Dwalin carried Bilbo away from the feast. Bilbo was shivering against him, though Dwalin had him wrapped in two cloaks.

"Sorry," he mumbled.

Bilbo's voice sounded clogged and a little nasally. He hadn't sounded like this since the beginning of their adventure when he was beset with allergy induced colds.

Dwalin opened the door to their room and set him down on the bed.

"Try to get some rest, ghivasha."*

Bilbo sniffed again and turned on his side, breathing through his mouth.

Dwalin waited for Bilbo to fall asleep before leaving. He closed the door behind him and returned to the feast.

Thorin met him at the end of the hall.

"How is he?"

"He's sleeping."

"I'll send Oin up later with medicine for him."

"Thanks."

They returned to the feast. Everyone interested in Bilbo's wellbeing asked after him. Dwalin assured them he'd be fine. It was just a cold.

Bilbo fared no better the next day. Or the day after when the cold became a nasty fever. Oin insisted on Bilbo drinking chamomile tea and chicken broth which Dori brewed for him. Dwalin would give him the herbal tea and soup when he woke. Bilbo would often go back to sleep after.

Heavy, labored coughing often escaped his throat. Sneezing left him complaining of his poor, pounding head.

The fourth day, though his throat and nose still revealed how much he had left to recover, the worst was over. "Cab I had sub borridge?" he asked Dwalin that morning. "I beel boats bedder ab I'b humbry."

Dwalin kissed his forehead.

"Of course. Be back soon."

He left, heading to the kitchen to fulfill Bilbo's request.

"How's he doing?" Balin asked, munching on bacon.

Dwalin grinned. "He wants to eat."

"Wonderful! The people have been mighty curious about our Hobbit. I'm sure they'll be glad to hear Bilbo's doing better."

Dwalin nodded, setting the hot bowl on a tray with a cup of tea.

"You know, I never thought to ask. What will you and Bilbo do when the quest is over and the ceremony is made official?"

"I'll leave that to him," Dwalin decided. "If he wants to stay here, then we'll stay. If not, we may return to the Shire instead."

Balin hummed. "I had thought that might be the case. I had hoped you may join me in the attempt to reclaim Moria, but I understand you wouldn't want to do that."

Dwalin turned to him. "We haven't gotten Erebor back yet and already you're thinking of another campaign there?"

"Why does that surprise you?"

"Balin, it is folly. Khazad-Dum is lost. Let it stay lost."

Balin frowned. "You're married. You are content with your life, Dwalin. I am glad that you can feel that. I cannot. It will not be immediate, but I would like to look back and say that though Azanulbizar was a disaster, the second attempt gave us the victory we hoped for."

"We almost died there. Thousands of our kin died there. I do not want to hear my brother has died in another fool attempt to reclaim Moria. It is too close to Gundebad and Gram. I am asking you as a brother. Not as a soldier. Give it up."

Dwalin left, carrying the tray to his room. Bilbo opened the door for him, dressed in trousers and a shirt. Though he looked better, his nose was still very red. "You're supposed to be resting."

"I fink free bays ov dad iz ebnuff," he said.

Dwalin set the tray on the table.

Bilbo jumped on to the seat ands shifted to make himself comfortable.

"Fanks for bvrekfist."

"You're welcome." Dwalin replied, fixing his knuckle dusters on his hands and fastening his cloak. "I suppose asking you to rest more is out of the question."

"Id iz."

"Then don't stress yourself, Bilbo."

"I cab do dad."

"Good. I'm going to town with Thorin and the boys. Would you like something?"

"Orbges wood be bise."

"Oranges. Got it." Dwalin kissed the top of his head. "I'll be back soon."

"Dake care."

Dwalin closed the door, heading back downstairs. Thorin snapped at Fili and Kili, telling them to settle down. He glanced at Dwalin. "I thought you'd stay behind with Bilbo, since he's doing better."

"He'd probably kill me if I coddled him too much. Besides," Dwalin grinned. "I've been told to buy oranges."

"Ooh," Kili said, "I know a good fruit stand by the river: best apples I've tasted!"

"I said oranges."

"If their apples are good, then so will their oranges."

Dwalin rolled his eyes at Kili's logic, but it wouldn't hurt to take a look.

Inside the inn was fairly lit and their rooms were fairly cool. Outside, the late summer sun-kissed pale skin tan. The streets were hot with bodies and loud with voices. Dwalin let Kili show him the stand. After sampling an orange himself, Dwalin bought five more for Bilbo.

"Uncle has been different for a while," Kili said.

Dwalin glanced at the youth, wondering what had possessed Kili to bring that up.

"I thought you might know why. Fili says it's just the stress of the journey but I'm not so sure. Uncle looks fine when he's around us, but I've caught him alone before. He looks sad, Dwalin. I thought I'd ask you on what to do. I'm worried." Kili blinked at him innocently.

Dwalin doubted Kili knew anything. He wasn't a child anymore, but he was old enough to still be a little naïve and forgiven for it. It helped that Kili had a tendency to have his head in the clouds. "I'm afraid there isn't anything that can be done except leave him alone. You're uncle's going through a rough patch which only time can ease, Lad."

Kili bowed his head and pouted.

Time, and Bilbo and I leaving after this journey is over, Dwalin thought. He wondered if he could live in the Shire. Or would Bilbo object to going further to Ered Luin?

"I hope you're right, Dwalin," Kili said. Fili waved him over and he parted ways with Dwalin to join his brother and Ori.

Dwalin returned to the inn. Bilbo seemed not to have moved from the desk, though the tray Dwalin had brought up was gone. "I'm back," Dwalin set the oranges down.

Bilbo glanced at them. He turned to Dwalin. "Danks," he said, and then returned his attention to what he was doing.

Dwalin peered over his shoulder at the journal. "What is this?"

"I'b dinking ov documending our churny. So I ab. Dough I don't dink I can gif id duh sabe chustish Ori cab, id'll be good ebnuff for hobbitsh. Ab b'fur you say I shood be reshting, I ab—" Bilbo covered his mouth to block his still very awful cough. Dwalin poured him a glass of water. "Danks…" Bilbo sipped the water, his voice sounding croakier than before.

"Go back to bed."

"I hab slept ebnuff. I'll be fine, Dwalin."

Dwalin sighed. He picked Bilbo up, despite his protests and set him on the bed. "Please don't make this any more difficult. I don't know how long we'll be here and I'd rather you be fully recovered when we make for the mountain."

Bilbo glared at him, but obeyed, lying down on his side.

Dwalin kissed his forehead, lying beside him. Bilbo tried to push him away. "I don'd wand you cashing by colb," he said in his defense when Dwalin pulled him back. He coughed again, though not as violently.

Dwalin rubbed his back. "I haven't caught a cold since I was a lad, Bilbo. I'm rather confident in my immunity."

Bilbo mumbled incoherently, falling back sleep with face buried in Dwalin's chest. His breathing did not seem so labored now, despite still being rather nasally.

Ghivasha=treasure