Y'all make me smile. Thank you for liking this piece! This bit is more of a meld of book and movie canon, which is going to happen a lot more often now. I'm excited for this! Enjoy!
When Dori went to wake Thorin, he found them curled up together, Thorin wrapped protectively around the Hobbit and both of them sound asleep. He knelt down beside them, one hand reaching out to lightly touch Thorin's shoulder. He'd need no more than that; Thorin was nothing if not a light sleeper. It came from being so wary for so long.
Thorin opened his eyes and gave a small nod before carefully and gently detaching himself from a very reluctant burglar. Bilbo shifted slightly, trying to hold on, before curling back up and falling deeper into sleep again. Thorin drew Dori a bit away so not to wake him.
"No trouble?" he asked softly.
"None." Dori's voice was hushed but there was something in it Thorin didn't like.
Thorin sighed. Dori mothered them all, and he could see this coming. "Speak, Dori." He could see the discomfort in the other Dwarf's eyes and wanted to find out what the problem was. That there was one, he didn't question.
"It isn't quite proper, is it?" Dori asked softly with a meaningful glance at the sleeping Halfling.
"Peace, Dori." Thorin's voice was brisk but kind. "It is, what it is. Propriety doesn't enter into this."
Dori nodded and left him to his watch, obviously still concerned but unwilling to risk Thorin's wrath if he pushed the issue. Thorin settled himself near the fire, thinking, but alert to any sound of danger.
He watched each of his people in turn. Every last one of them had been injured in some fashion, and it was his responsibility to make certain they had time to heal properly if at all possible. So that meant a day or two in this place in order for them to be able to travel.
With that decision made, he scanned the tree line carefully, but saw nothing of interest. All was quiet. Perhaps this would be a good idea. It was only practical, to be certain. Nori couldn't walk on that leg. He'd walked from the stream, but not under his own power. Bofur had half carried him while trying to seem like he was only offering a little support. And poor Ori. His nephews, as well, were badly hurt.
But it was Bilbo who finally decided the issue for him. The poor burglar was bruised from the neck down and it would undoubtedly make it difficult for him to move after resting. He'd be stiff and more than sore.
A week ago, he'd have been furious at having to delay the journey due to the Hobbit. Now? Now he was more than willing to do so. A week ago, Bilbo hadn't proven his worth to Thorin's satisfaction.
No, a few days spent here would be beneficial. Someone could hunt if possible, and they'd cook it over the fire they'd been able to make. Water was available at the stream, though they had nothing to transport it in. But they weren't far enough away from it to make getting a drink difficult.
Dawn was breaking, but he didn't rouse anyone. The rest would do them good.
Who of them was hurt least? He thought he could perhaps get a rabbit or two, if they wandered close, but it would take far more than that to feed them, especially for more than one meal. A deer, perhaps. Kíli would be the obvious choice, but he was out of the question. It took two arms to wield his bow and the one was laid open nearly to the bone. It needed stitching but they'd nothing to stitch with.
Dwalin could hunt. He was cut and bruised and looked positively awful, but he was at least used to it. The big Dwarf had endured far worse than this.
He had started to rise when the warrior rolled over and sat up. Thorin quickly sat back down, resting his own hurts. It was hard enough to move, as stiff and sore as he was, though he would let no one know how badly it did hurt. "Dwalin, good," he greeted the other. "When you've woken some, we need some meat. See what you can hunt."
Dwalin nodded and immediately rose, taking his axes and heading into the trees.
Bofur and Nori were still across the fire from where Thorin sat, curled up together. Thorin shook his head; he'd not thought the thief the sort to let anyone get that close to him. Bofur was mumbling quietly in his sleep, and then he sat up, rubbing his eyes and glancing over to Thorin. His movements were cautious and stiff. "I'll get some wood fer the fire," he mumbled as he rose.
(Later)
The next two days were spent in a similar fashion. They would all rise, find food, and then be completely bored unless someone could find an amusement. Sometimes it was Bilbo, singing outrageous Shirefolk drinking songs. Other times it was Bofur's flute, or Thorin's voice raised in song. But by the third day, all of them were ready to move on.
Even Nori, with his strained knee, was ready to go. It would hurt, but he was bored. They all were.
Gandalf had returned once more and had apparently found a place nearby they could go to rest and recover the rest of the way. There would be food, and beds, and medicines. They would be well cared for. The catch was that they could kill nothing inside a certain boundary; the Man they were going to see wouldn't have it. So there would be no meat.
The Dwarves grumbled loudly at this but subsided quickly. The thought of food they didn't have to catch was pretty appealing after the last few days, really. So they followed the wizard's direction and once they were inside Beorn's house, they were served honey cakes and mead and much merriment was found. They were safe, for the time being.
Medicines and bandages, needles and treated thread were provided and Oin went to work, assisted by the Hobbit. Kíli was first; his injury was by far the worst. The cut was long and deep, starting at his shoulder and running down almost to the elbow. It would heal, Oin knew, but it was going to take some time before it was ready to use again.
Each was stitched, salved, bandaged, and given a draught for pain. Last came Thorin, and he insisted on the privacy of the room he'd been given. He still had no wish for anyone save Oin and Bilbo to see just how badly he'd been mauled. Oin, because he had to treat the vicious wounds, and Bilbo because he already knew.
Some of the bite marks were swollen and angry red, and Oin fussed over them for a long while, even going so far as to poke at them with the point of his knife, trying to be certain they were properly drained and then packed them with herbs to fight infection.
By the time the healer was finished with him, Thorin was white, though no sound had left his lips. Bilbo ushered Oin out and went to Thorin, his kind eyes full of concern. "You need to drink this," he said quietly as he helped the Dwarf to hold the cup. Thorin was obviously in agony after Oin's ministrations and Bilbo was only too glad to help him.
Thorin knew what it was but it still disturbed him. "Poppy juice," he growled as he finished it. "It will make me sleep, Bilbo, but I would have you near, if you please." He was asking, not demanding, and Bilbo nodded quickly. He wouldn't mind being held again. It had made him feel safe, and cherished, and a few more things he didn't have the words for yet.
They had all been warned not to venture out of the house after dark, but Thorin didn't think that was going to be a problem at least not this night. Oin had a heavy hand with his poppy juice and most if not all the Dwarves would be dead to the world until morning from it. Including him. He felt himself slipping downward into sleep and reached out, bringing Bilbo close to him again. It gave him peace to hold his burglar, and he needed a little peace. Then he was asleep and thought no more until morning.