A/N: Here's a little bit of story to advance the plot that doesn't really fit into the next chapter, so it's going up on it's own.
CHAPTER WARNING: none
Bilbo's hands flew to his throat; shoulders relaxing slightly when he realized his throat wasn't burning with pain. It was just a dream. A really bad, absolutely terrifying dream.
He sat on his bed struggling to slow his breathing down, aware of the little hands holding tight to the blanket on his lap. Despite the characteristic darkness of the middle of the night, Bilbo was able to make out Frodo sittings next to him in silence, eyes wide.
"I," he cleared his throat, "I'm fine." A shaky smile was the best he could manage, pulling his nephew into a one-armed hug. "Did I wake you?"
Frodo nodded into his uncle's chest. "You were yelling. A-at first I thought you were having a nightmare about momma and dad and I get those too sometimes s-so I just thought that maybe I could help you but," his brow creased and Bilbo felt as if a fist replaced his heart when Frodo looked up at him, "you didn't shout their names. Who's Thorin? Is he a monster? Did he hurt you?"
"No, he wasn't a monster," Bilbo said softly, pulling Frodo into a proper embrace.
"Who was he?"
"He- he was… a King. He helped the dwarves of Erebor reclaim their home from Smaug – a dragon! And I," he licked his lips, "I went with them and helped." And got him and his nephews killed… "But Frodo," Bilbo leaned back to look his nephew in the eye, "what's this you were saying about nightmares?"
Frodo looked down at his hands, nervously wringing the blanket.
"It's okay to have nightmares. We're all scared of something and sometimes what we're scared of isn't something we can get rid of; not all fears are dragons that we can easily slay. Sometimes these things are memories or feelings or simply something we made up. During the day we can ignore these things or distract ourselves, but at the end of the day we're still scared."
Bilbo pulled his sniffling nephew in for a hug, planting a kiss on the top of his head. "It's okay, Frodo."
Frodo was sobbing as he snaked his arms around his uncle's waist, clutching his nightshirt as he clung to his uncle. "W-will I ever stop being scared?"
"Oh Frodo, Frodo, my lad, of course you will," Bilbo stroked his hair. "The world is a very mysterious place full of adventure and danger. Even those who don't leave the Shire have their fair share of it; just think of all the times you and your friends have been chased by Farmer Maggot for stealing his mushrooms!"
The stranglehold on his nightshirt let up slightly and relief coursed through Bilbo.
"Frodo, these things take time to heal. I can't promise that you'll wake up tomorrow and stop being scared and I don't know when you'll have nightmares again. But, Frodo, I can promise one thing: Every day will be easier than the day before, even if you don't realize it. One day you'll wake up and realize that the nightmares aren't as bad or that it's been weeks since the last one. "
"So they'd go away forever?"
Bilbo sighed, realizing that he couldn't shield his nephew from the world after all he'd been through. "Maybe, only time can tell. But there are good things that will come and take the place of these fears, whether you seek them out or no."
Frodo snuggled into the hug and Bilbo smiled. "Now! I think we still have a chance to get some sleep before breakfast and if you want to sleep here tonight, you can."
As Frodo made no move to go back to his room after letting go, Bilbo rearranged the blankets so that the two of them were as tucked in as he could manage. I'll wash the bedding tomorrow, Bilbo thought as tried to remove the flour-dusted waistcoat from his sleeping nephew.
Sleep didn't come easy to Bilbo that night. When he wasn't thinking about the nightmare – about feeling Thorin's hands around his neck and that awful grin – he was thinking about his nephew's situation.
Eventually Bilbo fell into a fitful sleep, his nephew curled up into his side.