Chapter One

Don't You Dare

As soon as the eagle had landed in Rivendell Thorin was whisked away by elves, and even though Bilbo knew he could trust them and they were only going to save him, his panic and fear were far too high to just simple relax. He had rushed after them and begged to be at Thorin's side but Elrond informed him they needed time and patients to heal his wounds. That Bilbo would have to wait.

And so he did. He sat on a small, but beautifully carved, wooden bench just outside the room they had Thorin locked away in. His hands melded together and shoved between his knees to keep himself as still as possible.

An elf he had not met yet had tried to guide him away, seeing the dried blood in his air and on his forehead but Bilbo refused to leave. As soon as they opened that door Bilbo wanted to be in there. He needed to be.

He tried his best to calm his beating heart, wondering why in Yavanna's name he was panicking so much. And though the answer was simple he wasn't sure if he could admit it to himself. He tried to just sum it up to the hype of a battle almost lost but won. That his nerves were shot after dealing with a dragon and fighting a massive army of orcs. Closing his eyes he tried to rid himself of the image of Thorin laid in his own blood.

What if they can't heal him? What if he dies? What if I-

Bilbo couldn't even finish his own thoughts, his breath hitched in his throat as a fear-filled gasp nearly stopped his heart. Burying his face in his hands, no longer trapped between his knees, he steadied his breathing trying not to drown in his own tears.

"Master Baggins!"

Bilbo looked up to see Fili, Gandalf, Balin, Oin, and Dwalin headed his way.

"Is he alright?" Fili, the first to speak was worried about his uncle.

"Do they have all they need? How bad are his wounds?" Oin asked, but Bilbo could only slightly shake his head. He didn't know anything and wasn't sure what the dwarven king's condition was now.

"It will be alright." Gandalf spoke, calmly but loudly over the worried voices of the dwarves who bombarded Bilbo with far too many questions. He saw the hobbit's face was pale, and eyes glossy with fresh tears. "He's in with the best healers, I'm sure. They'll keep him alive." Gandalf passed an apologetic look to Oin, not meaning any offense for he was a good healer too, but they all knew Thorin was far too close to death. Oin nodded, letting the wizard know he took no offense at all.

"W-where are the others?" Bilbo asked, his mind slowly coming together. What if others were hurt?

"Kili's with Tauriel. He's wounded but she took him back to the mountain. The others are there too, helping with the after math of it all." Balin spoke patting Fili on the shoulder who was worried about his brother.

"Dain is there with the Ironfoot to keep the mountain safe." Dwalin spoke with arms crossed. Even if none of them were effected by dragon sickness, and even if Thorin was no longer either, the mountain was still their home and Dwalin still didn't trust the elves. Bilbo couldn't help but smirk slightly knowing Thorin would have patted his back for that little move.

His heart clenched again. What if he never gets the chance to do so? Bilbo bit his lip hard to keep himself from tearing up again. He knew that everyone here would be worried about Thorin,that he wasn't the only one who cared deeply about the dwarf king. He was their kin, their leader, and their friend. So he had to keep himself together.

"So what happened?" Fili asked, seeing the worry plan on Bilbo's face, taking a sit in the small amount of space left on the bench. It had been obvious to him for a while that the hobbit cared greatly for his uncle, but he'd never said anything.

Bilbo looked up and into the kind eyes of the blond dwarf. He sighed and shook his head as he tried to recall the events before he was conked on the head.

"I-I'm not sure.." He started rubbing the side of his head, feeling bits of dried blood flaking off. He knew one of them would say something so he quickly continued. "I remember warning all of you that the hoard was circling the tower." He glanced up at Gandalf and around at all of their faces staring intently at him. "We were headed down and.." Bilbo squinted his head aching again as he tried to remember.

"Yes?" Oin asked. Bilbo looked to Fili then Dwalin.

"I'm not sure." He said honestly. "Somehow I lost you guys.." He said nothing of the ring, partly because he knew it should be kept secret and partly because he wasn't even sure what it did anyway. "Last thing I remember was something conking me on the head.." Bilbo cupped the side of his head, the spot just at the edge of his hair line now a good solid bump. "When I woke I went to go find, well, anyone." He looked back up his eyes scanning over them. "Thorin had killed Azog, but he collapsed as soon as I got there..."

Bilbo looked back to his feet gripping tight the fabric of his trousers.

"T-There was so much blood.." His voice trembled and he could say no more. Fili patted him on the back understandingly.

"Well, leave it to Thorin to pull through. He's the most stubborn dwarf I've ever met." Gandalf tried to assure the company present.

"He's always been a strong one, and healed quickly. I'm sure he'll survive this too." Balin commented and Dwalin had to agree.

With that they were left in silence among themselves. Gandalf parted with kind words, off to go find Lord Elrond and see if he could find anything out. Fili stayed seated at Bilbo's side while Balin and Dwalin hung about the ledge whispering to themselves. Inside the room was silent, barely a sound could be heard and Bilbo couldn't help but think the worst. Without realizing it he was soon rocking himself slightly back and forth. Stomach churning from worry, hunger, and pain.

"Master Baggins." Fili spoke softly to not startle the poor hobbit. "I truly think you should get yourself cleaned up, and maybe a change of clothes." Bilbo coat was dirty with Thorin's dried blood, his hair was matted on the right with his own blood and he looked over all terrible. Though they each had their own hurts and aches, and none of them were close to clean, the three dwarves were worried for the hobbit.

"Aye, you don't look good at all laddie." Agreed Balin, not purposefully eavesdropping, but they were all with in hearing distance. Bilbo shook his head.

"No.." His voice was soft as he kept his eyes to the ground. "If Thorin wakes, I want to be here.."

The three glanced between themselves and each sighed. They knew Bilbo could be just as stubborn as their king. So they left well enough alone and just waited some more.

It was hours later that an elf finally came out of the room. He was in the process of wiping his hands clean, the cloth he was using turning red as it washed Thorin's blood from the elf's hands. Bilbo's throat lurched. Oh Yavanna. He took a sharp breath in and closed his eyes for a minute before standing up and waiting for the elf to speak. The truer half of him wanted only to push past and go see Thorin for himself, but he knew the dwarves present had more of a right then he.

"He'll live."

Two words never lifted him higher. The tension of the open hall lifted, as if they all sighed out a breath they had been holding. Bilbo took a few shaky breaths as he let those words sink in. Balin spoke up first.

"Is he conscious?"

"What's his condition?" Dwalin added. Both of them very concerned for their leader.

The elf sighed, seeming as though he was beyond exhausted, making Bilbo guess they had had to use a lot of magic and not just healing herbs.

"The wound was deep, and he was at death's doors. We managed to heal his wounds well enough, but now he must fight the fever and sickness. If he is strong he will be fine." Then the dark haired elf walked away leaving the four of them standing there.

Bilbo was first to move, not waiting another second. He needed to be with Thorin. First thing he saw when he walked in was a centered bed on the far wall with a sleeping Thorin, cleaned and tucked in the silken sheets. There were still two other elves, females, cleaning up the mess that had been made in their trying to help Thorin. Bilbo noticed one carrying Thorin's dirty, blood soaked clothes off in a basket with bloodied clothes and sheets.

Waiting for them to leave Bilbo slowly walked over the bed, his hands twitching as he flicked his fingers together. As he got closer he saw Thorin's sleeping face, cleaned of blood a dirt there was still a cut along his forehead over his right eye. It didn't look so bad now cleaned up and healed with a salve. His dark, grey sparkled hair, looked as though it had been combed a little and lay flat against the pillow. The blanket they'd laid over him covered most of his body, but the bits of his bared torso were now wrapped with clean bandages. Bilbo's nose twitched and he tried to gulp but his mouth was far too dry.

He stood at the edge of the bed for a silent minute and just stared down at the dwarf. He noticed a sheen of sweat on his skin, but as he watched his chest rise and fall with shallow breaths he felt himself relax and get a control over his own feelings.

"He looks better." Fili was standing at Bilbo's side, though he hadn't noticed when the three came into the room. Balin and Dwalin on the other side, all of them watching the sleeping Thorin.

"His breath is shallow.." Bilbo's voice barely above a whisper. The other's looked at him, surprised Bilbo could notice such a small detail. It was just more proof of the obvious to them as the standing party, though this was not the time to bring up facts they all knew.

Bilbo stayed there silently watching over Thorin. The others tried to stay with him as well, but duty and other concerned called them away. So in the silence he stayed, staring at the dwarf as sleep claimed and healed him. Bilbo stood there for as long as his legs could take before he pulled up a small cushioned chair and sat next to the bed.

Now that he could watch Thorin heal, be there at his side knowing – even if it would be hard – his king would live, his heart was beating regularly. His mind was blank, and he no longer felt tears trying to drown his eyes, but he could not pry himself from Thorin's side.

That first night at Thorin's side passed by faster than Bilbo was aware. The room was silent even after a couple hours when the same female elf who had taken away his dirty clothes and bloody cloths came back to check on the king under the mountain. She noted he seemed the same. Bilbo had been watching his king closely and had noticed there were fluctuations in his breathing, and sometimes sweat droplets accumulated on his forehead.

In those first couple hours Bilbo forgot himself completely. He didn't think about the aches of his head or feet, the stiffness of his clothes, the grumble of his stomach, or the heaviness of his eyes that begged him to close and go to sleep. He did what he could for Thorin and stayed silent the whole night.

It was the next morning when lord Elrond and Gandalf along with the healer came back to check on the wounded king; the three were surprised to see Bilbo still sitting there in the state that he was in.

"Oh, Master Baggins." Elrond kept calm – as it seemed the elven lord never was taken by surprise.

"Bilbo, you need rest." Gandalf, with both hands resting on his staff, gave Bilbo that look that said he would not be ignored in his instructions.

"I.." Bilbo's tired gaze left Thorin's face to stare at Gandalf, but only for a moment before he looked back to Thorin. He was afraid that if he didn't watch closely, Thorin would simply vanish completely. "I need to stay here.." His voice low and worn.

"Mithrandir is right, young hobbit." The healer he'd seen earlier was busy laying out a fresh bowl of water, a jug, a towel, and clean wraps on the beautiful stone vanity against the opposite wall. "You look rather exhausted, and we will watch over the dwarf. He'll be asleep for a while longer still."

"He'd want you to rest." Gandalf spoke, softly but they all heard him. It was the only thing that made Bilbo obey. The wizard was right, it would not help for him to be so spent and Thorin would yell at him if he were awake. Sighing Bilbo stood, but no sooner did he stand that the room spun and he met the floor with his face.

Groaning Bilbo rolled over his face burying into the softest surface he had felt in what seemed – at that moment – to have been ages. His body still ached but felt so much better than last he could remember. Suddenly he sat up, remembering what had happened.

"Thorin.."

Throwing the thick blankets aside he moved his legs to dangle off the side and noticed his furry feet were bandaged with clean white cloth. Quickly giving himself a glance over as he stood up he noticed he was wearing clean linen as well, beautifully worn with fine embroidery. Rushing to the door he didn't bother to look around the room but when he stepped out he wasn't exactly sure where he was. It looked the same as half of Rivendell to him. Last time he – and the whole company – were here he didn't really get a good look around, or at least not well enough to familiarize himself with it.

Glancing down his left was the short end of the hall way, with the same balcony railing that had been outside Thorin's 'room', it curved and bent to lead towards the other parts of Rivendell. So Bilbo turned right, looking for any sort of sign.

The hall was long and all the doors, though a good distance between them, all looked the same. Then the hall curved again and he saw Dwalin not too far off in the distance.

"Master Dwalin!" Bilbo called out, after he licked his dry lips, finding that his mouth was actually very dry.

Dwalin looked up and nodded in greeting to the hobbit. After a few more rushed steps Bilbo made it to his side. Looking to the door Bilbo motioned then glanced back to Dwalin.

"I-Is this his room?" They both knew what he meant.

"Aye. He's still asleep. Hasn't woken up yet." Bilbo moved to head in but Dwalin grabbed his arm. "You look better." Then he let go and Bilbo walked inside.

Thorin was seemingly just as he'd left him. His arms tucked over the blanket that lay just below the last wrap of bandage, his chest slowly rising and falling as he breath smoothly. Bilbo sighed in relief. He wasn't sure what he'd expected to see, but knowing nothing was worse made him feel infinitely better. Stepping closer to the bed he pulled of the comfortable chair he'd sat on before and once more placed himself at Thorin's bed side.

"What now.." He whispered to himself. How odd it felt to just sit and watch, not be able to do anything other than observe. But what else could he do? He had no skill in healing, he'd hardly taken care of any ill before, and by now he'd have skipped so many meals he wouldn't be able to count anymore.

Minutes later a food of tray was brought to him, the elf stating Dwalin asked he 'take care of himself'. Bilbo couldn't help but smile slightly. The food was fine but he could only manage at nibbling, not that he minded elvish food but he couldn't make himself eat more. Although the thought of Dwalin and the rest complaining about having to eat so many greens did make him smile slightly again. He did, however, keep the tray close to him as he sat in the room keeping an eye on Thorin in case he felt like nibbling some more.

Things seemed to be getting better, and Thorin was sleeping fine, that was until later in the night.

Bilbo had managed to have one of the elves find him a book to read, although he couldn't focus on anything he was reading and it was merely meant as a distraction. He'd kept himself in the chair though now was seated more comfortable, and was grateful for having the small fireplace lit and filling the room with a warm orange glow. It was while Bilbo found himself nodding off that his ears became alert to the quickened sound of Thorin's breath.

Concern bringing him fully awake he stood, dropped the book to the floor without a second thought, and leaned over the bed to touch Thorin's arm. Looking closer at his face he saw the dark eyebrows furrowed in discomfort, sweat glistened in the dancing light on his forehead. Moving his hand from the dwarf's arm to place his wrist over his forehead Bilbo felt for unnatural warmth. And indeed Thorin was burning up far too hot.

"Infection." Bilbo worried. With a wound that deep it was lightly he was going to catch something sooner or later. But it was late and Bilbo doubted he would be able to find anyone to help at such an hour. So pushing up his sleeves he moved quick, taking things into his own hands.

Although he wasn't sure what all needed to be done first thing he did was grab the cool bowl of clean water and one of the small rags that had been sitting there on the large vanity all day. A hard task in its own as Bilbo wasn't tall enough to grab the large bowl easily, he had to use strength of out-stretched arms to pick it up. Bringing it back to Thorin's other bed side he wet the cloth lightly and started dabbing away at the sweat on his forehead, face and neck. All he knew to do was to make the dwarf comfortable in his sleep. Then he soaked the cloth and rung it out over the bowl before laying the cool, wet fabric over Thorin's forehead.

Bilbo knew nothing of caring for a wound such as that and though he knew it would need to be looked at he didn't want to risk making things worse. So for the next few hours he simply did what he knew would help. Wetting more cloths and wrapping Thorin's bare feet with the cold cloths – a trick he had learned from his mother when he would get sick as a child – and continually wiping away at his forehead.

It wasn't until early morning when Oin had come to check on his king that Thorin was able to get a proper check up and care. The older dwarf had wasted no time in questions – other than how long he'd been like this – before he started to get to work. Bilbo was exhausted but his worry wouldn't let him sleep until he knew Thorin was going to be okay, so he did what he could to help.

Oin unwrapped the bandages – with Bilbo's help gently holding and lifting his shoulders to get the wrap from under him – so he could examine the wound. Though the elf had done a remarkable job with stitching it up close and clean, the skin was still red and irritated. But there was no sign of infection, yet. When Oin stated as much Bilbo sighed in relief.

"Then what could be the reason he turned suddenly." Bilbo felt they weren't in the clear yet.

"Ah, well, just because I can't see any signs doesn't mean his body isn't fighting something fierce." Oin took one of the clean cloths left and soaked it in the fresh water he'd but in a silver canister, then laid the cold, wet cloth over the wound. As it sit there applying relief to the irritated, sore wound he moved to check the wound on Thorin's foot.

Quickly he noted that Bilbo had done what he could to break his fever, nodding to the hobbit he removed the small towels and peeked at the stitching there as well. Azog's blade had run straight through his foot, but it had been a clean cut and the elf had skill. There was no infection there, so Oin simply re-wrapped his foot with clean, dry bandages. Coming back he removed the cloth and with Bilbo's help they re-wrapped the wound.

Bilbo kept his stomach muscles tensed and bit on the inside of his mouth during the whole process. The nearly three inch long stab wound in Thorin's right shoulder was horrible to look at. Just a few inches to the right of his heart and just under his collar bone, it had gone deep and Bilbo couldn't help but remember the dwarf king's breathy pained gasps.

But even now freshly cleaned and wrapped once again the storm that would be the next few days was hardly over. Oin took the first 'shift', notifying the elf when he came later that afternoon, only needing more herbal salve to rub over the stitching. Bilbo stayed with him the better half of the day, but in the evening his legs gave out on him due to shaking. Oin commanded him to go get some rest after eating, and although Bilbo would have rather stayed by Thorin's side he couldn't argue with his body.

Leaving the king's current room he found his way back to the room he'd woken up in the previous day and found that there was already a tray of food and a cup of water with a small glass of wine. Bilbo did his best to eat what was there, but he could only – once again – take a couple bites before he felt his stomach folding in on itself. Taking a few big gulps of the wine, hoping it would help him sleep, he laid himself in the bed wrapping the blanket tight around him and tried to sleep.

The days went on like this, Bilbo only getting a few hours of sleep before his mind forced him awake. Hardly eating and visibly looking like he could have used a week of well rest. The whole of the company – those that were present in Rivendell – were becoming quite worried about the little hobbit.

Fili checked up when he could, but he was mainly trying to stay around Elrond as they corresponded with his brother and cousin Dain who still were at the mountain. They were trying to get things working within the mountain, and though they knew Thorin would want to be a part of the exchange they had no choice but to honor what was promised to both the Mirkwood elves and the people of Dale.

So everyone at the mountain was being kept rather busy but they were doing the best they could and Kili was making sure to keep his brother updated as best he could each day. Fili was keeping counsel with Dwalin and Balin so what they thought could be sent back to Dain and Kili.

One of Bilbo's more exhausting nights, Thorin's fever had spiked again and it had been so long since the dwarf had eaten seeing as not even the elf could get him lucid enough to eat, things were getting rough. He'd been beyond tired and weak and sitting on the bench for a breather, puffing on a pipe Gandalf had brought to him, he had heard the four hobbits talking. He couldn't hear all of it, and he'd felt rather queasy, but he over heard that Gloin, Bombur, and Bofu had gotten the smithies in the mountain functioning. Dori, Nori and Ori had managed to get some of the halls and rooms usable at the very least. The second day, Bilbo had been informed later – after the arrival to Rivendell – that they'd gathered all the corpses of those who'd died within the mountain and ceremonially burned them. Which the rest of the company would have liked to be there, to honor those who had died, but understood well enough that they did not deserve to wait any longer.

Some of the information Bilbo had over heard, only at the times he wasn't hovered at Thorin's side, helped him relax a bit. It seemed like the dwarves had their home under control, Thorin would be proud of his kin. That was if they could ever get the dwarf to wake up long enough to eat something so his body could replenish itself.

However, it wasn't until just over a week after arriving to Rivendell that Thorin finally opened his eyes.