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Once they were finally back on solid, hard packed earth, they set about finding some sort of shelter for the night as it had gotten a bit late in the day. Plus, they would need to camp for a time before choosing their path; all of them were injured in some fashion and would need tending.

They had no supplies, no medicines, nothing to take the edge off pain when necessary. Oin was loudly lamenting the loss of same, though he was also bustling about in the underbrush picking leaves and scrounging up roots.

There was a small stream close by, and as one they settled near it, wishing to wash the goblins' filth from them. Each began to shrug out of their clothes, washing them carefully and then laying them aside to wade into the water themselves.

That each was naked didn't matter much, although Bilbo was bright red, trying to keep his eyes averted, and keeping to himself. Hobbits were much more body conscious than Dwarves, it seemed, and he was uncomfortable – but determined not to show any more of what they might consider weakness.

Bofur moved aimlessly downstream a bit, not really considering a destination, just wanting a bit of privacy. He ducked under the water for a moment, coming up quickly, letting the moisture bead on his skin and run downward as he scrubbed at the filth that hadn't just sluiced off him.

"You're hurt," Nori's voice said from behind him as warm, strong hands came to rest lightly on his shoulders. "Let me see."

Bofur held very, very still as those skillful fingers traced a line across his back. He wanted to turn and touch, return the slight caress, but Nori set the rules between them and he didn't want to unknowingly give offense again. He didn't want to be hurt again.

Nori gently washed out the shallow slice, his hands trembling slightly. Dead, they could all be dead, he'd thought they WOULD be dead. It was why he'd taken Bofur's hand, why he'd stayed so close. It could have been the end and he didn't want to die alone. He wanted to be with his miner when it happened.

The thought had startled him, shaken him badly. He hadn't wanted to feel anything, had wanted to stay free, able to disappear if he wanted when the quest was over. It wasn't happening that way. He wanted to be near Bofur, to care for him, to stay with him. And as a thief, that was a bad thought to have. He needed no attachments – but his heart wasn't listening.

He sighed heavily as he turned Bofur to face him, letting their foreheads rest together. "You scare me, Bofur," he said simply. "You scare me to death. You make me feel all these things I never wanted to feel, and you ask nothing in return save that I let you love me. You don't try to make me change, you don't try to – to – I don't know how to even talk about this. I've never had to. All you've EVER asked of me was to let you love me." He sighed again as he moved back, his hands on Bofur's waist even as the miner's came up to touch his cheek. "I don't know what I feel. But when I thought we were going to die... I didn't want to die alone. I wanted to be with you when it happened. I wanted my last breath to be with yours."

Bofur's hands were both on Nori's face now, thumbs smoothing over his cheeks, caressing just above his beard and Nori closed his eyes against the sensation. "I was scared, too," Bofur murmured. "I thought we were as good as dead. But when yer brothers fell... I thought ye'd go with them. Ye almost did. Ye were screaming and I almost couldn't grab ye fast enough. Please." His voice was broken, for all it was soft. "Please don't scare me like that again. I can't – I can't lose ye. And if I die, I want it to be with ye, too." Unvoiced was the thought of the dragon at the end of their road, and indeed the long road ahead of them. "An it's okay if ye don't know what ye feel. It's enough that yer not pushin me away any more. It's enough that ye know I love ye an that'll never change. Yer m'One, Nori. Unless ye git really, REALLY stupid, I ain't goin anywhere without ye."

He was the one love Bofur would have in his whole life. That scared Nori more than anything else. And he was becoming pretty sure that Bofur was his. He just didn't know what to do about it, if anything. He was afraid of what he was feeling. "I'll try not to be stupid, then," Nori said softly as he leaned forward to kiss Bofur gently. "But remember something else, please. I told you once you were mine, and I meant it. If I happen to love you, too, that's just a plus." Had he really just said that? But it was true.

He stepped back slightly, turning to move painfully through the water toward the bank. "Let's get your back fixed up," he said easily. But he didn't let go of Bofur's hand, even when they were on the dry and headed back to the rough campsite. He didn't care who saw it. And that, he thought, scared him most of all.

(Dwalin/Ori)

Dwalin had finished washing himself clean when he noticed Ori struggling a bit. His lad was moving a bit stiffly and seemed to be in a little distress so he moved over to the bank next to him. "Here, in the water, m'lad," he said quietly as he helped Ori off the bank and into the cool stream. "Lemme see." He ran his hands over the boy, keeping himself under firm control, until he found nothing more than some vicious bruising around his left side. He sluiced the cool water over the bruise, listening as Ori sighed a bit as the pain eased slightly.

Ori leaned slightly into Dwalin as the pain eased, just a bit. He was having trouble drawing a deep breath; but he didn't think it was serious. It was just a bruise.

Dwalin held him. "Ye did good, Ori, don't let anyone tell ye otherwise," he said softly. "Yer still alive. We all are. An ye used that hammer right well, too." He kissed Ori's hair without thinking. They were courting, he could do that; and so far, Ori hadn't objected to anything he'd done or said. If anything, he'd been a more than willing participant, though it had only been a few discreet kisses. "Just rest here, Ori. Rest."

Ori leaned forward, then turned painfully to regard Dwalin. "Only if you let me bind up your hurts," he said quietly. "You've a few cuts you won't be able to reach. Oh, wait, we have nothing to bandage them with, do we? Well I can at least make sure they're clean."

Dwalin nodded slowly and moved back, letting Ori's hands move over him and struggling to maintain his composure. Ori was in no condition for a tryst, as much as he'd enjoy it. And his lad's hands were gentle, barely touching, though some of those cuts hurt like blazes when touched. But Ori was gentle, and soon enough they were clean. Dwalin turned and put both hands on Ori's waist. "You need to sit," he rumbled as he lifted Ori onto the bank. "Just sit, Ori. Rest."

His hands ran over his scribe again, gentle and firm. There was nothing sexual about it; but it was relaxing just the same. Ori felt a bit boneless by the time Dwalin stopped. "I'm not at all certain I can get up," he said softly. "It does hurt a bit."

"Aye, I'm sure it does." Dwalin climbed out of the water then and gave Ori some much needed support to rise. "Let's get ye to camp. Maybe Oín's found something fer pain in those roots an berries he's been grabbing."

(Thorin/Bilbo)

Thorin had moved away from the others as well. It wasn't seemly for them to see their King at less than his best; and he was definitely worse for wear.

He had noticed the Hobbit moving away also, and wanted to check on the little one. He had taken a crushing blow from the warg and he wanted to be certain his burglar was all right. His own hurts were bad enough, but the thought of the Halfling suffering hurt him more.

The water was only waist high on him, which put it about chest level with Bilbo, and for a moment Thorin worried that the current would sweep him off his feet. Then common sense asserted itself and he almost smiled at his whimsy before schooling his expression into something appropriate. It was overshadowed by concern when he saw the bruises on the Hobbit's back.

The poor creature was bruised from his neck down as far as Thorin could see, and liberally decorated with scrapes as well. "You'll need those cleaned properly," he said quietly, and was rewarded with a squeak of surprise from the burglar. "Peace, Bilbo," he murmured as he moved closer to touch the scrapes and sluice water over them. "I only wish to help."

"That's, um, that's thoughtful of you, Thorin, but I can manage," Bilbo replied a bit breathlessly. He was well aware that the Dwarf was as naked as he was, under the water. And those big hands, they were quite gentle, and quite thorough. Each scrape was bathed carefully, easing the gravel and dirt from them without causing a lot of pain. "I should say thank you, I think," Bilbo finally said as he turned and moved away a little bit again. Then he got a good look at Thorin's torso and groaned slightly. "No, what I should do is return the favor. You look awful. It has to hurt."

Beneath the dark hair matting his chest, Thorin was badly hurt. Nothing life threatening, but bruises blossomed along his ribcage and there were punctures where the warg had bitten through his brigandine. The place on his chest where Azog's mace had landed was purple and fresh blood was showing through where the water had loosened the scabs. Bilbo was horrified. How was he even on his feet?

"Just a bit." Thorin's voice was dry. But what was it about Bilbo that made him speak when he should have remained silent? His people shouldn't be worrying about him. He should be worrying about them instead.

"Well, then, come here." Bilbo moved closer and ran his hands over the worst of them, cleaning them as gently as he could, knowing he was causing a bit of pain but unable to avoid it. Who knew what that warg had been chewing on before it got hold of Thorin. "That looks better. But you should let Oin wrap them up when we find something to use for bandages." He shook his head and started to move back again.

Thorin caught at his hand, holding it firmly. "Why do you run from me?" he asked softly. "I wouldn't hurt you."

"No, I'm sure you wouldn't," Bilbo replied with a strange look. "But we're – we're naked, and you're hurt, and... and... oh, bother." But he stopped trying to back up, even if he didn't look directly at Thorin. "We should get back. The others -"

"Can manage quite well on their own for a time," Thorin said firmly. "I need to apologize for my treatment of you."

"And do Dwarves usually apologize while naked in the middle of a river?" Bilbo blushed after he'd said it. Why was he so obsessed with the idea of them being naked?

Thorin gave a sigh of exasperation. "Not usually, no. But we DO apologize when we've been horribly, horribly wrong, wherever we might be at the time. And this is the first time we've been alone long enough since the Carrock." He moved closer, letting go of the Hobbit's hand to touch his cheek gently. "I have treated you unforgivably since first you joined us, and I would make that right if I can."

"Well, if it was unforgivable, then how can I forgive you?" the Halfling replied pertly and then blushed more. "But of course you're forgiven. Because I'm not any of those things, like I said before. I'm just a Hobbit." A Hobbit with a problem, now. Being so close to the Dwarf was having an unfortunate effect on him. He'd thought Thorin attractive since the start, but his abuse had kept Bilbo safe from acting on it. With Thorin being so agreeable, it was getting harder and harder to remain apart. And that hand on his cheek... he was in trouble.

"I cannot think of you as 'just' anything, Bilbo Baggins," Thorin said softly as he continued to rub his thumb across the Hobbit's smooth, soft cheek. "Gandalf is right. There is much more to you than what we've seen." His other hand came up as well, giving Bilbo's other cheek the same treatment, and he saw the burglar's eyes close in something very close to bliss. If such a simple touch could cause that reaction, what more would he see from a kiss? And he very much thought he'd like to kiss Bilbo.

Bilbo was lost. He knew he shouldn't; Thorin was a King and Bilbo was just a Hobbit. But he didn't seem to care. But those fingers against his cheek, the thumbs rubbing circles there, made him lean in closer to Thorin, his hands finding their way to that chest, which rumbled in pleasure as he stroked the hair there lightly. His eyes remained closed, enjoying the sensations caused by rough callouses against his sensitive skin, and then there was a subtle pressure against his lips. He gasped in surprise as his eyes flew open and Thorin's tongue swept into his mouth, teasing his own, and he groaned at the sensation.

Thorin set him back reluctantly as he ended the kiss. "As much as I want to continue this, master burglar, I don't think this is the time or place." He drew his hands along Bilbo's back and was rewarded with a hiss of discomfort, as well as keenly feeling his own hurts. If he, a trained warrior, was stiff and sore, how much more so was Bilbo?

Bilbo drew back, searching his face, and then nodded slowly. He turned to leave, trying to hide the hurt in his face.

Thorin turned him back. "I'm not turning you away," he said softly. "I couldn't. But you're hurt, as am I. It would be – unpleasant – at the moment, I think, and I don't want that for you. You deserve soft sheets, a warm bed, and the time to thoroughly enjoy the act. You deserve better than a quick tumble in the woods."

"Of course you aren't," Bilbo murmured back, but he wouldn't meet Thorin's eyes. "But we should let Oin look you over. Those bites look awful." And this time, when he turned to leave, Thorin didn't stop him.