Bilbo Baggins thought he probably should have guessed once the dwarves started drinking, it was only a matter of time before something bad happened. He and Thorin had watched to two youngest of the Durin line play late into the night. Fili and Kili probably would have plucked away at their fiddles until dawn if not for Gloin's shout rising above the crowd.
"Because that!" Bilbo looked over to see the flustered and very drunk dwarf flip over the bowls he was using for drums in a clumsy flourish, "is Thorin Oakenshield! Prince and rightful ruler of Erebor! And soon!" Gloin stood up with a wobble onto the table as he practically shouted, "the richest dwarf in all the kingdoms!"
The music stopped and the talking died out as everyone in the room turned to see just who, exactly, Gloin was pointing to. Bilbo was suddenly in the unique position of having just about a hundred unfamiliar people gazing just a few inches to his left. Thorin shot the red-haired dwarf a glare and seemed to be unable to stop his hand slapping against his face.
There were a few brief moments of silence as Bilbo watched the people of Laketown start to piece together what it meant to have one Thorin Oakenshield amongst them and apparently going on a quest to retrieve a mountain full of gold. A low murmuring started to swell in the room and the hobbit started to feel distinctly uneasy. The faces now turned towards he and Thorin were not… angry or ominous per say, but there was an undeniable look of greedy hunger in some of the older eyes that perhaps had heard stories of Erebor and it's great wealth.
It wasn't long until the small groups of men and women that had clustered around various dwarves had moved into one large knot that was currently shifting closer with their eyes all set on Thorin. The dwarf heaved a sigh and seemed to know exactly what was going to happen next and was not at all enthused about it.
There were a few chaotic moments and the crowd seemed to be spurred by everything and nothing at all and in an instant had swarmed around Thorin, each begging to express their wishes luck or to remind the dwarf prince about one of their parents or grandparents who all seemed to be intimately acquainted with either Thorin's father or grandfather.
Not much liking crowds or the sensation of receiving not one, but three poorly placed elbows to the face, Bilbo Baggins shot his friend one last look of sympathy before beginning the arduous process of fighting his way out of the group.
This wasn't at all like the Green Dragon in Hobbiton, he thought feeling his sense of disgruntled irritation grow as yet another knee made its way into his stomach. Sure it was crowded at the end of the day, but at least hobbits had enough common decency to move when someone was clearly trying to leave.
Bilbo finally broke through the mass of people to and made his way to the door, gingerly rubbing his now arching chest. '
Now' he thought with a sigh, 'is probably a good time to get some fresh air.' The hobbit slipped outside and felt instantly refreshed once he was in the cool night air and away from the busy commotion of the pub.
Reaching up with a stretch, Bilbo looked to his right to see Bifur sitting on one of the wooden railings with a small knife and what appeared to be a little figure in his hand. The hobbit nodded to Bifur in greeting before setting down the steps on the cobbled street. He wasn't much surprised to see the dwarf outside of the pub instead of inside with the rest of the celebration.
From what Bofur had told him, his cousin often found it… frustrating, the hobbit supposed, to be around large groups that only spoke the common tongue instead of his native one. Something about the goblin axe that was imbedded in his head had muddled Bifur's understanding of foreign languages. Bilbo found the dwarf pleasant enough but it wasn't as if the hobbit could do a whole lot communicating to foster much of a friendship.
The hobbit took a deep breath as he started down the street, looking up at the stars. He shouldn't have been surprised, but some part of him found it hard to believe that these could be the same bright specks in the sky that he had watched for years from his comfortable, and now very distant, hobbit-hole.
They held the same shape and the same pattern but something about them felt… different. Almost as if he were seeing them for the first time. Though as he considered it more, Bilbo Baggins found it harder to decide if it was the stars he was looking at seemed new, or if the eyes that were doing the gazing were the things that were different. That he was somehow the thing that had changed.
As Bilbo thought back on his journey so far, the answer was obvious and yet it was simultaneously a terrifying realization. Of course he was different now, how could he not be? But… was it good? Was this new Bilbo better for having journey with the dwarves on their quest? What would he even do back in the peaceful stillness of Bag End after having seen so much, experienced so much of this wondrous and terrible world?
The hobbit, however, did not have as much time to contemplate his thoughts as a group three men staggered down the steps with worrying smirks plastered on their faces.
"H-hey…" the tallest one slurred as he staggered off the porch onto the street. Bilbo looked over his shoulder and felt a sense of anticipation and panic begin to fill his stomach. Picking up his pace, the hobbit started to walk faster down the street.
"Hey you!" The man shouted, "don't walk away now, we just want to talk!"
The other two men laughed as they stumbled forwards after the hobbit, "we saw you earlier!" The shortest man who looked sickly with his broken teeth and thin hair, " talking with the king, you wouldn't happen be friendly would you?"
Bilbo stopped suddenly and turned to glare at them with his arms crossed, despite the nervous fear that edged at his consciousness, "and what business of it is yours if I am?" After having been roughed around just trying to leave the pub, he was in no mood to deal with more drunken people.
"Ooh, did'ja hear that?" the man who appeared to be their leader sneered, "the half-pint is talking back, isn't it adorable?"
Bilbo narrowed his eyes even further as the man's cohorts started to laugh raucously, "Why don't you three head back home? I'm not sure you should be out in this state."
The man's face grew instantly furious, "it thinks it can tell us what to do, what do you think of that lads?"
The third man, who seemed to be suffering a nervous twitch, shakily pulled out a small, crudely made knife from his belt, "I'm – I'm not sure w-we're, uh, appreciating that."
The tallest one spoke up again, "A very good point, my friend. Maybe we should teach 'im a lesson."
The man with the missing teeth practically giggled in drunken excitement, "if he's with that dwarf king, he's probably loaded with gold!" The leader spit as his face broke into another dangerous grin as he pulled out his own knife, "Mm, yes and we should take this opportunity to educate him about manners."
Bilbo felt panic begin to swell in his chest. They were drunk, so he assumed they weren't going to be that coordinated at least. But there was no denying that there were three of them and they all had at least a foot and half on him. Pulling out Sting with a clumsy flourish, the hobbit nervously started to back away, "Stay back! I'm warning you, I will use this!"
The group of men laughed as they advanced slowly, seemingly savoring the fear in Bilbo's face. The hobbit took a deep breath, trying to remember all the tips Dwalin had given him as he braced himself for what was undoubtedly going to be an unpleasant and quite possibly deadly fight.
The group's leader lunged towards Bilbo with a shout and the hobbit jumped backed to avoid the wild jab. The knife, much to Bilbo's displeasure, sliced a shallow cut along his arm. Hissing in pain, the hobbit slashed upwards and caught the man's chest with the tip of Sting, causing him to stumbled away clutching at the bloody wound.
"Why you little shi—" but the man didn't have the opportunity to finish as the end of a pike stuck it way though his chest. He let out a small gurgle as he fell forward, eyes wide as he looked at the wound in disbelief. Bilbo gaped at the sight until he forced his gaze upward to see Bifur pulling out the weapon and starting to advance towards the man with thinning hair.
The hobbit couldn't seem to make his legs move as he watched the dwarf let out a growl as his foe started to look around wildly, clearly seeing that what had started out as a three-on-one against a small hobbit had turned into something rather more lethal.
Bifur lunged forward and missed by just an inch if only because the man fell backwards. Bilbo had almost completely forgot that there was a third drunken member of the group having been absorbed by Bifur's assault on the second. There was an angry shout as the nervous man shot forward to stick Bilbo in the neck with his small knife when an arrow suddenly came from nowhere and hit the man in the hand, forcing the knife to fall as he let out a pained shriek.
"Back away, Ratliff. I don't want to hurt you." The hobbit watched the man writhe around on the ground in pain, gripping the shaft of the arrow with claw-like fingers, and couldn't seem to shake himself out of a daze to look at the newcomer.
Bifur made quick work of the other man as a tall, hooded figure made his way out of the dark of the night. If Bilbo could have torn his gaze away from the screaming man, he might have tried to catch a glimpse of this new person's face. Ratliff tore the arrow out of his hand and turned his manic, hate-filled eyes towards Bilbo.
"Don't you even think about it Ratliff, I will kill you if I have to."
Ratliff's mad eyes flicked between the hobbit and the hooded man for a few moments until his shaky hand began to lower the arrow towards the ground. Lowering his bow, the stranger let out a sigh and continued to make his way over. There was a tense moment in which Bilbo wasn't sure if he should be, oh, running as far and as fast away from this clearly insane person when Bifur seemed to decide that just because the man had lowered his arrow, didn't mean he was no longer a threat.
The dwarf thrust his pike, tearing across the man's neck who had no time to do anything but let out on last gurgle before falling onto his face. Blood and other unsavory people bits sprayed onto the hobbit's rather shocked face. There was… something wet and unpleasantly salty on his tongue. Bilbo was… well, he suddenly felt extremely unwell. He had seen goblins die, he had seen orcs die, but he had never…. Never witnessed the death of a person or had said person's blood proceed to cover his face.
Bile rose quickly in his throat and the hobbit spun around before letting the contents of his stomach loose on the cobbled road. Bilbo spent a few minutes simply trying to hold himself as his stomach contracted again and again. Now on his hands and knees, the hobbit took a few heaving breaths as he squeezed his eyes shut trying to block out the world.
"Was that really necessary? I had it under control." The stranger's voice swam into Bilbo's pounding ears. He heard the dwarf angrily reply in the gruff language he had no understanding of. There was some irritated arguing that the hobbit couldn't make out as he tried to concentrate on calming his rapid heart rate.
The hobbit thought he heard feet stamping away as a leather-clad hand rested on his shoulder, "are you alright?"
Bilbo wasn't sure he could quite make words yet and so settled on slowly nodding his head. "You don't look alright." Finally glancing up, the hobbit could see that the man had removed his hood.
Curious green eyes looked down at him from a face framed with shoulder-length brown hair that seemed to be hastily half tied back.
"I'm…" Bilbo began shakily as he started to stand up, "I'm fine… just, uh, need a second."
The man's mouth quirked he pulled Bilbo up the rest of the way onto his feet. "I'm sorry they followed you tonight mister…"
The hobbit quickly wiped his mouth before glancing up at one of his saviors, "Baggins. I'm Bilbo Baggins."
The man stood back up to his full and impressive height as he reached out a hand, "Never met a Baggins before, though that's probably to be expected, seeing as how I've never met a halfling either."
The hobbit smiled up at the green-eyed man who had a grim sort of smile as he shook the extended hand,"I am Bard, though you'll probably hear the people of this town call me the Bowman."
The man looked down at him as he gave Bilbo a small bow. The hobbit couldn't help but raise an eyebrow as he tried to shakily wipe blood away from his mouth. "Uh… yes I can see why."
Bard simply shrugged, "A nickname the town gave me, I'm not overly fond, but it you know how these things stick" he said as he affectionately caressed his bow, "just call me Bard."
Bilbo nodded as he tried to smile at the tall man, though the sensation on blood still trickling down his face not to mention the feeling of other things he didn't want identified made it rather difficult to force his face into any expression other than disgust.
"I should… uh, thank you Bard. If you and Bifur hadn't been here…" the hobbit paused as he looked around trying to locate the dwarf, "where is Bifur?"
Bard shrugged once again, "the dwarf with the axe in his skull? Not sure, he yelled something at me then stalked off. Didn't seem much the type for conversation."
Bilbo gagged slightly as he pulled off a small chunk of what was most likely skin before he collected himself enough to answer, "No… he can't speak the common tongue anymore."
"Hm…" Bard turned his green eyes towards Bilbo's face, "you look… rather unwell."
The hobbit glared up at the man, "you'll have to pardon me, I'm not exactly used to being covered in blood."
Normally Bilbo would try to be as genial as possible towards a new acquaintance, especially one that had just helped him, but he was rather not in the mood to do anything except get cleaned up.
Bard looked at him for a moment before he grunted a gruff apology, "Of course, allow me to assist you," the man rummaged around in one of the leather pouches that were slung on his belt before pulling out a fine green cloth.
"Use this," Bard held out the cloth, gesturing for the hobbit to take it. Bilbo eyed it nervously, the cloth looked far too nice to be used for something as disgusting as mopping up blood. "No, I - uh, thank you, but I couldn't possibly. I don't want to ruin it."
"I insist. It was my duty to patrol the streets tonight, I should have prevented anything from happening in the first place," Bard grunted as he held out the cloth firmly. The man spoke in a low, gruff voice and Bilbo could tell there was a conviction within him, a strong sense of duty and loyalty. He sort of… reminded the hobbit of Thorin, especially because it seemed to him that they both shared a similar grim disposition.
"I… thank you. Again, I suppose." Bilbo could see there was no persuading the man otherwise and so tried to keep the filth to one small corner of the cloth.
The hobbit started to wipe away at his face gingerly but felt the sinking suspicion that there was not much he could do for his hair without a nice long bath.
"So…" Bard began as he leaned against his longbow, "what are you doing here?"
The hobbit sighed as he carried on his wiping, "I'm guessing you weren't in the pub tonight."
Bard shook his head and continued to look down curiously at Bilbo, "No… It did seem rather… rowdier than usual."
Given that most of the folk they'd met on this journey had either tried to stop them, eat them, or imprison them; Bilbo Baggins was not entirely sure just how much he should reveal. Though… After Gloin's outburst, there probably wasn't much the entire town didn't know already.
"We're, uh… on a quest of sorts."
Bard raised an eyebrow, "A… quest? What sort of journey would bring a dwarf and a halfling together?"
Bilbo thought he had gotten as much of the blood off as he could and started to hand back the cloth, though he couldn't help the hiss of pain when he moved his injured arm, "A very complicated one."
Bard's eyes widened slightly as he scanned the hobbit, trying to locate where the injury was. They swiftly settled on Bilbo's arm and he placed a firm hand under it so he could examine the limb better. The man's face fell into a frown as he looked up at the hobbit, "why didn't you say anything?"
Bilbo winced as Bard proceeded to poke around the tender flesh, "I sort of… forgot it was there I suppose."
"It's not too deep," Bard spoke slowly as he finished his examination, "though it could use some stitches. Where are you staying?"
The hobbit tried to get his arm free, he didn't want to bother Bard anymore than he already had this night, "I'm fine, really, you needn't trouble yourself."
The man simply scowled at him, "It is my duty to protect the anyone in this town, I will make sure you are well."
The similarities between Bard and Thorin seemed to be piling up by the minute. If Bilbo knew anything about dealing with Thorin it was that once the dwarf really set his mind to something, there was almost nothing that could be done to persuade him against his stubborn nature.
The hobbit let out a soft sigh, "We're staying in the inn above the pub."
Bard gave him a serious nod before pulling him around and ushering the hobbit back towards the pub where the rest of the dwarves still were. By the time they reached the doors, it seemed that most of the men of women of Laketown had decided to call it a night. There were a few stragglers here and there, but nearly all of the remaining occupants belonged to Thorin's company.
The dwarf prince was standing near the fire with his nephews, seemingly in deep conversation. Looking up at the sound of the doors opening, Thorin gaze took a moment to take in the sight of a blood-covered Bilbo followed by a tall man with his hand still gripping the hobbit's arm. There was a brief moment where the dwarf's eyes widened before he was spurred into action. Bilbo couldn't be entirely sure, but he thought he saw panic flood the bright blue eyes of their leader as he practically ran over to the door.
"Master Baggins!" Thorin began as he approached Bilbo, "what happened? Are you all right? Are you injured?" The dwarf gruffly grabbed the hobbit's shoulders and started to twist him left and right to see if there were any wounds.
"I'm fine Thorin –" Bilbo tried to get a word in but the dwarf seemed not to be listening.
"And you," Thorin grunted as he glared up at Bard, "what did you do? Were you responsible for this?"
The man glared down at Thorin with an equal amount of distrust, "I did nothing to Mister Baggins."
The dwarf let out a snarl, clearly not believing him. Bilbo could see that this was… going to get very violent very fast if he didn't do anything. Wedging himself in-between the two, Bilbo placed his hands on Thorin's wrists and gave them a little shake, "He's telling the truth, Thorin. Bard saved me, along with Mister Bifur. He was just making sure I got back in one piece."
Thorin seemed to need to exude a great deal of effort to shift his narrowed eyes from Bard to the hobbit. "Saved you from what?"
Bilbo smiled encouragingly at the dwarf if only to try and indicate that he was, in fact, fine. "There were some men, they followed me out of here. I think they thought I had some money because they knew you were from Erebor."
Thorin's face went from its furious scowl to looking slightly pained, "I… they attacked you because of me."
"No, Thorin, don't be ridiculous. They were pretty drunk and I'm sure they were just looking for a fight, no matter the cause. I just happened to be there at the wrong time." The dwarf's expression twisted uncomfortably, "Anyway, Bard here and Mister Bifur helped me almost right away, so no harm done."
"You are injured, Mister Baggins," Bard shot in from behind him, "we should get that looked at."
Thorin's eyes widened again, "why didn't you say anything?" the dwarf shifted his glare up to Bard, "why didn't you say anything?"
Bilbo sighed again, there was just no reasoning with anyone tonight, "I'll clean it up right now, Thorin. It's not Bard's responsibility, so don't go blaming him."
Thorin's mouth snapped shut for a moment but his if anything his expression got even darker, "I will clean it for you, Master Baggins. You," the dwarf gestured at Bard, "can go now."
The man scowled right back and snorted gruffly, "It would be my pleasure."
Before he turned to leave, Bard put a hand on Bilbo's shoulder, "I'm sorry again about tonight, I hope you feel better Mister Baggins."
The hobbit shot him a smile, despite Thorin starting to try and pull him away by his good arm, "Thank you again, Bard. I hope we meet under better circumstances next time." Bard gave him a small smile before walking back out the door again.
"Oi, stop pulling, Thorin. It won't make me move any faster," Bilbo ground out irritably as he found himself practically being dragged back to the bench by the fire.
"Well maybe if you moved at a reasonable pace I wouldn't have to." Thorin looked over his shoulder still frowning. They reached the bench where Fili and Kili were waiting with looks of concern plastered on each of their faces.
"Why are you covered in blood, Master Boggins?" Kili began worriedly as he examined the hobbit who was currently being forced down by a still rather angry Thorin.
"You aren't injured are you?" Fili added as he started to hover around Bilbo's back looking for wounds.
"I'm fine, just don't look it right now I suppose."
But the hobbit wasn't even sure that Fili heard him as Thorin cut in rather loudly over his words, "He's wounded, cut on the arm. Fili go get some water, Kili go get the supplies out of Master Baggins' pack."
"Really now no need to fuss—" Bilbo began but rather hurriedly shut his mouth at the identical looks of nervous concern on all three faces as they each turned to glare at the hobbit, "enough, Master Baggins," they spoke in unison.
"We're going to get this taken care of and there's nothing you can do about it," Kili grumbled as he sprinted away towards the room Bilbo had put his things.
Fili at least gave him a small smile before starting to walk over to the bar to get some fresh water, "he's right, my friend, better just sit back and let us do our work."
The hobbit sighed and settled on the bench feeling resigned to the fact that even if he tried, there wasn't much he could do when the three dwarves of Durin's line set their minds to something. Thorin began to roll up his sleeve with a gentleness the hobbit rarely saw given to anyone except his nephews. Bilbo opened his mouth to break the now stretching silence but as he looked at his friend, the hobbit saw Thorin's glare promised swift retribution if he tried to get away.
"Unless you are about to say 'thank you very much, Thorin,' I don't want to hear it Master Baggins."
Bilbo's mouth snapped shut as he narrowed his eyes. 'Of all the pompous dwarves!' the hobbit thought to himself with no small amount of agitation. Thorin had finally rolled the sleeve up to the wound and as he tried to move the cloth around the cut Bilbo couldn't help but let out a small hiss of pain.
Thorin quickly moved his hands away but they remained close, hovering around the hobbit's arm, "I…I'm sorry, are you alright?"
Bilbo looked out of the corner of his eye to see his friend's face etched with concern and, despite the fact that he knew he shouldn't laugh, the hobbit couldn't help but let out a small chuckle as he pictured Thorin's apparent mother hen-ish tendencies being used on a small Fili and Kili.
"I'm fine, Thorin, really. I'm not going to break."
The dwarf shot him a small glare, no doubt for daring to laugh at him while he was trying to help, and resumed his rolling; though this time he did it with even more delicacy if that was possible.
"I never said you would, Master Baggins. That doesn't mean I wish to cause you undo harm if I can help it," Thorin grumbled as he pushed the rest of the sleeve onto Bilbo's shoulder.
"You know…" Bilbo began slowly as he leaned back slightly closer to the fire, closing his eyes, and feeling a nice, calm sense of warm wash over him despite being covered in blood, "you really should just call me Bilbo."
The hobbit felt Thorin's hands stop suddenly but there were a few moments in which Bilbo waited for an answer but heard nothing except the crackling of the fire.
"I mean, I call you Thorin. It just feels a bit strange that you wouldn't use my first name as well," the hobbit cracked one eye open as he spoke.
"I…" Thorin began as he made a show of examining the wound with probably more concentration than was absolutely necessary, "it would be… Dwarves would only presume such familiarity with family or very close friends."
Bilbo frowned slightly, "So you don't consider me your friend?"
"Of course I do!" Thorin shot in quickly with indignation before he paused, "…you saved my life, Master Baggins."
The hobbit sighed feeling once again that he would never even come remotely close towards understanding all these strange dwarf customs. "So what's the problem then, hm? We're clearly friends, life-saving events aside."
Thorin sighed with a small measure of irritation like the hobbit should just inherently understand why it wasn't quite that simple, "Because… You didn't ask."
Bilbo opened both eyes to look at his friend with exasperation, "I need to ask you to call me Bilbo?"
The dwarf nodded looking relieved that he was finally catching on, "Yes, Master Baggins. It would be considered… unseemly for any dwarf to address you by your given name without permission."
Bilbo raised his good arm to place his face in his hand with a disbelieving laugh. These dwarves were so strange sometimes. It was odd for him to have to even consider giving someone permission to call him by his name! But, he supposed, the way hobbits lived their lives seemed to have much less… restrictive… And if Thorin was royalty, it was probably even worse for him.
"But you've called me Bilbo before, I could've sworn it."
Thorin looked away sheepishly, "Never without your family name as well, though even that would be considered improper. I apologize."
The hobbit felt his chuckle grow into proper laugh now, thinking that Thorin's hesitation to break with custom as was predictably ridiculous as the customs themselves. The dwarf looked to be fighting another scowl as he watched Bilbo hold his shaking body, "it is not funny, Master Baggins."
The hobbit took a few deep breaths before turning on the seat to face Thorin, "No, of course not," though he had calmed his laughter, Bilbo couldn't seem to wipe the wide smile off his face. The dwarf crossed his arms indignantly as he glared at some spot slightly above the hobbit's face before Bilbo raised his hand in placation, "Alright, alright."
"Thorin Oakenshield, I humbly request that you do me the honor of calling me by my first name." The dwarf prince quickly looked down at his friend, though his face seemed to indicate that he was at least somewhat surprised Bilbo was actually following through. After a few brief moments of silence the hobbit added with no small measure of cheek, "if it pleases you, of course."
Thorin remained silent for a few seconds before a small smile crept onto his face, "It… It would please me. Thank you, Bilbo."
The hobbit laughed softly as he turned back to his original position, "See, was that so hard?"
But before the dwarf could answer, Kili skidded back into view, "I got it, uncle!" Thorin smiled at his nephew as he took the small bag of supplies and Fili sauntered back to them with a bowl of water.
Thorin rummaged around in the bag before he found the jar of Beorn's balm and quickly unscrewed it only to find that the contents were all but empty. "Where is the rest?" the dwarf asked rather pointedly as he looked up at Bilbo.
"Well it got used, obviously," the hobbit replied with a slight roll of his eyes, "Mister Fili needed some for his arm and I used the rest on you."
Frowning down at the jar as if he could simply will more into existence, Thorin's brows drew close together, "why didn't you save some you fool?"
Bilbo shot the dwarf a glare, "because you needed it! I wasn't about to skimp on it when you were in such a state!"
Thorin shoved the jar back into the bag before muttering angrily, "I was fine."
The hobbit sat up immediately, he was not going to deal with this again, "Oh, you were not, by any measure of the word, fine—"
"What uncle meant," Fili began quickly as he shoved a cloth into Thorin's hand and Kili grabbed his uncle's wrist and started moving it up and down as to dunk it into the water, "was that he wishes there was more left for you. Isn't that right?" Fili shot his uncle a pointed look.
"I… yes, that is what I meant, Bilbo." Thorin shook his wrist free of Kili's hand and started to clean the wound himself.
The brother's eyes widened simultaneously and exchanged a glance that went unnoticed by the other two before their faces broke out into twin grins. "See, Master Baggins, all just a misunderstanding." Fili began as he smiled rather too sweetly at his uncle, "Yes, Master Boggins, no need to quarrel," Kili added with a simpering tone.
Thorin glared at his nephews but continued to work on cleaning the cut. "Why don't you two run along to bed, you must be very tired after all that playing tonight."
Kili frowned as he crossed his arms, "What? I'm not tired at all! In fact I think –" But before he could finish Fili let out an exaggerated yawn to drown out his brother's voice. "Now that you say it, uncle, I am positively exhausted!"
Kili still looked ready to argue, "But you just said –" Fili yawned loudly again as he swiftly elbowed his brother in the stomach, "aren't you just absolutely wiped out, Kili?"
"I…" Kili began as he looked from his brother, to his uncle, to a rather bemused Bilbo, "I – uh…"
Then his mouth formed a small 'O' as he seemed to catch onto what his brother was saying, "Y—yes! I am so tired! Never been more tired in my entire life! Can barely keep my eyes –" Fili winked at Bilbo before wheeling his brother around, "I think we can all see that, Kili, why don't we go to bed."
Thorin sighed as he watched his nephews walk away to the stairs that led to where the beds were located and reached around in the bag before he located a thread and needle. Bilbo, still feeling rather confused, didn't notice there was a rather pointed and sharp object about to enter his skin until he felt a small prick.
"Ow! What're you doing?" the hobbit yelped as he jumped away.
"I am stitching your wound," the dwarf replied as if it was the most obvious thing in the world and he was not wielding a shiny instrument of pain.
"I – I…" Bilbo spluttered as he eyed the needle, "I don't need stitches! Look! It's tiny! Barely even a scratch!"
Thorin scooted forward on the bench still looking utterly unimpressed, "If I say you need stitches, you need stitches."
The hobbit pushed himself as far away from Thorin as the bench would allow but much sooner than he would have liked, Bilbo hit wall. The dwarf's brow rose as he simply shifted closer to him on the bench.
"Thorin. Thorin, come now," the hobbit laughed nervously as he tried to figure the out the best escape route away from being stabbed, "do you even know how to do this?"
Thorin gently grabbed Bilbo's arm as he steadied the slightly shaking limb, "I have taken care of many wounds, Bilbo, there is no need to be frightened."
The hobbit's laugh became a near manic cackle as he tried to pull away, "Frightened? Frightened? I'm not frightened, I just don't want to be stuck unnecessarily!" Thorin kept his grip firm but not enough so that the hobbit couldn't get away if he really wanted to.
"Do you trust me?" the dwarf spoke quietly but Bilbo didn't have any trouble hearing him.
"I…" the hobbit shifted uncomfortably, still eyeing the needle.
"Do you trust me, Bilbo?" Finally looking up at his friend, Bilbo Baggins saw in Thorin's face calm reassurance and in that moment he knew that he did trust the dwarf. He trusted him more than just about anyone. Not to always do the smart thing, or the reasonable thing, but Bilbo trusted Thorin to keep him safe. He trusted Thorin Oakenshield with his life.
And suddenly, as Bilbo searched his friend's eyes and saw only warmth and a solid sort of strength there, letting Thorin stitch him up didn't seem like such an ordeal.
"I… I do trust you Thorin, of course I do."
The dwarf nodded resolutely as he pulled the hobbit's arm towards him, "Then let me do this, I promise it will be done soon enough." The dwarf positioned the needle next to the cut but did not begin his task until he saw Bilbo nod slowly.
Thorin worked about his task with a silent efficiency that the hobbit had grown accustomed to. Bilbo could do little to hurry the process along aside from grit his teeth and try not to shift around too much. Looking over at his friend, the hobbit watched Thorin work with the steady concentration of someone who had done this a hundred times before. And yet, there was certain gentleness in how the dwarf pulled every stitch through Bilbo's skin, something that the hobbit very much appreciated.
Bilbo knew he should be able to deal with things like this without fear by now, seeing as how he had almost died a few times on this journey, but there was something about having a needle repeatedly piece his skin that the hobbit was finding hard to endure. Perhaps it was the… normalcy of the task. He had had stitches before after a few childhood mishaps running around Hobbiton.
To having something this regular, he supposed, happen to him on this fantastic journey reminded him of the old Bilbo, the Bilbo who wouldn't have done anything more than dream of going to far away lands with a company of dwarves; the Bilbo who have blanched at the very notion of being seeing an orcs or giant spiders.
It seemed to him that the old Bilbo was still inside him, still balked at the thought of violence and blood; but as he sat in front of the fire, covered in all manner of unsavory things, with a dwarven prince sewing up his skin, the new Bilbo was also there, was growing inside him. He could be afraid of needles and still rush into a group of blood-thirsty, massive spiders. He could miss home and yet still love the feeling of seeing the sunrise after sleeping on the open road. He could miss his neighbors and friends back home and still treasure the moments and memories he had made with this strange company of dwarves.
Bilbo couldn't help but smile at Thorin who took that moment to look up from his work, feeling eyes upon him. The dwarf pursed his lips slightly in question, "… what is it? You're not going to faint, are you?"
The hobbit chuckled but quickly stopped at he jostled the thread still being stuck into his arm, "No, I'm not going to faint Thorin, I was just… thinking about things."
The dwarf raised a brow, but looked down again and continued his task. " …I see." Thorin made a few more loops of the string before he added quietly, "about what?"
The hobbit hummed for a moment as he absently looked at the opposite corner of the pub, "I was thinking… about how I used to be. And I suppose… about how I've changed."
The dwarf paused for a moment but still looked down, "I do not think you have changed."
Bilbo felt his eyes widen as he looked over at his friend, "what? Really?"
The dwarf looked up with a slight frown, "I meant that you are still… good. That you have always been good."
The hobbit looked at his friend curiously, "I, uh… what?"
Thorin let out a little sigh as he started to work again, "You are more used to this life, to being on the road and having to defend yourself, but… what you are and what you were is still good. I think you are able to grow and change with your surroundings, Bilbo, but at your core… what makes you, you, is that you are kind and selfless and... brave."
The dwarf finished up the last stitch and deftly knotted the string before finally looking up at his friend. Bilbo felt his face break out into a bright smile, "I… thank you, Thorin. That is very kind of you to say."
The dwarf seemed to shift slightly uncomfortably as Bilbo continued to smile at him, "… it is true. I would say otherwise if it were not."
The hobbit laughed as he rolled down his sleeve, "I know. I can always trust you to speak your mind, even if you are being infuriatingly unreasonable."
Thorin rolled his eyes while he gathered up the supplies. As the dwarf made to sit up, Bilbo put a hand on his arm, "and thank you, Thorin. For the—" Bilbo made a vague gesture at his arm, "this."
Thorin nodded but the hobbit still held his arm, trying to find the right words to say. "Also for… being my friend. Being a very good friend. I suppose I just want you to know that I feel… fortunate for having known you."
Bilbo let go of his friend's arm as Thorin opened his mouth. The dwarf remained silent for a few moments but started to speak softly, "… and I you, Bilbo. You have been a truer friend to me than I deserve."
The hobbit laughed as he stood up and patted Thorin on the arm, "nonsense! Who else would stitch me up when I get attacked by overly aggressive drunk people?"
The dwarf narrowed his eyes as he looked down at Bilbo, "I do wish you would avoid getting into those situations in the first place."
The hobbit shrugged as he patted Thorin's arm once more, "It's not like I'm trying, it just seems to… happen."
The dwarf sighed as he put the supplies back into Bilbo's pack and handed it to him before grumbling, "that is precisely what worries me. You should get washed up and go to bed, Bilbo. I have a feeling tomorrow will be quite an ordeal." The hobbit nodded and said his goodnight then made his way up the stairs to the washroom.
The water wasn't warm per say, but Bilbo was relieved enough to be getting the blood out of his hair and clothes that he couldn't really care less about the temperature. At least the inn had some thick, soft cloths to dry himself with that, while not being quite to the standard of Bag End, certainly were preferable to what they had been dealing with on the road.
Bilbo made his way into the room he was sharing with the dwarf brothers who had all but insisted that they do so. Upon walking in while toweling his hair dry, Bilbo saw Fili and Kili had pushed all three beds together to make one massive bed. The hobbit couldn't help but let out an exasperated, albeit affectionate, sigh.
"I believe," came a voice from underneath the mound of covers that all but exploded outward as Kili shot up with a grin on his face, "that Master Boggins has finally decided to retire."
"Ugh, Kili," came a groan from the other side of the bed, "go back to sleep, you know no one else can get any with you shouting all the time," Fili's face came into view, bleary eyed, and his hair pulled up into a tangled mound on top of his head. Kili shot his brother a dark look as he pouted, "but I wanted to make sure Master Boggins was okay! You said we could wait up for him!"
Fili sat up and spat a stray braid out of his mouth, "Fine. Master Baggins does your injury bother you further?"
The hobbit chuckled as he looked at the brothers, "uh, no? Thorin stitched it up pretty well I think."
Fili nodded absently, "you see, brother? He's fine. Now sleep." The blonde dwarf reached across the expanse of bed and pushed his brother down so Kili's eager face was stuck in a pillow.
Bilbo ignored the muttered bickering as he set his stuff down and made his way over to the bed. "If you two insist one making these beds into a bed, then can you please save the arguing for tomorrow?"
Kili immediately stopped pulling on his brother's hair and Fili loosened his chokehold on Kili's neck. "Oh fine then, Master Boggins. No fun as always," Kili stuck out his tongue before scooting over to make room for him in the middle. The hobbit shuffled around until he was comfortable and finally collapsed in a heap, not having realized just how tired he was from the day's events. There were a few moments of shuffling as they adjusted but soon enough there was blissful, calm silence.
Bilbo had almost fallen asleep when he heard a small voice from his left, "… Master Boggins?"
The hobbit turned his head so he faced Kili, "hm?"
The dwarf looked at him with concern, "you sure you're alright?"
Bilbo smiled at the young prince and nodded, "I am."
Kili smiled back before letting out a small yawn, "good."
The hobbit turned his head back but he felt Kili shuffle a little closer before they fell asleep in comfort for the first time in what felt like a lifetime.