AN: I cannot express how sorry I am that it's taken so long to finish this. I must have rewritten this last chapter maybe twenty times. It never felt just right, but I hope that what I finally settled on will appease your anger with me for being terrible at updating. I will not apologize for any and all feels you may experience will reading this. Just be warned. And enjoy the first of the two last chapters!

OOOOO

Thorin couldn't sleep. It had been two weeks since the Battle of the Five Armies, as it was being called, had ended. Two weeks since they succeeded and kept a firm grip of their reclaimed home. Two weeks since...since Bilbo had left. That was the real reason for his insomnia. He had plenty he could, and did, blame it on. It was hard work being a King, ever more so if there was a lifetime of recovery to be done for his kingdom. And not to mention dozens of caravans he had to be ready for by the next winter. It was all so hectic and some days he wondered why he ever wanted to be King Under the Mountain.

Despite all his duties and his every growing To Do list, Thorin couldn't lie to himself when he was laying in bed, eyes open but unseeing. The thing that kept him awake was nothing to do with Erebor or being her King. It was Bilbo Baggins, and the fact that he was somewhere far away, miserable, and probably hating Thorin with every fiber of his being. Not that Thorin could blame him.

Gandalf had never delivered Bilbo's final message to him. But the Elves and Men loved to talk. Especially the healers when they thought Thorin was asleep. They had gone on and on about poor master Baggins and his poor situation. They whispered the heated words Bilbo meant for Thorin quite frequently.

'If he really loved me, he would not be protecting me, he would be helping me!' It broke Thorin's heart every time he heard it, even if it was only in his head. He tried to picture Bilbo's face when he said it, and then cringed because he couldn't bear to think of Bilbo so unhappy. What a fool he was. Always had been. A right bloody fool.

He turned to his side, hoping the shift would clear his mind a little. The only thing it cleared were his sinus'. He missed Bilbo. He would give anything to take a horse that very night and go after the Hobbit. Every time such a fanciful idea came to his mind, he had to bombard it with the reminder that this was for the best. Bilbo being in Mirkwood was for the rutting best and he couldn't get weak about it now!

He turned to his other side, forcing his eyes to shut. No sleep would come, but the darkness was better than the blurry vision he had when his eyes were open. He had to vehemently convince himself that they weren't tears in his eyes. Crying was unacceptable. He was the King of Erebor! He did not cry! Even if the One he loved was far away from him. Even if the Hobbit who had stolen his heart was wretched and miserable so many miles away. It was for the best. It was for the blasted best!

So why did that sound fake even in his own mind? It had always been fake, they probably all knew that. But it was so easy to believe that sending Bilbo to Mirkwood would solve everything. It was a beautiful idea that it could be so easy. And someday, Bilbo would be better and he could go where ever he jolly well pleased. It was a blissful idea really. But even if it was true, even if the Elves somehow made him better, what were the chances Bilbo would ever come back to Thorin? What were the chances that he could ever go back to the Shire, or even to Beorn?

Thorin sighed and turned to lay on his stomach. Bilbo had been undeniably sad for the entire journey. And now that the journey was over, he was locked away in some Elvish castle like a prisoner just because the Dwarves had been absolutely wretched to him. It wasn't fair to the poor Hobbit. Thorin wished every day that he could turn back the clock and make things better. Oh how he wished he could return to the first moment he met Bilbo and tell the Hobbit to stay in the Shire. Or, if that did not work, because they all knew of the stubbornness of Hobbits, then he would be nicer to Bilbo. He would include Bilbo and make him feel accepted and make him know that they were glad to have him on the journey.

He had never felt so miserable. Knowing that Bilbo was suffering and alone in Mirkwood made him wish to simply vanish into thin air. Knowing it was his fault only made it so much worse. Finally, with a huff, he turned to lay on his back again and opened his eyes. The ceiling was the same as the last time he laid despondently staring at it. But he always accepted, eventually, that he would not be able to sleep for quite some time of staring at the blank stone above him. Sometimes he contemplated putting some words or a pattern, perhaps he could carve a maze, into the ceiling. At least it would give his mind something to do besides mourn over his One.

He hated that all of this had happened. He hated Thranduil and Legolas for taking Bilbo away to Mirkwood. He hated Balin for making him pretend to be angry with Bilbo. He hated Gandalf for ever making Bilbo leave his cozy home to come on this insane journey. Most of all he hated himself. He hated himself for everything he'd ever done and said to Bilbo that had hurt the lad. He hated himself for being such a dick to a young Hobbit he didn't even know. He hated himself for all of it. He hated himself for not being able to go after Bilbo.

'If he really loved me, he would not be protecting me, he would be helping me!' He loved Bilbo so much. He wanted to protect him. He wanted to keep him safe from everything, including himself. But was that really love? Was protecting him by hurting him even possible? He was hurting him, so he obviously wasn't protecting him. Bilbo was right all along. Thorin couldn't protect him. Not without hurting him. He should be helping Bilbo. He should be throwing his duties to the side and riding non stop to Mirkwood. But he couldn't.

Honestly, he was too afraid of what he would find.

OOOOO

It didn't take a genius to see that Thorin Oakenshield was distracted. As it was, Thranduil was a genius and frankly it was almost pathetic just how distracted Thorin was. The Dwarf hardly ever contributed in their meetings, often spilled food on himself while he absently ate, and more than once Thranduil had seen him run into a wall and tables. It also did not take a genius to know what was distracting Thorin. Of course he was thinking about Bilbo. But Thranduil knew he needed to keep Thorin focused on the Lonely Mountain and trade agreements, so he never brought the Hobbit up, though obviously Thorin wanted to know about him.

A small part of Thranduil berated him for ignoring Thorin's obvious distress. The other, smarter and more strict part of him, only cared about the politics and as soon as the meetings and treaties were done with, he would be leaving. But he did not think he would be able to leave in the near future, if Thorin was going to continue to act like such a love sick little puppy dog without a master. Sometimes it was downright annoying! But Thranduil was patient, to an extent.

That Dain fellow from the Iron Hills was not as patient. And eventually, only three weeks after the battle was over, he apparently could hold his peace no longer.

"How is Master Baggins fairing in Mirkwood?" He blurted out as Thorin walked into the room they were preparing to have another meeting in. Thorin's head snapped up, but he quickly pretended to be paying attention to something else. Thranduil sighed and looked at Dain with a bit of a glower.

"I have not received word regarding Master Baggins. I assume that means he is well." He spoke sharply, hoping to end the conversation quickly. Dain was not deterred.

"I never had the pleasure of meeting the Little One before he left. Is he allowed visitors in his prison?" Dain's voice was pleasant, though his words held none of his diplomatic cheer. Thranduil was honestly surprised by the Dwarf. Thorin was in no way capable of being so practiced with his words and tone. Were they really related?

"I am not sure the term prison is appropriately given." Thranduil kept his voice calm, though his eyes narrowed. "Master Baggins is under our supervision for a reason, he needs to be kept safe from himself. If he chooses to view it as a punishment, that is his unfortunate choice." Dain only quirked an eyebrow.

"Tell me, is he given any kind of free will?" Thranduil had to hesitate before answering because it was true that Bilbo received few privileges.

"It is sometimes necessary to restrict him so he does not-"

"Is he allowed any kind of entertainment- any chance to engage himself?"

"I am sure Legolas allows him-"

"Is he ever given a moment alone, or is his privacy a privilege at this point? A privilege he no longer is allowed." Dain was met only with silence this time. "It sounds like a prison to me. And do you really think he deserves that? We all know what he's been through, his story is already a legend. To me, it sounds like he's being given only cruelty for his services." Before anything more could be said, there was the sudden commotion of doors being slammed close. Both Dain and Thranduil looked towards the noise to see that Thorin was gone. "Ah. Finally."

"You should not mettle where you are not wanted." Thranduil snarled, contemplating following Thorin. Dain only shrugged and gave the Elf a pleasant smile.

"I am sure Master Baggins will disagree with you." And then the Dwarf walked away, the smile still on his lips. Thranduil grumbled, actually grumbled, and stalked off after Thorin. He wasn't completely sure, but he thought that he would find the Dwarf in his room. And sure enough, he was met with a growl of a reply upon knocking on the door. Thranduil didn't bother to announce himself, he simply opened the door and met with the sight of Thorin Oakenshield stuffing clothes into a pack.

"You cannot seriously be considering leaving your newly reclaimed kingdom in the middle of discussions all for a Halfling." Thranduil scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. Thorin didn't even deign Thranduil with a glance. He sneered at his clothes as he stuffed them in even tighter and ignored the Elf. "Master Baggins is in an extremely fragile state at the moment, do you truly believe you being there will help him at all?"

"I do not honestly care if it will help- he wants me there so I will go!" Thorin finally snapped.

"What makes you believe he wants you-"

"'If he really loved me, he would not be protecting me, he would be helping me.' That is what Bilbo said before he left. I have tried every night to convince myself that he would be better without me, but he obviously doesn't believe that. And neither do I." Thorin shoved past the Elf to grab his spare pair of boots by the door. "I am going to him, and I swear to Mahal, if you try to forbid it, I shall not stop until I cut every tree in Mirkwood to the ground to find him." Thranduil was honestly shocked. He had never been cut off in the middle of a sentence so frequently in all his life. First Dain, and now Thorin, and more than that...Thorin was absolutely, completely serious about his declaration. He would stop at nothing.

Of course, he could not admit that. The best thing he could do at the moment to save his own face was to turn and walk out, and leave Thorin questioning if he would actually try to forbid it. But for once in his very long life...he didn't do the political thing. He sighed through his nose, such a dreadfully human thing to do, and nodded.

"Fine. Go to your Hobbit. But I am not responsible for what he does upon your arrival. I have warned you, he is not in a good state of mind Thorin. Whatever happens, it is because of you." Thorin glanced up in time to see Thranduil leave, and sighed. Every sensible part of his brain was telling him that this wasn't a good idea. But the other parts of him, the more important ones if you asked his sister or nephews, said that it didn't matter if it was a good idea or not, he still had to do it.

He would have Dain watch over Erebor while he was away. Between his cousin, his nephews, and Balin, the mountain would be fine. The people of the Iron Hills would probably be confused regarding his abrupt departure, but he did not care about that so much. All he could think about was Bilbo, and getting to him as quickly as possible. He couldn't bare it any longer. He couldn't leave Bilbo in prison when all he wanted was for the Hobbit to be happy!

He was just about to leave and find Dain when the man himself stepped into his room.

"You pack faster than I thought." Dain stated conversationally, a small smile on his bearded face. Thorin sighed and glanced at his pack.

"I assume you know everything I'm going to say."

"Do not fret, your Mountain will be safe in my hands. I do hope your journey will not take too long though." He smiled kindly and Thorin managed a small smile in return.

"I will be as quick as possible. And I shall return with Bilbo Baggins." He vowed. With a decisive shrug of his shoulder, his pack was on his back and he stood before Dain, fierce and just daring someone to stand in his way.

"I wish you all the luck in Middle Earth cousin. And I shall look forward to meeting Master Baggins. I never thought I'd see the day you found your One." Dain put his hand on Thorin's shoulder and squeezed gently. "Go to him." Thorin nodded and charged out of his room, and straight past everyone who tried to stop him and ask him questions. In no time he was in the stables, demanding the fastest pony available.

"And where are yeh running off to now?" He glanced up at Balin as he hurriedly readied his pony, buckling on it's saddle and strapping in his pack.

"You know very well my destination, Balin." Thorin rumbled, avoiding looking at his old friend as much as possible. "Dain will take good care of the mountain. Fili will help, and so will you. It will only be a few weeks, at most." He added when Balin only quirked an eyebrow.

"Did yeh think we weren't all taking bets on when yeh'd go? I meant, where are yeh running off to without telling us."

"I do not see that it's any of your business when or why I should leave the mountain." Thorin immediately replied defensively.

"Aye, that's yer right as King, to come and go as yeh please. But not alone." Balin looked to the side, where Dwalin was standing next to his own pony, already prepped and ready, and smirking at Thorin. The King looked from his best friend to his oldest adviser and sighed. There was no working with these people. And he didn't have time to try arguing.

"Very well." He sighed then mounted his pony. "You'd better keep up though Dwalin. I don't intend to maintain a slow, leisurely trot."

"I didn't think yeh would." Dwalin's smirk widened as he too mounted his steed. "I'll make sure he doesn't do anything too stupid, brother." Dwalin mentioned to Balin, who smiled back ruefully.

"A full time occupation, brother. Be on then, the pair of yeh. And bring Bilbo back with yeh." Thorin nodded and urged his pony out of the stable, Dwalin close behind him. As they began to ride, he spared one single glance back at Erebor. It wasn't as if he was leaving his mountain forever. He was going to get his One and then he would be back. So why did it feel so bitter, taking this last look at the mountain? Like a strange sense of foreboding settling all through him. He shook his head to clear it and returned his thoughts to what he would say to Bilbo when they arrived in Mirkwood. He had much to apologize for, and much to say. But he would be glad to say it all, so long as it was to Bilbo. To his One.

OOOOO

The road back into Mirkwood was a slow one, as the ponies refused to enter the forest and the Dwarves had to make absolutely sure they stayed on the path by taking it slow. But Elves met them only half a day's walk in and after a quick assurance that he was King Thorin of Erebor and Thranduil had granted him permission to come to Mirkwood, they were persuaded to take the two to the kingdom. It was only once they were in the kingdom that the problems started.

"I am here to reacquire my Hobbit, Bilbo Baggins. You will take me to him immediately." Thorin thundered for what felt like the twentieth time. The guards were quite insistent that they be taken to guest rooms until Prince Legolas could receive them and decide whether their request could be granted. But Thorin was not budging on this. He'd left Bilbo alone in this hell for far too long already, and he was not going to wait one moment more.

"King Thorin, it really isn't a good time right now. Most of our people are asleep, and Prince Legolas is a very busy man at the current moment. What you are demanding is simply impossible-"

"Take me to him right now!" Thorin shouted, the Elves actually flinching at his roar.

"Thorin." The Dwarf King turned his eyes away from the Elven guards and to Legolas, who stood a few feet behind them. The guards parted at a gesture from Legolas, the Thorin stormed forward. "What are you doing here?" Legolas asked, his voice lacking his usual bravado. He sounded...sad. Worn down.

"You know why I'm here. Where is he?" Thorin demanded, ignoring the sadness. Legolas tensed and closed his eyes for a very long moment. It gave Thorin no peace of mind. "Where is Bilbo?" Thorin reiterated. He was not going to leave until he saw the Hobbit. Legolas must have sensed that because he sighed and gestured for Thorin to follow him. Thorin in turn signaled for Dwalin to stay behind and then eagerly trailed after the Elf. Legolas said nothing as they walked, and with every step, the weight of anxiety got heavier in Thorin's gut. He did not like the Elf's silence. And why did Legolas look so sad.

Thorin refused to acknowledge the obvious answer until they stopped outside of a room. But it was impossible to even think of. Bilbo simply could not be dead.

"Thorin...I must warn you of what you will see beyond this door. It pains me to even think of it, much less see it, so I will not enter. Bilbo has tried to take his life, and he is currently unconscious. Our healers have done all they can, but none of us are sure if he shall wake. He certainly lacks the will to wake. To be honest, I was tempted to send for you with the hope that maybe...if he heard your voice..." The Elf stopped and looked towards the door with watery eyes. "It's always been you Thorin. He never loved me, and he never will. But perhaps he will wake...for you." Legolas could say no more. Instead he turned and left, leaving Thorin alone.

For the longest of moments, Thorin could not force himself to enter the room. He did not know if he could bare the sight of such a thing either. Bilbo had tried to...kill himself. He had almost succeeded, from the sound of it! Otherwise, why would he still be unconscious? But he would do what he could to try and wake the Hobbit. Perhaps Legolas was right, and the sound of his voice would rouse the heavy hearted Bilbo. As much as the idea obviously pained Legolas, the Elf cared enough about Bilbo to let him try.

So with a deep calming breath, Thorin reached out and pushed the tall door open. He was greeted by the sight of an utterly white room. Everything, the walls and floors and furnishings, were pristine white. Which made the head of golden curls very easy to spot. Bilbo was laying, looking remarkably peaceful, in a snowy white bed, his hands folded neatly on his stomach as his chest rose and fell at a tediously slow rate. Thorin did not see any new cuts or bandages to suggest Bilbo had attempted to bleed out. But the Hobbit's lips were tinged blue as were his nail beds. His cheeks were sunken and there were dark black shadows under his eyes. He certainly looked like a corpse.

Thorin stumbled to the bed and the chair perched beside it, and collapsed heavily in the oversized seat. Bilbo was so still, that were it not for the small breaths, Thorin would be afraid...very afraid. Even with the agonizingly slow intake of air, Thorin was afraid. Bilbo appeared to be hanging on by the slimmest of threads, and he looked more than ready to let go of said thread.

The Dwarf King let out a shuddering breath he didn't realize he'd been holding and reached forward to clasp Bilbo's small cold hand between his own large warm ones. Bilbo did not react at all, but Thorin hoped dearly that there was still a chance.

"Oh Bilbo...this is all my fault." He breathed, bringing Bilbo's hand to his mouth and kissing it lightly. "If I had only...oh there are so many things I've done wrong. Things I wish to make up for...if you would give me the chance. If you would...wake up and let me attempt to redeem myself." He tried to tell himself that he was not getting choked up. He was a Dwarf of Durin's line, he did not cry. Yet here he was, about to weep like a baby.

Bilbo showed no sign of being able to hear Thorin. He remained still and cold and Thorin couldn't help but stare at those blue lips like they would suddenly become rosy once more and Bilbo would be awake and alive and smiling and telling Thorin that everything would be alright. But Thorin began to fear that would never happen. The chances were that Bilbo would die, forever thinking that Thorin betrayed him and sent him off to this prison without so much as a 'so long'. He could think of no worse fate, for either of them.

"I love you Bilbo Baggins. I know I have not shown it, and I have hurt you more than I have comforted you. But you are my One. You are the only person I will ever love, and I will love you more than life itself. If you are to die now...I will die soon after. I will fade without you my little love, and join you in the halls of our ancestors, begging your forgiveness for all I have done. For all I should have done and did not do. Oh Bilbo...look what I've done to you. I should have never let you leave your little Hobbit hole. I should have been kinder to you. I should have loved you, as you deserve to be loved." Thorin spoke mournfully, but truthfully.

There was a tiny twitch of the hand in his. Just the slightest little movement, but Thorin's face immediately snapped up. Bilbo's eyes were still closed, his breathing still painfully slow. He was still very much unconscious. But he was still there. Thorin knew he was. One little twitch was insufficient evidence, some would say, but it was enough for Thorin. Bilbo was still alive and as long as he was still alive, Thorin would not leave him. He would never leave his Hobbit again.

OOOOO

Thorin and Legolas had taken to playing chess. The Dwarf King had been in Mirkwood for nearing a week, and Bilbo had still not woken. Every day there were very subtle differences to the small boy in the infirmary, but he did not open his eyes. He did not rouse from his deep sleep. So, to occupy their time, the Elf and Dwarf who both eagerly awaited Bilbo's reawakening began to play chess. At first it was tense, but after the fifth game played, it began to feel comforting, to both of them. Thorin never thought he'd see the day that he'd appreciate the presence of an Elf, but stranger things had and probably would happen.

"Any news of my father?" Legolas asked as he set up the board. A messenger had been sent six days ago to inform Dain and Thranduil that Thorin would be delaying his return for an unforeseeable amount of time. The letter he'd gotten in return just that morning had relayed deep discontent from the Elf King, but encouragement from Dain.

"He and Dain are getting much done, though your father is not entirely pleased with my cousin. Dain has always been the more political of my relatives and no doubt annoys your father with his prowess in the field of negotiation and rational bargaining." Legolas smirked a little, mentally agreeing with Thorin's hypothesis. Thranduil hated nothing more than to be evenly matched on the field of battle, whatever that field may be.

"Does he know when he will be returning?" Legolas questioned.

"I believe he wanted to try and return before the next full moon." Legolas nodded with a sigh. It got tiresome trying to run the kingdom without his father, as well as trying to look after Bilbo. He was somewhat glad to have Thorin there so he could preform his duties while the Dwarf watched over the Hobbit. He glanced to the side where Bilbo was resting. While nothing could be proven, the little one looked better. To Legolas, his face looked softer and the black shadows beneath his eyes had lessened. Overall he looked lighter, almost content. But of course it was just romantic daydreaming to make him feel better about the situation. Thorin caught him staring. "You never told me how it happened." He pointed out.

"I know." Legolas murmured sadly. Thorin didn't want to outright ask, but every day he became more and more desperate to know. Luckily Legolas seemed to realize that. "I had put him into bed for the night, and I only left for a few minutes, to finish up some business in the kingdom. He was in a white room, a safe room, with nothing to hurt himself. I thought...there shouldn't have been anything there for him to harm himself with. But I was only thinking of objects he could use to cut himself with. I never assumed..." Legolas fell silent, closing his eyes tightly.

"I do not think he would try to kill himself by bleeding out. The cutting was always a way to calm himself, to deal with his situation. To kill himself, I would assume he would choose something besides his usual habit." Thorin supposed, and Legolas nodded.

"He never spoke when we brought him here. The only time he asked for anything was to walk in the garden. And I didn't have the power to refuse his plea. I should have known he was planning something. He brought a bouquet of flowers to his room that night, normal looking flowers that I thought nothing of. I should have remembered that Hobbits are almost better with plants than Elves are, and they know how to combine said plants into something helpful...or deadly."

"He poisoned himself." Thorin whispered.

"I was gone for ten minutes. When I returned the flowers were gone, the stems strewn carelessly about the floor. And Bilbo...he was so pale. And his lips had gone blue. We did our best to dispel the poison from his body, but he slipped into his sleep and he has not woken, as you know." Legolas could not say anything more, simply frowning at the chess board. Thorin took a few moments to absorb the news before he sighed through his nose and moved his pawn forward to start the game.

"It wasn't your fault. He was too determined to end himself, you could not have stopped him." Thorin murmured and Legolas looked up in surprise. He never would have expected comfort from Thorin Oakenshield. Never in his very long life. "If anyone is to blame, it is me." Thorin added, glancing regretfully at Bilbo. "I thought I was protecting him by sending him away. All I did was drive him to this by making think he was unloved and unwanted."

"You did what you thought you had to. We all thought this was for the best, when he tried to tell us all along that it wasn't." Legolas admitted, pushing his own piece forward. Thorin was a surprisingly skilled competitor, for a Dwarf. It certainly helped the time pass, at any rate. "It is only natural for us to feel responsible though." He added when Thorin's guilt did not appear soothed. His own guilt would probably never go away.

"It's certainly hard not to feel responsible. It was my fault he even took up hurting himself. He's said that enough times by now." Thorin sighed heavily, retaliating to Legolas' move easily.

"It was mostly grief and anger saying those things. There were certainly time that he behaved like a caged animal, saying hurtful things because it was all he could do." The Elf assured the Dwarf. "I am sure he will forgive you, when he wakes and realizes that you have come for him. Free of Madness and full of love for him." At this, a deep sadness filled Legolas' eyes. As happy as the Elf was that Bilbo would have someone to love and be loved by in return, he would never get over the fact that it would not be him Bilbo chose to love.

"He does love you Legolas, I can see it. But I think it is the love of a sibling, more than the affections of a lover." Thorin proposed, and the Elf nodded. "What shall you do? I know you care very deeply for him, do Elves love more than once?"

"There are tales of Elves who have lost their loves to sickness or to the sword and after a grieving period, find a new love. At the moment it seems impossible, but I believe it can happen eventually. Anyways, I will most likely marry for politics, as the heir of the Greenwood." He couldn't say he was thrilled about the prospect, but it was a duty he had long prepared himself for, as all royals must.

"As dismal as that sounds, I believe you will accept it with grace. A very noble trait." Thorin mentioned, and Legolas gave him a bitter smile.

"I think that's the closest thing to a compliment you'll ever give me." Thorin shared the cynical grin for a moment before they both fell silent, playing their game without chatter. The game came to close before either said anything again. And then they parted ways, Legolas to attend to business, and Thorin to return to Bilbo's side. The Hobbit had not shown any definitive or particularly outstanding signs of improvement, but like Legolas, Thorin tried to be optimistic. He tried to tell himself that the little twitches and sighs were progress.

It was all he could do to keep his hope up. He had to hold on to hope, like he would hold onto Bilbo, until the very last moment. Without hope he would not be able to bear the continued silence of Bilbo Baggins.

OOOOO

Thorin had never been much of a reader. He knew how to, of course, and he did well enough with them. Over the last week and a half he'd developed a new respect for them. Watching over a sleeping Hobbit was not exactly entertaining. And Dwalin preferred to spend his time in the training yard competing with Elves. Whenever Thorin simply could not bear the silence in the infirmary any longer, he would turn to the pile of books Legolas had been kind enough to bring him. He always kept one hand twined with Bilbo's, just in case, but in his other hand a book would be open and he would be intently reading to pass the time.

Dwalin liked to joke that the tree shaggers were rubbing off on him. Thorin's reply was usually a quick sucker punch to his friend's eye. That usually didn't stop Dwalin from cackling though. Legolas never commented on it, though Thorin thought he might have seen respect in the Elf's eyes a few times when he went through large tomes in one day. He himself didn't see what it mattered that he had taken up reading. What else could he really do while he awaited Bilbo's awakening?

Every day had passed the same thus far. Legolas would help Thorin feed Bilbo, a weak broth that would not fill the Hobbit but would at least sustain him as he slept. They would also give the Hobbit water as often as they could. Then they would play a game of chess sometime around lunch and separate for Legolas to see to his duties. During this time Thorin would read until Legolas brought more broth for Bilbo and dinner for the two of them. Afterward they usually played another round of chess and then turned in for the night to sleep. Thorin slept in the infirmary, though Legolas had tried to offer him a room.

Thorin was taking no chances. He would not let Bilbo wake without being there to comfort and help the Hobbit. He fervently refused to even think of it. When Bilbo woke, because he simply had to wake up eventually, Thorin would be there. He would wait as long as it took.

Bilbo was taking his sweet time about it though. While to Legolas and Thorin it appeared he was slowly improving, the healers said the same thing every day. There was no definitive way to know when the Hobbit would wake and what state he would be in when he finally did open his eyes. They still didn't know what poison it was he had tried to use. Legolas identified most of the flowers used, but the healers couldn't make heads or tales of what combination it was that produced such deadly effects so quickly. He could very well have destroyed his mind, though his body lived on. One healer had the gall to suggest that Bilbo would never waken, only live on in that terrible limbo. As the days passed...Thorin began to worry as well.

Of course he tried to hold onto hope. He had to believe that those subtle improvements were really improvements and not his imagination. And the healers seemed to understand that because they tried to speak of the subject only with Legolas to prevent Thorin from overhearing their doubts. Of course that may also be because they were Elves and they just didn't want to talk to a Dwarf. Thorin was trying to change his opinion of the tree shaggers though, so he preferred to think the former.

He never thought he'd be trying to accept the Elves or forgive them. But they had kept Bilbo alive when he tried to kill himself, and Legolas was obviously more than what he first appeared. Thorin didn't take pride in it, but he could admit when he was wrong about someone. Luckily Legolas could also admit to being wrong about Thorin. Against both of their wills, Legolas and Thorin were becoming friends, and Thorin would never be able to live it down.

The Dwarf King sighed as he forced his mind back to his book and away from subjects of Elves and Hobbits and pride. He had much to think about, but he would prefer to do it when he wasn't so completely consumed with worry for his One. He squeezed Bilbo's hand for the soft assurance that his Hobbit was still there. Still breathing and still living. He did this often. Just a little squeeze of his small chilled hand to reassure Thorin.

There was a moment where Bilbo's had remained still in his palm after he squeezed it. And then there was a tiny shift and slowly Bilbo's fingers curled around Thorin's and squeezed back.

"Bilbo?!" Immediately the book was abandoned and he was standing, still holding fast to the hand that was weakly clutching his. Thorin stared desperately at Bilbo's face, pleading with every single Valar to please just let him open those eyes. If there was one thing Thorin would ever need for the rest of his life, it was to look in Bilbo Baggins' blue eyes, at least one more time. "Please Bilbo..." He whispered, placing his free hand on Bilbo's pale cheek, rubbing his thumb back and forth soothingly.

Bilbo didn't reply. He didn't move. His poor grip on Thorin's hand did not falter though, and Thorin's renewed hope had not been deterred. Bilbo was alive, and he had to be waking up. Thorin just knew he had to be.

"Bilbo...please wake up. You have to wake up, I have so many things to apologize for. So many things to tell you and at the top of the list is how much I love you. I will tell you over and over in as many languages I know and in several variations. But you need to open your eyes my love. Please...I know you're in there...Bilbo please." Seconds passed by in silence after Thorin's words and his belly began to ache in sadness. Perhaps it was as the healers said. Merely an empty body preforming meaningless acts.

Thorin's head dropped so his forehead rested on Bilbo's chest, still steadily breathing at a slow pace. He closed his eyes, pouring every bit of his hope and love through the air and to his One. A mantra of pleases' and Bilbo's name ran through his head as he squeezed the little hand tighter.

Bilbo's hand squeezed back once more and Thorin took a deep, steadying breath before cautiously looking up. Bilbo's eyelashes fluttered lightly, weakly. His brows furrowed the slightest amount. His blue tinged lips pursed the tiniest amount, seemingly in a show of effort. And his eyes opened, allowing Thorin the most minute flash of baby blue eyes before they shut again.

"Tho...rin..." A cracked voice gasped, so soft that had Thorin not been incredibly close, he would not have heard it.

"Yes, Bilbo, I'm here. And I'll never leave again, I promise. I love you." He rushed to assure the Hobbit, joy filling his soul. "I love you."

"I...I heard...you..." Bilbo slurred, still so softly, and tinged with that beautiful sarcasm Thorin missed so much. The Dwarf King laughed softly, kissing Bilbo gently on his lips. "I...love...I love...you too."

Dwarves are notoriously thick skinned. Made of rock, some say. They do not allow things to breech their tough hides and affect them deeply. They certainly never cry. In that moment, Thorin could care less about being made of rock. He wept like a baby, laying soft kisses all over Bilbo's face as for the first time in a long time, Bilbo Baggins opened his eyes and smiled the sweetest, realest smile of his life. And for the first time in what felt like centuries, Bilbo Baggins felt truly, impossibly happy, holding his love's hand. He hoped to never let it go.

FIN.

OOOOO

AN: Once again, I'm terribly sorry for how long it's taken me. I poured all my love into this last chapter though, so I hope you feel it. I just had to give at least one of these endings a happy ending, because I'm a terrible sucker for them. The other ending, which I will warn you in advance is not as happy, will be out soon. It won't be as long as this one, because it will start when Thorin reaches Mirkwood and not include the first parts set in Erebor. If you like the way this ended, you can feel free to ignore the second ending. Also, if people want it, I can put an epilogue for this version in with the next chapter, if you want more of a resolved ending than I gave you. It won't be very long though.

I hope you enjoyed this ending and I hope at least some of you will read the other ending! Thank you for sticking with me to the end and I love you all! Sincerely, Redroses100!