Chapter 13

The box crashed to the floor, its contents rattling as it skidded into the mess of dark blood cooling on the cave floor.

"Would you mind being a bit more gentle with those?" Bilbo asked. He was at the opposite end of the treasure pile, sifting through its contents in search of whatever had been stolen from him.

Thorin growled under his breath and pushed another crate out of his way. They had spent the past hour searching through the mess, and he had come no closer to finding his key. The contents of the crate—half a suit of armor, several papers, and a bundle of shiny yellow fabric—spilled onto the floor.

"Some of those things might be explosive."

"Well, what does the book say?" Thorin strode over to where the volume was lying open on a small stone table. His bloodstained fingers left dark smears across the paper as he flipped through the pages. "Did they not write the locations of all their objects?"

"Only if it's been rented out or not." Bilbo sighed and closed the lid of the trunk he'd been rifling through. "This wasn't exactly the most organized operation."

Thorin located the entry for his key, and was relieved to find that it was still within the hoard.

"The only thing we can do is keep looking. And we've got all the time in the world," Bilbo continued.

They had time, yes, but he had spent decades waiting to return home. As his goal drew ever closer, his impatience mounted. He shut the book and turned to search another box.

"Ah, here it is!"

Thorin looked up and made his way over to Bilbo. "You found what you were looking for?"

"I did." He held up a small piece of white cloth with a smile.

"What is it?" Thorin stepped closer.

"My handkerchief." Bilbo held it up to show him the initials B. B. embroidered in red on one corner.

He tilted his head, his own worries forgotten for the moment. "Your handkerchief?"

"Yes. You know, generally they're used for keeping oneself clean, drying off the face, that sort of thing."

"You came all this way… You risked your life...for a handkerchief?"

Bilbo slipped it into his pocket, his expression blank. "I told you, it was an important family heirloom."

Thorin shook his head. "These are all magical objects. What does yours do?"

"Family secret," he said with a wink.

He crossed his arms. "I could find it in the book."

"Well, that would just be cheating, wouldn't it?" Bilbo smiled. "Why don't you tell me what you're looking for? I can help you."

"I'm looking for a large black key."

"What, did you accidentally lock yourself out? Is that why you can't get home?"

"Very funny." Thorin rolled his eyes, then turned and began sifting through another one of the boxes.

"What should we do with all of this, anyway? The things that don't belong to us, that is."

Thorin had considered taking a few items with him. Some of the weapons would certainly prove useful—and he would need every advantage he could get when he faced Smaug.

"I was thinking I could take some of this back to the mainland with me when I go home. I could try and return them to their proper owners."

He turned towards Bilbo with a frown. "What?"

"I mean, they are all stolen goods." He raised a brow, apparently misreading Thorin's look.

"You're right." He averted his gaze. "It's only right that they be returned." It had slipped his mind that Bilbo was to leave him once this was all over. In truth, there was nothing really keeping him here now that he had recovered his lost item.

Suddenly, his impatience to return to his homeworld began to fade.

Ten minutes later, he found his key at the bottom of a box near the edge of the pile. As Thorin closed his fingers around it, the comforting weight of it in his hand lessened a small amount of the unease in his mind. He had come this far, and that meant though there was still a ways to go yet, he would be able to find his way.

He turned around. Bilbo was standing in silence, arms crossed as he surveyed the carnage spread over the floor of the cave. The tension in his shoulders was evidence enough as to what he was thinking.

Wounds could heal, but this—the stench of death, the sound of pain and violence—would never truly fade. He lifted a hand to rest on Bilbo's shoulder. "Come. Let's get some fresh air."

They were halfway down the tunnel leading to open air when the scent of smoke reached his nose. Thorin breathed out a curse and broke into a run, with Bilbo close behind.

They reached the exit of the cave and stopped dead.

Their boat had gone up in flames. Already, the hull was charred black in places and obscured by a thick haze of smoke. The mast cracked in the heat and fell into the water, along with the remaining tatters of the sail. Tiny orange sparks landed in the water and winked out one by one. The other boat, the one belonging to the thieves, was nowhere to be found.

Thorin's hands curled into fists. "Abrâfu shaikmashâz. I should never have spared his life." He stalked down to the edge of the water, surveying the vessel, but there was no point in putting out the fire. The boat was damaged beyond repair.

He turned towards Bilbo, not knowing what to say. That had been his one chance to return home, and it had been Thorin's decision that had taken that chance away. "I'm sorry."

Bilbo tore his gaze away from the boat. "Sorry? For what?"

"This was my mistake." He walked back towards him. "I should not have let Ward go. Then we would still have a way off this island."

Shaking his head, Bilbo reached out to grasp his arms, then pulled back as Thorin let out a hiss of pain. "Sorry, sorry! We should probably get that patched up."

Thorin glanced down at his forearm. The pain was still intense, though his adrenaline from the fight had lessened its intensity for a while. Dark blood from his fight with the beast had been smeared on the burn in a couple places.

Wordlessly, Bilbo retrieved the necessary supplies from his pack and began cleaning the wound. Thorin watched him work in silence, waiting for him to speak.

"For what it's worth," Bilbo finally said as he wound the clean bandage around his arm. "I think you did the right thing."

"You won't be able to return home."

He kept his eyes fixed downwards and said with a shaky smile, "Shame I didn't learn how to swim, hm?"

Thorin sighed. He would not return to his world until he ensured Bilbo would be able to make to the mainland. But there was only one way off this island, and that led to…

He looked up as a sudden hope struck him. "Come back with me."

Bilbo met his gaze with wide eyes. "What?"

"I could take you back to my world." Thorin straightened. "You could come with me when I make the journey to take back Erebor. And you would have a place there, a new home—I would make sure of it."

He searched his face with wide eyes. "You...You're serious about this."

"I am." Thorin reached up to cup Bilbo's cheek with one hand. "I would have you by my side a while longer."

It had been nothing short of a surprise, how swiftly and easily the halfling had found a place in his heart. But dwarves felt what they did fiercely, and Thorin wanted it to last.

But he would not force this path upon Bilbo. If he wanted to return to his home on the mainland, he would help him back there in whatever way he could. He was no stranger to longing for home.

Bilbo reached up and took his hand, placing it back on his lap. "I, um. I-I'll have to think about it, all right?"

Thorin nodded. "Of course."

But now that the thought had come to his mind, he could not keep it from expanding and unfurling into a vision of the future. He wanted Bilbo to meet his family, to see the great halls of his forefathers and all the other wonders Middle-earth had to offer. His kin and his friends, he was certain, would be happy to meet Bilbo in return.

These thoughts continued over the next couple of days. They spent this time resting and exploring the island. The small area was mostly populated with trees as well as a tiny pond of fresh water. They would have enough wood to build a raft, though Thorin wasn't sure that would be suitable for getting them back to Spikeroog.

Once he cleared the dead bodies from the cave, they spent some time inside looking through the rest of the stolen items. Thorin selected a knife from the hoard that was written to have the ability to pierce anything. When the time came, he would try it on Smaug's hide.

The third night since they had arrived at the island found them reclined against a tree near the pond, listening to the crash of the waves and the chirp of insects.

"Tell me about your world."

Thorin glanced at Bilbo, knowing why he had asked. They had not spoken of the issue of returning to Middle-earth in days, and he had done nothing to push the subject. A part of him was afraid to hear the answer to his proposal.

"It's a rather diverse place. There is Erebor to the east, where I was born. Across the Misty Mountains lies the Shire, the land of the halflings—or hobbits, as they are called in my world. To the west are the Blue Mountains, where I...where my people live. To the south are the kingdoms of men.

"It is not a land torn apart by war, though it isn't safe either. Bands of monsters known as orcs roam the land and will attack at random. There is violence, but there is also great beauty to be found in the kingdoms, in the glory and history built over centuries."

"I'm guessing you're mostly talking about Erebor."

"Aye." When he closed his eyes, Thorin could still see the vast halls, the grand gates, the magnificent tapestries and crafts that had decorated every surface of the kingdom.

Bilbo leaned against him, making himself comfortable. "Tell me about it."

He had already given Bilbo a brief description on the ship to Skellige, but this time he went into detail. He told him of the forges and their giant tools, of some of the memories of his childhood, of the clever inventions that had improved their lives beneath the mountain.

Bilbo took one of his hands and laced their fingers together. "You really do love Erebor. I can hear it in every word you speak."

Thorin's voice was hoarse as he said, "I would do anything to see it again."

"Even face down a dragon, it seems."

"Even that." A touch of humor quieted the melancholy that had filled his soul. "Truly, there is no place like it, in any of the worlds I've been to. My descriptions do not do it justice."

"Well, to be fair, you're not that spectacular of a poet."

"I'll not argue with that." Smiling, he met Bilbo's gaze and held it. "Which is why you'd best see it for yourself."

Bilbo stared at him, searching his face. He took a deep breath. "When can we leave?"

A mixture of surprise and elation jolted through him. Thorin grasped both of Bilbo's hands and pulled him to his feet. "You're certain?"

He tightened his grip as he looked into his eyes. "I said I'd want to do something good with my life when this was all over. And I can think of no better start than to see this through with you. And if it takes me to another world, then…" He shrugged, a nervous smile tugging at his lips. "Well, that's all part of the adventure, isn't it?"

Thorin leaned down and sealed their lips together, affection and hope and an emotion he couldn't yet name surging through his veins. His arms shifted to encircle Bilbo as they had numerous times before, yet this moment felt different.

He could not remember a time when he had felt so free of worry.

After a period of time that could have been seconds or minutes or hours, they broke apart. Bilbo smiled up at him, fingers absently stroking the line of his jaw. "Shall we?"

Thorin stepped back and withdrew the key from his pocket, his entire body thrumming with nerves. Facing the pond, he held it out, as though poised to unlock a door. He let his eyes slide closed and murmured, "Azhâr."

A rushing noise, like the blaze of a flame, filled the air. Thorin opened his eyes to see a portal, ringed with flickering orange light and disappearing into a deep black, before him. He glanced over at Bilbo, who reached over and took his hand.

Together, they stepped forward and entered the portal.

Credit to The Dwarrow Scholar for the Khuzdul phrases Thorin uses. The first one means "descendant of rats" which seems pretty fitting for a thief. The word that opens the portal means "home."

And with that, our tale is concluded! Thank you so much to everyone who supported this story, and I hope you all enjoyed it. This was really fun for me to write. Special thanks to Ellinara for being so supportive with the reviews.

I do plan on writing a sequel for this fic, but for now I'm going to focus on finishing up Playing the Hero (check that one out if you like more humorous stories). I'll post an update on this fic when I start posting the sequel. Until next time!