Bilbo faded in and out of darkness for the next couple days. His body was constantly wracked with coughs and shivers. A hand full of hobbits stopped by over that time. The dwarves spent a lot of time with Lobelia and Hamfast, who had taken it upon themselves to take care of Bilbo's guests. Balin had also guessed it was so that they could be near Bilbo. Some of Bilbo's relatives stopped by as well. A young hobbit named Drogo Baggins and his wife, Primila, were there the most often. Young Frodo, coming into his tweens, came with, but more often then not he was sent to play with Hamfast's son, Samwise. Drogo said his son didn't need to remember his "Uncle" like this. He needed to remember the adventurer that told fantastic stories about far off kingdoms. Thorin understood all too well.

Bilbo became lucid five days after his collapse, which was five days of torture for the others. Thorin was in the room, moping up Bilbo's fevered brow while Gandalf kept a seat by the window. The hobbit doctor had said there was not much he could do and the wizard had practically thrown him out before himself and Oin had taken over the care of the hobbit. Yes, there was not much they could do, but there was still plenty that could be tried. Bilbo had stirred weakly under Thorin's hand before one small, pale hand had come up and gripped Thorin's arm. Thorin had stilled his movements, waiting.

"T-thorin?" Bilbo had rasped out, his eyes opening weakly.

"Yes, I'm here. We all are," Thorin shifted his arm so he could hold Bilbo's hand.

"I'm…..I'm c-cold, Thorin," Bilbo forced out, gripping Thorin's hand weakly.

"It's the fever, Bilbo, just the fever," Thorin whispered, pressing the back of his free hand to Bilbo's forehead. He was burning up. Thorin could make himself believe that it was just the fever if he forced himself to.

"No…no, Thorin…..its…Thorin," Bilbo blinked, leaning into Thorin's touch.

"Peace, Bilbo, we are here with you," Gandalf spoke softly from his chair, leaning forward. Thorin almost wanted to ask why the wizard wasn't getting Oin, but the sad look in Gandalf's eyes spoke volumes.

"I…I don't want….to go," Bilbo forced his head around so he could look at Gandalf. "There's….there's so much…..left…."

"And yet, this isn't in the end of your tale, is it?" Gandalf forced a smile. "This is only the beginning."

"I….I am….afraid," Bilbo whispered, tears glistening in his eyes.

"We are here, Bilbo. I am here. Whatever you want or need, just ask it," Thorin had to force out, blinking back his own.

"Hold me, Thorin…just hold me," Bilbo whispered. Thorin quickly toed off his boots and crawled into the bed, slipping under the covers and carefully pulling Bilbo close. Bilbo pressed his face weakly under Thorin's chin, "I will see you all again, won't I?"

"Before you want to, Bilbo," Gandalf said softly, looking so very old. Thorin met his eyes and both knew. They knew and it hurt. Thorin held Bilbo tighter, burying his face in Bilbo's curls, blinking back tears.

"You'll make sure they get back to Erebor safely, won't you?" Bilbo gripped one of Thorin's hands.

"Of course. I will stay as long as they need me," Gandalf nodded. "Longer, even."

"You promise me, Thorin," Bilbo gave a small sob. "Promise me you'll be a great king."

"The greatest," Thorin forced out.

"You make sure those boys eat their vegetables and don't push themselves too….too hard," Bilbo's small voice was barely coming out, but it echoed too loudly for Thorin.

"I will. I promise," Thorin let the tears fall then, unable to hold them in.

"Promise me one last thing?" Bilbo was having trouble breathing now.

"Anything."

"Don't forget me. Move on…..start a family…do whatever you can with your life, but….but don't forget me," Bilbo was crying now. Oh gods, Bilbo was crying, not because he was dying but because he was afraid Thorin would forget him. Thorin would never forget him. Bilbo wasn't just anyone, he was the other half of the dwarf, he was Thorin's very heart.

"I will never forget you, Bilbo Baggins. I don't think anything could ever stop me from thinking of you," Thorin pressed a kiss into Bilbo's curls.

"I….I love…you," Bilbo whispered and Thorin felt something inside of him break. It was as though something had been ripped from his chest. And it had, hadn't it? His heart had been forcibly removed.

"I love you, Bilbo. I have always loved you and I always will," Thorin's voice cracked, but he didn't care. Who knew how much longer he had?

"Thorin," Gandalf said softly and Thorin looked up. Gandalf was crying, tears streaming down his face now. Why would…oh. Thorin gently sat up, looking down at Bilbo. His skin was starting to turn cold now, his eyes closed. He looked peaceful, like he was just sleeping. Thorin thought about maybe trying to make himself think that, but that small chest lying so still was too noticeable.

"He didn't hear me, did he?" Thorin brushed some hair from Bilbo's face.

"I'm sorry, Thorin. I am so sorry," Gandalf said softly. Thorin's face crumbled, unable to hold back the howl of pain. Thorin had finally been able to say those three simple words, but Bilbo would never know…..would never know how much he meant to the dwarf. Outside, the rain fell. It didn't just fall in the Shire, though, it fell all across Arda. In Rivendell, in Gondor, in Rohan, in the far North, in Dale. Onto the sides of the Lonely Mountain, dripping down and feeding into the ground. Soaking into the ground and snaking through the stone till one single drop slipped through a crack and onto the Arkenstone in its resting spot over the throne of the King of the Mountain. It slipped down over the many faces of the stone, as though the very heart of the mountain herself was crying for the loss that her king had suffered. And then...it began to glow.