A/Ns: Thanks for all the comments and love! I'm really glad that everyone has been enjoying the story. There will be about six more chapters still going back and forth btwn past and present. Hope you all like.

-Past-

The chaos of war was nothing compared to the chaos that followed in Bilbo's opinion. He isn't sure how to manage all the comings and goings of dwarves. There was no true space for Bilbo to have to himself. The tent, which he had been kept in for the three days while his head recovered enough, was soon taken over by the overflow of wounded still needing the space to mend. It was of no matter to Bilbo. Every night he returned to Thorin's bedside, waiting for a change in his condition. The relief that came from being able to reach out and feel the dwarf's life pulsing in his veins put him to sleep even in that uncomfortable chair. Truly, he knew there was no other place for him to spend his nights.

His days, however, were another matter.

The weather was the first obstacle after the battle. Winter had begun its descent over the valley and did not show any signs of slowing. King Thranduil and King Bard were working restlessly to ensure those left from Laketown would survive the upcoming winter in Dale. This consisted mostly of repurposing the old abandoned city to house the remaining population.

Those able, under Dain's orders had been sent into Erebor to work on getting the mountain ready for the upcoming winter. It was a time race, and all seemed focused on the future and getting them through the upcoming winter. The dwarves had their work cut out for them, because only five days past the battle they received word that a caravan was on its way from the Blue Mountains. A large group of dwarves, originally from Erebor, would be returning home, just before the worst of winter set in if they had planned it right.

After a week, Thorin awoke, so briefly that Bilbo had only just seen the blues of his eyes before sleep claimed him once more. Balin had pressed a hand to his shoulder and told him that it would work out in the end. Bilbo did not have that belief.

The next day King Thranduil and King Bard had called Bilbo to a meeting with Dain and Balin- to mediate as it was. Suddenly the next week was consumed with council and meetings and scrolls and figures and so much yelling. Where before Bilbo had been tasked with helping Oin with those still mending, now he moved from one chair to another.

Of course, about then the headaches set in. It would only take Dain raising his voice for Bilbo's head to start pounding. He tried to push the pain away, thinking of Thorin's unconscious form- still fighting to regain his life and Bilbo would fight through the pain. It didn't help his stomach had rebelled with his head, and many days found him pushing his meals away or if it got too bad he would find himself vomiting the meal up again.

Ever perceptive, Balin had been the first to notice- mid-meeting of course when Bilbo hadn't been careful about hiding the wince at Dain's volume. Balin had waited until the time had closed before drawing him aside.

"Laddie, I know that King Thranduil and King Bard asked you to come to these meetings, but not at the sake of your health," Balin lectured. He gently moved aside Bilbo's hair to look at the wound. It was mostly healed, a thin, jagged red line on the side of his head, obscured except when his hair was moved.

"I'm fine, Balin," Bilbo says, voice weak because loud noises still irritate his head. He feels as though he's has a long night with ale and is now paying the price.

"All the same, I think tomorrow you should take the day off tomorrow. We'll get by without you."

Unsure how to disagree without making his head hurt worst, Bilbo just let it go.

Of course, that night Thorin's wounds brought him fever and infection and Bilbo found himself away from meetings anyway.

"Bring me another bowl of water, cooler this time," Bilbo said, handing off the bowl to an Elf healer. Arguably they had other things to be doing than running errands for a Hobbit, but after the night prior…Bilbo sat down wearily, as the Elf left.

The wounds to Thorin's chest were red, inflamed and last night one of the Elves had tried a remedy-only they had gotten it very wrong, causing Thorin more pain than comfort. It had taken all of the night and now most of the morning to get things back under control. The best of their healers had come to take him aside, scolding where necessary, and apologizing when he could. Bilbo had blocked Dwalin from causing a scandal, but in the end, Balin had to drag his brother away from starting another war.

Balin had been called away to settle things between Dain, who had heard only that an Elf had tried to kill Thorin and Thranduil, whom had taken the accusation personally. Bilbo did not envy him that argument.

Leaning back, Bilbo rubbed tiredly at his face. He tried to not think about the last time he had slept or ate. His headache had gone away some time between Thorin's screams and Dwalin's. A dull ache lingered along his forehead, but it was minimal.

Fili and Kili had been removed from the tent at some point during the night. Fili was still unconscious, but Kili had been up-demanding answers and nearly re-injuring himself trying to get out of the bed. Tauriel had kept him still, and then helped the others move him to another tent, along with his brother. It was a preventative measure, Oin had assured Bilbo, because their wounds were still so fresh it was imperative to make sure the infection remained with Thorin.

Looking over at Thorin, Bilbo sighed. The wound to his nose was mostly healed, along with the minor scrapes and cuts that were the first to disappear. The remaining ones that were infected were the stab wounds to his foot, chest, and abdomen. While reduced from what they had been, each of the wounds now had taken on a red inflamed appearance, plus a swelling that had only gotten worse over night.

"Bilbo?" a familiar voice spoke up, and he lifted his head to offer a smile to Ori.

"Ori, apologies, I did not hear you come in," he said, clearing his throat when he realized the hoarse nature of his voice.

"Bombur made some stew and Balin said that you probably hadn't eaten today." Ori held up a bowl.

"Of course, thank you," Bilbo stood, moving to get the bowl from him. Ori came around, handing it over, before moving to the far side where there was a chair the healers had been using.

"Lord Dain's people have cleared access to the rooms in the South Wing," Ori said, obviously uncomfortable with the silence.

Bilbo nodded, and took a tentative bite of the stew. It was bland and looked about as appetizing as the bowl itself but honestly it was the best thing Bilbo had ever tasted in weeks. If Bombur had been in the room, Bilbo may have kissed him.

"The most stable of their wounded returned home. It's good I suppose, less mouths to feed and all that," Ori shifted, glancing over at Thorin.

Pushing around the stew, Bilbo chewed slowly. His limbs felt heavy with every passing moment. He wondered if it would be terribly rude to rest his eyes while Ori spoke.

"Our wounded will be moved into the mountain once there is access to the healer's rooms is available," Ori said. "It'll be nice to get our own rooms."

Snapping alert, Bilbo looked to Thorin, because he hadn't even thought about that. Soon they would be moving the rightful King back into his bedchambers when they got that section cleared. Dwalin had mostly turned a blind eye to Bilbo's sleeping form by Thorin's side, but in the Royal Chambers? That would be no place for a lowly Hobbit to be.

"Bilbo?" Ori asked, noticing the rigid way the Hobbit was holding himself.

Looking over at his worried friend, Bilbo offered a smile and handed back the bowl of stew.

"I need to change Thorin's bandages, Ori. Thank you for the stew," Bilbo offered another smile, even if this one looked more like a grimace than anything else.

Nodding, and flushing a bit, Ori bowed out quickly, nearly colliding with Dwalin on his way out. The older dwarf carried the bowl of water that Bilbo had sent for, and after muttering something to Ori, he went to Bilbo, offering up the bowl.

Consumed with his own thoughts, Bilbo missed the look of longing Ori casted at Dwalin before disappearing out of the tent. Too much uncertainty lay before them.