Chapter 2

They made good time along the westward road, reaching the borders of the Shire before turning northwards for Ered Luin. The familiar lands, the smell of pine and melted mountain snow, sharpened the ache of homesickness Thorin had kept at bay for years.

He should have been elated at the thought of seeing his people again, but his anxiety only grew as the mountain peaks grew nearer, their shadows stretching over the forest with each passing sunset. Would his kin and friends, the people he held most dear, even recognize him when he returned? Would they understand why he had come back to them changed?

Bilbo seemed to sense his growing unease, and though there was nothing he could do to ease it, his presence was comfort enough. Thorin tried to focus on that, and refrain from considering what his family would think of his choice in companion.

Night had fallen by the time they reached the pass that led to the front gates. Thorin gazed up at the twin dwarf statues guarding the pass. They weren't as massive as those of Erebor, but were imposing nonetheless. He sought the noble, stern lines of their faces as if the answers he sought were hidden within.

Adad, Sigin'adad… Would they have understood what he'd done?

"We're getting close, then?" Bilbo asked, breaking him out of his reverie.

"Yes." Thorin took in a calming breath. "We'll be at the gate within the hour."

Bilbo reached over and squeezed his hand. When Thorin turned to look at him, he offered a reassuring smile.

That was enough to bolster his courage, and they pressed onwards.

The gate was almost exactly as he remembered, down to the weathering on the doors and the scattered bird's nests on the stone above. A pair of guards stood sentry on either side of the entrance. Both wore helmets, and Thorin could not see if he was familiar with either one.

His footsteps nearly faltered. The light from the torches would illuminate his eyes. That alone could raise suspicion from the guards, perhaps plant suspicion that he was not a dwarf but instead some shape-shifting creature.

He shook himself. Such monsters did not exist in this world, and orcs had no skill in disguising themselves. Whatever changes he had undergone, he would not see himself turned away from the halls he had built.

The sentry on the left greeted him first, in Khuzdul. Thorin recognized his voice after a moment—this was Ginar, a dwarf from a settlement in the north. Hearing the familiar syllables of Khuzdul from another, even one who was only an acquaintance, sharpened the pang of homesickness in his chest.

"Hail, King Thorin. I am glad to see you returned safely."

"As am I," Thorin responded, hoping his weariness wasn't too evident in his voice.

Ginar called for someone inside to open the gate, and Thorin heard the clang of the heavy latch being lifted. Both guards, he noticed, were watching him closely while trying to appear as though they were not. But to his immense relief, neither commented on his appearance.

One of the doors opened enough to admit a single person. Thorin moved towards the gap, but Ginar spoke again.

"The halfling?"

Beside him, Bilbo stiffened. Though none of the words thus far had been spoken in a tongue he would understand, he must have caught on that his presence was cause for some concern.

"He is with me," Thorin replied, then stepped inside without waiting for a response.

They passed through a wide stone doorway and into a large entrance hall bordered by three staircases. In the center was a statue of a dwarf crowned with a diadem of crystal—Durin, his ancestor. Thorin made his way around the base of the statue and towards the central staircase, which would take them to the royal quarters.

As the door closed behind them, he turned and murmured to Bilbo, "Stay close. I doubt a halfling has ever seen the inside of these halls before."

"I'll count myself lucky, then."

Thorin led the way up the staircase and took a smaller corridor that would lead them quickly to the royal quarters without passing through many public places. At this time of night, most people would be at the tavern or with their families, but he did not want to make his return public until he'd had time to confer with his own kin.

"This place is amazing," Bilbo said as they passed a large chamber meant for hosting feasts. "However did they carve this room from solid stone?"

"With many years of hard work, using techniques refined over many generations," Thorin said with a small smile. "Though the grandeur of these halls pales in comparison to Erebor."

"I look forward to seeing that, then," Bilbo said, and his words lifted Thorin's heart.

Erebor. In truth, their journey had not even begun yet. These past ten years had been mere preparation, and there was still more to complete before they could set out towards the Lonely Mountain.

The thought exhausted him.

The entrance to the royal house was also flanked by two guards. Neither questioned him as he passed through the doors, nor did they comment on Bilbo's presence. Thorin took in a calming breath as they entered an anteroom furnished with tapestries. Though they were not afforded luxuries here that had been present in Erebor, the house was far from destitute.

"This is quite elegant," Bilbo said as they entered a large sitting room. A fire was still blazing in the hearth, though the room was empty. "This is where you live?"

Thorin nearly stopped in his tracks. He still had not revealed to Bilbo that he was the ruler of this place, and that the throne of Erebor was his by right. His anxiety over his impending reunion with his kin had consumed most of his thoughts—or perhaps he had not wanted to face another uncomfortable confession to someone he cared for.

"Is something wrong?" Bilbo asked after a moment of silence.

Thorin steeled himself. No more secrets.

He opened his mouth to speak, but at that moment footsteps sounded from the far corridor. A dwarf came into sight, her hair unbound from its usual series of intricate braids and pinned back from her face. Her left hand clasped a book, though her grip nearly faltered when she caught sight of him.

"Dís." Despite the exhaustion and apprehension that seemed melded to his bones these days, speaking his sister's name was a breath of fresh air, a release of the tension he'd been holding since stepping through the gates of Ered Luin.

Dís moved across the room towards him, her expression smooth and nearly unreadable. It might have been a comforting sight to Thorin, but for the fact that it was the same expression he wore when he was incredibly angry.

"I know you must have received my letter," he said. "I'm willing to explain in full—"

Dís's fist shot out and cracked across his jaw, and Bilbo gasped. Before Thorin had undergone the witcher mutations, the blow would have likely sent him sprawling, but as it was his head snapped to the side, pain blooming into what would surely become a bruise.

Thorin winced and straightened up. "Well, I'm grateful you removed your rings before you did that."

"I would have left them on if I knew you were coming," Dís said, her voice just above a whisper. Fury bled through every word. "How dare you risk your life in such a foolish way. You are not just my brother, you are the king of our people! After all that we've lost, that you would take a chance like that—" The rest of her sentence was lost in a sharp breath, her jaw working as it did when she was at a loss for words.

"I took a risk I believed to be necessary for the future of our people," Thorin said, keeping his voice stern but calm. He knew an even tone would only make her angrier, but the alternative was a shouting match, and that was more likely to draw Fíli and Kíli into the room. "If there had been time to confer with you beforehand, I would have done so. I am sorry that I did not."

Her gaze moved over his face, taking in the unkempt shape of his beard, the scars that had not been there a month ago, before settling on his eyes. She was looking at them, not into them.

"What was this risk, exactly? Where did you go, and what did you do to yourself?"

"I will tell you everything." Thorin turned to Bilbo, who was watching the exchange with wide eyes and tense lips. "Let me show you to one of the guest rooms. You must be tired."

Dís's eyebrows flew up, as if she'd noticed Bilbo was there for the first time. "Who is this?"

"Bilbo. He is a companion of mine," Thorin said shortly, hoping she wouldn't press the issue further. He would have to tell her about this new relationship eventually, but there was too much he already had to discuss tonight. "I'll meet you in my study."

"I hope you will be able to make it there without any more life-threatening detours," Dís said, and swept out of the room.

Suppressing a sigh, Thorin led Bilbo down a different hallway. He waited until they'd reached the door to one of the guest rooms to speak.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean for you to be present for that…conversation."

"It seems you haven't been entirely honest with me, either," Bilbo said.

"No, I—" Thorin clenched his jaw. "I'm sorry."

"Well, I don't want to keep you any longer." Bilbo pushed the door open and turned to face him. "I'm sure you and your sister have quite a bit of catching up to do."

"I'll speak with you tomorrow," Thorin said, and bit back another apology as Bilbo closed the door.

He was more indebted now than he could remember ever being before, indebted in apologies and explanations that were beginning to feel frighteningly insufficient.

But it had to be enough. He'd come this far, bled for this beginning, and he would make it all enough.

He held onto that thought like a weapon as he made his way towards his study.

Despite his exhaustion, Thorin was awake by the early hours of the morning. He lay in bed for a while, his gaze roaming across the blank stone ceiling. For the first time in years, he was home, and there was no need to consider the day's travel or where he would find his next meal.

This was the first time in a while that Bilbo was not beside him, either.

He closed his eyes and let out a bone-deep sigh as memories of the previous night rose to the surface of his mind. He and Dís had spoken late into the night, and after he'd told her the full tale of his agreement with Gandalf and his time in the other world, the discussion had turned into a bitter argument.

"I know what Erebor means to you. To our people," she'd said. "But I am afraid you are going down a path I can neither follow nor forgive."

"This is not going to end in my death or failure," Thorin had replied. "I will not allow that to happen."

"That was what our grandfather believed before Moria."

Thorin flinched away from the memory. It had been a low blow to insinuate that he had forgotten what Azanulbizar had cost them. He had seen what they had lost attempting something that had never been done before. There were times when he still felt the blood on his hands, the splinters of steel in his scars.

This time will be different.

He turned his head to gaze at the two swords resting beside his bed. No other dwarf before him had had the weapons and skills that were at his disposal. The impossible was not so for him.

He understood his sister's thoughts, and the hesitation he anticipated from the others. It was difficult to comprehend that which had never been done before.

But he would make them see what was truly possible.

Eventually, Thorin roused himself from his ruminations and rose from his bed. There was much to be done today, between meeting with the council and giving a much-needed explanation to Bilbo. He would have to face his kin today knowing that ten years for him had been only a handful of weeks for them.

Though his appetite was not particularly strong, he made his way to the dining room. The smell of hot bread and spiced sausages reached his nose, made more potent by his enhanced senses. He could also hear voices coming from the room, and made an effort not to conceal his footsteps as he reached the doorway.

Dís and Fíli both turned at his approach. Kíli was nowhere to be seen, and neither was Bilbo. Fíli's eyes widened slightly as he took in Thorin's appearance.

"So it's true," he said after a moment.

"What is?" Thorin moved towards his seat at the table.

"Your eyes." Fíli continued to watch him, and Thorin met his gaze. The light blue that his nephew had, that belonged to every dwarf in their family, was no longer his.

Ignoring the pang in his chest, Thorin turned to Dís. "How much did you tell him?"

"That you went alone on a stupidly dangerous mission, and that you returned with the eyes of a cat," she said flatly, but with less of a bite than last night.

"She said Gandalf had something to do with it," Fíli said. "Was he the one that…changed you?"

"He had a hand in it." Thorin met Dís's eyes again, silently asking for permission. This was his kingdom, but it was her son he was speaking to.

After a moment of silence, she sent him an answering look that plainly read, Do as you will.

"Gandalf has offered to help us reclaim Erebor," Thorin continued. "Part of that deal involved a chance for me to train, to become strong enough to slay a dragon."

"Can one dwarf really do such a thing?" Fíli asked, brow furrowed.

"I can, and I will. I made an oath that I would return to Erebor, and now I intend to fulfill it."

Fíli nodded and fell silent.

After he had eaten his fill, Thorin asked, "Where is Kíli?"

"Sleeping the morning away, probably," Fíli said. "He came back late last night."

Drinking with friends, Thorin surmised, and could not begrudge him that.

"Your guest is still asleep as well," Dís said, watching him closely. Thorin hadn't revealed the specifics of his relationship with Bilbo, but it was obvious she suspected something.

"Guest?" Fíli echoed.

"He aided me on my journey back here," Thorin said. "I would trust him with my life."

He still owed him an explanation, too. The food in his stomach felt as though it had turned to stone.

"I should speak to him." He stood and nodded to Dís, who was still staring, and gave Fíli's shoulder an affectionate squeeze.

As he moved through the halls towards the guest quarters, Thorin tried to put the words he wanted to say in order. He owed Bilbo honesty no matter what, but he feared what this transgression would do to their relationship. He'd drawn great comfort from Bilbo's understanding and compassion, and the thought of losing that scared him more than he'd expected.

He knocked on the door, hoping Bilbo was already awake. At the very least, he deserved a decent night of rest after their journey.

A moment later, the door swung open. Bilbo didn't look surprised to see him there, but his mouth straightened into a flat line.

"To what do I owe this visit, your majesty?"

Thorin stiffened. "You need not address me in that way."

"To what do I owe this visit...Thorin?"

"I wanted to see you. And explain myself." He shifted his weight. "May I come in?"

Bilbo's lips pursed slightly, but he stepped aside for Thorin to pass through, then shut the door behind him.

"I was wrong to keep my...status from you. I should have told you the truth when you agreed to come with me."

"And why didn't you?" Bilbo asked.

"I knew that if I told you, it would invite certain preconceptions into your mind. It is not that I ever expected you to take advantage of the situation, but I knew that you would look upon me differently. And I enjoyed being with you without those preconceptions existing between us."

Bilbo nodded slowly, his gaze lowered as he gathered his thoughts. With each passing moment of silence, anxiety wound tighter in Thorin's chest. He steeled himself for Bilbo's response. Whatever was to come, he would have to face the consequences.

Bilbo finally lifted his head and said, "Well, I am going to look at you differently now that I know. I understand, now, why you risked so much to help your people. But I'd much rather you be honest with me. I care a great deal more about that than whether you are a king or a warrior or a peasant. When I agreed to come to this world, I came for all of it. Not just the parts you might find convenient."

"I understand," Thorin said, his voice coming out more hoarse than he'd intended. Now that they were having this conversation, he could not imagine why he'd dreaded it coming up in the first place.

"Come here." Bilbo cupped his face in both hands and leaned up to give him a kiss.

Thorin pulled him into an embrace, pressing his cheek against Bilbo's curls. He wasn't sure how he'd gone so long without this, without the trust and comfort Bilbo gave to him freely. He had known his kin for decades longer, but there was something about being with Bilbo that felt safe.

It was this that gave him the courage to press forward.

So uh...it's been like 2.5 years but I'm back! Finally got some inspiration to work on this fic again, so I hope you all enjoy it. Fingers crossed I'll be able to update more frequently along with my other fics.