"At some point you have to admit that he is not coming back..."

Balin's voice was soft, his hand on Dwalin's shoulder gentle, but his words still cut like the ragged edge of an orc's scimitar. Dwalin knew he was right, Dwalin knew that he had breathed for Thorin for a long time, too long to have any hope of reviving him, and he also knew that poisoned arrows had only one purpose — to kill. Yet his heart remained unable to accept what his brain knew. He kept silent and so did Balin, though he was still uselessly patting his back. The sun was still shining and the birds were making a ruckus in the trees. For them, life moved on. Life without Thorin.

It was only now that everything was silent that they heard it. It was only a small sound, but it was irrefutably there.

A soft cough.

Dwalin wheeled around and before another heartbeat had passed, he was once again kneeling next to Thorin. Thorin was still in exactly the same position; his neck was stretched with the chin tipped back, his lower body covered with Dwalin's furs. Tears were now streaming from the eyes Balin had closed only moments ago. And Thorin was undeniably coughing, which meant he was breathing, which meant he was alive.

Lightly, ever so lightly, Dwalin rested his hand upon his friend's chest. Sure enough, it was rising and falling on its own volition.

"Mahal be praised," Balin whispered reverently. They were all surrounding Dwalin and Thorin once more and there were murmurs about a miracle. Bofur was still sobbing

Thorin's coughing intensified and mucus trickled out of his open mouth. Dwalin wiped it away with his thumb. His fingers lingered on Thorin's cheek, his left hand still resting over his heart, feeling the pulse and the breaths that were finally reunited again. Thorin's eyelids fluttered. His mouth closed very slowly and then he swallowed heavily.

"Thorin? Can you hear me?"

Thorin's eyes opened by a fraction, but immediately fell shut again, a groan escaping him. To Dwalin, that sound was pure bliss.

"I thought I'd lost you," he murmured. He was gently brushing Thorin's hair out of his face now, a gesture of familiarity that he would not usually dare to display in front of others. But Thorin had returned from his journey to Mandos' Halls and that was cause for greater joy than Dwalin had ever known before. Let them watch, let them stare; it did not matter, not today. His frantic pleas had been answered. Thorin was back, for his people, for his sister, for his nephews, and most importantly for himself. Dwalin silently vowed that he would see to it that Thorin's life was brighter from now on, that he had more to live for than just duty. They had long ago shared their last words with each other, but it was one thing to know your friend's final message to the world, and another to know that he had been able to leave it content.

Thorin was breathing deeply now, taking in air, the precious air that had so long eluded him. A tremor passed through his arm. Dwalin gently brushed his hand from Thorin's shoulder to his fingertips. A finger twitched, but whether it was a spasm or a conscious movement, Dwalin was unable to tell.

Once again, time became quicksilver. Dwalin had no idea how much of it had passed, but eventually Thorin started to stir. An arm or a leg would twitch every now and again, and Dwalin tried to knead the limbs gently, as movement slowly returned to them. Finally, Thorin's head turned to his side, no graceful movement, but certainly a deliberate one. Dwalin bent closer to his face, a hand once again cradling Thorin's cheek. Thorin's eyes flickered open once more, and even though they were red and brimming with tears, Dwalin was so relieved to see that familiar glance once more. Thorin's throat bobbed as he swallowed, then he opened his mouth and after several futile attempts managed to choke out a single gruff syllable.

"'wa..."

"I'm here, Thorin," Dwalin murmured so quietly that none of the others would be able to make out his words.

Thorin dragged his right hand up and across his body. He ended up hitting his own nose, but sighed contentedly when he managed to drape his arm over his eyes, shielding them from the sun. He wiped his eyes with his sleeve, as they were still watering profusely, and then started to flex his muscles for what Dwalin knew was going to happen. Sure enough, Thorin gritted his teeth and drew up his knees, laboriously manoeuvring himself into a kneeling position. He was shaking violently and it was evident that he could barely force his limbs into submission. He was breathing heavily for a while, even that small movement taking a toll on him. Dwalin was right there and for a moment, Thorin looked at him. His eyes were bloodshot, but full of grim determination. However, there was also something else, something Dwalin knew only he would get to see, a barely-concealed panic. Determination won out and Thorin made to get up much sooner than Dwalin would have liked. He supported him as much as possible, Thorin's hands on his shoulders so he could slowly drag him up.

For a moment, Thorin's knees buckled, but his iron will somehow held him upright. Thorin swayed alarmingly and clutched Dwalin's shoulder to steady himself. Dwalin moved to support him, but Thorin swatted his hand away. At least Dwalin was able to direct him to a nearby tree and Thorin leaned against it, trying to catch his breath. He had closed his eyes again.

"We... ride on..." he finally ground out, his voice hoarse.

If it had been anybody else, Dwalin would have told him to rest, but with Thorin he knew that was futile. Balin did not give in so easily.

"I believe it would be better to remain here for a while, Thorin. You were unconscious..."

"No."

Thorin's voice was low and raspy, but it allowed for no argument. He looked around at his companions and although it was painful to even look at his sore eyes, his glance was as imperious as ever. He was leaning against a tree, barely able to hold himself upright, tears streaming into his beard and with that large wet patch clearly visible on his trousers, and yet he still looked every inch the son of Durin.

There were mutters among the others, as they clearly did not agree that moving on so quickly was the right course of action, having just witnessed their leader's death and resurrection, but they did not dare to contradict Thorin. Balin wanted to speak up again, but Dwalin gave him a little shake of the head, and for once his brother relented.

"Quite right," Balin said, and Dwalin had to admire his uncanny ability to adjust his reasoning with a moment's notice. "We better not wait around for those ruffians to regroup. If we make good progress this afternoon, we should reach home tomorrow, and I for one wouldn't say no to a nice warm bed and a tankard of ale. Bofur, put that arrow in my saddlebags and then go and refill the water skins, now there's a good lad. Austri and Vestri, ready the ponies, if you would, please. And you two can help me take care of the dead."

Balin was as efficient as ever and soon everybody was going about their assigned tasks. Dwalin did not need to be told what to do, he stayed close to Thorin, who had closed his eyes again and looked like he might slip back into unconsciousness at any moment, pale and sweaty as he was.

"Should I get you a change of clothes?" he asked quietly. Thorin's eyes snapped open at that.

"I can..." he hissed irritably, but then his voice broke and he left the rest of the talking to a gesture that might have been authoritative if his muscles had been fully under his command. I can take care of myself, Dwalin completed the sentence in his head. I cannot stand to be brought so low in front of my men and would rather pretend nothing has happened. He let Thorin be for the time being and turned to collect Thorin's pony. He caught Bofur looking away quickly, his expressive face lined with concern.

Thorin pushed him away when he tried to help him onto Emerald, insisting on laboriously climbing into the saddle on his own. The others had the good grace to avert their gaze. When Dwalin made to ride next to him, Thorin angrily hissed "Back!" so Dwalin took his place next to Bofur again. He knew he could trust Balin to be on his guard, but would have preferred to be as close to Thorin as possible.

Thorin did not speak again until nightfall; his face was pale as limestone, and he rode hunched over his pony's neck, eyes closed more often than not. At first they all rode in silence, but as the hours passed, conversations started up here and there, about the weather, about the ale in Dingwall, or other similarly mundane topics.

It came as no surprise that Bofur broke his silence as soon as there was some chatter to be heard in front of them.

"What you... what you did back there that was really... really brave and stuff..." he said, not nearly as cocksure as before.

Dwalin smiled at him genially. "I merely did my duty."

"That was... that was more than duty, I think, because none of the others... and I mean they are all loyal to Thorin and all that, but none of them would have... and your brother he was all... he was proper worried and all, and then when he dragged you off and you just lay there and Thorin wasn't breathing and... and I really thought you were both dead!" Bofur was speaking so quickly now that the words just seemed to tumble from his mouth.

"I would not let it come to that," Dwalin said. "He is my king."

"You really love him don't you?"

Dwalin smiled. Yes, indeed, that he did. "He is my brother," he said.

"Yeah because... you were like... like properly kissing him back there."

Dwalin almost laughed out loud. Sweet innocent child! Whenever Bofur got around to actually kissing a dwarf or a dwarrowdam, he sincerely hoped that he would learn to have somewhat higher expectations of a kiss.

"Kissing Thorin is very different," he said. "Just because you use your hands for something doesn't mean you are fighting, and using your lips sure doesn't make it kissing. Giving somebody breath like that is an important skill to have. I hope you paid attention to what you saw. You could save somebody's life with that."

The young miner nodded eagerly. "You know, I'm really glad that you saved his life, but Thorin doesn't seem so happy with you now. Just there when you... you know you just tried to be nice, and he's all... and then when you wanted to help him onto his horse... he was really grumpy!"

"Thorin has many burdens to carry. And after an injury like that, manners are the least of anybody's concern."

"But he was really mean to you!" Bofur exclaimed, seeming truly upset about that.

"Careful now," Dwalin said, only half-earnest. He had heard many complaints about Thorin on his journeys, and was mostly amused by the young miner's gripe. "That's your king you're speaking of."

"And I think he's a really good king," Bofur said, back-pedalling quickly as he suddenly became aware not just whom he was speaking of, but also who he was speaking to. "It's not like I really know him, but my cousin said it was a real honour to be chosen to ride with him and now I'm here as well with you and I just... it was... the way you... gave him breath... that was very special, and I think anybody, like anyone who you'd serve like that, he must be a really good Dwarf and I'm very happy to serve him as well."

It became apparent that there were some limits to Bofur's willingness to serve when he woke Dwalin in the early hours of the morning. When Thorin had finally called a halt by nightfall, he had pretty much collapsed where he stood and had been asleep before he could even unfold his bedroll. However, he had somehow managed to grind out the order of the watches for the night, assigning the last watch to Dwalin and himself. Austri was already snoring again when Bofur woke Dwalin.

"I'm not that tired," Bofur whispered. "I can keep watch with you till morning."

Thorin would most likely have both of their heads for that. "You need your sleep," Dwalin said, stretching in the morning cold. "Let's just go and wake Thorin."

The lad recoiled in poorly concealed horror. "I'll just... my bedroll is just over there, I think I'll... I'm really tired all of a sudden... need my sleep, as you said..." he stammered, then took a deep breath, said: "I'm sorry mate, you're on your own here" and scarpered.

Dwalin chuckled. He'd have to give Thorin a hard time for scaring the poor youngster with his grumpiness the previous day.

When he bent down to shake Thorin awake, he hesitated. Thorin, who was a notoriously light sleeper, had not even stirred at his approach; he was sleeping like a rock. It was evident that he needed sleep after his ordeal with the poison. Then again... it had not merely been physical torment that Thorin had suffered.

Reluctantly, he touched his friend's shoulder. Despite trying to be gentle, he evidently startled him, for Thorin twitched and then began to cough. Dwalin patted his back, half expecting to be shoved away again, but Thorin actually seemed to relax under his touch. He sat up very slowly as if his muscles still pained him and wrapped the blankets Dwalin had spread over him the previous night closely around himself. When he looked up, his eyes were actually open and a half-smile played around his lips.

"Hey," Dwalin said.

"Morning," Thorin answered. While his voice still sounded raspy, the painful rawness had disappeared.

"Breakfast?" Dwalin held out some bread and cheese he had kept aside in the evening and Thorin took them gratefully. He ate while Dwalin walked the perimeter of their camp, making sure all was safe as his companions slept. When he returned, Thorin was unwrapping himself from the blankets and held out a hand to him.

"Can you...?"

Of course Dwalin could. He helped his friend up and steadied him when he stood. Thorin winced as he gingerly stretched his arms.

"I believe the arrow was poisoned."

"That would make sense," said Thorin. "I..." He broke off, and Dwalin watched him bite his lower lip for a while before he visibly shook himself and continued, "I think it's time for a bath... I reek." He crinkled his nose and Dwalin chuckled.

"At least your observational skills didn't suffer."

The river was shallow here, flowing languidly between sandy shores. While Thorin waded into the cold water, Dwalin stoked the fire and opened Thorin's saddlebags. It was a silent night, the only sounds to be heard the breeze in the trees, the murmur of the brook and the occasional cry of an owl. Dwalin listened closely to Thorin's movements, ready to defend him should the Men or the muscle weakness return, but all went well. When Thorin stepped out of the water, Dwalin handed him a blanket to dry himself with and took his balled up trousers and breeches from him. He wrung them out and spread them over nearby bushes. They would not dry before they moved on, not with the morning dew that was starting to appear, but at least Thorin's bags wouldn't be flooded. In the meantime, Thorin had put on the fresh clothes Dwalin had laid out for him. He was sitting on a rock by the shore, tying his boots. Dwalin filled two mugs with steaming tea and added a generous amount of liquor from his hipflask before he sat down next to him. Thorin clutched his mug, but couldn't hide that he was shivering. Dwarves might not be as sensitive as Men, but usually they did not bathe in rivers before sunrise, and certainly not in the autumn. Dwalin handed him several blankets and Thorin gladly accepted them. For a while they sat in silence, staring out into the darkness, observing the mist that was rising from the water. Dwalin waited.

"Promise me you won't do that again," Thorin finally said. "Exhausting yourself like that for the sake of another when an attack might be imminent. Promise you won't do that."

"I can't do that," Dwalin replied.

"You made yourself vulnerable. I want my warriors to focus on their safety first and foremost."

"My duty is to serve those in need."

"So you would defy orders and do the same thing again."

"Aye."

Thorin made a noise between a huff and a laugh. "Stubborn mule."

"I learned from the best," Dwalin responded.

Thorin chuckled and then fell silent again.

"All the others were right there," Dwalin said.

"Staring on in shock while you did all the work. Balin only stepped in to declare me dead."

"You are guessing now," Dwalin replied. "For all you know it was Bofur who revived you."

"I was there."

"And out for the count!"

Thorin swallowed heavily and his voice was rougher than before when he spoke again. "I was conscious the whole time."

Dwalin was taken aback. He turned to stare at Thorin in the dim light. His friend had not spoken in jest. "Mahal's beard," he cursed. "I didn't realise."

"It was..." Thorin hesitated, evidently unsure of how to continue. He shuddered underneath the blankets and Dwalin had the sudden urge to put his arms around him. "It was strange. I did not feel faint, but suddenly I was on the ground and I... I could not breathe. I had my wits about me the whole time, but my body wouldn't respond to me. My eyes... I could not even close my eyes..." He brushed his hand over his brow. "They hurt."

They were both experienced enough to know that hiding injuries only lead to trouble, but Thorin still wasn't one to openly acknowledge pain that was unlikely to affect his companions.

"I could hear my heartbeat, I could see you... but I couldn't move... and I couldn't breathe. My body was crying out for air, but I couldn't breathe."

"I'm so sorry, Thorin." Dwalin could only imagine Thorin's horror. It had been bad enough to see his friend like this, but to actually feel your own life slipping away... to be so helpless... it was gruesome. He winced. Once again, they sat in silence, each caught in his own memories of the previous day.

"Were you scared?" Thorin eventually asked.

"Aye," Dwalin admitted.

"You weren't even the one who was dying!"

"Aye," Dwalin said. "That's what scared me."

He got up and walked the perimeter again. They were still on watch after all. He stoked the fire for good measure and listened to everybody's snores for a while. Then he sat down next to Thorin again. Thorin spoke as soon as he had settled.

"I was scared as well."

Dwalin was kicking pebbles with his boot.

"I knew you were there and I... I knew you were scared... and you shouldn't have to be," Thorin continued. "Not on my account."

"Don't worry about me."

"It's not just that... I... I didn't want to leave you. And I was thinking... you have a lot of time to think when you are not breathing... I was thinking about... about Dís, and about Fíli and Kíli..."

"Me too," Dwalin mumbled.

"I don't want them to have to go through that again."

Dwalin grasped his shoulder. "They won't, not on my watch they won't."

"Appreciate it, Dwalin. It's been... it's been hard on Dís, losing Jóli like that... She had finally... she was finally happy, and it was good to see her smile. It's what I wanted for her, a husband who'd love her... one who wouldn't go off to war and get himself killed, two boys who'd grow up with a loving mother and father. They are beautiful Dwalin, they really are. Kíli is... he's a sun for us all... he's like... like Frerin..."

Dwalin let his hand rest on his friend's shoulder. Thorin had not spoken about his brother much, not since that dreadful day. Azanulbizar had cast a great shadow upon him, but it was a shadow that was cast inward.

"I can't be Jóli... not to Dís and not to the boys... they deserve so much better... they deserve a father who loves them and jokes with them, not an old bachelor of an uncle who doesn't know the first thing about children. But I'm what they've got now... and I guess... I guess better a grumpy uncle than nobody at all..." Thorin took a deep and somewhat shaky breath. "It's not the life I knew in my youth... but it's their life... and I want to make it as good as possible."

"And you will," Dwalin said with conviction. "Let me have a look at your arm. Can't give the laddies back a damaged Uncle Thorin!"

The wound looked fine, as far as Dwalin could tell in this light. A very small and narrow slit marked the entry wound and the area was tender to the touch as could be expected. The exit wound was larger, also as expected. He retrieved some lotion and bandages from his bags and wrapped Thorin's forearm tightly.

"No wrestling matches for the next few days, but after that you should be up to lifting little dwarflings again."

He was unable to see Thorin's face as they were too far away from the fire and the moon had hidden behind a cloud, but he could see him nod. It was cold, the time just before dawn when the night seemed to be at its darkest.

"If it hadn't been for you..." Thorin said.

"Somebody else would have been in my place."

"Nobody would have done what you did... not for that long..."

"Of course they would have."

"It was so long, Dwalin... there was no hope that I would make a recovery."

"Only a fool's hope," Dwalin said with a smile.

"Or that of a loyal friend."

They sat in silence for a while, looking out towards the east where the first pale glimmer of light announced the beginning of a new day.

"Once again I owe you my life," Thorin continued eventually.

"You don't..." Dwalin started, but Thorin halted him with a raised hand.

"I knew, even when I was lying there locked in my own body, the moment that I saw your face I knew that I would be all right," Thorin said, his fingers twisting his braid nervously. "And that knowledge, that safety... that's worth a lot, Dwalin."

Dwalin did not know what to say to that, so he left it to Thorin to continue.

"Would you consider... staying closer to the Ered Luin for a while? I'd like to have you by my side."

Dwalin raised an eyebrow and smirked at his friend. "Do you mean to say the great Thorin Oakenshield needs a babysitter?

"Maybe I do," Thorin said. "My life is not as cheap as it once was."

For those of you interested in toxicology, Thorin was poisoned with curare. Nowadays used for anaesthesia, but originally a common arrow poison that paralyses the victim's muscles. All muscles. So they do end up choking without artificial respiration. The onset is rapid and effects last for about 6-11 minutes. Doesn't sound very long, but when you are doing mouth-to-mouth that is quite a while, especially given the somewhat limited medical knowledge and capabilities in Middle Earth.

Thank you very much for reading; your continued support is very much appreciated. I'm writing these lines from a horribly overcrowded train, trying to get home for the weekend... Currently running about two hours late on a 4.5 hour journey. Good thing I can flee to Middle Earth! My next fic will take place the following spring and continue to focus on Dwalin and Thorin, but this time around I'll throw Dís and her sons into the mix as well.