Chapter summary: In which there is a lot of talking, and I thank all the readers who have been sticking with it and who have been waiting patiently for the next update. Yeah, that work/life balance thing has been tilted a little too far too the left lately. :(
Two days later, Kili still slept on, and in all that time Bilbo had hardly left his side but to eat and wash; Fili too had been a constant presence, though in part that may have been because Oín confined him to his bed and would not suffer him to rise for any reason at all. "You've got a bedpan," he grunted, when Fili protested at nature's call, "and if it was good enough for Durin on his sickbed, it's good enough for you."
Thorin too spent more time in the tent than strictly necessary, stepping out only for the highest matters of state, and returning as soon as they were complete. Indeed, he conducted some meetings within the tent itself, if it were only Dáin in attendance; the Iron Hills dwarf seemed quite amenable to this, and Bilbo quickly came to like him for his blunt words and ready smile and the way he would pat Kili on the head if he chanced to pass by his cot.
Balin would occasionally fret at Thorin, but Thorin showed little patience for it. "It is done," he said, "and there is nothing to be gained by clucking at me like a hen. I shall bear the fallout, whatever it may be."
Balin looked not entirely pleased by this, but looked not entirely displeased either, and Bilbo caught him more than once gazing very intently at Kili's motionless form, as if by the act of staring alone he could make Kili open his eyes. And once too Bilbo chanced to find Balin sitting at Kili's bedside, reciting to him a story of Erebor in the days before Smaug — it was a story Bilbo knew well, as Ori had related it repeatedly when they were in the initial leg of their journey (and oh! Bilbo felt a pang at the thought of those early days, when they had ridden away from the Shire with full packs and great hopes, whatever misgivings they had small and easily overlooked). Balin had his head bent quite close to Kili's, and would occasionally pat his shoulder as he spoke.
"Well," Bilbo had thought to himself, "these dwarves are certainly a complicated folk!" And then he crept quietly out of the tent, and Balin never noticed he was there at all, so focused was he on whispering his tale to his unconscious audience.
"Come!" Bofur told him, when Bilbo chanced across him a short while later. "We are having lunch with our cousins, and there is no cram in sight. Share our meal, and you can tell us how you fare."
"I am well," Bilbo said, "and I think I have even begun to gain back some of the pounds I lost!" This was a significant relief to Bilbo, for he had begun to believe he was ill, he had grown so thin, and his trousers would hardly stay up, no matter how tightly he cinched his belt.
Bofur looked him over with a critical eye. "You are still half the size you were when we left the Shire, Mr. Baggins. We cannot return you in such a state, or your relatives will come after us with plowshares and pitchforks!" And he prepared a plate for Bilbo that was so full of meat and bread and cheese that even the hungriest hobbit could not have complained.
"Tell us, Mr. Baggins, how fare our king and his kin?" asked Histur in a very friendly manner, when Bilbo had eaten enough to put a sizable dent in the mountain of food on his plate.
Bilbo swallowed a rather large mouthful of honeyed bread and said, "Thorin is as well as can be expected, which is to say he is well enough, but would be better still if only he would rest some more. Oín is quite vexed with him."
"I should be more worried," Bofur said, grinning widely, "if Oín were not vexed with him."
Bilbo could not help but laugh at this, for in truth, he too would have been far more worried if Thorin had been quiet and compliant!
"Fili is healing nicely too," Bilbo said. "Though he is still sore and a little irritable. But he is eating very well, and Oín says that is a good sign."
"And the lad?" Histur asked. "Has he yet woken?"
"Oh," Bilbo said, suddenly uncomfortable. He stole a quick glance at Bofur to see if he would protest this naming of Kili as Thorin's kin, but Bofur was gazing pensively at the lone piece of sausage on his plate, as if wondering whether he could manage to eat it. If there was more to his expression than interest in his meal, Bilbo could not see it. "No. Kili has not yet woken, and I am nearly fit to tear my hair out, I am so anxious. But Oín says such a long sleep is normal for a dwarf who has been so gravely injured, and the elf healers say the danger has passed, and that he shall recover fully."
Bifur grunted. "Durin's blood runs strong in that one."
Bilbo was very quietly astonished at this pronouncement, but the other Urs just nodded as if it were entirely unremarkable.
"And he carried the bow of Regrin," Wondur said reverently. "Nashak Durin. They say none can be slain who wield such weapons."
Bombur scowled. "It was no magic of that bow that saved the boy."
"You don't know that," Wondur said. He looked rather personally offended. "Anyway, it will make for a better tale if the bow is magic."
"It will make for a fine tale either way," Bilbo said. "For if the bow is magic, then there will be magic in the telling. And if the bow is not magic, then the tale shall still tell of the best of good fortune, for the dragon was slain and the armies of evil defeated, and there is naught in this world that could make for a better story. And I should know," he added, "for I am the best of all the storytellers in the Shire."
"And quite modest too," Bofur said with a grin. "But you are wrong, Mr. Baggins, for there shall definitely be magic in the story, or have you already forgotten your ring?"
The ears of the Iron Hills dwarves perked up at that, and they pestered Bilbo unmercifully until he had agreed to tell of his own part in the story (and quite a good job of it he did, in his own opinion). By the time he was done, a large crowd had gathered, and Bilbo was persuaded to start his tale from the beginning for those who had missed it the first time round. So it was that they passed most of the rest of the afternoon in this manner, and all in all it was very pleasant indeed, and Bilbo went to sleep that night in a far better mood than the one in which he had awoken.
When Kili finally did awaken, nearly three full days after the battle, it was cause for much joy and celebration within their small group. Bilbo was quite overcome with emotion and burst right into tears. The dwarves looked peculiarly at him, but Oín mumbled that it might be a normal reaction for a hobbit; after that the dwarves were extra careful around him, as if they were afraid he would start crying again at any minute.
Fili was thoroughly overjoyed, and he could not wait to tell Kili that he had given him his blood, and so had Thorin. Kili just stared at him when he heard this, eyes round and confused, and did not look any less dubious even when Oín assured him that it was all quite true. Afterwards Kili kept sneaking perplexed glances at Fili and Thorin both, and would sometimes stare at the small marks on his arm where the elves had stuck in their needles, as if he could not believe they were there and did not really know what to make of them.
Dáin was particularly pleased to make Kili's acquaintance, and he bowed and offered him a hearty at-your-service that Kili appeared to be at an utter loss to as how to respond to. "Dragon Slayer," Dáin addressed him, looking very impressed. "Your companions have related the tale of the death of Smaug to me several times, but I look forward to hearing it in your own words." Privately Bilbo was certain the tale would be far less interesting in Kili's rendition, for he had heard Ori's re-telling and the deed grew greater and more embellished each time, but Dáin seemed to be the sort to prefer the unvarnished truth, especially if it were to come from Kili himself, for whom Dáin had developed an deep affection, even while Kili was still asleep.
Oín saw to it that Kili ate something, and then he was made to get out of bed and walk around on unsteady legs. After this he looked utterly exhausted and was let back in bed, where he fell asleep again almost as soon as his head hit the pillow. Bilbo finally left the tent then for the first time in days, and he went to find the Company and tell them the good news. They were all delighted and promised to come around the next day and say hello, even the Ur cousins, which Bilbo felt was a great victory indeed.
Then Bilbo made his way back to the tent and curled up on a small, smooth patch of ground, and fell into the first restful sleep he had had for very many days.
Bilbo was awakened the next morning by the sounds of dwarves trying to be quiet — which, to be fair, was much quieter than dwarves not trying to be quiet, but certainly bore little resemblance to the silence of, say, hobbits trying to be quiet. There was a great deal of rustling and rumbling outside the tent, for the sun was up and dwarves were generally industrious folk and not the sort to sleep in when there was work to be done — and there was certainly very much work to be done. There was rustling too inside the tent, and much whispering at a volume that would pass for normal conversation in the Shire.
"Easy, easy," said Fili. "You don't want to pull out your stitches and lose all the lovely blood I gave you."
"You will be speaking of this forever, I suppose," Kili whispered back, a little irritably, and Fili chuckled in quiet amusement. Bilbo next heard the creak of someone shifting on a cot, and then a pained gasp.
"Sorry!" Fili said, quite forgetting to whisper at all.
Bilbo opened his eyes then, a little apprehensive as to what he might see, but all he saw was Fili helping Kili sit up in his cot, and Thorin carefully propping pillows up behind him. Kili was grimacing and had his hand to his abdomen, but the bandages there were still pristine white, without a trace of blood to be seen; Bilbo thought again how hardy the dwarves were, to recover so quickly from such grievous wounds. Why, it had been but half a week ago that Kili hovered close to death! And now his face was regaining its color, and all the bruises that had spread across it were nearly gone.
"Here," Thorin said, gruffly but not meanly, "I've brought you some bread and butter, if you're hungry. It's not fancy, but it's not cram."
"I am very hungry," Kili admitted, accepting the food gratefully. "Thank you, shemor."
Thorin frowned at this, but so briefly that Bilbo wondered if he'd imagined it. Then the look was gone and replaced with one more placid as the dwarf king sat down very gently on the edge of Kili's cot and rested his hands in his lap, looking pensive. "I am glad," he said, in a quiet and thoughtful tone of voice, "that you are recovering. I am gladder than I think I can properly express. Gladder perhaps than you would find it easy to accept."
Kili looked at him a little apprehensively, though Bilbo suspected it was simply that he did not know how to answer rather than for any real fear of Thorin. Kili bought time by chewing his buttered bread slowly and thoroughly, but eventually he swallowed and said, with an uneasy glance at Fili, "I know I owe my recovery to you both, though I confess I do not understand the magic the elves used to effect it. Or–" He paused, and crinkled his forehead. "–Or why you should have gone to such lengths, even to risk your own lives for mine, when I am just–"
"Kili," Thorin interrupted. "I would like to tell you a story, if you will let me."
Kili stared at him, confounded. Bilbo supposed Kili was unaccustomed to being asked permission for anything, and certainly not from his shemor.
Thorin must have taken his silence for acquiescence, as it most certainly was, and nodded decisively. "Dís," he began. "Your mother–" At this, Bilbo's heart gave a little flutter, while Kili twitched, eyes wide and astonished. Thorin either didn't notice or simply pretended not to, but Bilbo saw Fili give a small, pleased smile. "Your mother was the most stubborn, willful dwarf I have ever known, male or female. She could not be controlled or contained. When she was not so very much older than Fili is now, Dáin sent a delegation to Ered Luin. With them came a young dwarf of a family of minor nobility in the Iron Hills. He was a hunter by trade — an archer of great skill."
Kili was staring wide-eyed at Thorin, not blinking, his hands at his side pulling at the rough material of his blanket in a white-knuckled grip. Fili was gazing at Thorin too, in a less desperate way but still hungry, and it suddenly occurred to Bilbo that perhaps Fili had never heard much of his parents either, for Thorin would certainly never have spoken of them to Kili, and perhaps the topic had been too painful for Thorin to speak of at all, even if Kili were not present.
"Dís decided very quickly that she was to marry this dwarf archer, and no one could dissuade her, not even the lad in question, though in fairness I do not believe he protested with much vigor. She was quite beautiful in an unconventional way, fine of feature and slender, but as stubborn and determined as any dwarf I ever knew. And so within the year they were wed, and a few years after that Mahal gifted them with a golden-haired babe, the first child of Thror's line in decades."
Fili grinned, and Thorin ruffled his hair affectionately, in a manner relaxed and familiar and unlike any other interaction Bilbo had seen between the two on their journey.
"But then a very few years later, a warg attack in the forest at the base of the mountain left Dís a widow. And but a few weeks after that, she discovered she was with child again." Here Thorin looked at Kili, and his eyes were filled with compassion. "The midwives said the pregnancy was cursed, that no good ever came of a child born after his sire died, and that in any event no dwarf maiden should birth two babes so close together. Fili was still an infant at the time, barely walking and just beginning to speak, not yet out of swaddling clothes."
Thorin looked at Fili for a moment then, quite sorrowful, but then he took a deep breath and continued. "Dis was no less stubborn or willful than she had ever been, and she was determined to see the pregnancy through, despite all the whispers and talk of ill omens. But when the time came to deliver, though the baby — you, Kili — was healthy, Oín could not stop the bleeding afterwards."
Thorin sighed deeply. "She fought so hard to stay alive for you. For both of you. But especially for you, Kili, for she knew our traditions as well as I, and she did not want that life — this life — for you. When it became clear that she would not survive, she gave you a name, so that we would have to honor it and none could take it away. And then she begged me with her last breaths to be strong enough to let go of the customs of our people. She begged me to lead as a son of Durin ought to."
Thorin swallowed then, and inconspicuously rubbed at his eyes. "But I was very stubborn, nearly as stubborn as my wild sister. And I was to be king someday, and did not see how I could reject our traditions with one breath and in another claim those same traditions to support my rule. So though I loved my sister more than any living creature, I did not honor her dying wishes." Thorin reached out and brushed Kili's hair away from his face. "You look very much like her. Her hair was like yours, as wild as she was, and you have her eyes. Sometimes when I look at you, I see her, and I think that when I die and go to Mahal's halls, she shall surely be there waiting for me with an axe, to torture my afterlife for what I have permitted to be done to her son — for what I myself have done to her son."
Kili was very, very quiet, and but for blinking, he did not move for several minutes. Bilbo thought he looked more than a little lost, but the hobbit found he could not blame him. Thorin said no more, and though Fili looked on the verge of speaking several times, in each instance he subsided, fretting lightly at the spot on his arms where the elves had drawn his blood. Finally Kili sighed and shook his head. "I — I do not know what you want me to say, shemor."
"I do not want you to say anything," Thorin said, "that you do not want to say yourself. But I confess I hope that you might start, if you are willing, by calling me Uncle. Or, if that is asking too much, too quickly, that you might at least call me Thorin. I have had quite enough of being called shemor."
Kili gaped at him.
Fili bumped him with his shoulder. "I should choose Uncle, if I were you. All sorts of dwarves will call him Thorin, but only the two of us can call him Uncle."
Kili swiveled his head and stared blankly at Fili, too.
"Come now," Fili said. "You are the Dragon Slayer! Surely you can work up the courage for something so small as this, my brother."
Kili jerked rather violently at this and he looked none too sure how to respond, but still Bilbo's heart fluttered at this claim of kinship that he had scarcely dared hope to hear. Oh, but if he received not a single piece of gold or silver or even one jewel from the mountains of treasure that littered the halls of Erebor, he would still feel he had this day been given the greatest treasure in all the world. And even though the work that remained was formidable indeed, still he felt that those obstacles that faced them could not be more difficult than those had already been overcome.
A/N: That story about Dis is one of my most favorite parts of this whole story. And to any of you who thought that Dis was in the Halls of Waiting with an axe just biding time until Thorin comes along ... of course she is, and kudos to you for guessing what was coming eventually. :)
To think that this story is essentially all written! It shouldn't be this hard to get the chapters out, but for all the darned tweaking. Some of that is due to all my lovely reviewers. There are several hundred words of new material in this chapter that only exist because of several thought-provoking comments. xoxox to you all.
Lastly, thanks as always to my lovely and gracious beta SapphireMusings, and every one of you who reads, and especially those who take a minute to comment or favorite or leave kudos or bookmark or whatever. I love you all.