Disclaimer: The Hobbit and its characters do not belong to me.
AN: Thanks for waiting so patiently!
The Trouble with Soulmate Marks: a Hobbit fanfic
By Indygodusk
Chapter 14: Breakfast Presents and Sunlit Conversations
Finally Billa woke up. Her stomach gurgled. Happily she realized that she'd timed things perfectly. Serving elves were drifting around with trays of breakfast, several of whom she recognized. Ori gave her a sideways smile and beckoned Asindar and his tray over. First things first, she devoured a bowl of fruit and porridge in barely a minute flat. Then she daintily wiped the corners of her mouth.
Asindar walked by again, blinked, and offered her a new bowl. She accepted it with alacrity. After eating that, he returned and perfunctorily offered her a small meat pie. Billa ignored his surprise when she said yes and asked for three more (when she said small, she meant miniature meat pies that would make her hobbit friends stare in dismay). However, the drizzle of golden honey on top did make for a delicious mouthful.
While happily licking the side of one sticky finger, Billa set her tray to the side and reclined back to digest a bit. On the other side of the room she saw Asindar talking to Mírdan. The two stood close together. Billa pulled her blanket up to half-cover her face and overt interest. The red-haired elf looked up at Asindar with a soft smile and subtly stroked her fingertips along the back of his hand. He blushed and looked down more adorably than Billa expected from an elf. His hand turned, hesitated for only a moment, and then reached out to brush his fingers up through Mírdan's fingers until they loosely clasped hands. Then he looked up into her eyes. They both seemed to stop breathing. It made Billa crinkle her nose and smile behind her blanket.
The slight clatter of another elf stacking dirty dishes onto a tray broke them from their reverie. The two elves stepped back and became professional once more. Billa sighed and lowered her blanket.
They began talking and gesturing to different parts of the tent. Then Asindar gestured in Billa's direction with a wry smile. They both looked at her for a minute before turning back to each other. Mírdan's eyebrows rose and he shrugged. It made the hobbit very curious.
A few minutes later, Mírdan came around with a platter stacked high with gleaming apple pastries. Delicate white frosting hugged the golden flaky crust. Billa's mouth watered and she sat up quickly. "You may have as many as you'd like," Mírdan said with a friendly smile that held just the slightest edge of challenge and fascination.
Although Billa had already eaten more in one sitting than she'd lately had to eat in an entire day, her stomach, while tight, nevertheless insisted that it could still find more room. Normally she ate seven small to medium sized meals, but travel and cultural ignorance had ruined her eating schedule. She'd become shamefully thin. The Hobbiton gossip mill would never let her live something like this down if they could see her.
Given the opportunity, she'd rather just eat. On this trip she'd learned to ignore the judgmental looks. Or at least she tried. People outside the Shire had strange eating habits. Why make herself miserable by eating only a few small meals if she didn't have to? Billa tried to stay true to her hobbit culture when possible.
"Thank you, but I couldn't possibly eat more than two, maybe three," Billa answered with a polite smile and expectant gaze. Ori just shook his head and continued knitting.
Mírdan gave a laugh of tinkling bells and placed three pastries on Billa's plate. "If you need more, please let me know. I would be happy to give you extra. We aren't used to dealing with Hobbits, but you must eat as much as you need to properly heal."
Smiling without an ounce of shame, Billa easily promised to eat their delicious food until she felt truly sated. The first two pastries went down delightfully easy. However, the third finally made her feel on the verge of overfull.
She considered leaving the last bite of it on her plate, but the thought of throwing away even a little bit of that soft apple bundled in flaky crust and silken sauce proved too horrifying. She couldn't be the cause of such waste. Besides, finishing it off wasn't truly a hardship. She'd had much worse difficulties in the last few months.
Releasing a dainty burp, Billa sat back and relaxed. Elves really did do lovely things with dough, she thought happily. For the first time in ages, Billa's belly felt full. No ache of hunger lingered, even on the periphery. How absolutely wonderful.
Ori, the crazy boy, had refused the elves' offers of food. During her meal he'd instead focused on furiously knitting something on his lap. She'd been too distracted to pay much attention.
Now that she'd finished eating, it was time to get dressed and go. Billa found herself faced with a very serious dilemma: put back on her grime-stiffened skirt or beg to take one of these nice clean sheets as makeshift clothing? Her blood-stained, torn leggings had disappeared, not that she'd miss them. If Billa wrapped a sheet around her waist and started walking out, would anyone really call her on her thievery? She'd stolen from a dragon, so a blanket from the elves shouldn't be too difficult, right? At the same time, she felt a little bit too old to be walking around wearing only a sheet about her naked legs, even if it was a very nice, clean, and soft sheet.
Just then, Ori tied off his last stitch with a happy sigh and lowered his newest masterpiece to his lap. He carefully tucked away his needles and yarn. "Ready to go home, Billa?"
For a moment Billa just stared at him in confusion. Her face paled. Was Thorin going to send her straight back to the Shire without even letting her say goodbye? But Gandalf had made it seem like he wanted to see her, like everyone wanted to see her. Before she could start hyperventilating, she realized that Ori meant the mountain. She flushed.
Ori must have read some of her thoughts. "Erebor is your home now, too," the young dwarf said, leaning forward and staring earnestly into her face. "You helped us to get it back from the dragon, Billa. You helped us to keep it. From now until the end of time, you will always have a place in its history and its halls. You have family there now. Erebor is not just our home, it is your home," he repeated fervently. Realizing that he'd raised his voice and caused the surrounding elves to turn and stare, Ori blushed bright red and sank back into his chair.
Unexpected tears sprang to Billa's eyes. She felt touched. Reaching out, she laid her hand on Ori's hot cheek. "You are a very good dwarf, Ori. I am honored to know you and count you among my friends."
Ori cleared his throat, lowered his eyes, and stood up with a shuffle of feet. Then he shook out his green knitting. The bundle unfolded into a small, intricately patterned skirt. "This is for you, to keep you warm inside the mountain this winter," Ori said timidly, holding it out to her.
Billa's automatic thank you died in her throat. It wasn't rudeness. She just got too distracted looking at the perfection of his work and knowing that it now belonged to her. She couldn't find her breath for anything but, "Ooohhhhhh."
Ori shuffled, "I know the quality isn't great. Unfortunately someone sold me unevenly dyed yarn, but I tried to work it into a pleasing pattern. Luckily you're so short or else I wouldn't have gotten it done in time. Once we get more established here and the trade routes open up I'll make you something better."
The variegated green knit skirt cascading down from his fingers looked amazing. Geometric patterns of lines and crisscrossing diamonds flowed along the skirt in a pattern both dwarven-bold and yet somehow organic. The unevenness of the dyed wool enhanced the beauty, somehow reminding Billa of both the hues of the green-veined stone inside Erebor and the sprawl of vines in her garden back home. In addition to being beautiful, the skirt also looked cozy, warm, and perfect for a mountain winter.
Billa loved it.
"Oh, Ori" she breathed, reaching out to touch the soft knit. Finally she found her tongue, "It's absolutely lovely." He pressed it into her hands with a pleased smile. Hugging it to her chest, she ran her fingers up and down the pattern and beamed up at him. "You are so talented and thoughtful. This is gorgeous, thank you so much!"
Lhénith came over just then and stooped down to run her fingers over the weave of the skirt. "How marvelous!" the elf exclaimed. "So this is what you've been making, young dwarf. Well done! I am even more excited to learn how to knit now." Placing a bag down next to Billa on the bed, she continued, "I need to do once last exam and then you are free to go, my friend. But lest you forget us elves once you arrive at the dwarven city, I have a gift for you as well."
"You didn't have to do that," Billa protested. "I could never forget you and your help the last few days."
A close-lipped, pleased smile stretched across Lhénith's face. "Nevertheless, I still have a gift for you." Reaching into her bag, Lhénith pulled out a small, perfectly hobbit-sized shirt embroidered at the neck and cuffs with subtle vines and flower buds. "It's beautiful," Billa said in surprised delight. "Thank you." The ivory linen felt soft against her skin. Lhénith had used pale green embroidery floss that almost melted into the color of the fabric.
"This will perfectly match my new skirt," Billa said, placing the two next to each other. "Did you plan this together?"
Lhénith laughed softly. "No planning, though I will admit to being inspired by Ori's choice of yarn. I did not know he meant it as a gift to you though. Perhaps I should pretend I knew all along, and thus make myself seem all-knowing and wise instead of just lucky. Oh well, too late," she winked at Ori.
Blushing, Ori stumbled back and grabbed the curtain by Billa's bed. "I'll give you some privacy to get dressed and then I'll escort you back." He closed the curtain in a quick retreat.
"Even though he's a dwarf, he reminds me of my youngest nephew," Lhénith confessed to Billa. "I should probably give other dwarves a chance too." She paused for a moment, twisting a lock of dark hair and staring unfocused at the closed curtain still swaying from Ori's passing. "They can't all be bad. I'd thought them very rude and xenophobic, but you are proof that they can care for people of other races. He seems very sweet…."
Shaking off her musings, the elven healer pulled back Billa's sheet enough to expose her leg. "This is healing very well," the elf said. "As long as you don't try to run up a hill or climb a tree for a few weeks, you should be just fine. I don't even think the scarring will be that bad." She changed the bandage. Then she helped Billa get dressed in her new skirt and blouse, though the hobbit still had to wear her old vest and borrowed coat on top of them. But at least Billa had something soft and new to wear up against her skin.
Once done, Lhénith pulled back the curtain and beckoned Ori over, giving them both instructions for keeping the wound clean and taking out the stitches. "Now, Master Ori," she said with a mock-stern glare down at the dwarf, "I will expect to see you in the spring with my knitting needles and yarn. Otherwise, I will be most disappointed."
The dwarf smiled at her shyly, "I won't disappoint you, Mistress Lhénith." Then he looked up with a crooked smile that briefly reminded Billa of Nori, "Just remember not to short me on my embroidery floss."
Nodding her head solemnly, Lhénith promised, "I wouldn't dream of it." Then she winked.
Turning to Billa, she added, "Take care of yourself, my dear. Please make sure you let me know if you need anything. Nestor told me that Tauriel will stay with you and the dwarves for now." The elf touched the side of her neck with a delicate finger, bringing attention to the soulmark heretofore hidden by the shadowy fall of her hair.
"Although her bonding to a dwarf took everyone by surprise, her friends are still faithful. We are happy to hear that she's found the ultimate love of a soulmate. I know just how valuable that is," she gave a secret smile and lowered her hand. "Tauriel knows how to get a message out. Let us know how you fare when you have the time."
Lhénith gave Billa a sideways, twinkling look through her lashes, "Gossip about Tauriel will also be very well received. If she isn't taking good care of herself, or isn't happy, please tell us. Maybe we can help. And if she is happy… please tell us about that too." Then she leaned down and gave Billa a firm, sweet-smelling hug.
"Thank you for everything," Billa whispered against her pointed ear. "I'll keep in touch." Then she stepped back and smiled, "I'll also look for you in the spring. Don't forget to visit me, or else I won't let Ori trade you those knitting needles!"
"Indeed." Ori put his nose in the air, stuck his thumbs in his belt, and nodded firmly.
Lhénith laughed. "Never fear, I won't forget. May joy find you, my friend." Then she escorted them to the tent door. Nestor joined her, placing his hand around the curve of her waist as the two waved goodbye.
Billa kept waving back with her head craned over her shoulder until they reached the edges of the elven camp and had to turn the corner. She really had liked those two. She followed Ori as he walked towards a patch of spindly bushes. "Isn't Erebor faster the other way?" Billa asked, crinkling her brow.
"Yes and no," Ori said unhelpfully.
"Then why are we going this way?" she complained, nettled by his short answer. "Our walk will be twice as long."
Suddenly, a group of rams pulling a wagon trotted around the bush and into view. "Because we aren't walking," Ori smiled.
Nori pulled the wagon to a stop perfectly in front of Billa's furry bare feet. "Hello, lass, you're looking well this morning. Good!"
"I hope you didn't steal this," Billa quipped as he helped her climb in.
Nori smirked. "I was going to, just for fun, but then Haeth had one of his people walk me down to pick it up with an executive order, the spoilsport."
Unlike her jostling drive with the wounded down from Ravenhill, Nori made sure to give her a comfortable ride. He even avoided the direct path to take smoother trails without all the drop-offs. Although Billa really was feeling fine now, with her leg barely sore, she still appreciated it. Just because the wagon could go travelling along almost vertical walls didn't mean it had to.
Of course, the closer they came to Erebor the more her anxiety over talking with Thorin rose. Sure, they said he wanted to see her, but he wasn't dying anymore. What if he got angry about the Arkenstone again? What if he wished her well but wanted her gone post-haste?
Then again, he had seemed rather loving as he gave his dying apologies up on Ravenhill. Maybe he'd take her hand and say, 'let's just forget what happened while I was crazy and get married tomorrow. You can trust me now, right?' Unfortunately, that scenario made her stomach clench with nausea too. The closer they got, the more she felt like an emotional mess.
Finally they pulled up to the pathway leading towards the restored gates of Erebor. The dwarves had been hard at work. Nori gestured expansively. "Thanks to the extra hands, we've managed to fix a lot of things since you've last been here. A few lads have even managed to make a new gate and fill in most of the unsightly cracks up on the battlements," he pointed up to the now flawless edifice.
Politeness demanded she acknowledge and admire the work, but Billa could only give it a fleeting glance. Like a monster just waiting behind a tree to pounce, the horrific memory of her last moments up on the wall assaulted her. Unable to speak, she concentrated on breathing evenly. Focusing on those memories didn't do her any good. She wished she could cut them out altogether and stitch her time back together into a seamless ribbon of before and after reaching the mountain.
Nori looked at her white face, winced, and cut himself off. Unfortunately, Ori had leaned out to focus on the workman and wasn't paying attention. He missed the verbal minefield and took up the narrative detailing how dwarves had repaired the battlements, gate, walls, and the road leading up to it. They'd cleared the rubble, so at least the wagon ride felt smooth. Billa let him prattle on, but didn't pay much attention. Ori didn't seem to mind.
As they finally drove through the gate, Billa very firmly kept her eyes down. She had no need to see again the place on the wall where Thorin had almost thrown her to her death. He had apologized, she reminded her churning anxiety and sorrow. Did it count that he'd said in a dream that he wouldn't have really done it?
Billa would be speaking to him any moment now and she wanted it to be a happy reunion. Thanks to the elven healers, he'd woken up and would actually live. The man she loved most in this world was going to live! Right now she wanted to focus on the good things, not the bad. Blowing out her breath, she shoved her tangled mass of feelings back into her emotional cupboard and slammed the door. She'd deal with those later.
Driving directly into the courtyard, Nori slowed to a stop and deposited Billa and Ori at a side door she'd not noticed before. Taking both reigns in one hand, Nori reached out and patted her on the shoulder. "You'll be fine, just don't forget to look really pitiful when they start yelling at you."
Billa turned stricken eyes on him. He laughed. She scowled in response.
"Don't tease," Ori scolded. "She just rose from her sickbed."
"Sorry, I couldn't help myself," Nori replied with a wink and shrug. Then his sly mask slid off for a moment to reveal genuine affection. "You worried me too, you know. You worried all of us. Be more careful with yourself."
Turning, Billa looked earnestly up into his face. "I am sorry. I really didn't think my little wound was going to be a problem. It probably would have healed on its own if I hadn't gone walking over to negotiate with the elven camp. I don't regret going over there, but I do regret making you all worry." Billa glanced over at Ori and then back into Nori's solemn features, "I am sorry for that."
Nori tilted his head to the side in acknowledgement. "It'll be fine, go on up. Everyone will be glad to have you back," he said with a smile. Ori helped her climb out of the chariot. Then Nori flicked the reigns hard and sped off with a whoop and a cloud of dust. Coughing, Billa waved her hand in front of her face. As Nori took the corner too fast, the wagon tilted up onto two wheels. Then it disappeared from sight.
For a moment, Billa wondered if she could convince Ori to go exploring around that corner and into the courtyard and streets beyond. Maybe she could put off meeting with Thorin for a little longer? But Ori foiled that plan by holding the door open for her with an expectant look on his face.
Billa sighed. Nerves jangled through her full stomach. Brushing hair back behind the pointed tip of her ear, she fingered her beads for reassurance. Then she forced her feet to step forward through the doorway.
Strange dwarves with bristling beards, exotic hairstyles, and large workbelts full of weapons and tools walked briskly to and fro in the brightly lit hallways. A slight breeze stirred the air and brought a strange but not unpleasant scent with it. She felt disoriented and out of place.
The Erebor she'd lived in had echoed emptily and reeked of dragon. Corridors had seemed dim with strangely stale air. Over time she'd taken to using rubble, scorch marks, and the darkest hallways as landmarks. Now if she stayed, she'd have to learn her way around all over again.
Billa reminded herself that this is the way it should be, not hushed halls echoing only with the distant tread of feet and the foreboding clink of coins. Not the slow, crushing fear becoming heavier and heavier day by day. Flashing back to that dreary time actually made her feel better. Life had returned to the mountain. People had started making it a home again. Everyone's hopes for this quest had borne fruit.
"This way," Ori beckoned.
As she followed him, Billa noticed curious looks both surreptitious and bold cast her way from the dwarves in the hallways. She couldn't tell if the looks were friendly or not, but she decided to be optimistic and not borrow trouble.
They climbed up a staircase which seemed unnecessarily long and walked down an even longer corridor. The dwarves up here had clothes and belts made of finer materials and more elaborate decoration than the dwarves they'd passed below. She suspected that these were the noblemen and the dwarves below the laborers, though everyone seemed to be a craftsman in dwarrow culture.
"Is your leg doing alright?" Ori suddenly asked with a chagrined look. "Those were a lot of stairs. I'm sorry. I probably should have carried you." Pausing, he held out his arms and started to crouch, "I can put you on my back or if you don't like that, maybe in my arms in front?"
A group of dwarves walked by, staring curiously at Billa and the crouching Ori until they'd turned the corner and disappeared. Billa tried not to squirm at their scrutiny. What kind of first impression would that make on these dwarves, to see the strange hobbit being carried around instead of walking on her own two hairy feet? Once they disappeared, she sent Ori a scathing look.
"I beg your pardon? Really, I'll not be carried around like some sack of potatoes! I am a respectable spinster, not some wilting maiden uncaring of her own strength or reputation." The indignity of the thought was enough to make her increase her pace, even though she had been about to ask for a rest. Her leg wasn't hurting, but it did have a slight ache that was increasingly uncomfortable the farther they travelled. If it got much worse, she'd be sensible and stop, but for now she felt able to push on a bit more. Her reputation was at stake.
Although he turned his head away, Billa still noticed Ori sigh and roll his eyes heavenward at her words.
"I saw that," she snapped, perhaps more sharply than she would have otherwise if she'd been less stressed. Luckily he had two older brothers. He'd survived worse.
Blushing, Ori cleared his throat and looked around. He focused on a smoke-darkened portrait of a dwarf hammering on an anvil and sighed in relief. "The room we want is just around the next corner. We're almost there." He increased his pace.
Before Billa could take a breath to apologize to Ori, or settle on just what she really wanted to say to Thorin when she next saw him, they'd stopped in front of a pair of dark-skinned dwarves guarding an elaborately carved doorway. The soot on the door had been polished away so that the grain of the wood once more gleamed. The two guards bristled with both weapons and foreboding scowls. Their faced looked somehow familiar, although she'd not met them before and they had skin the color of freshly turned earth after a rain, darker than any skin she'd ever seen before. Both sported very little hair on the top of their heads and full and wiry-looking beards and mustaches.
"State your business," the one on the left stepped forward and demanded with a forbidding frown. Steel-gray frosted his dark beard and the sides of his hair. The dwarf had eyes that seemed more suited to wisdom and compassion than scowls, but unfortunately he didn't seem to be in a soft mood.
Ori raised his chin and threw back his shoulders. "We're expected. I'm the Royal Historian, Ori, escorting Mistress Baggins to an audience with the King. As you can see by her hair beads, she's been adopted by the royal family and has the right to come and go in the family chambers as she pleases."
The guard furrowed his brow, examining the beads in Billa's hair, her pointed ears, and her bare, hairy feet. If anything, his brown-complexioned face became even more suspicious. Then his younger-looking companion rudely nudged him in the side with an elbow, "She's cousin Dwalin's hobbit friend and part of the company, remember Borin?"
The dwarf's mouth rounded as his memory jogged. Borin nodded slowly. "Oh, that's right, Forin. Balin mentioned that she'd be coming by soon," he sheepishly scratched his head. "I forgot again."
Elbowing Borin out of the way, the other dwarf opened the door with a smile that crinkled his eyes and emphasized the freckles scattered across his cheeks and nose. "Be welcome, Mistress Baggins. We're Forin and Borin, second cousins of Balin and Dwalin on their mother's side." At her curious look, he elaborated, "Our Mum loved to travel with the caravans. She travelled to the far East and the distant South. Dwarves out there aren't so pale as the ones up here. Female dwarves are also more accepted by the other races. But when the King's call went out to the family, she immediately packed us all up and had us return."
"We barely made it in time," Borin added. "We only caught up to the army a few weeks ago." He stopped and turned to his brother, "or was it a few days ago?"
"No, it was a few weeks. You got it right the first time," Forin affirmed. Turning to Billa and Ori he explained, "Borin's still recovering from a concussion. He can fight, but his memory's not all there yet. Just let me know if you need anything. It was a pleasure to meet you."
"You as well, thank you," Billa replied politely, forcing herself to smile despite her jangling nerves. The time had come to move forward, but her feet didn't want to go. Billa hovered in the looming doorway. If she'd been a less stalwart sort of person, she would have thrown her reputation to the wind and run the other way. Now that Thorin could talk back to her, she suddenly didn't know what to say or if she even wanted to say anything. She felt like such a ninny.
Yet whether she wanted to run away from the upcoming conversation or not was a moot point. With Ori at her back and Borin and Forin crowding her sides, she had nowhere to move except forward. They'd blocked her escape routes.
A bead of sweat rolled down her face. The dwarves began looking at her strangely. Borin started to frown at her suspiciously again.
Abruptly sick of her own prevaricating, Billa tossed her hair back from her sweaty face. She wiped her hands on her skirt. Then she walked forward through the doorway.
A short hallway led to an open archway. It had no door, only an embroidered tapestry made up of geometric shapes of green, blue, and pale gold. The tapestry had been tied off to the side, allowing a warm flicker of firelight to beckon travelers inside. Not giving herself time to think, Billa strode through and looked around.
Inside the room sat a familiar form bent over writing at a desk covered in boxes and stacks of paper. The dwarf looked up. "Billa Baggins! I am delighted to see you," Balin exclaimed, standing up and coming around the desk with his arms outstretched in greeting.
Billa braced herself for an exuberant squeeze, but Balin's embrace felt careful and warm. He eased back with a gentle smile, leaving his hands on her shoulders to look her up and down. "You look hale and hearty. Good. It eases my old heart to have our whole company now accounted for. Welcome back and," his face became intent as he caught and held her gaze, "thank you. If no one else says it later, I want you to know that I see your heart. People might grumble over how things happened later, but I want you to ignore them. I see how you have always worked to save our King, to save us. I see how you have tried your best, even through the mistakes and disasters. I will always be grateful that Gandalf chose you for our fourteenth company member. Thank you, Billa." He stepped back and dropped his hands. "Thank you, my friend."
Redder than a tomato, Billa looked away and blinked back tears, grateful to escape his knowing gaze. She had made so many mistakes and held so many regrets… she wasn't sure she deserved his thanks. Nevertheless, she treasured his acknowledgement. Balin saw her good intentions and appreciated her efforts. That meant a lot. It meant almost everything.
Balin cleared his throat and spared her having to reply by changing the subject. "You just missed the rest of the company. They lingered over a breakfast planning meeting, hoping to see you, but finally had to give up and go back to work." He gestured to a large table set up in a side room. Several other closed doors on each wall presumable led to different parts of the family rooms. She'd have to ask later. Besides the desk and the table though, the room seemed rather empty, like it had once held much more. Then again, it probably had looked much worse from Smaug's depredations before it had been so thoroughly cleaned.
Looking up apologetically, Billa replied, "Sorry I missed everyone. I lingered over breakfast."
"She needed the extra food," Ori defended, stepping up next to her.
"Don't we all," Balin said without contention, looking down and patting his middle sadly. Then he glanced back up with a twinkle in his eye. "With the new treaty hammered out with the elves, and with next week's caravan from our kin, we should eat well this winter and be able to regain our plumpness by spring. I urge you to take that as a personal challenge, Billa," he said with a wink.
Unable to suppress her giggle, Billa gave him a curtsy. "I accept, but I expect your belt to be loosened a few notches by that time as well or else I will be most displeased."
Balin bowed his head in agreement. "We can both start on that tonight at dinner. The rest of the company will be here as well as your brother. It is sure to be a cheerful meal, even with Kili's elf in attendance," he finished with a longsuffering sigh. "I'm sure she'll be happy to have you back with us. She spoke quite vociferously to Thorin when he questioned your intention to return."
Billa flinched. "He didn't think I'd come back? What exactly did he say?" she asked levelly.
Waving her question away with obviously fake nonchalance, Balin replied, "Nothing of importance. It reflected more on his mental state than as a slight to your own character. Forget I said anything. You must have more important things to worry about right now. Speaking of which," he clapped his hands together, "you must be anxious to see Thorin now that he's awake. His rooms are just through here."
Not waiting for her answer, Balin put his arm on her back and shepherded her around his desk and to the back of the room. When Billa looked back over her shoulder, she saw Ori pulling up a chair and reaching for a stack of parchments. Gulping, she also saw that the desk had concealed a cocked crossbow pointed at the door to the outer hallway and a stand holding an axe and sword. The boxes on the desk had been placed in such a way so as to conceal the weapons.
When Balin saw what she stared at, he shrugged his shoulders. "No reason to post an extra guard when I can serve as both bodyguard and bureaucrat from my desk. Thinks have mostly settled down now that Thorin is awake, though, so I wouldn't worry too much. I haven't had to use the crossbow since yesterday."
Ignoring her look of horror, Balin patted her on the shoulder. Then he added, "Keep wearing your mithril shirt though, just in case." They stopped in front a doorway.
Opening her mouth to say something scathing, Billa instead found herself tongue-tied as Balin abruptly opened the door and pushed her inside. It was an empty, narrow room with a solitary door at the back. She hesitated.
"Thorin's just in the back room resting," Balin prompted.
Her feet didn't move.
"Go on in, lass. It will be fine. He wants to see you, very much." Giving her an encouraging smile, he turned and went back to his desk. The door swung closed behind him with a gentle click instead of the booming thud that seemed much more appropriate to her situation.
Not letting herself think any further because she was behaving like a ninny and she abhorred that in others, much less in herself (a respectable spinster!) she walked forward and rapped firmly on the door. Thorin may have twisted her up about everything else, but at least she still had her basic hobbit sensibility and pride. He couldn't take that away unless she let him. After waiting a minute impatiently, she raised her hand to knock once more, suddenly anxious to just get this all over with. However before her knuckles could hit the wood, a quiet but commanding voice called out, "Enter."
Lungs suddenly paralyzed, she forced herself to open the door. Absently she noticed that the latch in her hand felt like metal instead of wood like back home. Then again, metal and stone made more sense for dwarves than wood. Probably most of the wood in Erebor hadn't fared too well under Smaug's occupation anyways. Maybe she should ask someone about it?
Then she stepped into the room and her ability to focus on distracting inanities failed. Everything disappeared except for Thorin. Propped upright by pillows, Thorin reclined back on a bed reading through a pile of papers and hadn't looked up yet. "I'm almost done," he said distractedly, yet with a tone that conveyed that if you didn't like having to wait, you could just leave.
Billa's heart skipped a beat at his voice. For a while she'd feared she'd never hear it again. A trembling smile came and went on her face.
Since he'd practically given her permission and wasn't paying attention anyways, Billa allowed her eyes to drink him in, memorizing every facet of his mobile face. An actual window, rare in the mountain, cast sunlit highlights over his face and form. The light illuminated Thorin's eyes into an arrestingly liquid-looking blue, even with the dark circles of exhaustion ringing them. A finely-spun purple shirt with shiny black buttons draped across his broad shoulders and revealed only the barest edge of white bandages near his collar and one wrist. Despite the dishabille, he looked every inch a king. Then again, he'd had to project his authority without the trappings for so many years now that a crown would probably be completely unnecessary.
After a few more seconds, Thorin finally finished his reading. "Thank you for waiting," he said as he lowered his papers and looked up. Billa could tell the second that he realized the identity of his visitor, the second that he realized it was her. His eyes widened and his expression of coolly polite interest disappeared into dismay and embarrassment. He flushed. The papers he'd been reading fluttered down into his lap.
Straightening up abruptly from the supporting pillows, Thorin winced but didn't sit back. His mouth opened but no sound came out. Then his lips slowly closed as he tilted his head to the side and examined her. Billa shifted and blushed at his scrutiny, but didn't break the silence. After all, she'd done the same to him, but just a lot more surreptitiously.
Thorin's eyes traced along the curves and edges of her face. Then his gaze carefully catalogued down the lines of her body. It didn't feel salacious, though hunger certainly lurked in his eyes, but mostly it felt like he wanted to make sure she didn't have any other injuries. She also got the strange feeling that he was trying to memorize her, just in case. But in case of what? He lingered for a moment on her wounded thigh, tilting his head to the side as if to see through the knit to the healing wound beneath, before then returned his gaze to her face. She expected him to blush or start squirming beneath her inquiring gaze, but instead he seemed completely unapologetic.
The silence suddenly became heavy, expectant. Was he waiting for her to speak first? Where should she start? What should she say? Her mind blanked.
Neither spoke. The silence began to feel like a snake winding around her chest, squeezing tighter and tighter. The whirling debris of emotions smacking back and forth in her mind kept her tongue too disoriented. Did she start with his kisses, his threats, or his apologies? She had so many feelings but so few words.
She desperately wanted the connection of communication, but felt incapable of speech. Billa shifted, struggling to produce some sort of sound. Even breathing became difficult. She started feeling lightheaded.
Then Thorin took a painful-sounding breath and wiped at his mouth with a hand that trembled. It broke her paralysis, banished the metaphorical snake. She echoed his deep breath and blew it out. Then she took another. Her mind steadied.
Abruptly Thorin spoke. "You look well. They said you wounded your leg. Are you well?"
"Yes, thank you. And you?" Billa replied on automatic, hating the stiffness but still foundering for some solid ground.
"Good, that's… good," Thorin trailed off. He shifted on the bed and badly-concealed another flinch before his face became a mask. "I am doing better now as well. Thank you," he said rigidly. Then he turned his head to look out the window.
Suddenly, Billa couldn't help but notice the deepening wrinkles on his face, the bulky bandages beneath his clothes, and the tired stoop to his shoulders that even his best efforts couldn't quite hide. More silver had creeped into his hair, crowding out the brown. Although she felt a supreme relief at seeing him up and talking, and a happy ache at his renewed sanity, she worried that his health wasn't up to a long conversation, especially the emotionally charged one they needed to have. Perhaps this was better done later. He could rest and she could regain her sanity and ability to speak her mind. Billa opened her mouth to suggest he lay back down into the support of the pillows, but before she could he resumed talking.
"I am not sure if what I remember of our conversation on Ravenhill actually happened or if I merely dreamt it." Thorin said to the window with that same stiff tone. He paused and began breathing heavily, as if gathering his courage. Teeth clenched and a muscle in his jaw began ticking up and down.
Then as if a dam had burst, he confessed with a raw grate, "You deserve much better. Nevertheless I must beg your indulgence to listen once more, or perhaps for the first time. Please allow me to bare my soul now that I've shed that madness, to speak my apologies as I ask for your forgiveness," he broke off and grimaced, looking down to where his hands clenched ghost white on the straining fabric of the bedcovers . "No, I am done with greediness," he whispered to himself sharply.
Billa stepped forward, confused, hoping, drawn towards him as always, even from the very beginning.
Thorin looked up, caught her eyes fast with his own fervent gaze, and continued, "I can't expect your forgiveness. Instead I humbly ask you to consider accepting, if possible, my most heartfelt regret over how I treated you. I am sorry," he rasped, "so, so sorry for the things I said and did. You honored me above all others and I dishonored both you and the gods with my hubris. I fell to darkness and refused your light. You are the sun in a clear mountain sky and I treated you like a flame on a scrap of kindling, to be used and discarded. I fell to madness and refused to listen. I apologize for your hurts, for your injuries both physical and emotional. If I could, I especially would take back every shameful word and betrayal at the wall that awful morning."
As he paused for breath after his rush of words, Billa couldn't help the twist of emotion in her gut. Somehow things were simpler when she sat by his unconscious bedside brushing his hair and praying for a miracle. His apology and obvious affection soothed so many of her hurts. She appreciated how hard it must be to admit his wrongs and weaknesses. But words heard even twice were somehow still not enough to completely close the bleeding wounds caused by weeks of disdain and the shock of his attack. Billa wished they were. She wanted them to be, but her heart didn't work that way.
In her mind, she knew that he'd been sick, been crazy. But her gut had a harder time accepting that she no longer needed to be wary, that he once more would protect instead of threaten their friends, and that she could now relax. Could she once more believe in his oaths? Billa just needed more time. She wanted to trust Thorin and his words, but he'd shattered her trust in the most brutal of ways. Words alone would not mend it.
Thorin must have read some of the painful thoughts racing through her eyes. He frowned unhappily and dropped his gaze, but almost immediately dragged it back up to her face stoically, as if not allowing himself to look away from her pain was part of his penance. Firming his lips, he straightened his shoulders.
Then he unexpectedly leaned forward and declared, "Billa Baggins, I love you."
Gasping wetly, her hand jumped up to cover her mouth. He'd finally said it! After all this time and all of her doubts, he'd finally said it. She pressed hard against her lips, trying to keep her tears at bay, still trying to find the right thing to say. The words stayed elusive.
Tilting his head to the side, Thorin said it again. "I love you. I do. Before, I always said it through endearments and gestures. Lying here, revisiting every moment we had together and listening to the scathing commentary of my sister, I realized that I instinctively courted you as a dwarf, even though your very hobbit-ness is one of the things I adore about you. I didn't think about how, as a hobbit, you might not understand my gestures. I also," he flushed and looked away, "feared driving you away with my intensity, and so I sometimes deliberately sought to trick you into doing what I wanted instead of letting you freely choose. I was a fool."
Swallowing hard, he clenched his jaw and turned back. The sun highlighted the silver in his hair and emphasized the lean pallor of his face. "I am a fool, but please, don't hate me," he whispered. "I don't deserve your love or forgiveness, but despite my best efforts I cannot help but still selfishly want them. Please speak to me. Tell me I haven't forever lost your good regard."
"Oh, Thorin," Billa sighed finally, hugging her arms around her chest. "Of course I don't hate you." Tears still hovered right behind her eyes, waiting for their chance to break the dam and rush out. But she didn't want to cry. She wanted to be clear, rational, and calm. It was a struggle. She stepped closer, wet her lips, and looked into his eyes, finally ready to tell him just how much he still meant to her.
Thorin's full lips quirked self-deprecatingly. He tilted his head to the side and spoke before she could finally start, "At the very least, you still seem to care about whether I live or die. I've drawn much comfort from that fact the last few days, especially since I first awoke to the horror of Thranduil's face, full of conflicted disappointment at his own success. He quickly informed me that the only reason he was there was as a personal favor for you. I think he'd hoped my wounds would be beyond his skill, but his pride demanded that he do his best to heal me. Once I woke up fully, I had to consent to a second healing treatment. It had a slightly higher chance of killing me than of curing me. Before starting, Thranduil told me he'd do his best because he was the best, but not to fool myself about his preference on the outcome. Then he challenged me to try and disappoint him." A vicious little smile danced across his face. "He claims I only survived it out of pure spite. He's probably not wrong. To be honest, I'm rather disappointed that you've made it almost impossible for me to kill him now without dishonoring myself. Couldn't you have found someone else?"
The sharp stab of fear, followed quickly by annoyance, caused by his words succeeded in beating back Billa's tears and finally breaking her paralysis of thought. However, it also caused the tender words on the tip of her tongue to completely disappear. "You have no idea what it took to get the elves over here to help in the first place," she retorted. "I'm not going to apologize for getting you healing, even if it was Thranduil. At least it worked! Thanks to him, we're able to talk right now. Thanks to him, I finally got to hear you say, 'I love you.' We needed that help."
"But did it have to be Thranduil? Not only an elf but the one I hate the most?" Thorin wrinkled his nose in distaste and grimaced. "I might have recovered without him. That or else lasted long enough for the next caravan of dwarves to arrive with more healers."
"Or you and Fili and Kili may have died! Leaving me and Dis inconsolable and Dain as King, with the rest of the dwarves and humans here barely surviving through the coming winter," Billa snapped, one hand on her hip and the other poking him angrily in the chest.
Thorin flinched.
"Wounded or not, I've half a mind to hit you upside the head," she snapped, the words surging up from her gut unimpeded. "Now sit back into your pillows and, if at all possible, stop being so stupid." Thorin obediently dropped back against the supporting pillows, though his face looked alternatively mulish and rueful.
"I wanted you to start talking," he mumbled under his breath, "though perhaps I should have chosen a different goad."
Billa felt her eyebrow arch. "Or maybe you should have had a little bit more patience with me as I gathered my thoughts. I've certainly been patient with you! As for Thranduil, of course I know you hate him, but I had bigger worries than that. You were not recovering, despite everyone's best efforts."
Thorin shifted as if to speak, but now that Billa had started she didn't want to stop. "Don't fool yourself, Thorin! You hadn't woken up in days and you'd barely eaten. I was the one taking care of you. I was the one trying to get you to drink and reporting to Oin on whether your bedding had wetness or not, and usually it was not! You got to slay your mortal enemy, say your apologies, and peacefully slip into unconsciousness. Meanwhile I got to wait in agonizing vigil. How dare you complain to me when I was the one whose life darkened hour by hour as you came closer and closer to drawing your final breath? How dare you?" In the ringing silence, Billa realized that her hands were trembling and that she'd been practically shouting her words. A respectable hobbit lady, especially a Baggins, didn't shout at anyone, except perhaps in the privacy of her own home, and despite her hopes for Thorin they weren't even engaged. She should be appalled at herself, but instead the yelling felt rather cathartic.
Thorin looked stunned.
Billa decided to let her anger and desperation continue their eruption. She'd be ashamed about it later. Hopefully by the end of it she'd be done with the negative emotions and able to circle back round to some sort of peace. "The dwarven wounded needed more healers. The elves had them, so I went over there and struck a bargain for everyone. But I'll be honest with you, I went over there mostly because of you. You needed a healer, Thorin. Everyone's efforts to wake you up did nothing. You kept fading away. So no, I couldn't have found someone else more to your liking. No, I couldn't have waited. You wouldn't have survived until the next caravan!" she shouted, hands gesticulating starkly. "You. Would. Not. Have. Survived," she emphasized again in a level yet harsh tone, surprised at herself, at the things she'd subconsciously noticed but refused to admit to, but now that she'd started speaking she felt those horrible, terrifying truths bubbling to the surface, refusing to stay submerged in her subconscious now that things had gotten stirred up.
"Thranduil saved your life. I would have done anything for that. Anything! Because I do still love you, Thorin. I will always love you," Billa paused to pant for breath, feeling drained yet strangely free. Slightly appalled at herself for shouting at a man so recently on the cusp of death, but still strangely free.
Tucking a chocolate curl behind her ear, she looked out the window and counted the wispy clouds in the sky to help calm down. Once she regained her equilibrium, she turned back to face the tensely waiting Thorin. "I'd conveniently forgotten just how frustrating you can be when awake," she admitted dryly.
Thorin relaxed and shrugged. "I never forget that about you," he replied with a hopeful look that begged her to smile at him.
Billa huffed a laugh and looked into his dear face. She made a quick decision. "I do love you, Thorin, and I accept your apology."
His smile grew wider, revealing that dimple she adored to distraction. She wished she could keep it there forever, but a lack of honesty now would doom their relationship later. Billa forced herself to finish, "I want to forgive you for everything. I want to say let's both just forget it even happened, but… you really hurt me, and not just at the wall, though that was the worst. I'm not quite there yet. I need more time. Plus, I'm afraid that it might happen again. What if you go crazy for gold the next time you see it? Will that always be hanging over our heads? What if I say or do the wrong thing and you try to murder me again? You've threatened to kill me twice. What if you succeed the third time? I love you, but that terrifies me."
Thorin's face froze at her words and his face grew sickly and pale.
A dark fear suddenly seized Billa's tongue. Her skin pricked. What had she just done? Just said? Would he give up on her now and send her away?
She panicked and began babbling, "Yet I still love you. Despite all that, I'm a foolish and lonely old spinster. I'm stubborn and don't change my mind easily. I love you more than food or song and probably will forgive you for everything if you just wait a few weeks for the sting to fade. Right now, seeing you alive and awake when I so clearly could picture your funeral, when I'd lived with your hatred and now have your declaration of love, my pride suddenly crumbles to ashes. I want more, but I'll accept even a little. Right now, I'd take crumbs." Two tears dripped silently down her cheeks. Clenching her jaw shut on further words, Billa roughly wiped the wetness from her cheeks, frustrated with herself.
Face both solemn and sad, Thorin reached his hand out into the shaft of sunlight and softly asked, "Will you come and sit next to me? Please?"
Sniffling quietly, Billa wiped her nose, nodded with as much composure as she could muster, and moved forward. She gingerly settled next to him on the bed, facing him. She folded and unfolded her arms, and then placed them on her green knit skirt with a strict order to hold still.
Thorin placed his hand palm up on his lap in easy invitation, but made no further overtures. Banked desperation flickered in his eyes, but he kept his words measured and soft. "You deserve more than crumbs, Billa Baggins. You deserve a feast. I cherish your words of love and promise that my madness is no more. Thanks to your words and that of my kin, I finally defeated the gold sickness poisoning my thoughts. When Azog pierced my side, his blade carved the symbol for gold from my flesh, completing my emancipation."
"Billa," he swallowed nervously before declaring, "You are my soulmate. I choose you. I love you beyond all description. You are my breath, my treasure, my sun. You are everything wonderful and good in the world. I wish I had your talent for words so that I might accurately describe it. Perhaps my soulmark is both a mountain and an artichoke after all, for my soulmate is you."
A warm glow suffused her chest and spread throughout her body. Lifting her hand, she placed it in his open palm with a smile. He quickly closed his fingers and squeezed gratefully. "Thank you," she said quietly. "I had wondered. Soulmates are different for hobbits and dwarves, I've discovered."
"I guessed as much and that thought has tortured me," Thorin confessed. "Soulmate bonds are deeper and stronger than a bond made out of just love. I know you love me. I've reveled in that fact, but I don't know if you even want a soulmate." He lifted his free hand to gesture helplessly, "Your culture doesn't seem to celebrate them like ours. I don't know if you can choose to accept or reject a permanent soul bond with me like a dwarf, or if your biology will force a bond that you might not want. I want that closeness with you. I want that permanence. I want my dream world and your dream world to become a refuge and playland where we both dwell each night in harmony and love. I want you to know to the depths of your soul, from your curly crown to your furry feet, just how much you are valued and loved because you can feel me thinking it inside of you," he let his hand drop limply back to the bedcovers. "But it is meaningless unless you want all of that too."
Radiating earnestness, he looked into her eyes. "Above everything else right now, I want your happiness. You don't have to give me an answer until you're ready. I'm patient, I can wait. If you stay here in Erebor, I will work to earn your trust again. I will prove myself to you. I will give you feasts. Please just give me the opportunity?" He looked hopeful, though his enfolding fingers unconsciously tightened.
Billa smiled softly. "Yes, I will stay." She laughed lightly to herself. "We seem to be speaking in circles around each other. I love you and you love me. We need time to heal our wounds and water the seedlings, or perhaps I should say in a more dwarven fashion, see if we can work on forging our relationship into something that will endure bad weather -ahem- I mean the hammer blows of life."
Thorin returned her smile and shifted their hands until he'd threaded their fingers together. "Thank you. I'll say it again, I do love you and you may have as much time as you need. If I ever treat you so poorly again, Mahal forbid, I hope you kick me in the back of the knees, so that I may be humbled on the ground and reminded of my errors. Feel free to enlist help from your new brother, sisters, nephews, and many cousins, whom I know from experience will leap to your defense."
Dropping his humorous tone, he added seriously, "I know my word isn't worth much right now." Closing his eyes, he grimaced. "All my oaths lie shattered beneath my feet. They cut as I walk barefoot through the memory of my transgressions, lacerating my bare soles, each sting but a small similitude of the pain I inflicted on others, the ache in my soul a reminder to never let it happen again."
Billa hated to see him tormented so. She squeezed his fingers gently and then tugged lightly on his hand. "You have said that it won't, that the madness is gone and will never return. Your friends and family are here to help if you'll but let them in." Tilting her head sideways, she waited for him to open his eyes again.
Face softening, Thorin opened his eyes, looked down at their clasped fingers, and then back up into her face. "I will trust to my friends next time. I won't let pride hold me back. When I first started to fall into madness, I could have reached out for help, I knew something was wrong, but I ignored it. Next time I struggle, I will be better. I am determined to be a better King, a better friend, and a better lover."
Thorin enveloped her hand gently in both of his, like a warm cocoon of affection. "Billa, I promise to do better by you. I want to banish the clouds from your eyes when you look at me. I want to see your smile once more burst forth like the sun at everything that delights and astounds you. Things will be busy, and at times rough, but please be patient with me if you can. From now on I will do my best to make sure that the good outweighs the bad. You will trust me again. You will be happy, and I hope I can make you once more love me without any reservation until you want to be my soulmate too."
Unable to stop her smile, Billa lifted their clasped hands to her mouth and placed a kiss on his knuckles. "I look forward to it," she said.
[To be continued]
AN: Sorry this took so long to get out. Life got busy: people got sick, people visited, I had to plan an Epic Star Wars 4th/Force Birthday party, I made two fancy cakes in one week, my house needed repairs, we had Easter, and the entire time Billa kept trying to avoid talking to Thorin when I went to write her. Very contrary! But finally she got around to it and we are both glad she did. How do you feel about their conversation? I really want to know! Please comment and tell me. Thanks for reading! We are coming to the final wrap-up now.
Don't forget to check out my Tumblr for chapter picture inspirations!
Chapter cast original actors:
Lhénith = means Thread Sister, female elven healer, Madeleine Stowe
Mírdan = means jewel smith, elf kitchen assistant, Jewel Staite
Asindar = elf in kitchen, Tom Felton
Borin = dwarven guard, 2nd cousin to Balin and Dwalin, older brother of Forin, Idris Elba
Forin = dwarven guard, 2nd cousin to Balin and Dwalin, younger brother of Borin, Common (rapper/actor), aka Lonnie Rashid Lynn, Jr.