Chapter : A king awakens
Thorin slowly gained conscious to immense pain. Pain that was almost all encompassing, drowning out his thoughts in fiery torture and making his body feel almost alien. His foot flared with agony even without any movement, heat lingering in his limp and spreading upwards in deadly trails of molten stone, that slowly seemed to invade his whole body. He groaned, feeling as if an inferno was laying waste to his body, one that had already passed any defences and left behind the burned desolation, still sweltering hot and deadly.
He didn't truly remember how he came to be in this state, but he did have an almost desperate ache in his chest, like he needed to do something and had a limited time for it. A shadow appearing over him made him flinch, weak fingers twitching in an attempt to search for a weapon or a shield to defend him, despite his state. He would not lie here and die without trying, not after all...!
"None of that now, lad." the voice was familiar, gruff and soothing, letting Thorin relax a little. He struggled to stay awake, trying to remember what he needed to do, icy planes flickering through his mind and blood, screams, battle cries and weapons clashing in a familiar chaotic mix of sounds that spelled death and destruction and a body count too high to call anything that came out of it a victory. He wasn't sure if they were recent memories, even if his injured self indicated to it being a likely possibility, or battles fought long past. In this moment they blended together, leaving him whacked with grief for his kin that had died fighting valiantly against their foes, or gone missing amongst the bodies, never to be heard of again. His eyelids grew heavy and fluttered shut without his consent, as if they had been filled with ingots of iron and his strength just wasn't enough to keep them open anymore. The last he felt was something soft and cool placed on his brow and a relieving wetness tickling past his chapped lips. Then the pain dragged him back under.
He awoke several more times, each as confusing as the next, but slowly the fire in his body dimmed to a dull glow, his clouded head finally clearing little by little, as if the smoke of the fire was finally being lifted by a refreshing wind.
The next time he woke to clarity, he almost desperately wished that what had happened had been fever induced hallucinations and he had not, ever, succumbed to the gold sickness himself. Taking a shuddering breath he tried – and failed – to sit up, falling back down on the bed he was lying on with a groan of pain that drew the attention of Óin to himself.
"Ach, lad. Yer should know better by now." Óin told him in a huff, bustling over to check that Thorin hadn't done himself more damage. As Thorin had done several times before, when he had been injured more than usual. The king pushed the pain to the back of his mind. This time it was manageable, as long as he held still. And finally he was healthy enough to speak his mind, even if his throat felt scratchy from disuse.
"Fíli?" his voice cracked but he forced himself to continue, for this was the most important to him "Kíli?"
Óin hummed in sympathy but smiled down at the king, unknowingly taking a huge weight off Thorin's chest with the gesture.
"Alive and getting in trouble. Well, Fíli is a good patient-" Thorin narrowed his eyes, his nephews, either of them really, never behaved themselves for long and Fíli being a good patient? Suspicious.
"He's just ov'r there!" Óin nodded over "He has a bad break, so we keep him sedated most of the time. At least until it has a chance to heal a little."
Thorin let out a sight of relief. A break could heal and with Óin being extra cautious, there would hopefully be next to no permanent damage or it would be as limited as the healer could possibly manage.
"Now Kíli is already up and about," Óin continued while he leaned over Thorin to check on his wounds and giving his patient a stink eye as he added "being the least injured of you three."
And Thorin's pulse instantly went up again. Kíli being up and about was well and truly good. But he would never leave his brother's side when Fíli was injured. Not without a very good reason.
"Ach. He's grown, Thorin. There has been an... incident." from the was Óin fidgeted, Thorin was not about to calm down. Rather the opposite in fact. He managed a small, impatient grunt, indicating that Óin should get on with the story and tell him what the hell his nephew was getting into now.
"Took charge right away, never thought I would see the day." Óin muttered, maybe forgetting that Thorin could still hear him, even if Thorin had no intention of disagreeing.
Raising an eyebrow only got him an eye roll though, and thankfully a glass of water held to his lips. He wanted to protest, but really, he didn't have an ounce of strength in his limps so it was probably for the better. Ignoring the embarrassment he gratefully sipped the cool liquid, feeling relieved as it soothed some of his raw throat. It wasn't the first time he had been injured to the point of needing help of the basic necessities.
"Wha- what incident?" he croaked out and winced as Óin grew still and silent, mustering him with a heavy frown as if he was carefully judging Thorin. Finally the healer delicately set the glass to the side, busying himself with some medicine.
Heart trumping heavily in his chest he watched and waited, until Óin finally sighed and let his shoulders slump.
"Wargs outside the camp." the healer looked at Thorin, seemingly measuring him "the beast was seen in B- the burglars camp-site. The hobbit has yet to be found."
Thorin blinked, a sudden rushing sound in his ears. After a few heartbeats he managed to form a faint and weak sounding "what?" as he felt like the ground had split open below him, leaving him falling into a bottomless abyss.
Bilbo?
Gone?
"What..." his voice sounded weak even to his ears "Why...? Why wasn't he in our camp?" Why hadn't he come to them, to safety?
"..." Óin looked grave as he measures Thorin with a look "'s still banished, lad."
Banished? Thorin blinked, trying to fit that word into the whole picture. It still felt like his thoughts were crawling at a snails pace and he had trouble putting pieces of information together, connecting them to what had happened. He felt as if a few parts of the battle had been replaced by holes. His heart twisted and he shook his pounding head a little, before stopping with a groan.
"He's... he's not, I rescinded it. I'm sure I did, I told him, back on... back on..." where had it been? "on Ravenhill...?" he had, hadn't he? Or had that, too, been a hallucination that his mind had come up with during his delirious, fevered state? To ease his guilty conscience?
Fear surged through him. Had Bilbo been there? It had seemed so real to him.
"Aye. Bilbo was with ye when the eagles picked ya up." Óin muttered and glowered into the far corner of the tent "but there are no witnesses to yer lifting the banishment and the dwarrows were hardly taking the word of a traitor while the king couldn't refute it."
Thorin felt indignant, for he knew that Bilbo wouldn't use a situation like that for underhanded motives. He knew that now, but he couldn't fault his kin for their suspicions either, knowing he would have done the same to a stranger.
But... now Bilbo was gone, probably dead because of that.
When Óin came over with a tea that Thorin was sure would put him under again, he shook his head. Stubbornly he insisted on pen and paper. If word was not enough, then he would write it out until he would have the strength to announce it to all present himself once more. If there was any chance that Bilbo was alive, he wanted him to be welcome once he found his way back...
Besides... he had to get better soon so he could mount his own rescue party, just in case Kíli needed back up.
Dís would kill him if something happened to her sons. She would probably already skin him for what had happened. If he was lucky.
Notes:
Thought it was about time to wake up sleepy-head here. Did you like Thorin's POV? Would you like more different views?
