Thorin leaves the inn early, so early that Butterbur isn't at his customary perch, and the barest hint of light is just beginning to turn the east sky a hazy blue. He leaves his payment on the counter (having to go tiptoe in order to reach it, something that puts him entirely out of countenance) with a hasty note of thanks.
He takes a deep breath of the fresh morning air, a feeling he's grown much too fond of. Swinging up onto his pony, too, is a much more natural feeling than it should.
"Come girl," he says quietly, clicking his tongue, "We've got a long ride before us."
They trot out of Bree, pausing only long enough for the sleepy watchman to open the gate.
Thorin finds the rhythm of the road and lets his mind drift.
There are many dark things for him to dwell on; there always are. He doesn't go a day with peace, has not for a century and a half. The burdened feeling does not lift with the knowledge of the quest; if anything, it exacerbates the heavy press at his shoulders.
His back is by necessity turned to the sunrise, but he sees that it has chased the night to the very far edge of his horizon, washing the sky with blue and soft tendrils of dusky pink just over his head. The path ahead is empty and enticing, unseen birds sing in the morning, and a memory unfolds like a map.
The feeling of sleeping on a bedroll gone flat over time, wakening to the disappearance of comforting warmth, a tilt of the head leading to an onrush of that well-beloved early morning scent. Watching Bilbo watching the sunrise, knees pulled close to Bilbo's chest and his hands clasped loosely in front, songbirds heralding, the sun stretching across the sky. Asking a question that startles himself and draws Bilbo back in.
"What are you thinking about?"
The smile Bilbo gave Thorin will always mean sunrise and crisp air and birdsong and peace.
"You know those moments, those places that are so perfect you can think of nothing else and all you have is all you can sense in this moment? And if you try to describe later, you can't say anything, because you literally thought of nothing but those sensations, and they're gone and there's no getting back?"
No, Thorin doesn't know that feeling, but he didn't want the worry in Bilbo's eye again, so he gently tugged Bilbo back under the furs and kissed him deep.
Today, this morning, the path is wide and gentle beneath his pony, and a golden day is beginning, and Thorin will see his husband this night. He uses Bilbo's smile and his songbirds to chase the rest away.
It is significantly later, the sun most decidedly in the west's favor, when Thorin sees a trio of dwarves ahead. They appear to have just finished a roadside meal, and Thorin looses a shout to prevent their departure. They wait patiently for him to arrive. He has not been cantering towards them for long before he realizes that it is Bofur, Bifur and Bombur waiting. Bofur swings himself into the saddle just as Thorin begins to pull abreast. The four swap pleasantries without dismounting, and nudge their ponies forward into a mutual pace.
Thorin has mixed feelings about arriving at Bag End in a group, but this clan is doing a good job of keeping his dreary thoughts away with their excessive chatter, and what does it really matter either way?
Thorin saves time by not losing his way twice, but dark has fallen as they turn onto Bag Shot Row. Gandalf looms out of the dusk suddenly, and all four dwarves draw their weapons before they realize who it is. The wizard chuckles, and exchanges not-quite-polite (on Thorin's part, least) pleasantries as the dwarves dismount.
They tie the ponies to a nearby tree; Bombur ties Thorin's for him because Thorin's hands have begun to shake wildly.
When they send him inquisitive looks, he brushes them aside with a "I have been clutching reins for a fortnight now," and moves to the gate into Bag End.
Gandalf has on that particular thinking look that almost invariably means trouble.
Thorin smiles shakily at the sight of the mark on Bilbo's door, and raises his trembling knuckles to knock. He wants to hide his weakness, but his knees are threatening to collapse. He elects to carefully lean his weight on the door. For some reason the dwarves take this as an invitation to crowd about him.
Thorin's strength is absolutely gone when he hears Bilbo (Thorin chokes on his heart in his throat) snap, "Confounded dwarves, have to show up one at a time, I have better things to do than open the door ten times-"
The dwarf doesn't think to remove his weight from the door, and the next thing he knows is Bombur's girth pressing Thorin into the smooth flagstones of Bag End.