-Present-

As the dinner hour finally passed, Thorin finally pushed away the scrolls that he had been reading. With everything that had been going on, he had not felt like going to dinner with his kin that evening. Too much was happening in the mountain and far too much was going on in his mind.

All day he had been swarmed with looks of disapproval and near-silent mutterings of his advisors and the Council about Bilbo. Dis even pulled him aside to scold him about how he was treating the hobbit. She went on and on about his audacity to treat a Consort like that and who did he think he was.

Thorin did admit he did not handle the accusations well. He had snapped at nearly half a dozen friends and damn-well chewed his sister out. She had not said a word to him the rest of the day.

What was he thinking? Clearly something had become miscommunicated between himself, Bilbo and the others. At first he had thought that they had made the incorrect assumptions but now it seemed there was definitely something that he was missing.

Rubbing his face, he leaned back in his chair and looked around his study. The room used to hold such discomfort for him, his father had had him spend hours inside doing work and learning the ropes. Now he hid in the room like it would protect him from whatever outside its doors that wanted to tear at him.

Mostly he figured it was just Dis, waiting to pounce and take her revenge.

At the very least he owed her an apology, Thorin stood and left his study, making paces for his bed where he would be able to forget the headaches of the day. For Mahal's sake, he did not know why they were so insistent that marriage with Bilbo was the next logical step. They were nothing but friends and there was no evidence to the contrary.

Somehow though rumors must have spread. But they were fundamentally incorrect he fumed internally, taking the turn toward the Royal Chambers. There had never been any signs of courtships given and they had never displayed any inappropriate affection with each other.

It frustrated Thorin to no end! How could the others assume such a thing had occurred? Did they not realize that they lay as friends do in time of comfort in their bed? The battle had taken so much from them all, he and Bilbo had simply rediscovered the comfort of a friend staying close during the long cold nights.

Granted it had come from necessity, the early days in Erebor when rooms had been scarce and then again when Thorin had been injured when Bilbo had stayed by his side even though he did not know it, and even later when so many dwarves had returned home and rooms were a limited luxury. Bilbo had never asked to move out nor even hinted that the time had come for him to find a room.

Grinding to a halt, Thorin had a sickening thought that made his blood run cold. Bilbo had been hanging around all day, despite normally being absorbed in his work around the mountain. He had been trying to get Thorin alone, but he hadn't been in the mood to speak to his friend, not with the foul mood his sister had set him in. But, Thorin had seen the way Bilbo had been glancing around, watching the way people had been watching them. He had been wringing his hands with each look, like he was nervous, a tic that Thorin hadn't seen since before the Battle of Five Armies.

It added up to Bilbo wanting to speak to him alone and being nervous about it. Thorin glanced up the hallway at his doors.

What if Bilbo had been trying to tell him that it was time for them to have separate rooms?

Staring at the doors, Thorin made his feet walk to them and after opening them, forced them to carry him inside.

Bilbo was all ready in the bed, tucked under the covers, facing the edge of the bed. The light of the dwindling fire highlighted the hobbit's sleeping face.

As his chest tightened up, Thorin felt like he had the answer to his question, even if it was exactly the answer he hadn't wanted.

When he had finished his nighttime rituals, Thorin found himself laying on his side of the bed, a solid foot away from Bilbo and found himself knowing neither how he had created this rift nor how to mend it.

Forcing his eyes closed, he could only pray that Mahal would help him fix this mess. If indeed, he still had a chance.

-Past-

The bed in the camp of Men was no more comfortable than a bed of nails. Bilbo had not even tried to convince his body to rest, he knew it was no use. War loomed. Lives would be lost in untold numbers…all because Bilbo Baggins had failed at his tasks.

He had been so sure that Thorin would snap out of whatever hold the Arkenstone had over him that he had revealed that it was indeed him that had taken the stone and had given it to King Thranduil. Bilbo had been so sure it would wake him from the spell! He had seen the glimmer beneath that mask. He knew he had!

Then Thorin had fallen under the dragon-sickness completely…and nearly killed Bilbo in the process. Sweet Yavanna, the look on his face had been worse than death. Bilbo cursed himself for doing that. For having betrayed a King and worse having betrayed a friend.

Part of him knew that it was the right choice. There had been no other hope than to make the decisions he had. He just didn't know why it had to hurt so much.

The camp around him was quiet. The snores he had blamed on his sleeplessness were far-gone and instead it seemed a hush had fallen over the camps of Men and Elves. Bilbo could only imagine what was going on inside the mountain. He felt sickened to realize that he would probably never know again.

After the battle in the morn, he promised himself that he would return to the Shire, to his home and most of all to his bed where he would be able to find some rest.

He promised himself these things and then forced his eyes shut to try to get some sleep before dawn.

Not an ounce did he find.