Chapter 43
Bilbo would have screamed, had he had any breath to do so. As it was, he could only gasp for air in between exclamations of pain. His shoulders, arms and back burned, and although he saw Gandalf seated astride the largest of the eagles as through the giant bird was no more than an oversized pony, he did not really register what he was seeing. Above Bilbo, Dori moaned, "My legs!" almost constantly, but Bilbo did not loosen his grip on the dwarf's ankles.
The eagles, with the wizard, dwarves and hobbit dangling below, soared over the darkened landscape. It is a shame that Bilbo didn't look upwards, because the stars were bright and plentiful; the truth is that after one glance towards the distant ground, he shut his eyes tight and did not open them until he felt his feet brush something both soft and sharp. He let go of Dori's ankles in shock, and for a heartbeat he fell through the thin air.
Bilbo opened his eyes several minutes later. He was face down on an eyrie made of grasses, mosses, feathers and twigs. His head spinning, he remained where he was for a long time before he dared to sit up. Although he had not eaten more than a handful of berries in the previous few days, his stomach seemed to be far too full.
It seemed only moments later that Bilbo was picked up once more. Thankfully this was a much shorter flight, and far more comfortable. It helped, he decided, that the eagle's talons, in direct contrast to before, held him very tightly indeed; a reassuring feeling, especially in comparison to the weak grip Bilbo had previously had on Dori's ankles. Still, Bilbo was pleased to be deposited onto a large rocky shelf; the precipice on the downslope side looked less intimidating than it usually would have done.
Bilbo was too tired and hungry to worry about anything other than sleep and food. A little food, anyway, and preferably something easily digested. He was soon reassured by the flames of a small but fierce cook fire. The smell of roasting rabbit actually made his mouth water and, although meat would not have been his first choice of meal, he managed almost an entire one to himself and thanked the eagles afterwards.
Unsure, after the earlier punch and seeming reconciliation, if Thorin would welcome Bilbo's company, the hobbit sat alone at the end of the ledge. He placed his back to the wall, kept a little way away from the edge to his right and paid no attention to the drop in front of him or to the dwarves on his left. A small depression in the stone fitted his bottom well, and he was pleasantly surprised how comfortable he was on the hard rock.
Bilbo ate steadily, not pausing for conversation. Once he had filled his stomach, he drank from a small waterfall then settled back into the dip in the rock. Maybe it was because Bilbo was so much in need of rest and sleep, but it seemed now to be the perfect shape for him to curl up in. He was as contented then as he had been many a night in his soft bed in Bag End, and expected to drift off to sleep quickly.
Unknown to Bilbo, Thorin had other ideas. The hobbit was very close to sleep, or maybe he had just fallen asleep, when the dwarf approached. Accustomed now to the noises of a large camp of thirteen dwarves with heavy boots and loud tongues, he was not immediately aware of Thorin's presence.
"Bilbo." The single whispered word was enough to rouse the hobbit, attuned as he was to Thorin's voice. Bilbo sat up at once, but could barely see Thorin. The light of the fire had dimmed, and the moon cast the dwarf into silhouette. Thorin did not wait for Bilbo to speak, but seated himself so closely that their shoulders touched. As cold as the night was, Bilbo did not mind. "Did I wake you?"
"No, not at all," Bilbo replied, not completely truthfully.
"Then there's no need for an apology," Thorin stated. Bilbo thought better of disputing this fact, and settled for huddling against the dwarf; the heat and comfort were more than welcome.
"I'm sorry, though," Bilbo said. "Sorry I let you think I would ever leave you." He spoke quietly, knowing that the still air would carry his words to the rest of the Company.
"No," Thorin countered. "I never believed you would. Not by choice. But the day may come when there is no choice, not for either of us."
"I'm not talking about that now." Bilbo didn't want to think about the dangers they would yet face, or the possibility of even a short separation from Thorin.
"You will, and soon." Thorin's tone was soft, but left no room for appeal. "It will happen. The day will come whether you wish it or not."
"But what good will talking do?"
"Maybe nothing. Maybe everything."
"Can we save it? I'm too tired to concentrate, my stomach's tied in knots and my head feels like it's been hit by a blunt axe." Bilbo tried very hard to keep the frustration out of his voice, but was not completely successful.
Thorin did not answer immediately, but took hold of Bilbo's shoulders. He applied a light pressure, and Bilbo moved as instructed until his head was resting in the dwarf's lap. Thorin ran his hands through Bilbo's short hair, tugging gently on the curls, before removing them. Bilbo gave a soft, involuntary sound, surprised at how much he liked it.
Bilbo let his body relax. He felt himself melt in the boneless way that a baby happily conforms to positions that adults cannot; the shape of everything from the rock cradling his legs to Thorin's hips pillowing his head suited the hobbit completely. When he dreamed that night, he dreamed of the Shire, and of Bag End. He dreamed of home.
