was only in his darkest moments that Thorin ever let himself imagine that family.

For the past sixteen years, he had truly believed that Bilba was dead. He had eventually come to the conclusion that his One had been burned anonymously. There had been so many fallen warriors, and the elves and men had both agreed to cremation. The earth was frozen and so they cremated their dead before the carrion could take them. The Company had combed the dwarrow dead. They were separated and gathered to be burried under the stone. They had hoped that Bilba woud be amongst them, mistaken for a dwarf because of he height. She had not. Therefore, they had all been forced to come to the horrible conclusion. Bilba had been with the other dead. She had been burned. Fíli, Kíli, Dwalin and Bofur had held out hope the longest. After even Thorin had sunk into a depression. They still searched, still went in search of the men and elves responsible for the cremations. They had never found out anything, but as the years passed they'd had to accept that Bilba was gone. It stung all of them that she was gone. It added insult to injury that she'd been cremated; a sin amongst dwarrow.

Then, Thorin's hope had been returned in the form of Dwalin's letter. Bilba was alive. He could only ever imagine what that meant because their future would be up to Bilba. Thorin knew that beyond a shadow of a doubt. However, he could barely imagine what their life might be like.

For starters, fifteen years had passed. She was a hobbit and had been young by their standards, but now she would be well towards middle age. Even he had to admit that age was beginning to catch up to him. But, even with those slow markers, he would still outlive her by a wide margin.

A future had to assume that, by some miracle, Bilba forgave him for his past actions. After that, if age and lifespan didn't matter then they still had many decisions to make. Thorin worried if Bilba could be happy living in Erebor. She was used to living outdoors, surrounded by plants, not stone. Before, Bilba had expressed some concerns. At the time Thorin had pledged to remedy them as he could. He tried to explain that there were few windows for safety purposes. When she worried about the high walkways without railings he had been forced to stifle his amusement. Bilba's hobbit sensibilities were foreign to him in many ways. They had talked about family, about childhood adventures. Thinking now about what he knew of her habits, Thorin had to admit that his knowledge came from watching her. They had not really discussed what their home and life would be like. They had never broached the subject of her becoming a Queen. If she would even consider such a proposal, Thorin could not say.

"You haven't cared to share these tidings yet, why?" Thorin demanded, glaring blatantly at the elf lord. Every time that he thought he could almost acknowledge Elrond as an equal the elf had to do something like this. Before, it was vegetables and their reliance on him to read the map. Now, it was withholding information about his kin. If the elf wasn't a Lord, Thorin would not have fought so hard to retain his temper. Indeed, things might have gotten violent very fast.

"Please, my lord, this is Bilba we're speaking of. Will you not tell us the tidings? She is kin to me, and I have grieved already too long thinking she was dead." Kíli interjected. Thorin winced at his nephew's wording, but when the elf lord looked to his kin his stern expression softened.

"Bilba was here, up unto a matter of days ago. She was brought in, injured, but made a recovery. She has since left in haste to attend to her daughter. Raven was involved in a fight with some of the hobbits." Elrond announced and Thorin felt his blood run cold.

"A fight concerning hobbits? I thought that they were a peaceable people? Why would they dare do anything with Raven?" Thorin demanded, feeling his dread increase. It was only after his demands had fled his lips that he realized he had uttered his daughter's name for the first time. Trust Bilba to name our girl Raven, he thought. Perhaps, it was not a suitable name, ravens after all were messengers. then again, perhaps that is what makes it so perfect.

"They are usually, however, Bilba was shunned upon her return to the Shire. It means," the elf continued, anticipating their questions, "that she has no standing. The other hobbits will not speak to her. Will not sell or trade with her. And, if anyone commits any crime against her, then she will not exist to be the victim. Raven, is her daughter, and you are not recognized as a hobbit. Indeed, until recently I believe that even Bilba believed Raven to be born out of wedlock." Thorin's gut twisted, and he felt the accusatory glares of more than one dwarf on him. "As you can understand then, it's been a difficult situation. Raven is a grey area, and so I believe that some hobbits wanted to give her trouble. She is fine now. Your kin were there and protected her. However, Bilba still felt guilty for not being there when her daughter needed her." Elrond explained carefully.

"And Bilba herself, was injured how?" Thorin demanded.

"She was kidnapped, from the Shire." Elrond said, however, Thorin noticed the hesitancy in the elf's voice.

"But who'd want to kidnap the lass?" Bofur interjected, and though Thorin shot him a glare, the dwarf refused to back down.

"She said it was dawrrow. They came into the Shire, to her smial, and they took her. She said that she believed they intended to hand her over to servants of the enemy. There were seeking retribution for how you've treated the blooded royals." each of Elrond's words felt like a hammer blow to Thorin. More reasons why he had failed to protect his One and their daughter.

"And the dwarrow responsible, what happened to them?" Thorin demanded.

"One of them died, actually protecting Bilba from the servants of the enemy. We are unsure of the second. He was not found. Bilba had escaped and needed immediate medical attention. My friends who found her, brought her straight here. They did not waste precious time tracking her attackers." Elrond explained.

"The dwarf or dwarrow responsible will pay, very publicly, with their lives." Thorin declared and there were cheers from his company. "Were there any other opportune tidings that you intended to keep from us?" he demanded.

"No." Elrond replied.

"I see. Well, if that is the case, I shall retire early." Thorin stood, already feeling the pounding of an oncoming headache.

"And what about us? When are we riding for the Shire?" Kíli rose behind him.

"As a Company, we need rest." Thorin glanced over at the exhausted figures. Balin and Oín certainly weren't as young as they once had been. Most of the Company were aging as a matter of fact. As much as even he himself wished to say that the weeks of traveling hadn't had an affect on him; they had.

"What we need is to be there, for Bilba and for Raven, our kin!" Kíli slammed a fist down on the table, and the room froze.

"Kíli," Tauriel began.

"No. This is between my uncle and me, melamin." Kíli stopped her.

"Indeed." Thorin turned back to his nephew. "You want to leave tomorrow?" he demanded, levelling a glare at the younger dwarf.

"Of course I want to leave tomorrow. This is Bilba we're speaking of. She wouldn't, didn't, hesitate to come to our aid. Why should we sit here, relaxing when she is need of ours? We've waited years to see her again. Years that you cost us!" Kíli's voice kept increasing as he grew more and more agitated. "Or, perhaps, you want us to wait because you're afraid! You're our King, you're supposed to be fearless, you're supposed to know what's right!" Kíli's mouth opened, as though he was going to continue, but words seemed to fail him.

Inwardly, Thorin felt a great shame. Kíli was right. He was supposed to be better, and yes, he was afraid to see Bilba again. Afraid that she would reject him. Afraid that he would be forced to live without his One, knowing that she was alive. He had wronged her before, and how could he possibly ever atone for his actions.

"If the rest of the Company feels rested enough to leave in the morning then we will depart. If anyone needs the day then, we will all take it without any ill will." Thorin looked around seeing the indecision on so many of his Company's faces. "Am I understood?"

"I'm leaving in the morning." Kíli glared.

"I am your King and I am telling you that we will be together whether we leave in the morning or the morning the day after. That's an order." Thorin replied.

"Of course, your Majesty. I'll take it under advisement." Kíli spat. For a moment Thorin contemplated setting him straight. He pictured marching back to demand that his nephew obey him. Instead, he turned on his heel and left the room. Kíli was mad, and he had every right to be. Thorin didn't think though that he would leave. Not alone.

The next morning found the whole party seated once more on their mounts. Balin had come by late the night before to tell Thorin that they had decided to continue immediately. He had agreed with his aged advisor. Then, he had closed himself in his room with the bottle of elvish wine that he'd ordered a servant bring him.

The headache from the wine felt deserved as Thorin bid stiff farewells to the lord Elrond. As he led his Company from the valley he reflected that he had not been to the Shire often. He had travelled back to the Blue Mountains and Ered Luin countless times. For some reason, however, turning their mounts towards the Shire felt like coming home. Thorin would not dare admit it out loud, but it felt better than going to either of the dwarrow societies. He had lived between them for most of his life, but they held no claim to his heart. Not the way the Shire and two of its inhabitants did.

They weren't far from the elven valley when the Company's spirits seemed to revive. After the mountain passage they had all been tired and cold. The last few days of the journey had been mostly without cheer. Now, it felt almsot as though spirits were as high as when they first left Erebo. Of course the youngsters had endless energy, and they did a good job of cheering the rest of the party. The fresh provisions from the elves and a good night's sleep had also worked wonders for most of the Company. Thorin could not bring himself to join in the merriment. He knew that there was a fair reason behind Bilba's decisions. Still, Thorin could not help but wallow in his own self pity.

Why hadn't she returned? Why had she never even reached out? Why hide from us? The worries gnawed unendingly at him as they rode. Moreover, Bilba had not even seen fit to send word of their child. My daughter for Mahal's sake! He had a daughter and his One hadn't told him. During the journey he imagined thousands of times what his daughter might be like. Blonde like her mother or brunette like me? Would she grow a beard or have furry feet? The questions were endless as were his imaginings of how things his reunion might go with Bilba. Will she be warm? Will there be tears? Will she hate me and spirit our child away? Those thoughts, however, inevitably led to the return of darker thoughts. Many of which centered around the news of the attacks both on Bilba and on Raven. His family was not safe, and he had not been able to protect or provide for them. Not caring for one's family was a shame for which any dwarf would be ridiculed. Even the poorest of dwarrow looked out for their kin and he was a King. He had no excuse for not caring for them. he had food, supplies, guards, and certainly a lot of wealth at his disposal.

By the time that they stopped two days ride from the border of the Shire Thorin had worked himself into a foul mood. He knew that his Company did not deserve it, but neither could he seem to help it.

"Kíli." he finally ordered.

"Your Majesty?" his nephew had been even more distant than usual.

"I would like you to ride ahead. I sent word from Rivendell of our coming, but it was only an estimate. You you heard the elf's instructions. They live on the edge of Buckland, look for a game trail shortly after the bridge. We will follow, but I should think that Bilba will want a more specific time of arrival." Thorin said. Kíli met his gaze, holding it and then nodded. It was not an apology, but it was an offer of truce.

"I'm taking Tauriel with me." Kíli declared.

"Of course." Thorin agreed, having expected it, and not entirely upset at the idea of the elf leaving.

"Thank you." Kíli said and then he turned and quickly left, heading for Tauriel. They remounted their steeds, and with the Company watching left.

"They'll announce us to our host." Thorin said as faces turned to him. "Make camp, and start on some food, I could use a hot bowl of stew after our day." They hurried to do his bidding. As Kíli disappeared from sight Thorin couldn't help but let his guts squirm with nerves.

Bilba would forgive the others. She had loved Fíli and Kíli as if they were her own children. The other members of the Company had also endeared themselves, to her. She had come to call them kin. It seemed the least that he could do to make sure that she knew that they were not to blame. Not really. He was their king, and the decision had been so fast. They had protected her as best as they could. They had chosen their king as their tradition and culture mandated. Then, they'd spent the following sixteen years hating him for his decision. Of course, none but Kíli would ever say that out loud. Their eagerness to embark on this journey, even when it was so close to winter was all the story that they needed. If the only thing that Thorin could do was make sure that Bilba would forgive his Company, he'd not hesitate. If she could know that they still loved and missed her? That they would protect and provide for her and their daughter? Thorin knew that he would do anything and everything that Bilba might demand. She would never again want for anything. Never again would Bilba be unprotected. Privately, Thorin knew that, if it came to it, he would even aside the crown of Erebor. She was his One and he would rather die than to live without her.