Bilbo did not know what to think or how to feel. He had been right! By the virtue of all that was good in this gracious world Thorin Oakenshield was still alive! His heart pounded and his body quaked upon hearing the news. His emotions seemed to war amongst themselves in his stomach and chest, but were revealed only as relief on his face. Indeed, he felt so many emotions that he almost felt nothing at all. Like a great numbness threated to consume him, but might first collapse under the weight of its own resolve. He had little time to consider his thoughts and feelings, for presently Balin beckoned them to follow.
It seemed that all the anxiety and excitement experienced by Bilbo passed into his little bay mare. She tucked her head and pranced on the spot, itching to gallop as fast as her legs would carry her. Throughout their entire long journey from Rivendell to this point she had been swift and sure, never faltering. But now she seemed coiled, wound for sound, ready to spring forth at the lightest touch. Her breathing became heavy and she shook her head. Bilbo, being far from a master horseman, merely sat still in the saddle and did not fuss with the mare. Instead he tried to calm himself, hoping that it would in turn calm Rochaewen.
She did eventually settle, but it was only once they met with a treacherous mountain path and her wisdom was needed above her desire for flight. By this point, Bilbo had settled a bit too, but his mind still reeled. Thorin is alive! I knew it in my heart to be true. And he wants to see me! I must tell him all the things I thought were unimportant on our journey; how I wish for nothing more than to wake up each morning to his face. How I long to braid his thick black hair. How I would cross and re-cross Middle-earth forevermore if only it meant that I would come to be with him at last! Oh Thorin, how I have missed you! We shall be happy, you and I. A quiver of glee ran up his spine; he never thought that he would get this chance.
After what seemed like an eternity of riding they reached the front gates of Erebor. All three dismounted and handed their respective horses and pony to the stable hands that was waiting for their arrival. After watching Rochaewen be led away, Bilbo turned to surveyed his surroundings; how the grounds about Erebor had changed! Last he laid eyes upon this land it was desolate, harsh, and unforgiving. Now it seemed a different place entirely. The grass was lush and green, if not a bit patchy. Here and there little flowers of various colours sprouted. Pathways were restored with new stones and had been washed cleaned.
Although the land surrounding the mountain was greatly improved, it was inside the dwarven stronghold that truly stole the breath from Bilbo. The halls were vast and beautiful, and while scars left by Smaug remained, much had been renewed. Magnificent walkways were carved artfully into the mountain's core. Huge statues erected in the likeness of the kings of the line of Durin stood proudly by the main walkway, guarding over the inner sanctum of the dwarves. Veins of bright gold leeched down the inner walls and, as far as Bilbo could discern, work had already begun in the mines. The beauty of Erebor was astounding in a way completely different from Rivendell, yet Bilbo thought it no less breathtaking than the hidden valley.
Balin was well-verse in navigating the many winding passages of Erebor and a fortunate thing it was, else Bilbo and Gandalf would surely have lost their way. They traversed the wide corridors and climbed –what Bilbo estimated must be- myriad stairs to reach the Hall of the King. Balin knocked and noiselessly the great doors swung open to reveal Thorin son of Thráin, King under the Mountain. Bilbo almost swooned upon seeing his friend, risen from the shadowy grip of death like a specter. If he were a specter there was none more regal than he, nor any more magnificent to behold.
Moving with excruciating slowness (so it appeared to Bilbo) the trio walked toward Thorin who sat upon his throne. The hobbit tried not to look down as they walked across the suspended bridge. Instead, he kept his eyes trained on Thorin in all his glory. Bilbo could plainly see the Arkenstone suspended above his head and it shone with a beauty that was rivalled by no stone Bilbo had ever seen. But the lovely Arkenstone held his attention only briefly before the hobbit caught Thorin's blue-grey eyes. His expression was firm, resolute, and entirely unreadable.
"Gandalf," Thorin addressed the wizard first, "It is with inexpressible gratitude that I should receive you this day. You have done well by me a second time in the briefness of our friendship." The great king and the wise wizard shared a knowing look. "May your beard grow ever longer!"
Gandalf smiled and bowed his head. "Well met, my friend. I would that each meeting be such a happy occasion."
Thorin nodded at Gandalf, and then turned his gaze back to Bilbo. Without taking his eyes of the hobbit he said, "It is my will that I be left alone with Master Baggins. Balin, pray show Gandalf the greatest hospitality Erebor has to offer. And see that Master Baggins and I are not disturbed."
With a low bow, Balin replied, "Yes, Your Majesty," and from the hall he and Gandalf exited.
The room was still and silent. There were countless things that Bilbo wished to say to Thorin, but alas! at that moment he found himself struck dumb. This mattered little since it was upon Thorin to speak first, and he had all the faculty of speech under his command. "Many moons I have seen come and go as Erebor is rebuilt. The days pass as they do. From the awakening of the first Durin and by the establishment of my grandfather, King Thror, Erebor was mighty, and again it shall be so. A colony beyond measure is being rebuilt to prosper in an age that sees the dwarves of the Lonely Mountain returned home. But now, Bilbo Baggins of the Shire, you must wonder why it is that I have called you here." There was a pause, but it did not seem to beg Bilbo to speak, so he remained silent. Thorin rose and spoke as he walked toward the hobbit. "Master Baggins, burglar, luckwearer, barrelrider, clue-finder." Thorin stopped directly in front of Bilbo. He leaned down, a strand of hair brushed Bilbo's cheek, and whispered: "Bilbo. It is you who I have so missed, alone in the halls of my father and grandfather. I would have you stay with me, for it is you who have laid claim to my heart."
Thorin drew back to stand at his full height, but remained very close to Bilbo. The hobbit was surprised beyond belief at the words he heard. He remained motionless for a moment, then grew suddenly bold and raised a hand gently to the dwarf's face. He stroked Thorin's bearded cheek, and then rested his small hand there. Emerging from his wordless stupor, he said, "Thorin, I have dearly missed you. And, I daresay, I love you. I would be honoured to stay with you here, in Erebor."
Thorin let out a breath that he had been holding and smiled. Bilbo, shaking slightly with relief and anticipation, leaned forward and their lips met. It was warm and lovely and felt altogether perfect. Skin on skin revealed a mutual longing that pulsed in their veins and sailed across synapses. They pulled closer to one another as they kissed and found their bodies fit together in a heavenly embrace. Almost mournfully they released each other's lips and rested forehead to forehead.
They stood holding each other fast and panting slightly until Thorin pulled Bilbo closer into his chest. The hobbit buried his face in the thick warm furs that adorned his beloved. He closed his eyes and felt Thorin kiss the top of his curly hair. "I love you, Bilbo," Thorin muttered into the ashen mop of hair. The heat that emanated from Thorin was so comforting that Bilbo felt as though he would be content to remain there for endless hours. But that would not be so, for presently Thorin pulled away and said, "Come, I will show you Erebor, our home".
Thorin took Bilbo by the hand and lead him out of the Hall of the King. Bilbo's lips still tingled and his hand felt warm and secure captured in Thorin's larger one. The king had to release Bilbo's hand when he opened the massive stone doors. The hobbit felt something akin to bereavement at the departure of Thorin's firm grip. But once they were through the doors, he found the hand replaced on the small of his back so as to guide him through the passages of the Lonely Mountain. Bilbo decided that this was nice as well. Before they could get far, Thorin stopped and turned to face the doors again.
"You are absolved of your duties for the day," Thorin said to the guards who had been stationed there by Balin.
"Thank you, Your Majesty," the guards replied in unison and then bowed before leaving their post.
As Thorin and Bilbo walked they talked of a great number of things. Bilbo recounted his whole tale to Thorin: from his initial meeting with Gandalf, to the wonderful traveling companion that Elrond had gifted him in Rivendell, to the city of Dale and their stay with Bard, to ascending the mountain. Bilbo would stop his tale periodically to allow Thorin to explain what part of the mountain they were in, or how gentrification in given areas was carrying on. But on the whole, Thorin listened with rapt attention to every word Bilbo had to say. It had been so dreadfully long since he had seen his unusual friend or been graced with his story telling and sweet voice. Thorin hummed happily beside Bilbo as they carried on throughout the mountain.
Thorin took to recounting various tales of his youth as they struck him. Every new room they entered held old memories for Thorin. He would recall stories of him and Dís and Frerin as young dwarflings running about and playing games. He spoke of the days of old when his grandfather was a mighty ruler and a truly great king of Erebor. Thorin spoke highly of both his father and grandfather, and included them in nearly all his tales. They covered much ground over the course of the day, seeing the libraries, massive halls, and whatever mines were open. Thorin revealed more of the Lonely Mountain to Bilbo than had been permitted to any foreigner since the retaking of the dwarf kingdom.
At length, the day drew to a close. Bilbo could not gage what time it was for they were still in the mountain and there was no sun to guide his judgement. They had had lunch and supper, so Bilbo was quite sated in that department. Had he been in the Shire he would have had more to eat in between, but he had grown accustomed to fewer meals than was typical for a grown male hobbit. Bilbo stifled a yawn and guessed that it was near tea time, or what would have been tea time if he were at Bag Eng.
In one very condensed tour of Erebor Bilbo had seen much of the place they worked so hard to reclaim, but now the hobbit was being lead to some place that he had yet to see: Thorin's chambers. While it had been a wonderful day, he was very tired now and quite glad that this was the last stop on their tour. Bilbo thought of his own spacious and luxurious dwelling away west, for only one hobbit, so he was not surprised to find Thorin's quarters to be large and certainly befitting of a king. A fire burned almost to ember in the grand fireplace near the centre of the main room. Dark stone from the floor to the high ceiling was polished and shone even in the dim light.
Thorin took Bilbo by the hand to a room that was just off the main area to the left. There stood a large four-poster bed with its headboard flush against the wall that faced the door. It was made rich mahogany and carved in many striking patterns, set with polished malachite. Upon the bed, many fine linens were laid, and a striking quilt that was midnight blue, edged with mithril. Bilbo thought it looked marvellously inviting, but he was stopped at the entrance to that room.
"It would be forward of me to assume that you will share this bed with me, for we have discussed no such thing of yet. It has been a time since last we met, and accommodations can be readily made elsewhere, if that is your wish," Thorin stated curtly. Of course he wanted the hobbit -his hobbit- curled up next to him as he had imagined nearly every night before falling asleep. And while he had no doubts that Bilbo would feel the same, he felt compelled to make the offer.
"My wish, Thorin, is to spend this evening and all that follow it next to you," Bilbo smiled at the dwarf and gave the king's hand a gentle squeeze.
Thorin looked equal parts relieved and pleased. Not that there had been any doubt in his mind, but some anxiety lingered in the face of reason. He had already gone far longer than he wished without Bilbo by his side, so he looked for affirmation that he would stay and wanted to do so. Satisfied with the answer and the current state of affairs, he smiled warmly and proceeded to lead his hobbit into the bedroom.
Heedless of any other being (namely Bilbo) in the room, Thorin began to strip down to his bed-clothes. Bilbo stood stock-still. He had seen Thorin in various states of dress over the course of their adventures, but here in his bedroom it felt… different. After a time, it seemed more awkward to stand there than to undress, so he did the same. Without layers of mail and fur, Bilbo took significantly less time to rid himself of his clothing than the king. At length, Thorin stood in just a tunic and light trousers. Even in simple bed-clothes Bilbo thought that Thorin looked regal and very handsome. The hobbit sighed audibly, and then blushed a bit at the unintentional sound that he uttered. Thorin only smiled and held out his hand for Bilbo to take. Bilbo grasped it and allowed himself to be lead to the ample bed that awaited them.
The bed itself was unfathomably soft, though it could have been made of stone and Bilbo would have liked it no less, for he was to share it with Thorin and that counted best. Bilbo slid the sheets and heavy quilt back to crawl upon the plush mattress. The mattress dipped slightly with the added weight of Thorin. The king propped himself up on the pillows and opened his arms in an offer to Bilbo. The hobbit complied and happily joined the space between them. Thorin lovingly rubbed his hand along Bilbo's back, pressing him slightly closer as he did so. The very contented hobbit snuggled closer into Thorin's warmth and offered a soft moan of pleasure. Again, all the things that Bilbo had wanted to say over the course of their friendship came to mind, but in that moment it seemed hardly necessary; their actions would speak more than even the most eloquent poetry.
"Sleep now, my beloved," Thorin said in a soothing tone as he nuzzled Bilbo. "Tomorrow you shall wake next to me, as you will for the rest of your days. Should that please you?"
"Mm, very much indeed. I love you more than all the things that grow in the Shire."
"And I love you more than all the gold in Erebor."
…
When Bilbo woke he was not on a soft feather bed. Truly, it took him a good many moments to get his wits about him. His body was terribly sore and his head ached as if it had been hit by a hammer. He was quite alone, but there was a sense of death and destruction all about him. The rejuvenated Erebor with its green hillside and sprouting flowers was not the Erebor that lay before him. No! This was the wreckage of a great battle. And then it came back to him: the elves and men and dwarves! Then the goblins and Wild Wolves! Oh! What a world to return to. Bilbo struggled with this unpleasant reality to which he awoke. His dream had been so real, it felt so real, but this was the unfortunate veracity in which he walked.
On the flat stones of Ravenhill he shook with a mighty chill. He looked around and saw men and dwarves silently clearing wreckage and stumbling about. He called to a nearby man, but earned no response. The man looked up, but was utterly confused and continued with his work. Bilbo at once realised that the blasted ring was still on his finger, making him invisible to all. Removing it, he called once more and was found, though the man was no less confused. Bilbo explained that he was a companion of Thorin's, and the man seemed as though a heavy burden had been lifted from his back. From the man, Bilbo learned that he had been sent for and they had nearly given up looking for him.
The poor hobbit felt sick and weak and was in no shape to fly down a mountain. In fact, at that moment he was not sure whether or not he could even stand. The rough shape of the hobbit was duly noted, so the man scooped him up and carried him to Dale. He was set down by a tent that had been erected among a sea of similar tents. He was emphatically received by a slightly injured Gandalf who seemed more delighted than ever to lay eyes on him. The old wizard's glee at finding Bilbo was short lived, and his face fell soon after.
The words that Gandalf spoke to him barely registered in Bilbo's head, "Come, you are called for" *(see author's note). He followed the grim wizard into the tent to find Thorin lying on a cot.
Upon seeing Thorin, the events preceding the epic battle hit him like a ton of bricks: the sticky business with the Arkenstone, Bard, Thranduil, Dain, Thorin casting him away with hurtful words upon his tongue. His heart burned with shame and regret, but in Thorin's eyes he saw no ill will. The once great dwarf warrior's body was spent and bloody. It matched his armor and battle axe that had been cast beside him. Bilbo felt detached from his body, numb, like he was merely watching himself move toward Thorin instead of actually doing so.
Thorin looked up when the hobbit came beside him. To Bilbo he said: "Farewell, good thief. I go now to the halls of waiting to sit beside my fathers, until the world is renewed. Since I leave now all gold and silver, and go where it is of little worth, I wish to part in friendship from you, and I would take back my words and deeds at the Gate."
Bilbo was overwhelmed with sorrow and as he knelt next to his dying friend he said: "Farewell, King under the Mountain! This is a bitter adventure, if it must end so; and not a mountain of gold can amend it. Yet I am glad that I have shared in your perils – that has been more than any Baggins deserves."
"No!" said Thorin. "There is more in you of good than you know, child of the kindly West. Some courage and some wisdom, blended in measure. If more of us valued food and cheer and song above hoarded gold, it would be a merrier world. But sad or merry, I must leave it now. Farewell!"
Bilbo wept. He wept for the loss of a friend, he wept for the loss of a great king, and he wept at the fact that he never did tell Thorin all the things he wished to say. He wept until his eyes were bloodshot and his voice was hoarse. Even wrapped in many warm blankets he could not keep out the chill that pierced his heart. He sat long in the corner of the tent that housed Thorin's body, now void of life.
For one small thing that Bilbo was undoubtedly grateful: he made it to Thorin before he died, and so they parted in friendship. But Thorin's death was still a bitter pill to swallow and it was a long time before his heart lightened.
Too soon the time came for Bilbo bid a final farewell to Thorin when he was laid in a tomb under the mountain. The Arkenstone was placed upon his breast and upon his tomb Orcrist was set by Thranduil. It was also in sad parting that he paid his last respects to the bodies of Fili and Kili who had fallen defending their uncle. Bilbo could now only elicit choked sobs, as he had no more tears to cry. The sounds of his own sorrows were drowned out by innumerable mourners who had gathered to say their goodbyes to Thorin, Fili, and Kili. Among the mourners stood what remained of Thorin's company. They surrounded Bilbo and all wept together.
Being in Erebor tore at Bilbo's heart and he ached to the very core for the return journey. None too soon did he part, along with Gandalf, and made away West. The trek back was awfully somber, and Bilbo did not smile once. Even upon returning to Rivendell his chest was sorrow-laden. He was implacable and inconsolable, but burdened no one and kept mostly to himself. When Bilbo was finally home it seemed an eternity since he had last walked there. Laying his head on his familiar pillow he closed his eyes to sleep.
…
The world seemed bathed in an ethereal light. All the hurts of the living were amended in this beautiful place. At once, Bilbo recognized it as Hobbiton; specifically, he was in a sparsely wooded field near a pond not far from Bag End. He wandered aimlessly in the midday sun and felt his spirits lifted, if only a little. The clear water reflected the sunlight, causing it to shimmer like gold. He was transfixed by the glittering water and drew closer to it with every step. Presently he was startled from his thoughts to find a figure sitting on a large rock near the water. Tentatively he wandered closer, and then with hurried steps he found that it was Thorin! Perched tall and proud the dwarf king sat, every bit the glorious monarch he was meant to be.
"This must be a dream!" Bilbo exclaimed softly, almost as if afraid that were he to speak too loud he would awake.
Thorin was no longer bloody or bruised; his hair was perfectly groomed and adorned with braids and beads. He had a stunning crown upon his grey and black hair, the only clue alluding to his royal lineage, for he wore no mail or kingly raiment. The light blue tunic was all that robed his chest and it fluttered in the gentle breeze. His trousers reached his ankles and Bilbo noticed that they were unbound by boots or any other footwear. Thorin Oakenshield was barefoot, free to feel the plush grass on the soles of his feet. The dwarf king turned his gaze upon Bilbo and smiled. Thorin had only to look at Bilbo and he could melt the sorrows that plagued the hobbit's heart.
Bilbo spoke again: "And if it is so, I wish never to wake."
The dwarf stood and walked toward Bilbo, who was now moving to close the distance between them. Once they reached each other Thorin caressed the small cheek of the hobbit. "Indeed, it is a dream and in time you must wake, but you may stay here for now."
Bilbo turned his head and brushed his lips against Thorin's palm. The dwarf's hand was calloused and warm against his face. Bilbo reached his hand up to cover Thorin's. He gently mapped out the geography of the dwarf's worn knuckles, following the mountains up and diving valleys down with his fingertips. He explored the vast plane of the back of Thorin's hand, and rested his grip on the dwarf's broad wrist.
"I wish never to leave you," Bilbo muttered.
Thorin took the hobbit in his arms and said, "I wish that I had not left you so soon".
"I wish that too, above all else!" Bilbo clenched the light fabric of the tunic in his fist. He pulled back after a moment and met Thorin's gaze. "I love you," he said, voice full of passion and woe.
Thorin smoothed the hobbit's ashen locks from his forehead and pressed the sweetest kiss there. "I love you too."
Bilbo dropped his eyes and worried his lip. "I should have told you that when you were alive. I had so many lovely words for you, so many plans in my head of how it could have been. We could have been happy together. I-I just wish that I had said it to you."
"There was no need, beloved burglar, for I have always known. A love such as this runs deep. It courses through your veins as it coursed through mine. Words are not always needed, as it were, so do not fret! It is me that you love and you that I loved. Until the end of your days this love will live on in your heart and eternally it will be carried by our souls."
Bilbo pressed his forehead to Thorin's broad chest. He closed his eyes and felt the splendid dream world fade away into bleak reality.
Author's note: *Important note: where the asterisk (*) when Gandalf is speaking to Bilbo and then all the italicised dialogue after that is verbatim from Tolkien's The Hobbit. There is no conceivable way to write the end of Thorin Oakenshield apart from how it was originally written, so here is my disclaimer of any credit for that part in this fic. The specific reference in my edition is: Tolkien, J.R.R. The Hobbit. p. 262-263.
On another note, I made myself sad. I promise the next fic will be happy times! Many thanks to everyone who suffered through my first multi-chapter story! I really appreciate you taking time to read it.