Memories
Oin didn't know what to think of Bilbo Baggings. He was a small, simple hobbit, who loved laughing, eating and forgave easily. Yet, he was so much more than that. He was brave, cute in a small puppy way, gentle, patient and understanding. But the child was mostly reckless! He threw himself headfirst in troubles every time and it was starting to get on Oin's nerves. First with the trolls, then in the Misty Mountains, he knew exactly which buttons to push to anger Thorin, even if it seemed he wasn't doing it on purpose. And now he just went with his letter opener against Azog the freaking Defiler. But as Bilbo was running, the healer watched him closely. His run seemed clipped by small sharp intakes of air. He was limping a little and he was clenching his sword in his hand tightly.
Once at the Carrock, when he was sure Thorin was not going to kick the bucket, he went over to Bilbo. "Sit down." It was simple and short, yet the lad looked at him as if he just grew a second head. "No, I'm fine… Truly." He said and Oin raised an eyebrow. "Let me be the judge of that lad. Sit." This time, he seemed to recognize that it was not a question. "Take your shirt off." Oin demanded and the child did, even if a large blush was covering his pointed ears and face. The company was intrigued by why their healer was harassing their burglar and was watching. A collective gasp was heard as they caught a glimpse of the hobbit's torso. He was black and blue; his ribs were visible through his skin and his breathing was apparently difficult. Oin's eyes narrowed. "This is fine for you lad?" He asked, his tone hard and the kid at least looked sheepish. After a thorough examination, the healer concluded.
"You broke 3 ribs, one coming perilously close to puncturing a lung and sprained your ankle. You're lucky I've done what I could. If I didn't, it could have killed you. What were you thinking?! You have no training in swordsmanship and you just go and challenge the Pale Orc." Oin scolded hotly, not pleased by the recklessness of such a small creature. "I had to. No one else could move. I had to save Thorin." Bilbo confided in him softly. "Even if it was your life on the line?" The dwarf urged, feeling that he would not like the answer. "Yes. Thorin Oakenshield is your king. The leader of the company. He has a family to return to, people to take care of. I don't. No one would miss me if I was gone. You would continue the quest and just have to send someone else against the dragon. The Sackville-Baggings would probably cry of joy, knowing that they'll finally have their grubby hands on my house. It is for all these reasons that I would gladly give my life to save one of you, any of you." The hobbit confessed quietly. Oin almost didn't hear it but he did, and he swatted the lad over the head for his stupid logic.
"Do you really think that low of us? We would just forget you and that's all?" Bilbo's eyes widened and he put his hands in front of him in a peace sign. "Of course not! You would mourn me I know you would. But your pain would be nothing next to what it would be if it was Thorin or Bofur or Fili. I mean, it's completely understandable. I am just a simple hobbit while they are your friends. In this company, I am a stranger amongst friends and family, and you know it's the truth." The kid finished his mini speech before Thorin asked for him, scared him and hugged him. Oin shook his head, deep in thought. He would have to keep a close eye to the child because those sorts of thoughts never meant something good.
Next: Ori