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Oin had a look over all of them, smearing something vaguely plant smelling over each cut and bite mark. Thorin huffed slightly when the healer got to him, but he knew better than to refuse. The chance for infection was too great. And Orcs had been known to use poison on their weapons, which was another concern. They had nothing with which to treat something like that.
"Just a bit of mashed up leaves, ain't it?" Bofur remarked idly from where he sat next to Nori. "Oin, what is this stuff? It smells disgusting."
"Then don't smell it." Oin was grumpy. So many injuries that he couldn't really treat. He could use the leaves he'd found to stave off infection, but he couldn't really promote healing, and some of those wounds were horrific. Thorin's, especially. Warg bites were bloody serious. He didn't even have a pot to make tea in. There was plenty of willow bark nearby, and if nothing else, they could chew bits of it to get relief from pain, and that was something. He passed out small pieces of the stuff. "If this isn't enough, tell me," he said gruffly. He was well aware that some of them were bad off. Ori didn't seem as if he'd move at all if he didn't have to.
"We all need rest," Thorin announced quietly. "We can move on in the morning. Bofur, take the first watch, then wake Dori. Dori will wake me." There was no room for argument; Thorin had made his own assessment of who was least damaged by their fight and set the watch accordingly.
There was of course a rumble of dissent from Dwalin, insisting he could take his turn at watch, but Thorin silenced him with a glare and he subsided with poor grace. Ori put a hand on his arm and Dwalin helped him up, going to a bare spot a little ways away where he let the boy lie down and sat down next to him. Fíli and Kíli had already fallen asleep where they were propped up against their respective trees, looking uncomfortable and pain-filled. Fíli had a deep gash across his chest and Kíli had taken a blow that laid open his entire arm; but they still breathed, and for that, Thorin was thankful. Each of the others again came under his scrutiny and he cataloged each individual wound and scrape, laying them firmly at his own doorstep. Loyalty, honor, and a willing heart, he had said, and he had meant it. He would take this group over any army from the Iron Hills. These few would willingly die in his cause, and it humbled him a bit because he knew that was what he was asking. They had nearly died many times over already, and they had yet to face the dragon.
Bilbo came up and sat beside him, silent, and he felt rather than saw the rest begin to settle down. Bofur and Nori remained awake on the other side of the fire they'd finally gotten going, Bofur on watch and Nori sitting painfully next to him, one leg held out stiffly before him. It wasn't broken, Oin had decided, but it had been badly wrenched during his near fall from the tree and it was going to take a few days before it was comfortable to move it.
"You should rest, too," the Hobbit said quietly without looking at Thorin. "You're hurt just as badly as they are, a lot worse, really. You need to sleep if you're going to stand watch in a few hours."
Thorin nodded but didn't move from his seat. "I wouldn't be able to sleep," he said softly. "Look around you, Bilbo." Again he had called the Hobbit by name and the thought gave him pause. He had been calling the little one anything but in an attempt to keep himself apart, aloof, and it was no longer working. "These few are all who answered my call to march on the mountain. You have heard this, but I think you need to hear it again. These Dwarves are the only ones willing to follow me to reclaim our home. It is a hopeless, mad cause with so few – but still they follow. They follow because they have faith in me – and I feel that faith is sorely misplaced, now. We cannot succeed, just we bare few. And yet, I cannot turn aside. I cannot forgo vengeance on the dragon, I cannot turn away from trying to reclaim our home. I made a vow to these Dwarves, to my kin, that I would see our home restored. And I cannot expect them to honor their promises to me if I do not honor mine to them." He sighed heavily. "And so it goes. We will continue this mad quest until the last of us lies dead upon the field. And if by some chance we succeed, I will have kept my vow to them – and to you."
If there was one thing Bilbo was beginning to understand about Thorin Oakenshield, it was his sense of honor and duty. "Listen to me," he began slowly. "These Dwarves – they have faith in you, you said it yourself. I don't think they're wrong." He saw Thorin's face cloud up and tried to head him off. "They're not stupid, Thorin! They know by now what's waiting for them at the end of this. ~I~ know what's waiting. And I'm the one facing the dragon first, if you'd forgotten." One small hand moved up to touch Thorin's face. "They believe in you because they should. You've kept them – US – you've kept us alive this far and that's not been easy. I think if ANYONE can make this quest succeed, it's you."
"I think you give me far too much credit, little one," Thorin murmured. "It was not I who saved us from the trolls, nor truly from the goblins." But he couldn't turn away from that gentle, soft touch. One hand strayed upward to hold Bilbo's in place.
"No, I don't. And if you'd just listen, you'd know it." Bilbo was just being sassy, now. "Gandalf isn't the one they were calling for on that tree. Gandalf isn't the one they were following through those tunnels and across those catwalks. Yes, I know all about it even though I wasn't there. I was in a different part of the place, and I won't talk about that right now." He didn't know if he ever would. "It's part of how I got away, I will say that. But that's not the point. YOU are the one they fussed over. YOU are the one they followed. If Gandalf had showed up and you weren't there, or if you'd been wounded to where you couldn't be moved... they would have died with you. Because – because they trust you. They trust you to keep them safe and alive. They love you."
"And you, Bilbo? Why do you follow?" He had to know. "I have treated you badly since first I walked in your door, and still you joined us. Still you stay. I know that you almost left in the cave, and I know why. And yet... you came back. Even after hearing my harsh words on that mountainside, you came back. You stated your intent to help us in this madness. Why?"
"I said it before, you bloody great idiot," Bilbo was just short of stamping his foot, but suddenly he softened. "I can think of nothing worse than losing my home, of losing everything dear to me save my family, and believe me they're not very much to be proud of. I cannot begin to understand how you felt when the dragon came, nor how it's been to live on the road, never belonging anywhere, depending on others for food and shelter. But I know it's been horrible, and it's why you are so driven to reclaim your home. And I will help you if I can, because I don't want you to have to live that way any more. It's a horrible, horrible existence and not one I want for you."
Thorin was shocked. That the Hobbit felt so keenly THEIR loss he had never expected. And there was no doubt that he meant what he said. He took Bilbo's hand from his face, but only long enough to lace their fingers together. He was unable to speak for several long moments. "But still we wander," he said finally. "This journey is one more long ramble in a series of them."
"But there's a clear destination at the end of this one, and that makes a difference," Bilbo argued. Why wouldn't this stubborn Dwarf see what he was trying to say? "You're going home. Doesn't it feel different, knowing that?"
It did. Understanding finally broke over him and Thorin sighed. "It seems you know us quite well," he said softly.
"Not as well as I should, having been with you this long," Bilbo replied with a small smile. He ducked his eyes then, aware that his words could be construed in a very different way than what he intended... and not really minding.
"Perhaps we might change that," Thorin said softly as he leaned in. He kissed Bilbo again, soft and tender, and the Hobbit responded to him, twining both arms around him and holding him tightly. With a groan, Thorin deepened his kiss, letting his hands run over the burglar, wanting nothing more than to lay him down and make love to him right there, but he knew better. He drew back slightly, watching Bilbo's face, searching.
Bilbo was smiling as he rested his forehead against Thorin's, a trait he had picked up on from the others. He rather thought it might show affection, since they all did it within their little groups. Which, of course, reminded him that they weren't alone. He groaned and sat back.
"Unless you're willing to finish this, best we don't get started," he said quietly, his voice a bit ragged. "I believe you said something about a bed." That it might not happen for a long time, if ever, Bilbo knew, but he wouldn't push Thorin. "And you still need to rest before your watch."
"Indeed I did." Thorin's voice was soft but rough. "Fine. I will rest, but I doubt I sleep."
He withdrew a ways away, lying himself down beneath a tree, and Bilbo followed. "We might not be able to do what we want, but I can at least stay with you while you rest," he said simply. "Unless, unless you don't want me to." Sudden doubt flared in his mind. Would being too close cause Thorin some distress? He certainly didn't want that.
For answer, Thorin pulled him down and held him close, spooned up behind the startled but pleased Hobbit. "That would be fine," he murmured in Bilbo's ear.