trigger
[Part II of III]

"No!"

She half-fell from the tree branch, limbs snapping and cracking in her wake, scraping the skin clean off her calves. Landing flat on her face, she spat out a mouthful of dirt and sprinted towards the battle, away from safety and the trees. Sparks flew around her, and a burning branch collapsed directly in her path; embers sizzled on the hem of her jacket but she tumbled over the tree, unmindful of the burns. Thorin, beautiful, proud, strong Thorin lay on the ground, his eyes closed; beneath the furs and leather she couldn't see his chest rising. Everything seemed very still, and she heard her heartbeat in her ears as she unsheathed Sting.

An Orc, huge and brawny, piercings glinting in the moonlight, arched his back and drew his sword high. Bella saw Thorin grasping for his sword, and in a huge rush of hope she realized that he wasn't dead.

Bella flew out of nowhere and tackled the Orc, her small weight unsteadying him and sending them both crashing to the ground. The Orc's mighty fist, mailed and lethal as any club, came smashing down towards her head but she drove Sting upwards, sheathing it fully in the horrible creature's chest. It roared and rolled off of her, and her nostrils were filled with the rank stench of Orc breath, and her trousers were getting soaked with black, sticky Orc blood, but she stabbed him twice more, once in the neck for good measure, and then stood up.

"Don't you touch him!" she shrieked at Azog, trembling with rage. "Don't you dare touch him!"

She spread her legs and tried to stop the shaking in her hands, but everything was shaking, and her vision was blurry with tears. Her teeth set into a snarl and she swung Sting ineffectually several times at Azog, who was looking at her with something like brutish amusement. If he took one step towards her Dwarf, she knew in her large, comfort-loving, Hobbity heart that she would cut his head from his shoulders. His Warg growled deeply and behind Azog came several other Orcs, all riding their mangy, filthy beasts; they circled her like a pack of wolves, waiting for the right moment to pounce.

Bella's eyes narrowed.

Fili, Kili, and Dwalin came bursting in on the Wargs, swinging their swords and axes. Azog surged forward, and his Warg met the business end of Dwalin's axe. Bella heard a huge, awful sounding war cry burst from somewhere in her proximity, and realized dimly that she was screaming like a maniac. It felt odd and she thought she must look very ridiculous, but it didn't matter, because she was protecting Thorin, and she threw herself recklessly into the battle. An Orc, his head easily the size of Bella's waist, rode forward and Bella pounced on him, stabbing everything she could possibly reach. Something large rose within her, something very Tookish and very un-Baggins, and she rolled with the Orc on the ground, gritting her teeth as she ripped Sting out from its thick hide.

Something came up behind her and clamped onto her shoulder; Bella howled in pain and drew Sting backwards, flailing the blade against whatever was biting into her shoulder and back. A Warg threw her effortlessly, and Bella landed flat against a shelf of rock, the wind driven from her. Gasping and bloodied, her shoulder aching, she looked up at Azog who loomed over her. His scarred, pale face twisted into a sick smile as he leveled his blade at her.

There was a piercing, keening noise which cut through the air, and everyone looked up. Silhouetted against the moon, eagles came swooping in from every direction, seizing Wargs and dropping them effortlessly off the cliff. The Orcs hissed and began to retreat, and with a booming noise a burning tree was felled. Azog's Warg reared and wheeled away from the fire that was snaking around them, crisping the Warg's fur; Bella struggled to breathe and bright silver stars burst in her vision.

Eagles began descending, scooping up Dwarves and flying towards the large silver moon. Bella saw a perfectly enormous eagle carefully curl talons around Thorin's still form; his thick hair fell down in a curtain, and she saw the burnished oaken shield he wore on his arm fall from his limp fingers.

Something deep within her clenched, and tears sprang to her vision. No. Not her proud, beautiful king, not the Dwarf who so longed for home; he couldn't die now, with the mountain in their sights. He couldn't die now. He couldn't die ever. What would she do without Thorin?

She saw an eagle coming straight for her, and shook her head, scrambling away a little on the ledge. Claws scooped her up, none-too-gently, and Bella yelped in surprise as the ground beneath her shrank drastically. Feeling suddenly woozy, Bella touched her hairline and realized she had received a nasty knock on the head, not to mention she was now forty…fifty…oh dear…nearly a hundred feet away from the ground.

That really was quite the distance, she decided.

What seemed like an eternity later, Bella and the rest were deposited lightly on a small, craggy cliff overlooking a large plain. Gandalf hadn't been on the ground ten seconds before he hurried over to where Thorin lay unmoving on the ground; Bella tried to fight her way through the thicket of Dwarves that were surrounding the Wizard and their fallen king. A gnawing emptiness was filling her from the belly up—it was like swallowing a boulder but having nothing at all to eat, a dreadful feeling. She pressed her fist to her mouth.

Gandalf passed his hand over Thorin's eyes and lips, murmuring something in a long-forgotten language.

Thorin's eyes, those beautiful striking eyes, opened.

"The Halfling," he rasped, sounding like it took every ounce of strength out of him.

Hope flared in Bella's chest, lighting up her every feature, and she thought that if she opened her mouth some of that hope was sure to spill out. It took all of two steps to reach Thorin, but if she had run any further she was sure she would have bounded up in the air and drifted away like a balloon. She pushed her way past Nori and dropped to her knees next to Thorin, who was trying to get up.

"No, no, don't you dare get up," she said, her voice catching on a sob, "Stay still, you stupid lump of a Dwarrow, let me see where you're hurt…"

"You could have gotten yourself killed," he snarled, sounding venomous. Those eyes were full of fury and something bordering on despair; it was like being stabbed in the chest with an icicle. Despite what she said, he was still trying to rise.

Bella sat up, scowling at him, tears running down her cheeks. "I can't think of a better way to die!" she cried. "If I can't die for someone I love than what's the use of having friends at all? I'd rather die at the hands of an Orc, defending you, than spend a hundred years in my armchair reading about – mmph!"

He dragged her into a one-armed hug, crushing her smaller frame against his. She froze, unsure what exactly had prompted this outburst of affection, but Thorin slumped back against the frozen earth and gripped her tighter to him. He groaned, half in pain, and Bella couldn't stop the tears; she dropped her head against the crook of his neck and sobbed into his hair. Being near him had triggered something in her, and it was wonderful and terrifying all at once; something that had been rusted shut snapped suddenly open and for all the world she would have stayed right there, in Thorin Oakenshield's arms, until the end of time.

"I'm so glad you're alive," she said, muffled, "I am so awfully glad."

And it might have been her imagination, but she thought she felt him pressing a gentle kiss to her hair.

"Forgive me," he whispered.

"Always."

Thorin winced and eyed the sheep. It was not an altogether unbecoming sheep, but having livestock in such close proximity to his bed was rather worrisome. The sheep in question was pouring him a glass of water with rather dexterous hooves, and when the woolly beast had finished it dropped to all four feet and trotted away, baa-ing blithely. Beorn was a gracious host, as were his pets, apparently. In all of his travels, he could not recall better or more attentive service from animals.

Bella came bustling in, her hair pinned up and her skin glowing pink from a bath. He sank back against the pillows, watching the sunlight catch every highlight in her hair, the lazy golden dust motes dance around her as she hurried around the room. There was something so domestic and familiar about her, the way she took up space in a room the way a friendly cat might; listening but not giving any sign of it, merely there for the company and warmth. She sat on the edge of his bed and pulled back the covers, checking on the mass of bandages which covered his torso.

He watched her carefully, and even though she didn't look at him her cheeks were growing steadily pinker beneath her freckles.

"You haven't been cured," he rumbled, lowering his lashes.

"What?" Bella started, blinking at him. "It's you who hasn't been cured—were you trying to walk around the room again, you know that's not good for your stitches…"

"When I spoke to you last," Thorin continued, "you told the lads that you had been cured. And yet you sit here, blushing like a primrose at dawn."

She swallowed hard, and her cheeks glowed. "I…whatever disease I've got, I don't think it's curable," she said, very quietly. "Nor is it something I'd want to cure. I think…oh, drat it, I ought to go…do something…"

He caught her sleeve. "Stay. Please."

Slowly, Bella sat back down on the bed, looking at his face but not meeting his eyes. She really was blushing terribly, and her hands were shaking. She knotted them together in her lap and tried to stay very still. His hand hadn't moved from her wrist, and instead moved slowly to cover both her hands.

"You are not cold," he said, noting the warmth of her hands, "are you afraid of me, Miss Burglar?"

"N-no," she said, unconvincingly. "I…well, you are a terrifying creature, Mister Oakenshield."

"I shall try to be slightly less terrifying, if it makes you more comfortable," Thorin murmured. Bella gave a despairing laugh.

"You terrify me in the way adventures terrify me, Mister Oakenshield—and if you haven't noticed, I'm not terribly skilled at adventures. You can't help but be noble and kingly and all that rot, it's in your blood, just like adventures can't help but be uncomfortable and full of mosquitoes." She withdrew one of her hands to put it on top of Thorin's, and found herself gripping his fingers as she spoke. "And I know it was silly of me, to be frightened of you, but I think now I'm more frightened for you."

She glanced up at him. "And you can be so horribly annoying. That helps, sometimes. So no, I am not frightened of you. Not to mention you've already seen me cry over your body, so that made some things easier."

He rubbed his thumb across her knuckles and couldn't help but suppress a laugh. "I am sorry to have been annoying, Miss Baggins, and I am very sorry to have made you cry."

Bella laughed, trying to lighten the mood, and patted the back of his hand uncomfortably. "Don't fret yourself about it, Mister Oakenshield, it wasn't the first time you'd made me cry."

Thorin grew very serious, and his hands tightened over hers. He stopped her from rising from the bed. "Bella. Have I truly made you cry?"

Oh, don't say my name, Bella thought desperately, don't say my name in that voice of yours.

"W-well, yes, upon occasion," she muttered, squirming in her embarrassment, "but only when you have been especially cruel."

He frowned, brows drawing together. "Especially cruel?"

She huffed out a breath that was caught between a laugh and a sigh. "You called me a grocer."

"It seems I have a very long list of things to be sorry for," Thorin said quietly. "And I will ask your forgiveness for each of them, Miss Baggins."

Bella bit her lower lip and looked up towards the ceiling for strength, then looked straight at his eyes. "You don't have to be sorry for a bit, Mister Oakenshield. The only thing you have to do is sit here and heal. I'll make you apologize when you're at full strength." Impulsively, she bent over and kissed his forehead.

He was still frowning, not seriously paying attention, and then he looked at her in that peculiar way that was like looking into her. "Bella…please sit. I…I am not skilled with words but I shall try to speak what is on my heart."

Tears were springing to her eyes and it became rather hard to talk. "Oh, Thorin, please, don't do that…"

"No, for you were right, I have been cruel. I did think you unskilled and unsuited for our journey, but above all I felt guilty for taking you from your comfortable home and your…gentle way of life. My company and I have been living hard for years and have naught to lose, but you…you have everything to lose. For this, above all else, I beg for your forgiveness, because you have proven yourself a thousand times and beyond, that you are a worthy member of this company."

"Stop it right now, Thorin Oakenshield," Bella said thickly, "because if you continue this shall be the second time in a week that you made me cry."

He touched her cheek, his eyes softening. "I would like to see you laugh for every time I have made you cry, Bella."

She kissed his knuckles and shook her head, curls loosening from the pins and framing her face. "I…I thought I had everything to lose," she sighed, "but if I hadn't gone on this journey, I would have had nothing. I would have stayed safe and comfortable and I would have never heard you sing. I would go on a hundred adventures, just to hear you sing like that. It was something so wonderful and full of hope and longing, and I realized that I would sound like that, if I ever left Bag End. And I couldn't…I couldn't let you go on your own, not to face down a dragon all by yourself. I had to help somehow, because I would hope that someone would do the same for me."

He studied her, and then smiled. She watched it with fascination, squashing down the urge to kiss those smiling lips. "Face down a dragon…tell me, Bella, why were you so angry with me that night?"

It took her a moment to recall what he was thinking. "Oh! Well, I…to be perfectly honest, I was rather tired of feeling like a sensible, feminine lady. I…I had a rather terrific crush on you, and it was getting rather embarrassing. I wanted you to see me as a member of the company, not a female you had to protect."

"Had?" he asked, eyebrows rising. Her blush returned as quickly as though someone had pinched her cheeks.

"I suppose…oh, bother it, Mister Oakenshield, I've had a crush on you since the moment I saw you. And I don't think I've stopped. I don't think I'll ever stop mooning over you, no matter how stupid and beastly and hugely irritating you become. It must be a curse, part of my Took side, because my father would never have—"

He kissed her then, very tenderly, one hand cupping her cheek and turning it. She put a hand on his chest, neatly avoiding the bandages, and then melted against his side, kissing him firmly back. The room was very quiet for a moment, and then she laughed against his neck. "Well…"

"You are a wondrous woman, Bella Baggins," Thorin breathed, "and you are a rare, precious thing to protect. I do not call you feminine because I see you as weak—I call you such because you are beautiful and I would see no harm befall you."

She snuggled against his side, careful not to touch his bandages. "And you, Mister Oakenshield, are a great sodding lump, which I will protect by any means necessary. Someone has to do it."

Bella kissed him pertly on the corner of his mouth, but that didn't last long—he seemed hungry for her kisses, and growled approvingly when she stroked his beard. He tasted of woodsmoke and something else, distinctly Thorin, and being cuddled next to him, enjoying his kisses suddenly seemed a distinctly lovely thing to be doing. Her heart seemed very full, and even though she was deliriously happy she felt like crying as well. Bella dropped her head on his collarbones and stayed there, listening to the steady beat of his heart, his fingers buried in her hair.

Falling in love with him was as easy as falling asleep, as easy as pulling a trigger, as easy as letting go…it was quick and perfect and somehow tied together with twine. She couldn't picture Thorin in her comfortable house at Bag End, but she could picture him here, resting and healing and falling in love with her in the house of a skinwalker, being tended to by sheep.

"Thorin Oakenshield, I don't think you're doing anything to help me get over my crush."

"Nor I do I wish to," he rumbled. "Now give me a kiss, my darling Burglar."

They really are quite sweet, aren't they?

Would also like to note that due to a request, the romance in this story shall remain PG. /sigh/ I'll write some smutty Bagginshield as a one-shot, instead of a continuing story. Or perhaps I'll do both. -fyrelark