Bilbo looked over his shoulder anxiously at Thorin. He had sat the dwarf on a bench against the wall while he busied himself lighting a fire under the copper water tank in the corner. Thanks to his parents, and his own small fortune, Bilbo had luxuries that others didn't and one of these was a hot-water tank. He had never been forced to heat water on the hearth and move it to the tub one container at a time (though he wasn't entirely sure that his way was any faster) all he had to do was light a fire under the tank and wait for the water to heat. Usually this was a luxury that he loved, but tonight he almost would have welcomed the extra work since it would have given him an excuse not to look at Thorin.
His lover seemed broken. So sad and almost lost. Bilbo had never seen him that way and it broke his heart. Thorin had seated himself sideways on the bench and was leaning against the wall, his head resting there as well as though he lacked the energy to hold it up. His hands rested limply on his lap where Bilbo had placed them. But it was his eyes that hurt Bilbo the most. His blue eyes, usually so expressive, were dead as he stared at the floor. If it wasn't for the fact that his eyes were open, Bilbo would almost have thought that he was sleeping. As it was, only the steady rise and fall of his chest showed that he wasn't, in fact, dead. And Bilbo couldn't stand it. But with the water heating and all the other bath supplies gathered in the room already, Bilbo could delay no longer and walked over to the disconsolate dwarf.
"Thorin?" Bilbo asked quietly. The dwarf didn't even react to his own name. "Hey," Bilbo tried again, his voice still quiet. When he still received no reply, he reached out and attempted to gently stroke the side of his lover's face with the back of his index finger. Thorin made a small noise of protest and turned his face further away from Bilbo, his eyes closed tightly. With a sad sigh, Bilbo stepped forward and cradled the dwarf's head carefully against his chest, continuously stroking the raven tresses with the hand not holding him in place.
"Do you want to talk about it?" Bilbo offered, knowing what the answer would be before he asked the question. Thorin would not want to talk about it. He wanted to brood and engage in self-flagellation for things that had happened long ago and that he had no control over. Even so, he felt that he should put the offer out there.
"No," Thorin replied, the word a whisper that was almost lost in the sound of heating metal coming from behind them. Bilbo nodded, a small sad smile on his lips. He had known as much.
"Is this about Dís?" Bilbo asked not missing the way that Thorin flinched at his sister's name. "I don't know why you're so worried. I believe that she will be overjoyed to see you. Though I'm not sure that she will want to move here, despite all the reasons that she would. Sometimes I think the Valar themselves couldn't pry you dwarves from your mountains."
"A dragon managed it well enough," Thorin replied darkly. Now it was Bilbo's turn to flinch. He hadn't thought about how Thorin might take that statement. In a normal mood, his lover would have let that fact slide, but once he was in the melancholies . . . anything that could lead to a depressing memory did. Even his nephews hadn't been able to make him smile when he fell into one of these funks, though they did always manage to pull him back out. Now it was up to Bilbo.
"True," Bilbo replied his voice tight as he agreed and tried to cheer Thorin by reminding him that it hadn't been taken forever. "But you managed to take it back. You won." It backfired. Rather than agree, Thorin scoffed, a bitter sound.
"Yes," Thorin finally said, his voice choked with emotion. "We managed to take it back. We accomplished the impossible: A dragon was slain, a treasure and a home reclaimed, the greater part of the orcs and goblins of the Misty Mountains wiped out and an alliance, of sorts, forged with elves! But we did not win."
"How can it be a victory when . . . " Thorin trailed off pulling away to look up at the hobbit with tears in his blue eyes, "when they died? They were too young, Bilbo. I never . . . I should never . . . it's my fault. If I hadn't been so . . . so determined to reclaim a kingdom and wealth . . . I . . . I could have been happy. I should have been happy."
"I had everything I needed," Thorin continued, self-loathing filling his words. Rather than say anything, Bilbo let the dwarf continue to talk. Thorin needed to say this and Bilbo knew that if he so much as moved, Thorin would stop.
"I had a family. I had a home. I had a forge. It wasn't an easy life, but we could have lived well, even if I couldn't provide for Dís and the boys as I had wanted to. But between us, Dís and I made enough that we could live comfortably. But I was greedy. I wanted more!
"I wasn't content to live the life of a normal dwarf," Thorin said, his tone bitter as he detailed his flaws. "I was the son of Thráin, son of Thror, rightful heir of Erebor. There was no reason that I should be reduced to working for food. If I took to the forge it should be because I wanted to, not because I had to! My pride killed them."
"No," Bilbo cut in reaching for Thorin once more. He knew that he had told himself that he would let Thorin talk it out, but he couldn't let that statement go unanswered. It hadn't been Thorin's pride that killed the boys, it had been goblins. Thorin wasn't to blame.
"You don't know," Thorin snapped knocking Bilbo's hands away from him. "You weren't there! Their entire lives I told them tales of the bravery and greatness of the line of Durin and tried to lead by example. I criticized them for their shortcomings. I know that's why they did what they did. They wanted to make me proud. I . . . I never told them . . . even if they had run from battle . . . I . . . I would have still been proud of them. They could never have disappointed me, not really. I loved those boys like they were my own children. And I never told them. Not once." As he had spoken, his anger had evaporated and his voice dropped to a mournful whisper as he though on the wrongs he had done to his nephews.
"They knew," Bilbo said, drawing the now weeping dwarf into his arms. "They knew. Everyone knew. It was there, in the way that you looked at them." Bilbo paused and a small sad laugh bubbled up his lips before he continued. "It was even there in the way you yelled at them. We could see that the anger came not from disappointment—as it had with me—but from fear for them. They knew that you loved them."
"And I killed them," Thorin said pulling away once more to curl up on himself.
"You—"
"I did!" he snapped. "If I hadn't wanted to retake that damn mountain from a dragon they would never have been there to die! If I could have just been content with what I had and not lusted for more, they would still be in Ered Luin with their mother not buried under the stone. Or if I had just been stronger, resisted when Dís insisted that if I took Fíli I had to take Kíli as well, then at least one of them would still be there for her."
"She's been alone, Bilbo," Thorin said looking at the hobbit once more, his eyes holding immeasurable sadness, though the tears were gone. "Sixty years. She's been alone because I led her boys to their deaths. She won't want to see me and I don't blame her. I wouldn't want to see me."
"I wanted to see you," Bilbo said, his voice sad and soft. "You personally tried to kill me and I still wanted to see you. I think you underestimate how much you mean to people. She may be angry with you, but as you said, she's been alone. I think that seeing family again will temper her anger." The look on Thorin's face clearly said that Bilbo didn't know his sister, or dwarves in general, if he thought that was true but his retort was broken off as a hiss came from the tank behind them. The water was hot.
"Enough of this," Bilbo said briskly, clapping his hands and trying to force cheer back into the room. "Off with your clothes now. It's time to clean you up." Thorin gave him a small laugh in reply and a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.
"So eager to get me naked, hobbit?" Thorin asked though it was clear that the humor was forced. "I thought that we took care of that need." Even as he spoke, he allowed Bilbo to take his wrist and help pull him to his feet.
"For a bit, yes," Bilbo replied, a sly smile on his lips. Thorin joking, however poorly, was the first sign that the melancholy would break shortly. This had to be a record. Usually they lasted much longer.
"A bit?" Thorin asked in surprise and his shirt was pulled over his head. Bilbo had been nearly insatiable when he was younger, always eager to try something new—sometimes things that caused Thorin to be a bit squeamish, hobbits may be prudish, but once they have been unleashed, they had more than a bit of kink to them (or at least Bilbo did). Even so, he was sixty years older and should have mellowed some in his old age, or so Thorin had believed.
"I have sixty years of pent up frustration you need to deal with," Bilbo replied as he casually ran a hand over Thorin's bare flesh, the gesture affectionate but not necessarily sexual, before moving around the room. Even so, it caused the dwarf to shiver at the promise in those words and that touch. Sixty years was a long time to bottle up sexual frustration. The dwarf could only hope that he could keep up. He wasn't as young as he used to be. But then again, neither was Bilbo. It was sometimes easy for him to forget that Bilbo was no longer fifty; the hobbit looked exactly as he had while they were questing. There was a sadness there that hadn't been, but physically he was the same. That thought startled Thorin. Bilbo was the same. But during the quest he had told Thorin that hobbits only lived to be about a hundred. It made no sense. How was he unchanged in all that time? There should have been some change in him other than sadness.
"—Don't know what temperature you like your water," Bilbo was saying not realizing that Thorin had not heard the first of his words. "You'll have to come run it yourself."
"Bilbo," Thorin said suddenly as confusion momentarily overrode grief, "your birthday, how old will you be?"
"I thought you dwarves were good with numbers," Bilbo scoffed. "I'll be 111. Why?"
"You told me once that hobbits only live to be around a hundred?" Thorin said, his tone turning the statement into a question as he wondered if he had misheard. Perhaps Bilbo said two hundred. That would make more sense.
"We do," Bilbo said absently. "Now come run your water." Thorin sighed but complied with Bilbo's order. "This one's for hot and this one's for cold," Bilbo explained and left his lover to adjust the water to his liking while he gathered the bathing supplies to the tub.
"But if hobbits only live to be a hundred, shouldn't you be . . . older?" Thorin said desperately, looking absently down at the water and holding a finger under it to gauge the temperature. No, his mind added brutally. He shouldn't be older, he should be dead.
"Are you objecting to my youthful appearance?" Bilbo asked suddenly, a laugh on his lips. "I can go find you an older hobbit if that's what you desire."
"That's not what I was saying," Thorin replied, slightly exasperated with the hobbit for even suggesting a replacement. "I was merely commenting on your unnatural preservation. What caused it?" Even as he spoke, the answer came to him. The Valar, they must have granted Bilbo a longer lifespan than was normal to give them more time together. It was an unexpected blessing, though he did wonder why they had waited sixty years to bring him back. Perhaps there was more to their act of kindness than he suspected.
"I don't know," Bilbo replied with a shrug. "Perhaps spending so too much time with stubborn dwarves. Something may have rubbed off."
"That's not how these things work," Thorin replied with a laugh. "Spending time with the wonderful creatures that are dwarves will not imbue you with our traits. Though there are a couple you would have been blessed to acquire."
"Like a beard?" Bilbo replied, reaching around Thorin to turn off the water.
"Never," Thorin replied fervently, stroking Bilbo's face. "I cannot imagine you with a beard. I like that I can see every twitch of your mouth as you think. A beard would only hinder that. You are perfect just as you are."
"Did I just hear you say that a beard would be a bad thing?" Bilbo purred. Even now, and even towards him, complements from Thorin were rare and he reveled in having received one.
"Perhaps," Thorin replied before stepping into the tub. "However, if you attempt to tell any of the others, I will deny it. No self-respecting dwarf can be known to have said anything derogatory about beards."
"I won't tell a soul," Bilbo promised as he began attempting to help Thorin divest his skin of the grime that it had acquired. "Just like I never told anyone about that other thing."
"Which other thing?" Thorin asked curious as to which one in particular Bilbo was referring to. There had been many, including his fascination with Bilbo's pointed ears—something no self-respecting dwarf could admit to due to their association with elves.
"Exactly," Bilbo replied, his hands moving to unclasp the braids in Thorin's hair so that it could be properly washed. Thorin almost sighed at the feeling of Bilbo's fingers in his hair. He had missed this: this closeness. Even if part of him resented being bathed like a dwarfling, the rest of him enjoyed the careful, nearly reverent, attention Bilbo paid to his body in a non-sexual way. They had never had time for this during the quest and he found that he liked it.
ooOO88OOoo
In the kitchen, Bofur and Dwalin had finally gotten all the details ironed out for their contest and had shook on it. Despite Frodo's fears no blood had been shed and no truly vile words had been exchanged. Once everything was figured out, it blew over as though nothing had been said and talk turned back to plans for the future and memories of the past.
"Do you really have ten children?" Frodo asked suddenly. He had been sitting quietly just listening to their conversation. Despite their lewdness, he could understand why his uncle liked the dwarves. They truly were a fun group.
"Aye, lad," Dwalin replied to the groans of the others. Dwalin could talk for days about his children.
"And only three of them are girls?" Frodo asked, knowing that he had made a mistake with his question when sadness settled lightly on the company once again.
"Aye," Dwalin agreed. "Only three are girls."
"Hey, that's something," Bofur replied. "Bombur only has boys."
"Why is that?" Frodo asked. He may not have known about sex, but he did know that families tended to have a fairly even mix of boys and girls.
"We're not sure," Balin replied. "Dwarf babes tend to be male. Almost seven boys to one girl. No one know why, but if a dwarf couple is expecting a babe, it is a safe bet that it will be a boy."
"So is that why Thorin and Uncle Bilbo . . ."
"No, lad," Balin said gently. "They love one another. It has nothing to do with a shortage of women. I won't say that it didn't contribute to our acceptance of it, two men living together is not uncommon among dwarves, but it is not the cause of it."
"Does it bother you, seeing them together?" Bofur asked, even though the hobbit's continual fainting almost answered the question for him. He wondered how Bilbo felt knowing that his happiness made his kin uncomfortably. Perhaps that was why he had been so touchy about the subject of his relationship with Thorin.
"No-Yes-no . . . I don't know," Frodo replied honestly. "The idea of two males . . . it makes no sense. But . . . they seem so happy together. I've never seen Uncle so happy. I know that he's been behaving oddly today, but he's happier than he's been in twelve years. I think Thorin is good for him."
"You're uncle was good for Thorin as well," Dwalin replied. "Before they paired off, Thorin was . . . bitter, angry. He hated life and . . . he was a hard man. Bilbo changed him for the better, even if he had a reversion at the end."
"What happened?" Frodo asked. "At the end, I mean. I heard a bit of the argument they had, I thought I heard Uncle say that Thorin tried to kill him but—"
"He did," Bofur replied cutting Frodo off. "After the dragon was killed and we were in the mountain . . . has Bilbo ever told you this?"
"I know that there was a battle, that's all that I know," Frodo replied. "He always rushed that part of the story. It was almost like he didn't want to talk about it but knew that he had to to finish it."
"He didn't. Because . . . well . . . it wasn't . . . it was bad," Balin said with a sigh. "Bard, the man that killed Smaug and the Elf King of Mirkwood came and demanded a portion of the treasure for helping us. Thorin . . . he . . . well he—"
"He'd gone mad," Dwalin cut in. "Only we didn't see it at the time. We didn't see the change in him as anything more than pride. We didn't realize that it was the gold madness that had claimed his grandfather."
"But Bilbo knew," Bofur said, taking up the thread. "He—the brave little thing—saw that Thorin had lost his mind and tried to force him to negotiate with the others by giving them the one treasure that Thorin desired above all others as a bargaining piece."
"The Arkenstone," Balin said, spitting the name like a curse. "The damn thing drove Thror to madness and almost took Thorin as well. And when Thorin found out what Bilbo had done . . . he . . . he—"
"Threatened to throw your uncle off the mountain," Bofur added, his voice tight as he relived the memory. "His own lover. His mate." At the words, he saw Frodo start. Even though he had heard it a couple of times now, the hobbit hadn't really believed it. Thorin, he didn't seem violent. How could he have threatened to kill Bilbo?
"Had him dangled over the side and everything," Dwalin said, not looking at Frodo as he spoke.
"What stopped him?" Frodo asked. "Did he stop on his own?" He hoped that was the answer. He couldn't reconcile the nice dwarf he knew with the image of an angry mad dwarf holding his uncle out to dash him to his death.
"No. Gandalf intervened," Balin said. "We all wanted to. Thorin's youngest nephew had to be restrained, but Thorin was mad, blinded by greed and betrayal. In the end, we watched as Bilbo left, saw the pain in Thorin as he crumpled. I saw him reach out a couple of times as if he would call Bilbo back, but he never did."
"He spent the night alone. Fíli and Kíli sat with him, trying to convince him to make peace and forgive Bilbo, but he ignored them, lost in his own misery," Dwalin said. "It was clear that he wanted to. The next day, however, the battle broke. Five armies met that day. Of our fourteen, only Thorin and the boys were lost."
"Your uncle," Bofur said sadly. "That day he lost everything that mattered to him. It was everything that we could do to get him to eat. He had lost his lover and two of his best friends on the same day. He got to speak briefly with Thorin, but the boys . . . they were already gone. He never got to say goodbye to them, none of us did."
"When he left to come home, we never thought to see him again," Balin replied. "I didn't think that he would make the winter but he did. He coped fairly well, though it was clear that he was brokenhearted still."
"Then you came along," Dwalin said ruffling Frodo's hair again. "And there was life in him again. Whether or not you know it, you helped. You gave him something to care about and a reason to live."
"But if Thorin tried to kill him, why are they still together?" Frodo asked choosing to not dwell on what Dwalin had just said in favor of leaning more about his uncle.
"You'll have to ask them," Bofur replied. "I can't speak for Bilbo's mind on that one. I can't say that I would have made the same choice and I can't explain it for you. If you want to know, you'll have to ask Bilbo." Frodo looked hopefully at the others and saw the same refusal there that Bofur had voiced. With a sigh, Frodo resigned himself to never knowing why Bilbo had forgiven Thorin. He wouldn't ask.
"I think I'm going to turn in for the night. It's been a full day," Frodo said suddenly heading for his room. He couldn't cope with the revelation that had just happened in light of everything else. How had he already grown fond of someone that had tried to kill his uncle? He just wanted to be left alone with his thoughts.
"You don't want to do that, lad," Bofur said flinching slightly at the glare Frodo leveled at him, his blue eyes icy. "With Thorin being upset and them being intimate again, the warning from last night applies more than ever. We might even be better off to go to the inn tonight rather than just sleep in the living room."
"I will not be evicted from my own room!" Frodo snapped, sounding more like Bilbo than he knew. "If they cannot keep their hands to themselves I will invest in some earplugs. Good night!" With that said he turned on his heel and stormed from the room having had more than enough of dwarves for one day.
As they heard the door slam behind him—with much less force than a dwarf would have used but more than any respectable hobbit would—the remaining dwarves hoped that Bilbo and Thorin were at least quiet about what would happen that night. They knew that the lad was just upset enough to try to yell at them.
"Are we sure that he's all hobbit?" Bofur asked suddenly, thinking about the icy glare he had just been given. Perhaps it was the color, but he could have sworn that he had seen the same look from Thorin before. The others just looked at him like he was crazy, of course the lad was all hobbit, and talk returned to other matters once again.
ooOO88OOoo
There we are all, a new chapter :) I hope that it was worth the wait!
As always, thank you to everyone who took the time to read this chapter or to add it to your alerts or favorites.
And a special thank you to those of you who reviewed, you all really make my day :)
Guest1776: I'm glad! And Frodo is too much fun to get involved. And once they're old enough, Merry, and Pippin will have lots of accomplices in the form of Dwalin's offspring ;) The Shire has NO idea what they're in for.
Guest: I'm sorry. That won't happen. They aren't going to come back, though the angst over them will get toned down eventually. And they'll figure it out. Gandalf will be making an appearance shortly.
Well, that's all for now folks! I hope you enjoyed it and would love to hear what you thought (even if you hated it) so please leave me a review if you have time and/or feel so inclined.
Stickdonkeys.