Chapter 40
The farm was unnervingly quiet.
It was nighttime, a low chilly mist drifting above the grass of the front yard, and too cold for anything other than the wind to be making noise. Fíli could feel goosebumps on his skin, the threat of a shiver stealing up his spine, but he stayed where he was, sitting on the porch steps with his elbows resting on his knees.
It had been a slow, cold couple of days. Dís was grieving, and Glóin and Brana had done their best to support her. Beorn, Bifur, and Bofur had tried to keep Fíli occupied, but it was that time of year when work was slow. Usually, their winters had been meant for keeping warm and enjoying each other's company.
And Kíli…he was angry. He hadn't said anything, but Fíli could see the blame in his eyes, the way it had flashed on his face once he'd found out what had happened to Víli. Thinking about it now made a sharp ache curl in his chest.
It's not your fault, Dís had whispered to him the night after they'd returned to the farm. But the words seemed distant now. The fact was that Víli had left the safety of the farm because of him, and he'd died trying to protect him. That was all he could think of every time he saw the pain on Dís and Kíli's faces.
The screen door opened, and Fíli glanced behind him. He winced as Grim immediately licked him on the cheek, then trotted out onto the grass. He sniffed in a winding path for a while, then made for the bushes near the side of the house.
"He was getting restless," Beorn said, closing the door behind him. "Has been for the past couple of days. Sometimes I think he can sense that something's wrong."
"Yeah," Fíli said, his voice raspy. "He probably can."
The porch creaked as Beorn went to sit on the steps beside him. After a few minutes, Grim came bounding back and squeezed in between them, tongue lolling out of his mouth. Fíli smiled, the expression glimmering for half a second, and reached over to scratch behind his ears.
"I'm glad he's here," Fíli said, fingers tangling in the curly gray fur. "We saw a couple of stray dogs on the way back. They were starving, digging through empty garbage cans…" He swallowed. He'd wanted to help them, at least give them a little bit of food, but Bifur had reasoned that they were probably feral, and it wasn't worth the risk of getting bit.
Beorn hummed in agreement. "He's lived a good, long life…considering the state of things. Sometimes I envy him. He doesn't have to worry the way the rest of us do."
"Yeah." Fíli fiddled with a loose thread on his jeans, then cast an uncertain glance at the other man. "Um, Bofur and Glóin were talking about heading back to Erebor, the other day. I don't know if they told you."
"No. But I can't say I'm surprised."
They'd wanted to see the rest of the family. And thinking practically, now that Erebor was secured, it was the safer place to be. If everything went well, it would be the last journey they would ever have to make.
"Are you gonna come with us?" Fíli asked.
Beorn didn't answer for a moment, keeping his gaze on the darkened trees outside the fence. There had always been a strange calm about him, even when they'd first met, when he'd been weathered and wild-looking. "This farm is my home. It has been my entire life." He clasped his hands together. "I'm going to stay here."
Fíli frowned. He wasn't exactly surprised, but the answer still hurt. "Why? You…You'd be alone again."
"Somewhat." Beorn rested a hand on Grim's back. He gave Fíli a sad smile. "I will miss you all. I think of you as my family, and I will always treasure the years we had together. But this house, these fields, is where I belong." His lips curled wryly. "Who knows? Maybe I'll find another group to adopt in a few months."
Fíli couldn't find any real humor in that. He glared at the porch railing and brushed away a few blades of dry grass. "I don't get how you can just…let go like that."
"It's because I have a choice." His voice lowered. "More than I did with my first family."
He flinched at that. He knew loss more intimately than he had when he'd first learned about Beorn's family. He couldn't imagine losing Víli, Dís, and Kíli all in the same day and surviving it.
He shook his head. "I still don't get it."
"That's alright. I just want you to remember this." Beorn put a hand on his shoulder, making him look up. "Whatever happens, you keep finding something to hold onto. Something to fight for."
A low breeze swept over the porch, and Fíli shivered.
"No matter what happens, you will always need that."The farm was unnervingly quiet.
It was nighttime, a low chilly mist drifting above the grass of the front yard, and too cold for anything other than the wind to be making noise. Fíli could feel goosebumps on his skin, the threat of a shiver stealing up his spine, but he stayed where he was, sitting on the porch steps with his elbows resting on his knees.
It had been a slow, cold couple of days. Dís was grieving, and Glóin and Brana had done their best to support her. Beorn, Bifur, and Bofur had tried to keep Fíli occupied, but it was that time of year when work was slow. Usually, their winters had been meant for keeping warm and enjoying each other's company.
And Kíli…he was angry. He hadn't said anything, but Fíli could see the blame in his eyes, the way it had flashed on his face once he'd found out what had happened to Víli. Thinking about it now made a sharp ache curl in his chest.
It's not your fault, Dís had whispered to him the night after they'd returned to the farm. But the words seemed distant now. The fact was that Víli had left the safety of the farm because of him, and he'd died trying to protect him. That was all he could think of every time he saw the pain on Dís and Kíli's faces.
The screen door opened, and Fíli glanced behind him. He winced as Grim immediately licked him on the cheek, then trotted out onto the grass. He sniffed in a winding path for a while, then made for the bushes near the side of the house.
"He was getting restless," Beorn said, closing the door behind him. "Has been for the past couple of days. Sometimes I think he can sense that something's wrong."
"Yeah," Fíli said, his voice raspy. "He probably can."
The porch creaked as Beorn went to sit on the steps beside him. After a few minutes, Grim came bounding back and squeezed in between them, tongue lolling out of his mouth. Fíli smiled, the expression glimmering for half a second, and reached over to scratch behind his ears.
"I'm glad he's here," Fíli said, fingers tangling in the curly gray fur. "We saw a couple of stray dogs on the way back. They were starving, digging through empty garbage cans…" He swallowed. He'd wanted to help them, at least give them a little bit of food, but Bifur had reasoned that they were probably feral, and it wasn't worth the risk of getting bit.
Beorn hummed in agreement. "He's lived a good, long life…considering the state of things. Sometimes I envy him. He doesn't have to worry the way the rest of us do."
"Yeah." Fíli fiddled with a loose thread on his jeans, then cast an uncertain glance at the other man. "Um, Bofur and Glóin were talking about heading back to Erebor, the other day. I don't know if they told you."
"No. But I can't say I'm surprised."
They'd wanted to see the rest of the family. And thinking practically, now that Erebor was secured, it was the safer place to be. If everything went well, it would be the last journey they would ever have to make.
"Are you gonna come with us?" Fíli asked.
Beorn didn't answer for a moment, keeping his gaze on the darkened trees outside the fence. There had always been a strange calm about him, even when they'd first met, when he'd been weathered and wild-looking. "This farm is my home. It has been my entire life." He clasped his hands together. "I'm going to stay here."
Fíli frowned. He wasn't exactly surprised, but the answer still hurt. "Why? You…You'd be alone again."
"Somewhat." Beorn rested a hand on Grim's back. He gave Fíli a sad smile. "I will miss you all. I think of you as my family, and I will always treasure the years we had together. But this house, these fields, is where I belong." His lips curled wryly. "Who knows? Maybe I'll find another group to adopt in a few months."
Fíli couldn't find any real humor in that. He glared at the porch railing and brushed away a few blades of dry grass. "I don't get how you can just…let go like that."
"It's because I have a choice." His voice lowered. "More than I did with my first family."
He flinched at that. He knew loss more intimately than he had when he'd first learned about Beorn's family. He couldn't imagine losing Víli, Dís, and Kíli all in the same day and surviving it.
He shook his head. "I still don't get it."
"That's alright. I just want you to remember this." Beorn put a hand on his shoulder, making him look up. "Whatever happens, you keep finding something to hold onto. Something to fight for."
A low breeze swept over the porch, and Fíli shivered.
"No matter what happens, you will always need that."
Fíli stopped at the edge of the lake. A few orange leaves were floating lazily on the still surface, and his breath fogged in the air.
They'd left the farm a few days ago, and were camped out by the lake at the foot of the mountain. The land was still scarred with the evidence of the herd that had passed through earlier: broken fences and grass flattened by hundreds of footsteps. The smell of rotting flesh still lingered in the air.
Seeing the walkers now…even the smell was enough to throw him back into that burning night and the memory of Víli's blank eyes. It made him angry, it made him ache, and he wasn't sure he deserved to feel any of it.
He stuck his hands into his pockets to warm them up, and paused as he felt the crinkle of plastic against his palm. He pulled out the packet of cookies Bilbo had given him before he'd left. He'd forgotten about them in his anxiety about returning to the farm, and the grief that had hung over their return journey.
Seeing them now just made his mouth feel dry. He wasn't hungry. He felt sick. Fíli cocked back his arm and flung it as far as he could. The package splashed against the water and sank beneath the surface.
He stared at the rippling lake and felt a familiar ache rise in his chest. He clenched his jaw as tears threatened to rise again.
"Fíli?" Dís came down the small wooded slope behind him. "Everything okay? You were gone for a while."
He'd originally volunteered to scout for walkers nearby, and Bofur had given him the okay, though he hadn't missed how he and his cousin had been watching him since they'd left Erebor.
Fíli shrugged and cleared his throat. "Everything's fine. We can head back, now."
"Let's sit for a while." Dís gestured to a small ridge nearby.
He followed her lead, ignoring the stiffness in his limbs. Ever since he'd come back to the farm, Dís had looked at him with a mixture of love and sadness, had tried to comfort him the best she could while shouldering her own grief. And every time she held him, it felt like a lie.
"Do you remember when we lost Kíli?" Dís asked. Her voice was steady, but threaded with the hoarseness of recent tears. "Back at the motel?"
"Yeah," Fíli replied, looking down at the dead leaves beneath his feet. He'd barely been able to move afterwards, weighed down by grief and self-blame, but that incident seemed more like a forgotten nightmare after everything else that had happened.
"I thought that was the end of the fucking world." Dís let out a low, raspy laugh and shook her head. "I mean, it wasn't the outbreak that did it for me. It was losing you two…that first time, then the motel, then the warehouse…"
Fíli winced. And now she could add Erebor to that list.
"You know, I wouldn't care if we had flesh-eating corpses after us, if…if the whole damn country got bombed to hell and we had to live in some underground bunker. I just know I'll be alright as long as I have you two." Dís reached out and cupped his cheek, turning him towards her, then held his face in both hands. "You and Kíli are the greatest treasures this world has ever given me. And I don't want you to blame yourself for what happened."
The back of his throat was burning, and Fíli felt his jaw tremble. "But you didn't want us to go. And I-I got him killed."
"You didn't," Dís said, an unshakable calm in her eyes. "You made that journey because you believed in it. I can't blame you for that. And Víli kept you safe." A tear slipped down her cheek. "He was a good father, a good husband, and I couldn't have asked any more from either of you."
Fíli leaned forward, resting his head on her shoulder, and she wrapped her arms around him.
"Kíli thinks it's my fault," he mumbled in between sobs.
"He's grieving," Dís said. "He's not gonna hold that against you forever. He loves you."
Fíli sniffled and nodded against her shoulder.
"I can tell you that all I want, but you have to believe it yourself." Dís pressed a kiss into his hair. "You have to forgive yourself."
They sat there for a while longer, until the sun began to dip towards the horizon and the temperature dropped further. Bifur and Bofur were heating a few cans of beans over the campfire when they returned. Kíli was sitting in the car, hunched over his game system like he had been for the past few days.
"I was beginning to think one of you fell in the lake," Glóin said, though she exchanged a quick, affirming glance with Dís. "You ready to eat?"
"Just about." Dís gave Fíli's shoulder a quick squeeze before going to retrieve the water bottles from the car.
"Gimli, stay where we can see you," Brana called.
"I found a rabbit hole!" Gimli said, crouched in the bushes at the edge of the clearing.
Out of all of them, Gimli had consistently been the cheeriest. They'd decided not to tell him about Balin and Víli until they reached Erebor, so as far as he knew, they were simply taking a trip to see the rest of the family. He'd been treating this all as one big adventure, nearly running off more than once, though Brana and Glóin had kept a close eye on him.
"Well, you'd better leave them alone." Brana walked over and swept him up. "Little rabbits have to stay warm for the winter, yeah?" She tickled under his chin, making him squeal with laugher.
"Let's keep it down," Glóin said, though she was grinning as she walked over and wound an arm around Brana's waist.
Fíli watched them for a moment—Gimli and his mothers, happy and intertwined, glowing in the firelight. Then he shoved his hands in his empty pockets and turned away.
Thorin's muscles were burning, the wound on his gut a small flame of agony, but he kept driving his fists into the dusty nylon of the punching bag. He tried to focus on the rhythm of his blows, the familiar strain of exercise.
Óin had finally given him permission to leave the infirmary, on the condition that he keep resting in one of the apartments. The thought of staring at a different blank ceiling had been almost unbearable, and it had only taken a half hour for Thorin to retrace his memories to the training area.
Erebor was smaller than he'd remembered it. He'd only been a child, about Kíli's age, last time he'd walked these halls. It felt emptier, too, and it echoed more than anything.
They'd walked into a shell, a labyrinth of empty space, and Thorin still hadn't found the sense of security he'd been looking for every time he'd looked at the mountain from afar.
There was no security for Balin or Víli. The group from the farm was due to arrive any day now, and he wondered if they would look into Erebor and see only the blood they'd spent trying to reach it.
All of this, the steel doors and the shelves of food, it wasn't worth anything, because he'd failed to keep his family safe.
He threw himself back into the beat of his fists against the heavy bag, the throbbing of his knuckles and the low thundering like the echo of gunshots—
"What the hell are you doing?"
Thorin stopped, but he didn't turn as Bilbo walked into the room.
"You're going to tear your stitches!" He was at Thorin's side in an instant, taking his arm and guiding him towards one of the benches along the wall.
Thorin sat down, breathing hard. A droplet of sweat ran past his ear, down onto the damp fabric of his shirt. Now that his adrenaline was beginning to fade, the pain in his stomach was growing, gnawing hungrily at his nerve endings.
With an exasperated sigh, Bilbo lifted up his shirt to check his stitches. He let the hem fall back into place, apparently not finding anything serious. "What the hell were you thinking?"
Thorin shook his head, eyes on the ground as he tried to catch his breath.
Bilbo knelt down and raised Thorin's chin so their eyes met. "Talk to me. Please."
"I almost got you all killed," Thorin said hoarsely. He grasped Bilbo's hand, his thumb running over the bandage wrapped around his palm. "I-I sent you in there, and you could have died."
"Thorin, we've talked about this before. We all—"
"If it wasn't for me," Thorin said, the strain in his voice pulled taut, "Balin and Víli would still be alive."
Bilbo fell silent at that, the exasperation in his eyes faltering. He lifted himself up and sat on the bench beside Thorin.
"I failed." He put his head in his hands, fingers threading through the sweat-soaked strands of his hair. "I…I should have found a way to keep them safe."
"Thorin…" Gently, he took one of his hands, clasping it in both of his. "You know you can't keep everyone safe, right?"
The words echoed like a flicker of candlelight, and for a moment he could hear Frerin's voice. You can't save everyone. At some point you have to forgive yourself for that.
"I mean, think about how the world was before," Bilbo continued. "After the outbreak, most people just…died. And you led us through that hell, through all of it, for years. But you can't take on the whole world. You couldn't have known what was going to happen."
Thorin turned away, shaking off the memory of his brother's words as something like anger pushed past the pain in his gut. "You don't have to do that."
"What?"
"You don't have to…to look on the bright side of things. People are dead, Bilbo. Why are you—"
"Because it's done! And we can't go back. We can't go back to the way things used to be." His voice wavered. "And I can see this is eating you up on the inside. That it has for a long time." His voice dropped to a whisper. "I don't want to lose you to this."
Thorin closed his eyes. "How can you still feel that way? After everything?"
Bilbo let out a soft, disbelieving laugh. "You think I would stop loving you after this?" He put a hand on Thorin's chest, right over his heart. "I still know who you are. You nearly died trying to take this mountain, trying to make this a home for us. Ever since I met you, you've given everything you have to keep your family safe. You lost your way for a while, and you see that now. You still have a chance to make things right."
"I can't bring them back," he said softly.
"I know." He held on tighter, and Thorin could feel his heartbeat against Bilbo's palm. "But we…we have to do something. We're here, now, and we have to make something out of it." He took a deep breath. "Please, talk to the others. Talk to yourself."
Thorin finally turned to look at him. He could never deny that pleading look, and the quiet desperation in Bilbo's voice was enough to give him a sliver of clarity. He took the hand on his chest and held it in his own. "I just…I need time."
"Alright." Bilbo lowered his gaze and nodded. "I suppose we have plenty of that, now." He sat with him for a moment longer, then stood up. "I'm going to find some painkillers for you, so you can walk around a little. You are in desperate need of a shower."
His lips twitched, just barely. He reached out and wound his arms around Bilbo, leaning his head against his chest. It was an enormous relief to be this close to him again, to feel his warmth and compassion. "Thank you."
Bilbo returned the embrace, fingers gently stroking along his neck. "I think we'll be alright," he said softly. "I think we can make this into a new beginning."
Bilbo stepped outside and zipped up his coat with a wince as a blast of icy wind swept across the slopes of the mountain. He went to stand next to Bombur, who was standing a little ways away with a pair of binoculars lifted to his face.
"Are you sure you saw them?" he asked, trying not to slip as he descended.
The whole mountain had been covered in a thick blanket of snow overnight. A white layer hung over the branches and softened the slopes, as if laying to rest the final ashes of everything that had taken place. The sun was setting now, casting a burnt red glow across the crystalline drifts.
"I definitely saw a couple of cars heading this way," Bombur said, lowering the binoculars. "Even if it isn't them, it's better to keep an eye out."
Bilbo hummed in agreement. It was strange to think that, even if there were dangerous people nearby, all they really had to do was shut the door and wait for them to leave. He crossed his arms and shivered. It was all the more reason to have the others return as soon as possible.
After a few minutes, Bombur lifted the binoculars again. He searched in silence for a few minutes, then grinned. "Yeah, it's them. I just saw Glóin the passenger seat."
"Good." Bilbo smiled, though he wasn't feeling particularly optimistic. "Do you…Do you think everyone is there?"
"Definitely enough for them to need two cars," Bombur replied. "Not sure if Beorn is with them, though."
"I don't think he is." Bilbo frowned slightly. "I…I could tell, before we first set out for Erebor. I don't think he'd want to live with us here."
"Well, that's a shame. The house probably seems a lot bigger now."
He hummed in agreement. He knew from personal experience how difficult solitude could be in this world. "I hope we get the chance to see him again."
Bombur moved down the slope to get a better view. "Oh, looks like they're getting out of the cars, now. Surprised they made it this far, with how snowy the roads are."
"Maybe we should have done some shoveling for them."
The snow crunched behind them, and they turned to see Óin making his way down the slope.
"You see them yet?"
"They're walking up now." Bombur slipped the binoculars into his pocket.
"Let's go meet them," Bilbo said, and despite everything, his heart lifted at the thought of seeing his family again.
"Yeah, why not. I'll just walkie Nori to keep an eye on the door."
They set off down the mountainside, struggling through the thick drifts of snow. Bilbo turned to Óin, who was taking up the rear. He looked a little more well-rested, now that Thorin was no longer in a life-threatening condition, but still fairly exhausted.
"Watch your step."
"Yeah, yeah." Óin waved him off.
When the other group caught sight of them from below, they all brightened. Bofur grinned and let out a sharp whistle. Glóin waved, her red hair standing out like fire against the snow. Even Fíli cracked a smile.
It still took a few minutes for the two groups to reach each other, but crossing that final distance was like a homecoming. Bombur pulled his brother and cousin into a hug. Óin kissed Gimli on the forehead and went to embrace his sisters.
"Bilbo!" Kíli was slightly out of breath from the uphill climb, but he nearly knocked Bilbo into the snow as he ran to hug him. "You're okay."
"Of course I am." Bilbo ruffled his hair with a smile. "And I missed you a lot."
"Hey, don't hog him." Dís was next, climbing up the slope to meet him. Immediately, he could see the grief in her eyes, but her smile was warm as ever as she wrapped her arms around him. "It's so good to see you."
Bilbo shut his eyes. "It's good to see you, too."
He looked over her shoulder at Fíli, who was ascending at a slower pace. He looked worn from the journey, but a little lighter, as though a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Bilbo smiled and reached out to squeeze his hand.
"Mommy, look!" Gimli had squirmed out of Óin's grasp and was pointing to a series of tiny footprints in the snow, where some sort of animal had passed. "Is this a rabbit?"
"Possibly." Brana smiled. "Just stay where we can see you, okay?"
"Yeah, I think he's gonna be a hunter when he grows up," Glóin said with a smirk. "I told you, didn't I?"
"Or maybe," Brana reached over to pinch her side, "he'll be a zoologist."
"How was the trip?" Bilbo turned back to Dís and Fíli. "Not too much trouble, I hope?"
Fíli shrugged. "It was pretty easy, since we knew the route." He cast an uncertain glance at Kíli, who was talking to Bofur.
"And how's Thorin?" Dís asked, almost unconsciously putting a reassuring hand on Fíli's shoulder. "I…I heard he got shot."
"He's healing," Bilbo said. "He's already been through the worst of it, and…he'll be alright."
Although Thorin hadn't said anything about it, Bilbo knew he was worried about how Dís would look at him, after everything. That was a bridge they would have to cross eventually—hopefully sooner rather than later.
"Well, we'd better head inside before our fingers freeze off," Bilbo said. "We've got plenty of food inside, running water, everything."
"Are there TVs?" Kíli asked, appearing at his shoulder. He hefted his backpack. "I brought all our games."
Bilbo smiled and squeezed his shoulder. "Then I think you'll be thrilled to know that there are several TVs inside."
"Yes!"
"Gimli, come on," Glóin called. "Enough adventuring."
Gimli was lying in a snowdrift a few feet away, giggling. He sat up, a few clumps of snow falling from his curly hair.
A hand emerged from the snow and closed around his arm.
Glóin swore and reached for her gun. Brana was gasping, running desperately through the thick drifts.
The walker sat up, its rotting skin glazed with ice. Its movements were sluggish, as if the cold had frozen its blood. Gimli whimpered and tried to roll away, but its grip on his arm only tightened.
And then their group was moving as one, bristling with guns and scrambling through the snow even as time seemed to crawl. Bilbo slipped and scraped his hand against the bark of a tree as he tried to catch his fall.
A scream rent the air, piercing and liquid like the last falling rays of the sun. A gunshot followed it, and then Brana was wailing, sobbing, and Bilbo finally managed to push himself to his feet.
Gimli was crying, too, clinging to Glóin as she lifted him from the snow. The walker lay still, a bullet hole in the center of its forehead.
And there was fury on Glóin's face, and blood onto her hand, dripping from the green of Gimli's coat, from the torn flesh on his shoulder, and the steaming red pattered on the snow like rain.
Hi, I'm sorry I did a very evil thing just now, please just bear with me until next chapter. I promise I don't do anything like this without reason and this is going somewhere. I am…so sorry.
