A/N The sap factor in the chapter is so far off the damn scale it's like wading through fucking syrup. I hope none of this seems sudden or out of character because I've been trying to lay this shit on like a ton of bricks. A ton of very slow and strategic bricks, but who even knows anymore so fuck it I tried :P Hope you enjoy!
Thorin's lips pressed harder into his own as Bilbo felt the dwarf's grip on his jacket tighten. But he couldn't bring himself to open his eyes, to look at what was going on because that would make it real. And in his experience, real things were seldom what the mind hoped they were. The hobbit felt warmth spread through his body as Thorin pulled him down so they were flush against each other.
Mind still working sluggishly to make a coherent thought, Bilbo felt his arms move forwards almost of their own accord. His hands left Thorin's face and moved so they were behind the dwarf's head, twisted deeply in dark hair but still holding his friend tightly. Thorin was here, Thorin was here with him now. Not somewhere alone, dark and cold as he wept for the ghosts that haunted him. And he would pull his friend back, he would keep him grounded here until there was no doubt that he would never, ever be alone.
If Bilbo had considered just exactly what was currently happening, he might have had felt a deep sort of flustered that often led to a unique brand of shaky confusion; but in that moment, in that singular point in time, nothing mattered to him but Thorin. Not his thoughts, not the dragon that could return at any moment, not even the implications of what this meant. No, as the dwarf's lips pressed against his, Bilbo only knew that meant Thorin had turned away from his brother's corpse, that Thorin had turned towards him. Towards something alive and hopeful, and away from the pain and despair. To the future and away from the past.
Bilbo was gripping tight, holding together the shattering pieces that only repeated blows stricken by grief and loss could cause. And he wouldn't let go, not now, not ever.
Thorin pulled a hair's breadth away and inhaled shakily. The hobbit felt something wet and warm run down his own cheek. He thought for a moment it was Thorin, that the tears running down the dwarf's face had started run down his own; but as he blinked, he realized that they were his. It was sadness at seeing his friend torn apart by the cruel happenstances of life but more than that, what caused his tears was an aching sense of relief.
He looked up hesitantly, not sure what to expect. Thorin's face was tired. The hobbit didn't think he'd ever seen someone so weary in his life. The dwarf's eyes were red and bloodshot, his face splotchy from where the tears had run down. But what tugged at his heart most was the look of hollow sorrow there. Like Thorin could only hurt so much, could only take so much grief before there was nothing left in him. Like all the tears and the sadness and the pain had poured out from him in wave of misery and now… Now there was emptiness where all those feelings had once burrowed and festered over many long years.
He hoped with all his heart as he took in the sight of Thorin's expression that the void could now be filled with something warmer, something kinder than pain. The dwarf's head shifted to the side and his face fell against Bilbo's shoulder, hands still tightly twisted in the hobbit's jacket. His friend took another rattling breath as his chest heaved. There were no more tears for Thorin Oakenshield to shed but his body still shook like it wanted nothing more than that. Bilbo rested his cheek against the dwarf's head and hugged his neck tightly. Though his knees hurt from where they dug into the cold stone and even colder gold pieces, he barely felt a thing.
Bilbo rocked slowly, Thorin's face pressed into his neck, as the dwarf's breathing started to slow down. They began to sound less and less like the last one a dying man might take before welcoming the eternal embrace, but still the hobbit did not move. They were silent except for their breathing, Bilbo's slow and steady as he tried to get Thorin to match his own. It felt like a lifetime to him and also like no time at all. It was odd, feeling like he was right there, kneeling on the ground and holding his friend and yet somehow very distant, as if giving himself wholly over to one purpose had driven every other thought out of his mind.
Bilbo felt Thorin's face shift slightly as the dwarf's lips moved across his neck, "Bilbo, I…"
The dwarf's voice halted, raw and low, grief having ripped away any semblance of composure. Bilbo clutched tighter, moving one hand to the back of Thorin's head. "Shh, it's fine Thorin, we'll talk later."
The dwarf's shoulders sagged as he slumped boneless against Bilbo. The hobbit could feel a little nod against his neck and knew that now was not the time to discuss them. The thought that there even was a 'them' almost made his stomach twist in a nervously, but right now what Thorin needed was rest. There was such exhaustion in the dwarf's voice that Bilbo almost wished it had been safe to camp right there so Thorin could just go to sleep.
Bilbo shut his eyes again and held Thorin tight against him. Though the dwarf had seemingly lost any ounce of strength to sit up, his friend's hands still clutched at his back and hadn't moved since Thorin had put them there.
"It's okay now, it's all okay," he spoke gently against Thorin's head over and over until his own voice started to sound just as rough. The dwarf's breaths slowed down until they were in complete unison.
In, out. In, out. In, out.
Bilbo pulled back until he could see Thorin's slumped head and moved his hands back to the dwarf's face. Placing them gently on either side, Bilbo lifted up as slowly as he could, not wanting to startle him. "Thorin?" he said quietly enough that it might have just been a whisper on the wind.
The dwarf's eyes locked with his and there, Bilbo saw a small flash of what made Thorin him, he saw life. Yes there was a hollow, empty lack of focus to those bright blue eyes but there was Thorin in there somewhere, no matter how small. It broke his heart to see his friend like this but Bilbo was not without hope, he would make Thorin smile again, he would see the lines on the sides of the dwarf's eyes crease with happiness again even if it took him a lifetime.
"Thorin," he began again slowly, "can you walk? It's not safe here."
Bilbo knew the thought of Smaug should fill him with terror, should make him quake and shake that they could be turned to ash just as Frerin had but as he looked at Thorin, nothing else, no matter how great or terrible, seemed to truly matter.
The dwarf looked at him for several moments as if he couldn't find even an ounce of strength in him to make his legs move again. "I'll help you, Thorin. You don't have to do it alone," Bilbo's voice was determined as he spoke.
The hobbit stood up slowly, Thorin's arms moving with him as the dwarf's hands still clutched to his jacket. Bilbo waited, still looking down at his friend, waiting for him to move. Thorin stared up at him but couldn't seem to be able to make his body shift even slightly. The hobbit placed his hands on the underside of Thorin's arms and squeezed them gently.
"You can let go, Thorin. I'm not going anywhere without you."
Slowly Bilbo felt the vice grip of the dwarf's finger's loosen until the hands were detached enough that the hobbit could move again. Bilbo leaned down and secured his arms around the dwarf's shoulder and started to pull up. He wasn't sure he could lift Thorin and all his armor but as he hauled up, the dwarf started to get unsteadily to his feet. Slinging Thorin's arm around his shoulder and one of his hands fitted securely against his friend's waist, Bilbo slowly turned them so they were facing away from Frerin's bones and towards one of the great archways along the adjacent wall Dwalin and the others had gone through.
He knew from all the tales he'd heard of Erebor that it was immensely vast and could only hope that wherever the rest of the company had gone wasn't too far or hard to find. Bilbo and Thorin walked slowly out of the treasure room. Much of the dwarf's weight rested on Bilbo's shoulders but even with his aching knees, the hobbit didn't notice the strain his body felt. The only thing he concentrated was the next step. Then the next. And the one after that.
This infernal room was cursed, he was sure. Anything a dragon chose to call home, any place that reeked so strongly of death and greed could only lead to trouble. The sooner Bilbo got Thorin out of here, the better it would be for both of them. He knew there was no way he could keep the dwarf out of there forever, but there was no way he would let Thorin stay in there a second longer today.
As they passed under the archway, Bilbo could feel Thorin try to look back one more time. He squeezed the wrist on the arm that rested over his shoulders and looked up at the dwarf. Thorin's head stopped for a moment before he turned it back to face the hobbit.
"Don't look back, Thorin. Not yet," he moved his hand off the wrist forward and laced their fingers together, giving another firm squeeze.
There would be time for that later if they found a way to defeat the dragon. Hopefully there would be days, months, and years in the future for Thorin to look back, to remember his brother properly. Not to mourn the way Frerin had died, but to celebrate the way he had lived. But it was not today, not now. They had to get back to the company and rest, regain their strength so they could face the dragon to whatever end.
There was rubble and heaps of dust along the hallway. Half of the great green stone pillars seemed to have been torn from the high ceiling. Built into the side of the walls were what Bilbo could only assume to be houses of a sort. There were doors, small stairs that led to balconies jutting outwards, and windows uncovered by glass. On the ground there were old bones littered everywhere and great swaths of blackened rock where the dragon's fire had burned away any dwarves unlucky enough to had come across his path.
Thankfully Thorin seemed too absorbed in hollowness of his own mind to notice the destruction around him. Though Bilbo would have traded any of the possessions he had in Bag End, even Bag End itself to have spared Thorin that hurt, at least it was distracting him from the terrible empty silence of what once must have been a city full of life.
Even the sound of their footsteps was muffled by the dust. There was… nothing. If he closed his eyes, Bilbo could almost imagine the distant sounds of a marketplace, of children running and laughing, of the pure life that must have hummed inside this mountain. And that was almost worse than the ringing silence that hung in his ears, settling deep into his bones. This was a place for ghosts, for shadows of memories to hide behind every corner, inside every building; to watch them with fogged, distant eyes that mirrored the past with each step they took.
Their progress was slow as their path weaved around the fallen pieces of Erebor, but as long as Thorin kept moving forward, he wasn't going to complain. Bilbo tried to keep his gaze on the ground, tried to make out the footprints that the rest of the company had left but the further away they moved from golden light of the treasure room, the murkier his vision became.
"Uncle! Bilbo! Is that you?"
The hobbit sighed in relief as he heard Kili's familiar voice call out from somewhere down the hallway, silently blessing the young dwarf's keen eyesight.
"Yes! It's us!" Bilbo called back, his voice sounding tired even to himself.
There was the sound of muffled footsteps and soon enough Fili and Kili swam into view, the dwarf brothers jogging towards him.
"Are you alright?" Kili shouted as he started to sprint, no doubt seeing his uncle leaning rather heavily against their hobbit.
Fili and Kili skidded to a halt they reached them. Their faces were stricken with concern, eyes fixed on their uncle. "We're…" Bilbo started before his words caught in his throat. 'Fine' did not really seem to be the appropriate description for what had just happened. "…Not injured," he finished lamely.
The younger dwarf's hands started to flutter nervously as he examined his uncle. Fili looked between Thorin and Bilbo, his blue eyes closely scrutinizing them, a worried frown creeping onto his face.
"Then why is he –" Kili said nervously, "why can't uncle –" The young dwarf couldn't seem to finish his thoughts without his words suddenly halting and biting his lip anxiously.
"Thorin needs rest, brother," Fili placed a comforting hand on Kili's shoulder before walking over to his uncle's other side and gently placing their leader's other arm around his shoulders. Bilbo was quietly relieved Fili seemed to understand that any explanation would have to wait until they were somewhere a bit safer than Smaug's front hallway.
"Don't worry, Mister Kili we just need –" Bilbo began before Thorin's rasp of a voice cut him off.
"I'm fine, boys, just very… tired." It looked like Thorin was trying to give his nephews the reassuring smile that had graced his face a thousand times before, but the corners of his mouth barely turned and that look never left the dwarf's eyes.
Kili nodded, still chewing on his lip, but waved them to follow. "You both were taking so long, Fili and I got worried. We're pretty close, c'mon." The young dwarf looked over his shoulder at them as he lead the way down the hall, "Dwalin says it's the royal alcove or something. Right by where your chambers used to be, uncle."
Bilbo almost winced. He didn't want to bring Thorin anywhere that would bring back even stronger memories, but as he looked around them once more, he realized that it probably didn't even matter. No place in Erebor was going to be good, so it might as well be somewhere familiar enough that they could more easily defend it.
They followed Kili down the great hall until Bilbo saw a large archway. It looked relatively unscathed compared to the floor, aged golden patterns tracing up to the ceiling. Well, it certainly looked royal enough. They turned and passed underneath it, following the narrower hallway now. It was… breathtaking, even in the low light. To be fair, he thought, all of Erebor was breathtaking but never before had he seen so many intricately carved stones inlayed with more jewels than Bilbo had ever seen in his life. Even the thick layer of dust couldn't diminish the beauty and care that gone into each cut of the stone.
It was a different sort of beauty than the elves seemed to favor. There were no subtle flowers or delicate odes to nature that had decorated Rivendell and Mirkwood. Instead everything was grand, as if each of the masons that had carved away at the Lonely Mountain poured every bit of pride that the noble dwarves of old inspired in the hearts of all their people into each piece.
As they walked down the hall, Bilbo noticed that between each of the arches that led into houses or other hallways there was a statue. 'Kings and queens' he thought to himself silently with no small measure of awe, 'and great heroes…' Each of the stone dwarves was holding something.
Axes, swords, picks, and smithing hammers were the most common. But the further they walked, Bilbo saw one statue holding what appeared to be a golden book, it's stone hand raised above the pages as if it were pulling some intangible power from the runes written there. The next statue showed two dwarves, one leaning over a ledge, his massive stone beard hanging down to a dwarf maiden who gripped it tightly, her face an expression of fierce love. As he looked closer at the statue, Bilbo couldn't help but think that in the hands of the dwarves, the rock maiden might just have been real and alive if not for the stone heart in her chest.
They continued until Bilbo saw the hall open up to a vast, circular room. There was a wide set of stairs on the opposite end that lead up to a set of golden doors, no doubt the chambers of the king. Along the curved walls, there were a number of golden doors similar to the ones at the top of the stairs that must have led to rooms for the rest of the royal family.
At the center of the room there was a massive statue. Though the body was made with rock, the figure wore a crown of gold inlayed with three giant rubies. He held a mighty hammer of polished obsidian and appeared to be in the middle of striking another blow to the matching anvil at his feet. From the point of the hammer's impact on the stone, there were small rock people leaping forth. No, not people… dwarves. As Bilbo gaped up at the figure, he thought of the book he had taken from Elrond's library. 'Aulë,' the hobbit's mind supplied helpfully, 'the great smith of the Valar.'
Grouped at the based of the statue, Thorin's company had set up a makeshift camp with the supplies they had left. They hadn't dared make a fire in case Smaug could see, or more likely smell, it but there were a fair number of their bed rolls set up along with a number of musty cushions that had been liberated from the adjoining rooms.
As soon as they saw their leader, the rest of the dwarves shot to their feet and rushed over to them. There was a chaotic few minutes of shoving and shouting, mainly by Dwalin who furiously growled at Bilbo, demanding to know what had happened. Thorin could barely lift his eyes to meet their worried gazes. Bilbo glanced at his friend and could tell talking was the last thing he wanted to do.
"Thorin will be fine!" Bilbo shouted over the racket, "he just needs rest now so if you all will just –" the hobbit unlatched his hand from Thorin's and motioned for them to step aside, "we can let him sleep."
The company fell silent but could see from Bilbo's determined expression that he was tolerating absolutely none of their dwarvish nonsense right now. They parted and Kili led Bilbo and his family through to the young dwarf's already set up sleeping mat that sat a little away from the rest of the group and against the base of Aulë's statue. Kili rushed over to his pack and pulled out his thick blanket as Fili and Bilbo lowered Thorin down as gently as they could.
The hobbit quickly sat down so his back rested against the statue and slowly pulled Thorin's head down until it rested in his lap. The dwarf's hollow eyes were unfocused as they pointed up towards the ceiling. The brothers settled Kili's blanket over Thorin and sat down on either side of their uncle, worried eyes only leaving him when they exchanged a glance with each other.
The rest of the company was silent expect for the occasional hushed whisper. Bilbo knew it was probably strange for them to see their leader so despondent, without the usual fire that always seemed to burn behind the dwarf's eyes. Thorin had been their drive, their infallible leader that never lost faith in the quest. That persevered and inspired hope in them no matter what. And now he looked… empty. Empty and exhausted. Bilbo prayed that he figured out whatever he needed to do to help his friend find that fire again or he feared not only what would happen to Thorin, but also what would become of the company whose confidence balanced on the edge of a knife.
Bilbo started to lightly trace circles against the dwarf's scalp, his fingers sinking deep into the wild, dark strands. His mother used to do the same for him when he was but a small hobbit. Belladonna soothed her son with gentle fingers to chase away the worried thoughts that sometimes plagued young Bilbo's mind when night fell. He… He didn't know what to do, what would sooth Thorin's thoughts but he felt it was better than just sitting there and it gave his hands something to do as they fell into the familiar rhythmic motion.
He was only half listening for the distant crash that would signal Smaug's return as he concentrated everything he had on trying to force some comfort through his fingers into Thorin's mind. He had read stories of sorcerers and even elves that could read people's thoughts and put their own into another's head, but even as he tried with all his might, Bilbo knew he didn't have even a grain of magic to speak of. If he did, well then Smaug would've had another thing coming.
The best Bilbo could do was keep his word. To make sure Thorin knew he wasn't going through this alone. He was here. Fili and Kili were here. Dwalin and Balin and the rest of the company were all here for him. Bilbo just needed to make sure his friend didn't lose sight of that. Slowly the dwarf's eyelids began to slip lower and lower over his eyes. The hobbit had no idea how much time had passed before he was sure Thorin had finally fallen asleep.
Most of the company had also taken the chance to rest, knowing that the next few days would mean success or failure, life or death, for all of them. Dwalin remained awake, no doubt listening for the dragon's return and quietly talking with his brother. Even Kili had eventually fallen asleep on Fili's mat, a hand reached out to rest on Thorin's chest as if to remind the young dwarf that the heart beneath his fingers still beat strong.
Unlike his brother, however, Fili remained upright, his eyes always fixed on Thorin and Kili's resting forms, though the hobbit could tell he was deep in thought. Once Bilbo's tired mind had accepted that his friend was truly resting, he felt a small weight lift off his shoulders. But as he continued to trace circles against Thorin's head, the hobbit couldn't stop the thoughts that had been lingering at the back of his mind from worming their way forward.
Thorin had… Thorin had kissed him. It still felt strange to even think the word. Not because he was adverse, the warmth that had spread through him once he realized what Thorin was doing was certainly evidence that he wasn't, but because he couldn't be quite sure why the dwarf had done it or even what it meant.
Thorin had been so thoroughly closed off, so absorbed in his bitter, seething need for revenge, to reclaim his home. When Bilbo had first met him, he would have bet good coin the only emotion that ran through Thorin Oakenshield when the dwarf saw him was a healthy combination of hatred and annoyance. Bilbo knew that wasn't true now... but the thought that Thorin had come to care for him or see him as something more than a good friend, well he wasn't sure he would have seen that coming even if it hit him square in the face. Or rather kissed him on the lips.
This was Thorin Oakenshield, dwarf warrior and hero, the King of Erebor for goodness sake! That he, Bilbo Baggins, a hobbit, was someone that could inspire that in anyone, let alone a dwarven king, was almost absurd to him.
And yet, even though all those things described Thorin… that wasn't really how Bilbo knew his friend. The hobbit knew Thorin was so much more. He was passionate and kind. He was fierce and yet Bilbo had seen no one gentler on the very select few occasions when he'd been injured. The hobbit was sure there was no one in the world who cared more deeply for his friends and his people; who shouldered more burdens simply because it meant a lighter load for someone else.
The hobbit looked down at Thorin's sleeping face. He was… there was no denying Thorin was handsome in a stern, gruff sort of way. Bilbo felt a flush run up to the tips of his ears the longer he stared, but even so he couldn't seem to force his gaze away.
"Something the matter, Master Baggins?"
Bilbo forced his eyes up to see Fili was looking at him with a raised brow. "I, uh –" the hobbit spluttered, his thoughts unhelpfully fleeing just as soon as he actually needed them, "I was just, uh… checking…"
The blond dwarf's eyebrow rose even further, "Checking…"
Bilbo gulped, feeling like he had been caught making eyes or something lewd. Which was most likely exactly what he'd been doing. 'Bugger…'
"Yes, just, uh, checking for… stuff…"
"Stuff…" Fili repeated again, amusement leaking into his voice.
Bilbo let out a sigh knowing that out of all of Durin's Folk, Fili was the only one he couldn't seem to fool.
"Why don't we go for a walk, Master Baggins? Your legs must be sore." Fili stood up with a stretch, looking down at his friend expectantly.
His legs did hurt, but he didn't want to risk Thorin waking up again…
"My uncle will be fine, he won't even notice you're gone," the blond dwarf always seemed to know what was on his mind with disturbing accuracy. 'Maybe Fili is the sorcerer…' Bilbo thought as he glanced up at the dwarf but as he pictured him in Gandalf's robe and hat, waving a staff around and shouting in a deep, gruff voice, the hobbit almost laughed at the ridiculousness of it all.
Bilbo eased off his jacket and folded it up so the charred bit was turned inward. Gently lifting Thorin's head so he could move, the hobbit deftly shoved the jacket underneath as a makeshift pillow. Thorin made a small noise that had Bilbo just about cursing his stupidity when the dwarf simply turned his head so his face was half buried in the soft cloth and inhaled deeply before growing still once more.
Dwlin looked over at them suddenly with a small glare, "Don't do somethin' stupid like wander off, lads, it isn't safe."
Fili shot the dwarf an exasperated, albeit fond, smile, "No need to worry, Master Dwalin, we'll stay in here."
Bilbo followed Fili silently over to one of the golden doors that was to the left of the stairs. Fili touched the large ring that hung off it almost hesitantly, "Dwalin says this was my mother's room."
The hobbit glanced over at his friend, unsure if this was something good or bad. Dís was still alive at least… But he knew seeing all of this couldn't be easy for the young dwarf, to be reminded of the life he could have had but was taken from him in a flash of teeth and a burst of flame. Or the fact that Thorin had told him when Fili and Kili had snuck out of their home, they left only a note for their mother so she couldn't stop them. 'I wonder if he regrets that now…" Bilbo wondered as he looked at the dwarf's back.
Fili pulled the handle and the door creaked open, expelling a puff of dust from the seam. The hobbit covered his mouth with his handkerchief but followed the dwarf into the room.
Bilbo wasn't sure what he expected but it looked such like an ordinary room that the lack of golden ornament was surprising to him. Whereas everything he'd seen so far had been either stone or gold, Dís' room was an eclectic mishmash of styles. Where it had looked gaudy and forced on the Master's house, here the different styles and textures were warm and friendly.
It was like Dís couldn't decide on which culture she wanted to draw from so she had simply thrown up her hands and decided to have a little bit of all of them. The bed was large enough that several of the tallest men from Bree he knew could have lain there comfortably. Though the cushions and blanket had been mostly eaten away by time or something else, he could see they were made with a caring hand. Certainly not with the all the skill or fine cloth gold could buy, but by someone who had crafted such things for many years.
The carving on the wooden bed frame almost looked elvish to him, though he supposed they had been allies at one point. Hanging above the bed were a pair of twin wooden swords that looked identical to the ones Fili wielded in battle, though being covered in dust and distinctly not polished steel made them seem slightly less lethal.
There was a fine wooden dresser in the corner of the room covered in with carvings of running horses. A large table rested against the wall, covered by decaying maps and along the far wall there was a massive bookshelf. There were many books, perhaps even more than Bilbo owned, but in between the clusters were carvings, both wood and stone that looked to have come from places Bilbo couldn't recognize.
Fili walked over to the table and picked up a stone box with golden runes laid across the top. He turned it over in his hands, blowing across the surface to remove the dust.
"My mother said there was no time to pack anything," the blonde dwarf spoke absently, "it's like everything the dragon didn't touch was just…" Fili looked over at him, a curious expression on his face, "frozen. In the very same spot and nothing has changed but a bit more dust."
Bilbo nodded not sure what to say, not sure if there was anything he could say. Nearly everything about Erebor left him feeling unsettled. Fili was right, everything was frozen and there was something about that Bilbo could only think was… unnatural. The destruction he'd seen was awful and terrible but it made sense. When a dragon attacked a city and that meant scorch marks and rubble; not this, not an echo of life so strong it felt like they had simply halted time for a single moment and in the next these halls would be filled again with dwarves like nothing had ever happened.
The hobbit walked around the edge of the bed and over to the shelf, his eyes drawn to a small, stiff leather ram. Fili walked over to him and plucked it off the shelf, rubbing it with his sleeve. "My father must have given it to her," the young dwarf looked at it with a sad smile on his face.
"How do you know?" Bilbo looked up at his friend curiously.
"He worked leather, not a skill many dwarves bother to prefect," Fili wiggled the leather ram between his fingers, "and my mother said his clan rode great rams like this."
The dwarf's gaze swept slowly over the rest of the massive shelf, "She loves things from far away lands, still goes to the market near every day to find some rare little trinket or trade stories with the merchants."
Bilbo looked to his right and saw that the massive bed had obscured a small, metal cradle. He turned to walk towards it and ran a hand over the rail. As his fingers shifted the dust, he saw runes had been etched in. There was a small blanket on the floor that looked to have been thrown out in haste. As he reached down and started to pick it up, something small and stuffed fell out. Reaching out his other hand to grab it, Bilbo recognized the creature from a few of his books. 'Lion' he was fairly sure was the creature's name.
"That was…" The hobbit heard Fili's voice from behind him, "that was mine." Bilbo held out the toy for the dwarf to take. Fili took the front two paws in his hands and twisted it back and forth as if the lion were dancing.
"My uncle Frerin made this for me. I can't remember him well but I… remember him giving me this and laughing."
Bilbo moved back so he sat lightly on the edge of the bed, his stomach clenching painfully at the name.
"Mother said Frerin used to call me his little lion because my hair's gold and apparently I used to bite him whenever he tried to but me down." Fili grinned at him, "She thinks I took after him more than Thorin…" The dwarf's smiled stayed on his face but was tinged with a sad longing, "I wish I could've know him."
Bilbo gripped the blanket in his hands so tightly he thought he might tear the fabric. Fili's expression grew serious as he saw the change in Bilbo's demeanor and quickly sat down next to him on the bed.
"What's wrong, Master Baggins?" Fili placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed.
"We… earlier…" the hobbit had no idea how to begin.
"Thorin found Frerin's bones and he… fell apart."
The blonde dwarf looked at him for several long moments, "but you were with him?"
"Well, no, not when he first found them…" Bilbo started, twisting the blanket, "I was looking around the back of the treasure room but after you all had been gone for a while I thought I should go find you but when I went back to the center of the room, I heard… I heard wailing and I found him."
The hobbit glanced over at Fili, not wanting to grieve the dwarf about tales of his dead uncle or the terrible sorrow of his living one. But… as he searched Fili's blue eyes, so much like Thorin's, he realized that no one would understand better than Fili or Kili.
"He was… hunched over the bones, sobbing and muttering about how it was all his fault that Frerin had died. I've never seen anyone so…" but he couldn't find a word to describe the sight, "I was terrified, Mister Fili."
"But not because of the dragon or anything," Bilbo shook his head, "I was terrified that I was going to lose him, that you and Kili were going to lose him. That he would stay there drowning in all the grief and the loss…"
Fili reached down and clutched Bilbo's hand his larger one, "What happened next?"
The hobbit glanced up at his friend, eyes slightly wide. Maybe Fili already knew what thoughts already engulfed his thoughts, maybe Fili could sense that something had changed.
"Well, I went over to him. I told Thorin that he needed to forgive himself, that what happened was never his fault," Bilbo paused for a moment, "that there were people who loved him and he needed to come back for them."
"I told him that the company needed him, that you and Kili needed him, that I – I… " he stuttered to a halt, "that I needed him."
Bilbo's eyes locked on the blanket in his hands and he couldn't seem to move them away as a flush started to creep across his face again. "I said he had to come back to me."
The hobbit wasn't sure why he was spilling every little word he'd said. But he needed someone to tell him that this wasn't really that confusing and working himself up about it wouldn't make things any easier. That Thorin hadn't just been vulnerable and reached out to the closest person.
"Then…" Bilbo's halted and he hated himself just a bit for making this so much more embarrassing than it had to be, "then he kissed me."
The hobbit was afraid to look up at his friend, not sure how Fili would take him sticking his tongue down the dwarf he pretty much considered a father's throat. Not that there was any tongue or sticking or anything like that but – damn it why was he getting so flustered about this now? It had been fine in the room! He'd been composed and – and adult about this until a minute ago!
Fili's was silent for so long Bilbo was starting to consider taking the knife his friend had given him earlier and trying to end his life swiftly if only so he could be spared the slow death, painful death that was no doubt awaiting him.
"And what do you think about that?" the dwarf asked quietly from beside him.
"What?" Bilbo glanced up nonplussed, not seeing anger on Fili's face but not seeing anything especially reassuring either.
"How do you feel about my uncle kissing you?"
It sounded so strange coming from Fili, so calm like he had asked the question a hundred times before. Maybe Thorin kissed everyone? Maybe – 'No' he stopped that line of thought with angry haste feeling suddenly foolish, 'Thorin isn't like that. I know Thorin isn't like that.'
"I… liked it?" Bilbo's flush grew even deeper, "I – I mean the circumstances weren't ideal, of course, I didn't like that he was in so much pain or that he – he…"
The hobbit wanted to cover his face and hide until he could figure out the tangled mess of thoughts and feelings racing through his head. This shouldn't be so hard, why did something that was supposed to be light and happy make him feel like no matter what he was doing something wrong? Like if he had… enjoyed it, he was diminishing the suffering Thorin had gone through in that blasted room but if he thought Thorin had just needed someone, anyone and he just happened to be there, his heart hurt more than it ever had before. Through the mess of thoughts, Bilbo remembered something Bard had said to him in Lake Town.
Sometimes it's quiet, Mister Baggins. It builds and builds until one day you see them smile at you and you realize going one day without seeing that would be unbearable.
He certainly hadn't cared much for Thorin at the beginning of their journey. But after he had saved the dwarf from Azog they had grown closer. They had become good friends, the best of friends. He trusted Thorin with his life and Thorin had trusted him with the secrets of his past, had trusted the hobbit enough that he let Bilbo see every wound life had torn into him. Thorin hadn't just trusted Bilbo to know, but also to help, to heal.
He had vowed to Balin that he would do whatever it took to help his friend reach Erebor, to get back his home. Bilbo had fought orcs and spiders for Thorin. He had broken out of an elvish dungeon for Thorin. He had faced a dragon for Thorin. And he knew he would be right beside the dwarf when they fought Smaug with nothing more than their swords and wits to arm them. He would die for Thorin.
And that thought should have terrified him, should have made him toss down Sting at Thorin's feet and run away as fast and far in the opposite direction as he could because he was the Baggins of Bag End who was a very respectable hobbit and before this journey had done nothing more life endangering than eat a particularly large piece of pork.
He remembered Thorin's face as he hunched over his brother. The wild eyes, the tears pouring down, the look of sheer and utter loss and all he could think of was how to get Thorin back, how to make him smile again. And he knew Bard was right, the thought of his friend never knowing happiness again, never smiling for him again was unbearable. More unbearable than knowing he had simply been the nearest source of comfort in that room, rather than the one Thorin wanted. More unbearable than dragons and orcs and spiders. More than burning alive, more than being torn apart by Azog's great mace, more than being eaten.
Bilbo looked up at Fili slowly, his eyes wide. It was so simple, so very easy and altogether the single most frightening notion that had ever been true in all his life.
"I, uh…" his eyes gazed at Fili without really seeing him there, "I think I might be in love with your uncle."
The dwarf let out a sigh of relief and started to laugh. And laugh and laugh until he was hunched over, holding his sides and gasping for breath. Bilbo was still staring wide-eyed at the place Fili's face been minutes ago.
He loved Thorin Oakenshield. He was in love with Thorin. He was nervous but there was an unfamiliar swelling in his heart. It felt like it was going to grow so big it might burst out of his chest. There was fear; fear that Thorin wouldn't feel the same or might be too distraught after seeing his brother to ever want to open his heart again, to ever risk that kind of hurt. But, as he looked at everything and nothing at all, Bilbo Baggins knew that it almost didn't even matter. He would love Thorin no matter what the dwarf said in return. And that was… liberating. He felt the lightness spread throughout his whole body. Thorin could love him back or simply care for him as a friend. Sure, there was definitely an option he preferred but what mattered most was that he helped Thorin to smile again. That he helped his friend remembered how to laugh and live and love.
Fili took a deep breath and sat up again, one hand still clutching at his stomach, the other half gripping the lion, half wiping a tear away from his eyes. "Oh, thank Mahal," the blond dwarf sucked in more air, "and here I thought it was never going to happen. Kili is going to owe me a who new set of daggers."
Bilbo's eyes met Fili's, this was not quite the response he had been expecting. Punched in the face? Sure. Stabbed with every knife strapped to Fili's body? Absolutely. But… laughed at? He felt like he was missing a very crucial part of the joke.
"I just – what?"
"Thorin was so obvious, but you, my friend," Fili clapped a hand on Bilbo's shoulder and grinned brightly at him, "I couldn't be absolutely sure about you. I said Thorin would make the first move but Kili insisted you would. Amateur."
Bilbo's mouth hung open in a way that could only have made him look just slightly more stupid than he felt, "What?"
"Oh, this is such a relief," Fili ignored the hobbit's question as he quickly turned thoughtful, tapping one of the lion's paws on his chin, "though if we all die tomorrow it won't have done anyone much good…"
Bilbo felt his irritation grow slightly, only Fili could be so infuriatingly flippant when he had just – just confessed his love for the dwarf's uncle. There was no way that was going to ever sound anything less than strange in his head.
"Fili, what do you mean Thorin was obvious?" The hobbit ground his teeth over the last word, feeling that absolutely nothing about Thorin had ever been 'obvious.'
The young dwarf tilted his head towards Bilbo, his blue eye's blinking at him with faked innocence, "Surely you can't be that dense, Master Baggins?"
Bilbo all but slapped his hand to his face in frustration, "Why don't you just pretend for a moment, Mister Fili, that I am indeed that dense."
"I suppose you haven't know uncle as long as we have," the dwarf shrugged, his familiar grin back in place, "but at least to Kili and I it was pretty obvious from the beginning."
"From the beginning?" Bilbo found it hard to believe Thorin had been harboring any sort of good will towards him in Bag End. And if he did, well then the dwarf was even more socially inept than Bilbo had given him credit for.
Fili waved his hand dismissively, "Since after Azog, once he realize that we'd been right about you the whole time."
The young dwarf's face suddenly grew more serious, "Perhaps I should explain… there's no way you could have really known."
"My uncle, he… he has been a father to Kili and I. He has shown us the love and care that he would a dwafling of his own flesh. But in all the time I've know Thorin…" Fili trailed off for a moment, carefully choosing his words, "I've never seen him trust anyone he didn't know before the fall. I've never seen him the way he is with you, softer almost. Definitely more calm. And much less like he wants to tear off every stranger's head and place it on a pike."
The blonde dwarf looked at him fully now, "He has never known love, Master Baggins, at least as far as my mother's told me. So when he… When he changed around you, when I saw him looking whenever he thought you weren't paying attention, looking at you like you were some mystery, something he shouldn't have but needed anyway…"
Bilbo's eyes had grown wide again. Had he missed this? He couldn't remember Thorin acting anything but more friendly towards him until today. Which made sense seeing as how they were friends.
Fili shrugged at the hobbit as he smiled wide and true, "I just knew! And Kili knew. And well… probably everyone now, really. My uncle isn't exactly subtle."
"So you're telling me that everyone knew but me?" Bilbo said with slight indignation until he realized he had missed a very key part of what Fili had just said. "Wait, you're telling me that Thorin feels the same?"
The dwarf looked at him like he was being especially thick again and grinned, "You really are that dense, aren't you? Mahal help me, I was joking before, but seriously you're doing a rather splendid impression of an idiot."
Bilbo glared at him as he crossed his arms in a huff, that's what he got for baring his heart and soul to some dwarf. He was starting see why their race wasn't famed for their ballads or poetry, clearly affection and feelings were something they found amusing.
"But don't feel too bad," Fili elbowed him playfully, "I wasn't sure even Thorin knew what he was feeling until tonight. You two make quite the awkwardly adorable pair."
The hobbit sniffed at him, his nose turned up in distaste, "I am not adorable. And neither is Thorin, nephew or no he'd probably skin you if he'd heard that."
"Too true!" the young dwarf let out another laugh, "let's just keep that between us, shall we? My invaluable and priceless advice in exchange for your silence." Fili stuck out his hand to shake.
"Fine," Bilbo muttered as he gripped the dwarf's hand much harder than was necessary, "but no more laughing or I'll skin you myself." He'd never admit it now, but talking to Fili was almost always helpful while navigating his friendship with Thorin.
"Fair enough," Fili raised his hands in placation, the little lion still dangling from his curled fingers.
"So do you…" Bilbo felt the embarrassing return of the flush to his cheeks but figured he hurtled so far past the point of reasonable mortification in this conversation he might as well just plunge onward. "Do you really think Thorin might feel… something, uh, similar?"
Fili considered him for a moment, "I do, Master Baggins, but it's not really my place to say for sure."
Bilbo felt nervous excitement flood through him but also like he might be a bit sick, "I… of course."
"I think these sorts of things," Fili stood up from the bed and turned to offer Bilbo his hand, "are best discussed between the people directly involved."
The hobbit put his hand in Fili's and the dwarf pulled him up so they were standing side-by-side in front of the crib again. "I know, Mister Fili, I just… now doesn't really seem to be the best time, what with Frerin and the dragon."
The blond dwarf nodded in understanding, "All very valid concerns, Master Baggins, but should the dragon be a belly fuller tomorrow, I think you'll have wished you had."
He was right, Bilbo knew he was right but that didn't stop a twinge of anxiety coursing through his veins.
"Thorin deserves to be happy."
Bilbo looked up suddenly when he heard the dwarf speak up again quietly.
Fili smiled gently at him, "And so do you. I know the current circumstances aren't exactly ideal, but love should be a happy thing, it should make you both better."
'If only it were that easy…' Bilbo thought with a little sigh before looking up at the dwarf with a devious smirk, "And you know much of love, do you Mister Fili?
Fili gave him a mysterious smile and winked, "I'm not the type to kiss and tell, Master Baggins, but let's just say that many have loved me."
The hobbit let out an exasperated sigh and aimed a jab at Fili's arm. "You are incorrigible."
"That's what they tell me!" Fili turned with a chuckle and made his way around the bed towards the door. They walked out towards the company and Bilbo was feeling better despite all the awful things that had happened to them and probably would continue to befall them in the near future.
Thorin and Kili were sill fast asleep when they walked back. Bilbo sat down and Fili helped him quickly remove the jacket and lift Thorin's head back on to his lap so the dwarf's sleep wasn't disturbed. Fili gave him one last smile before settling down on his uncle's other side and placing his hand on top of the one Kili still rested on Thorin's chest. Bilbo saw the blond dwarf give his brother's hand a little squeeze and Kili's hand unconsciously squeezing back in response.
Bilbo smiled as he rested his head back against the base of the statue. He was exhausted; there was no denying it. He had climbed part of a mountain, ran up at down that blasted passage twice and nearly been turned into ash by a dragon that had been less than impressed by his wit. He could only hope that Smaug had enough decency left under all those scales to delay his return until Bilbo had at least a few hours rest.
Bilbo couldn't be sure but it felt like days had passed as they sat in the circle room. What little rations they had left were running short now but there was still no even so much as a roar to signal Smaug's return. Wherever the dragon had flown off to it was keeping him far more occupied than any of them had anticipated. They could do little but sleep and eat while the fear of Smaug's return hung over their heads, the anxiety of the company growing so thick it was almost a palpable cloud.
The only good thing about this whole mess was that Thorin had been able to sleep. The dwarf's eyes had been closed since they'd gotten to camp and Bilbo had stayed diligently beneath him serving as a pillow, only taking short breaks when Fili or Kili dragged him along on their walks.
Bilbo had been getting what could only very generously be called naps. He would doze off, falling asleep for a few hours but whenever Thorin so much as twitched, his eyes sprang back open. It didn't help either that his dreams had taken a turn for the less than pleasant.
He had only drifted off for a few hours when the hobbit woke with a start. He'd been dreaming of ghosts so cold they froze his flesh and fire so hot it melted his skin. There had been a pair of fearsome jaws just about to close around him when he had jerked away. The light was no better than it had been when Bilbo had gone to sleep but now there was… Thorin was gone even though his coat was now covering the hobbit. Fili lay on his back and Kili had rolled over to where Thorin had been, his arm thrown over his brother's face.
Bilbo glanced around quickly and saw that Bofur and Bifur had the watch. They sat there whittling away at pieces of wood they must have stowed away in their packs, talking softly to one another. The hobbit stood up and arched his aching back but keeping the coat huddled around him. He padded over to where the two dwarves were sitting as quietly as he could so he didn't wake the rest of the company. Bilbo had opened his mouth and had been about to ask where Thorin had gone but before he could ask Bofur just grinned at him and nodded towards the door just to the right of the stairs.
"He'll be through there, laddie."
Bilbo muttered a quick thanks, turning back towards the door. 'Does everyone know?' he thought feeling slightly miffed that apparently he was just as dense as Fili teasingly suggested. The hobbit walked over to the door and paused as he reached the handle. Should he speak to Thorin now? Should he wait until after? Would there even be an after? Questions flitted through his head faster than he could even comprehend.
The hobbit took a deep breath and trying to shove any thought that started to emerge back into whatever dark recess of his brain it crawled out from. He put a hand on the door handle and pulled. Bilbo stepped around the door and walked into the room.
It was much the same size as Dís', but unlike his sister's varied taste, what must be Thorin's old room could only be described as dwarvish. Everything that still held color was the same shade of deep blue that Thorin's coat was made from. Where Dis' furniture had been wood and stone, a collection drawn from around across many distant kingdoms, Thorin's was all stone and metal. There was a plain but finely made closet in the corner and the bed was the same obsidian stone that resided on Aulë's statue. There was sharpness in the patterning on his friend's possessions but Bilbo thought it was just as beautiful as the curved designs the elves favored.
Thorin had a bookshelf like his sister, but instead of trinkets and collected treasures, the dwarf had scrolls and weapons barely clinging on to each shelf. Everything about the room said 'future king' to Bilbo. From the maps that lined the walls to the stacks of old tomes that rested haphazardly across Thorin's desk.
The dwarf stood with his back to Bilbo, examining something that lay on his desk. Thorin looked… smaller without his coat and the slump of his shoulders did nothing to make Bilbo think the dwarf had gotten magically better. Clutching the coat closer to him, the hobbit slowly made his way forward. He was nervous, but not the same kind of nervous that he felt before going into strange tunnels or facing dragons. He hadn't really talked with Thorin since the treasure room and, despite his confident assurances to his friend at the time, well… he felt like so much was riding on this conversation.
Bilbo was almost level with Thorin when the dwarf turned to him. The hollow look was mostly gone from his eyes, replaced with some that looked like… a tired sort of relief. Like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders and they mostly remained hunched because they had been stuck like that for so long. And then Thorin smiled at him, it wasn't wide, it wasn't even really happy, but it felt like coming home.
All the nervousness flooded out of him when he saw the dwarf's face. Every question, every doubt slid away in a wash of relief. Thorin wasn't broken. Thorin was strong. He would face this new trial as he did every other in his life; teeth gritted, sword drawn, and willing to take on the world if it meant something better. But this time is wasn't something better for his people, his sister, or even his nephews. This time Thorin was fighting for himself and the sight filled Bilbo with so much hope he felt like he might laugh.
"I have something for you."
Bilbo titled his head with curiosity, wondering what it could possibly be. Thorin reached down into a stone chest that stood next to the table. The dwarf pulled out something the shone even without light upon it. Thorin stood back up and held it out for the hobbit to take. Bilbo reached out a tentative hand and grasped it gently. It was a mail shirt, but as he took it from Thorin, he found that it was surprisingly light as air. And beautiful. The collar and cuffs were decorated with silver so thin it looked like it might snap at the lightest touch. But as he gazed in awe at the shirt somehow he knew it wouldn't.
"It was mine when I was younger and smaller," Thorin's voice hadn't quite lost the raw rasp from the treasure room.
Bilbo gaped between the shirt and his friend, "It's – It's wonderful and… looks very expensive, Thorin I can't take this…" He tried to hand the shirt back at the dwarf but Thorin merely pushed it into the hobbit's chest firmly.
"I insist, Bilbo."
The hobbit was about ready to argue when he saw the expression on Thorin's face and felt the words dry up on his tongue.
"It is mithril. Harder than tempered steel and light as cloth. It will…" the dwarf paused for a moment, "keep you safe when I cannot."
Bilbo stared at Thorin, at the pleading look in his eyes and nodded. He tucked it under Thorin's coat and clutched it to his chest tightly. "Thank you, Thorin. I will treasure it always." And he meant it with all his heart.
The hobbit slowly reached out a hand and placed it gently on Thorin's arm, "How are you doing?"
One look at Thorin and he knew that had been a stupid question. A very stupid question. "Sorry, I just meant…"
The dwarf reached up and placed a hand over his with a small smile, "I know what you meant, Bilbo. I am… better, I suppose. I never expected to find –" Thorin's words halted again but the dwarf swallowed and forged on, "to find Frerin. I knew he was down here but I… wasn't prepared."
Bilbo nodded, "No one could be prepared for that Thorin, no one."
Thorin met his eyes with an intensity that Bilbo was he had never had focused on him before. "I lost myself. I felt like he had somehow been alive this whole time only to be torn away from me again the second I stepped foot in that room."
"I felt the grief and despair start to drag me away. Everything seemed to fade away, I can hardly even remember anything but the… pain of it all."
Bilbo felt like everything inside him had clenched painfully. If Thorin didn't remember anything, then he… he didn't remember kissing him. He didn't remember the hobbit pulling him back; he didn't remember anything Bilbo had said. Well he… Bilbo would be fine. Once his heart stop beating painfully. The hobbit looked away quickly because he couldn't bear the knowledge quite yet. And yet he was son of Belladonna Took, he would be fine. He had to be fine. Eventually… Possibly… When he got eaten and died or something equally distracting.
"But I remember you, Bilbo," the hobbit's eyes shot back up just as quickly as he'd forced them away. A small, shining seed of hope starting to grow within him.
Thorin turned so he was facing the hobbit and pulled him into his arms so the side of Bilbo's face was pressed against him. He felt Thorin lowering his head until he was level with the hobbit's ear.
"I remember your voice," the dwarf spoke so softly he almost couldn't hear him. "I remember your words." Bilbo flushed because he knew. And Thorin knew that he knew. "I remember your eyes." Thorin pulled him tighter and closer. "I remember you pulling me away from myself, away from the doubt and the blame."
"I would be… lost without you, Bilbo Baggins," Thorin's hand came up to past his neck and rested gently in his hair. "I would have been lost a hundred times on this journey if you hadn't been foolish enough to save me."
Thorin pulled away slightly so Bilbo's face was no longer pressed against him. The hobbit tilted his head up so he could look at Thorin only to find the dwarf's head still bowed so their lips were barely an inch apart.
"And if you'd allow it," Thorin took a deep breath as if steeling himself, "I would very much like to kiss you without being half mad or looking like an mourning widow."
This was happening. This was happening. This was happening.
And as Thorin looked at him with the most nervously sincere expression he'd ever seen on the dwarf's face, Bilbo let out a bright laugh. It wasn't the loud or malicious but it was enough for Thorin to pull back, looking like the hobbit had just slapped him. He didn't mean to laugh, it was just… they really were quite the pair. All awkward and nervous and fumbling. The anxiety he had felt flood back a moment ago left him when he realized that, really, their friendship hadn't even changed all that much. There was something new and unknown in front of them, yes, but they were still themselves. Thorin would still mutter and grunt and do something awkward but mean well and Bilbo would still laugh inappropriately and apologize if he could force the grin off his face. Suddenly he couldn't remember what had made him so nervous in the first place.
"No, don't back away you idiot."
Bilbo put the mithril shirt on the table and reached up, grabbing one of Thorin's braids in each of his hands.
"But you –" Thorin spluttered, wearing the face that generally meant Bilbo had done something that in equal parts infuriated and confused him. Which made the hobbit laugh even harder with happy relief. Thorin had a long road ahead of him, but if he could still make that face after everything that had happened over the last few days, well, Bilbo would could it as a victory.
"I wasn't laughing at you, dolt, I was laughing at us," Bilbo pulled the braids down until Thorin's face was a breath away from his own. The hobbit grinned up at him, "You really should know better by now." This time he pushed forward, closing the gap even though it meant he had to stand on the balls of his feet.
It felt different this time, better. So very much better. Thorin lips started to move against his unlike before when they had just pressed. He felt a delightful warmth spread through his body as Thorin moved slowly but deepened the kiss when he realized Bilbo was no longer laughing or going to run out of the room screaming or whatever ridiculous notion the dwarf had running through his thick skull.
He felt happy. Bilbo Baggins wasn't sure he'd ever felt so happy in his life. Thorin was back. Thorin had smiled at him and spoken a coherent sentence that wasn't laced with so much grief Bilbo thought his heart might have shattered. Thorin was home and Bilbo was going to make him just as happy as he felt in that moment. He was going to – oh, the dwarf did something spectacular with his tongue that made his knees feel just a bit wobbly.
Then he remembered very suddenly that he had a gift for Thorin as well. It had been so long ago, but it belonged to the dwarf and if they died tomorrow he didn't want to never have given it back.
Bilbo pulled himself away, his eyes bright, "I've got to go get something!"
Thorin looked bewildered as he his gaze shifted between the empty spot in his arms where the hobbit used to be and where he was now, dashing towards the door.
"But we – what?"
"Back in a tick!" Bilbo called over his shoulder and waved a hand.
He ran over to his pack and rummaged around until he felt the paper that had been there since they had stayed in Beorn's house. "Aha!" he muttered, relieved that it was still there and hadn't been destroyed or crumpled. Ignoring Bofur and Bifur's questioning glances, Bilbo ran back into the room where Thorin was still standing and looking, if possible, more confused than he had before.
"This is for you," the hobbit held out the small paper envelope for his friend to take.
"What…" Thorin glanced at it, his brows slightly drawn, "what is it?"
Bilbo shrugged, Gandalf hadn't told him so he assumed it wasn't his business to know. "Gandalf gave it to me, I guess it belonged to your father, he told me to give it to you when I thought you were ready, but seeing as how things might, uh, go poorly in the near future, I think it's best you have it now."
Thorin eyes had shot up at the mention of his father. "Why would the wizard," he ground out the word with irritation, "have kept something of my father's from me?"
The hobbit frowned slightly, "I'm, uh… not sure? He told me not to let you put it on, whatever that means. It must be something dangerous." Bilbo peered down at the envelope, but aside from a bump, it didn't look very ominous to him.
"He kept something of my father from me and command that you not allow me to wear it?" Thorin's voice had grown angry. Bilbo knew he and Gandalf had never been on the best of terms, this… this probably just confirmed the ill thoughts Thorin had of the wizard.
"Why don't you, uh, just open it. See what it is, then we'll know what we're dealing with." Bilbo didn't want Thorin to be angry; he just wanted to… give him something, something that was his and his alone. The dwarf ripped open the top of the envelope and tipped it until a ring tumbled out followed by letter. Thorin shifted his hand so the letter slipped down to the desk and put the crumpled envelope on top of it, his eyes fixed only on the ring.
"This was…" the dwarf's voice had gone raspy and quiet again, his eyes wide, "this was my grandfather's ring. Thror's ring…"
Bilbo couldn't help but feel that a ring had been somewhat anti-climatic. He had been expecting… he didn't know what, but a ring? What was so dangerous about a ring? Maybe it was magic like the gold one in his pocket, but he thought Thorin probably would have noticed if his grandfather was invisible.
The ring was finely made to be sure. It looked much like everything in Thorin's room did: distinctly dwarvish. The band was polished silver, rigid patterns carved into the metal and atop it was the most beautiful gem Bilbo had ever seen. It was a shining azure, faceted in such a delicate manner, he thought he could've have been looking at a sliver of the sky. As Thorin shifted it in his fingers, the hobbit thought the stone looked almost alive even though no light shone up it.
The dwarf's eyes were fixed on the ring, as if in a trance. He started to make a motion like he was going to place it on his finger when Bilbo slapped his hand over the ring, forcing Thorin's fingers to close around it, hiding the gem from sight.
"Don't!" the hobbit hissed.
"Why should I not—" Thorin looked angry again.
"Because!" Bilbo glared back at the dwarf, "Whatever you think of Gandalf, he wouldn't have told me not to let you put it on for no reason!"
"The wizard knows nothing of my family—"
The hobbit pressed his hand tighter over the ring, "Please, Thorin, if you won't do it for him, do it for me."
The dwarf still glared at him but let out a weary sigh a moment later. "I apologize, Bilbo. I am tired and everything that old man does, it seems he does deliberately to aggravate me."
Bilbo watched until Thorin slipped the ring into a small pouch that hung from his belt. "I had nothing left to honor my grandfather, I thought everything he had on him had been lost in Moria but… you have given me a great gift."
The hobbit smiled up at Thorin, "I really didn't do anything, just delivering messages."
The dwarf's eyes were sad again as Bilbo saw something shift; saw a decision being made as the ghosts of the past whispered cold sorrow in Thorin's ear. The dwarf reached down hesitantly and took Bilbo's hand in his own. "I… care for you Bilbo," Thorin's words sounded foreign to him, like the dwarf's had never utter the like before, "but I cannot right now… not with…"
"I understand."
And he really did. Bilbo knew as long as Smaug held Erebor, as long as his home still belonged to another, Thorin could never let go of his final burden. The dwarf had spent countless years dreaming of home, holding tight to his burning need for revenge and the rage that drove him forward. No matter what Bilbo did, he knew Thorin could never be free of that shadow until Erebor was returned to him or they died trying.
"You do...?" The dwarf's voice sounded so heart wrenchingly hopeful and weary it almost made him want to weep. Thorin had been denied so much, had given up so much that he no longer trusted anything that was good to last.
"I do." Bilbo meant it when he said he'd be whatever Thorin needed. What Thorin needed now was a friend, a comrade that would fight beside him, walk beside him even when their path was dark with danger. Then, if somehow they made it out of this alive, well then perhaps Thorin would be ready to let go of that bitter rage, to finally put his ghosts to rest.
Thorin had to do this for his family. For Thror whose head had been torn from his body by the pale orc and Thrain who had been driven mad with grief. For Dís who had lost her great love and Frerin who had died in dragons fire searching for his beloved brother. For Fili and Kili who had never known their kingdom as more than a dream. For the dwarves that loved him and the dwarves he had fought for his entire life with all his being. There was no separation, there was no way to split Thorin from his need because Erebor was Thorin and Thorin was Erebor. Bilbo knew without his city, Thorin would never be whole and the dwarf would never truly be his.
But Bilbo was patient. He would wait until their quest was done. It… hurt, of course it did to step away from Thorin. But that was love, he supposed. It was a force so great and terrible that it hurt so badly when you were apart but the feeling of when they were together, there was nothing on this earth that could compare. So he would wait for the dwarf, wait until he could have Thorin, all of Thorin instead of shattered fragments. And he would help his friend heal and he would teach Thorin to trust, because that's what Bilbo Baggins was good at. He was good at being a friend.
The hobbit put his hands on Thorin's face and pulled him down so Bilbo could press their lips together one last time before all of this was done. He poured every ounce of emotion he felt into kiss so Thorin would never have to wonder if he'd ever been loved again. They moved together, Thorin's hand snaking back up to clench at his hair, pushing him forward with such focused intensity Bilbo felt his mind go pleasantly blank except for the pleased thrum that sang through his blood. All too soon, Thorin pulled away, panting slightly as he stared at Bilbo.
"You are a singularly remarkable hobbit, Bilbo Baggins," Thorin breathed out heavily as he rested his forehead against Bilbo's.
"And you best not forget that fact, Master Dwarf," the hobbit tugged at one of Thorin's braid.
The stayed connected for so long Bilbo wasn't sure if it was minutes or hours that had passed. Neither of them wanted to step away so they simply stood, silent except for soft gusts of breath.
"Master Boggins get out here!" he heard Kili shout from somewhere outside, the noise startling them apart. Bilbo clutched his rapidly beating heart and rolled his eyes the dwarf as if saying 'he's your nephew.'
"Master Boggins, right now would be good!"
Thorin and Bilbo exchanged nervous glances but made their way out of the room. What he saw surprised him, but that didn't stop the nasty glee spreading through him that it finally wasn't happening to him.
The vile sky rat he reluctantly called a thrush was swooping and diving over the young dwarf's head as he flailed his arms. Bilbo let out a dark chuckle, but the bird seemed to hear him and stopped mid-swoop to… stare at him? Did birds even stare?
Bilbo's eyes opened widely as he started to back away, "Oh no, no, no! Not this time you little vermin! Go bother someone else!" The thrush dived away from Kili and straight towards him. The hobbit raised his arms quickly to protect his face from those vicious pecks but felt nothing. Nothing except a slight tugging against his sleeve.
Bilbo slowly lowered his arms to see the thrush as pulling against the cloth as if it was trying to get him to pay attention. The tiny bird let go and started chirping wildly, darting in front of his face this way and that until the hobbit started to feel dizzy.
"Alright, alright! What is it?" Bilbo asked rather lamely. Why he was trying to speak to birds all of a sudden, he had no idea.
The thrush chirped so swiftly it almost sounded like it was talking… But that couldn't be right. When the bird stopped Bilbo simply looked at it blankly, not sure what he was supposed to be doing.
The thrush swooped forward and pecked at his head, it's noises irritated and angry. "Go away, you little devil! I can't understand you!"
The pecking stopped and the thrush suddenly flew away, back out the hallway as Bilbo gaped at it. "What – what was that about?" he shouted after the bird, shaking his fist in air.
The rest of the company started to rise at the noise, Glóin even jumping up and yelling something about the dragon having to go through him first.
Bilbo turned to Thorin, still feeling utterly perplexed and his head throbbing uncomfortably, "How did it even get in here?"
The dwarf shrugged at him, "If Smaug tore through the front gates again, perhaps they were left open…"
Just as suddenly as the thrush had departed, they heard it chirping as it hurtled back down the hallway. Except this time there was the sound of wings, much larger wings along with all the bird's chatter. Behind the speckled songbird, there flew a large, jet-black raven, though it looked to Bilbo as if it were very old somehow.
The thrush dived down and landed on his shoulder and began to hop up and down excitedly. The raven swooped down and landed atop Bilbo's head, causing him to stiffen automatically and he thought he'd had just about enough of these bloody birds. He was not a tree, he was not even a stoop, he was a hobbit, damn it all, and certainly not that comfortable!
"Thorin Oakenshield," the raven croaked.
And Thorin, Thorin had the nerve to smile at the creature like some long lost old friend. While it was sitting on his head!
"Roäc," Thorin bent into a small bow, "I thought the ravens had deserted this place."
"Many did," Bilbo could feel its talon claws shuffling now, "but I do not forget my allegiances."
The thrush started to chirp wildly again until the raven turned towards it and let out a shrill cry that silenced the smaller bird. Bilbo saw out of the corner of his eye that the little songbird had shrunk away and he almost, almost felt indignant on its behalf.
"I have news, Thorin Oakenshield, the thrush bade me tell you immediately."
"What news?" the dwarf asked, his voice had an air of command in it again.
"Smaug the Dragon flew to Lake Town and set the houses ablaze."
Bilbo felt his stomach twist tightly. That explained why the dragon had been gone so long but there were people in that town, good people. Bard was there and now he was…
"But the men of the lake rallied under one they call Bard the Bowman, kin of Lord Grion; King of Dale."
The hobbit clenched his eyes shut; he didn't want to trust the speck of hope within him, not when he was probably…
"The battle was all but lost when the thrush flew down to Bard the Bowman and told him what the hobbit Bilbo Baggins discovered, a single weak spot on the dragon's chest."
'Oh please, please, please let Bard be alive…'
"Drawing the Black Arrow, Bard the Bowman took aim and his shot was true."
"Just tell us what happened, already!" Bilbo practically shouted but he couldn't take much more of the raven's dramatics, feeling the large bird ruffle it's feathers with irritation.
"Smaug the Great and Terrible; Smaug of Durin's Bane and the Fire of the Western Skies has been slain by an arrow. The dragon is dead, my king."