A/N: So it's been a while. A really long while. But here's some chapters revamped with some new content, so if anyone is still waiting for chapters on this 1) I'm really sorry and 2) You're amazing. Here you go.
"But Mother-" he begged, trying to get passed her to the door.
"You can't go out Bilbo. You're sick, don't you remember? Don't you worry, Gandalf will be back to help you out soon enough," she patted his head, pushing him behind her as the entrance to their home slammed shut in his face.
"But-"
"No Bilbo," Belladonna reprimanded, barely giving him another glance as she hurried into the kitchen.
"I just want to play with the other kids!" he finally yelled, letting all his frustration bubble over.
"But you're not like the other children, my son," Bungo stepped out of the pantry, the bullet hole in his chest gaping and bleeding onto the stone floor, "Now be good and mind your mother, or you'll get her killed just like you did me."
Bilbo woke with a start, his chest heaving as he stared at the blank ceiling.
He forced himself upright, smacking his lips against the uncomfortable feeling of how dry his mouth was.
Water, his gradually restarting brain filled in, you need water.
Yes. Okay.
Water.
He pushed the bedcovers back , letting the soft material slip through his fingers just like the memory of his dream.
Maybe he'd go into work early today. Bell wasn't expecting him until ten, but this was one of those mornings on which one does not desire a long lonely couple of hours sipping tea on the porch.
By the time he'd made it to the kitchen and finished his first glass of water, the cobwebs were gone from his mind.
Which meant he could think clearly enough to stare at the time and groan internally. Well, and externally, but if nobody's around to hear it, is there actually a sound?
It was only six am. Only six-
For the love of Yavanna, this was going to be a long morning.
He turned on his electronic teapot, the one that would automatically turn to warm after the 10 minutes he set the timer for. It was a quick reach into the lowest shelf of his cupboard to locate the blend of leaves that Gandalf had prepared especially for him, their sweet scent instantly calming him.
After his breakfast was prepped, he passed from the pale brown tile of his kitchen floor to the warm green color of the hallway and bathroom.
It took him maybe a half hour to shower and shave, padding back towards the prospect of a warm drink in his bathrobe.
And twenty minutes later, he was done with that, staring down at his empty cup with what he knew must have been a dejected expression.
"Well," he said for no reason in particular.
"I'm going to work," he informed no one.
Bilbo chuckled to himself as he pushed away from the table, the scraping of his chair loud in the silence, "Silly me. What was I thinking?! I've got to get dressed first."
There was no response.
He heaved a sigh that went unnoticed as he trudged off to his room.
"Dain," Thorin sighed, kneading his forehead with too firm of fingertips, "We could really use your help on this."
His cousin leaned against the kitchen counter, facing away from him, "I understand that. But I managed to find jobs in the Iron Hills corporation for most of your people when Erebor went under-"
"Was stolen, Dain."
"Stolen. Yes. Taken. Whatever you want to call it. But this Smaug fellow has it now, and it's turned into a nut house. I can't risk my family Thorin."
"We'd do anything in our power to make sure they're safe-"
"You can barely protect yourself!" Dain roared, his frustration and exasperation with the situation bleeding into anger, "How many times have you had to move to try to protect those boys of yours? How many times have you scrambled just to get the simplest of medicines for them, let alone the ones they really need? I don't want my son… my son has a life here. We've established ourselves. I can't risk everything to help you on a fool's errand. When you've managed to even get yourself inside the place… then, and only then, we'll talk."
"That's why we're doing this, for our families, for our-"
"No. I said no. End of the conversation. I hate to be like this cousin, especially considering your motives, but you can see your way out."
And just like that it was over.
Thorin resisted the urge to slam his fist against the table as he left.
He stood outside the quaint little home, nothing like the places he'd lived in since Erebor fell. Their latest house wasn't bad- there'd been plenty of places for Dis to hang their few family pictures, plenty of shelf space and even separate rooms for the boys, but it was still nothing like this.
This place with air full of children's laughter and the smell of freshly cut lawns.
He slipped his hands into his pockets, muttering a soft curse word as he angrily kicked a rock off the sidewalk.
Yeah. That'd show them.
A huff of air escaped his lips at his own stupidity.
He knew from the beginning that Dain was a long shot. Why he'd gotten his hopes up was beyond him.
Thorin squinted up at the sun, wishing he'd brought a pair of shades with him.
And for some reason, it was that thought that sent him on his way, resigned to changing in some gas station along the walk to Baggin's house.
His wasn't a glamorous life, that was for sure.
All the more reason for his determination.