Fíli had been right. They were only there another day before Thorin insisted they move on. The King still had difficulty moving his arms, but many of his wounds were beginning to close. He was also able to breathe a bit more freely and truly could remain on his feet for the duration of the day. Bilbo and Fíli, the only members of the company who might could have dissuaded him from travel, didn't have the heart to do so. Even if he wasn't battle-ready, he was technically travel ready and they couldn't say for certain how long the rest of the journey would take as they had never taken it. Instead, they turned their attention to readying provisions with the gracious generosity of their host.
"Are you sure you can spare this much?" Fíli asked, eyeing the growing stock of honey cakes, dried berries, nuts and other non-perishable items Beorn and his animals were assembling for the company. "Winter's rapidly approaching and—"
"I would not give what I cannot spare," Beorn replied with a laugh. "There are many months before winter comes. My home is in a lower place than that which you are accustomed. It will be much time still before there is nothing to forage. Many of these are last year's stores. We will survive."
"I just—" Fíli began, intending to apologize for being an unplanned burden on the great Skin-Changer, but was cut off by his uncle's gentle hand on his arm.
"We thank you most deeply for your hospitality in our time of need," Thorin said, bowing his head to their host. "If ever you find yourself in need, the dwarves of Erebor will answer the call." Beorn smiled in response, the expression on his face saying clearly that he could foresee no need that would arise that he would call for that favor but he understood how rare such an offer was.
"Thank you for providing me and my kin a safe haven," Thorin continued. "Our histories will sing your praises."
"If you wish to thank me, keep me out of your histories," Beorn replied simply, the quiet words holding a hint of threat if the request wasn't honored. "I do like my privacy."
"So shall it be," Thorin replied, nodding. "I must take a short council with my cousins and then we will burden you no more," Thorin continued.
"Take what time you need," the Skin-Changer replied. "And may your gods lead your feet on a safe path." Thorin hummed in agreement and turned away. Fíli felt trepidation stir in his stomach as his uncle approached their cousins before barking, "Balin, Dwalin. A word. Now."
The brother's exchanged a glance, wondering why after a week without so much as glancing their direction Thorin would address them now. Knowing that they had no choice in the matter, they followed their king away from the company and into the thicket where they had spoken with Fíli earlier that week. The location made them nervous and they wondered if he had merely chosen it by chance but when Thorin turned, it was everything they could do not to flinch back from the pain and anger that filled his blue eyes.
"There are things between us that must be settled before we move forward," Thorin said, his voice little more than a hoarse whisper, as though afraid the trees would overhear. "Little has changed since we last spoke. I do not trust you, not after what you've done to me and my nephews. Be that as it may, we will still need to work together for this journey to succeed. Balin, you and I are the only members of this company to have ever seen the mountain let alone been inside it. We will have to be the ones to lead the rest there and to advise Master Baggins once we arrive.
" Dwalin, despite your poor decisions, you are one of our best warriors. I can't deny that. My nephews are skilled but they are young and foolish. More than once this week Fíli has advocated for me to forgive you; assuring me that he knows everything and that you did nothing wrong." Thorin paused, taking a shuddering breath before his eyes hardened even further at the thought of them telling Fíli that they had chosen him over an innocent child and then for the lad to not only accept it but condone it.
"This is something I cannot do," Thorin continued, the words dripping venom at the thought of what all of them had done to his nephew. "It is not in me to forgive so base a betrayal, even if the one most wronged believes your actions to be just. However I will offer you a chance to redeem yourself for your own conscience if not for my forgiveness. Show me his trust is not misplaced. Do what I still cannot; keep them safe until we have retaken the mountain and I will see to it that you are given positions in the Iron Hills or perhaps Ered Luin. Your contracts will be honored, but I cannot trust you to remain in such trusted positions in my kingdom. What good to me are advisors that would allow such terrible behavior to continue under their noses? My sister's approval or no." He felt a slight stirring of satisfaction when they at least looked slightly ashamed of themselves.
"We will complete the quest," Thorin said simply. "We will do what we set out to do. And then we will go our separate ways. We are colleagues, no longer Kin but merely dwarves united in a cause. My legal obligations towards you, set forth in the contracts, will be honored and afterwards you will leave Erebor or experience a severe reduction in status. Do we have an understanding?"
"Aye," Dwalin agreed, guilt searing his stomach that Fíli, who should be the one calling for his head, was advocating for him. "I'll see to the lads. I get you to your mountain, then I'll go home." Thorin nodded, the resignation in Dwalin's voice calling to him.
"Balin?" Thorin asked, turning to the other son of Fundin, awaiting his agreement.
"We did it for you, Thorin," the elder brother said softly. "It wasn't . . . ideal, but we needed you. Can't you understand? You were the only ruler we had. If . . . if you . . ."
"If I went mad too?" Thorin snapped. "Is that what you were going to ask? Let me ask you, Balin; what now? I'm sane, aye, but what of Fíli? Who are you planning to sacrifice for his sanity? Kíli? Or were you thinking that since they are both males that the eldest wouldn't matter? So what if he goes mad, we have a spare. Was that it?"
"No," Balin protested. "We never . . . we would never—"
"You did," Thorin cut him off sharply. "And whether you agree or not, that is my decision on the matter. Now, let's continue the quest." His part in this conversation finished, Thorin turned and returned to the main group, assisting Fíli in tying the lid of his saddle bags before allowing himself to be assisted onto his own borrowed pony. With a final glance back to make sure that Balin and Dwalin had returned to the group, he took a deep breath and gave the order to move out, praying to Mahal that the pony was a sure-footed as a mountain-goat.
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They'd barely been traveling an hour when Thorin fervently wished that he had allowed his nephews to persuade him to remain in Beorn's for a bit longer. Level though the ground was, it seemed that his mount managed to find every rock and dip in the field for the sole purpose of jolting him. Some part of his mind whispered that he was being unfair, but he found that he was unable to listen to that voice when every beat of the beast's hooves sent a fresh wave of pain through him. He closed his eyes, trusting the creature to at least follow Gandalf's horse and was startled by a gentle hand on his arm.
His eyes shot open only to see the sheepish smile their hobbit was offering him.
"Sorry," Bilbo muttered. "I didn't mean to startle you. I just," he paused and shrugged before pressing a water skin into Thorin's hand.
"It's not hot," he continued, "But I took everything out so it wouldn't steep too long and get bitter. I even slipped a bit of honey in it in case it doesn't sit well for long." Thorin laughed softly before offering the hobbit a small smile. Bilbo Baggins thought of things that no one else would have. Tea and honey on the road, who, other than Dori perhaps, would have done it.
"Thank you, Master Baggins," the dwarf king said before uncorking the skin and taking a sip. He couldn't hold back the grimace as the tea hit his tongue. Honey-laced it may have been but the taste lacked much to be desired. Poor as the flavor was, if it took the edge from the pain, Thorin would drink it.
"You might give it a bit of a shake," Bilbo said, feeling guilty that he had offered an unpalatable solution. "Honey does tend to settle to the bottom." Thorin nodded, corking the skin before inverting it a couple of times and taking another sip; while better than the first, the tea was still not a beverage Thorin would chose once this was over.
"It'll do," Thorin muttered, sorry that was the highest praise he could offer to something the hobbit had clearly gone out of his way to make. "I thank you." Bilbo beamed in response to the thanks, paltry though it was, and allowed his pony to fall back to where Bofur and his nephews were riding. Taking one final look at the tea, Thorin smiled. Perhaps the day would not be a bad as he'd feared.
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As evening fell, Thorin knew he should have known better than to hope for the best. While the tea had helped the pain, nothing could help the soreness in his body from riding that day after too long spent abed. When the time came to dismount at the edge of the forest to make camp, it was a force of will to convince his stiffened muscles to summon the energy to climb from the beast. As much as he hated to admit it, even to himself, blood loss and a week spent abed had taken their toll on him. He knew without attempting it that removing the tack from the pony would be beyond him.
"I've got that, Thorin," he heard Glóin offer. He was about to turn to his cousin and tell him that—untrue though it was—he could remove his own gear but was saved from such a bluff by Gandalf's voice.
"Leave it," the wizard ordered. "The pony and tack must return to Beorn as promised. The consequences of not following his edict would be dire indeed."
"Not like we could take them into the forest anyway," Nori muttered. "Nothing with any sense'd go in there."
"We're going in there, Nori," Dori sighed. Nori shrugged but didn't amend his statement. Looking at the giant trees and general , Bilbo couldn't help but agree. Folks back home might fear the Old Forest, but for pure looks, it had nothing on this Mirkwood.
"Do we have to go in?" Bilbo whispered to Bofur, hoping no one else would overhear.
"Aye," the dwarf sighed, looking no happier about it that Bilbo felt. "It's either that or go two-hundred miles north and risk nearing Grundabad or go about the same distance south and have to wade a marsh while dodging pursuit. The forest is the only way." With a deep sigh, Bilbo shouldered his pack, bidding the pony farewell and praying to Eru himself that things would go smoother in this dark wood than they had on the rest of the quest thus far. Little did he know that his prayer was echoed by the entire company.
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I just want to take a quick moment to assure people that have glanced at most of my other hobbit fanfictions that despite the increase in interaction between Thorin and Bilbo, there will be no slash or shipping in this story. It will continue to remain a gen fic. I promise.
And sorry it's been so long. Holiday schedules at the hospital are a . . . well, there's no polite word for them. Add to that that we are expecting our second child in May and . . . well, writing time is hard to come by. Sorry.
