Disclaimer: Not mine. And the prompt came from the kink meme on lj. For the lack of hyperlinking: prompt post 10, p.5.
Warnings: Fairly harmless chapter ahead. Some PTSD and lots of comfort.
AN: Thank you! I realize I'm currently horrible at getting back to reviewers, but I do adore your feedback. (And if you really want an answer, just let me know. I react to being prodded.)
On that note: Guilt and Courage will be completed. That particular muse is currently on holiday, but expected back anytime soon.
The Price of Gold
V
When Bilbo wakes up, his head feels clearer. His limbs remain weak, but the ever-present panic in the back of his head has receded. Its shadow lingers – though now, he can start thinking again. Last night is a blurry memory of sensations and feelings and the rapid beating of his heart – even the slightest movement had sent his brain into overdrive, then.
It's alright, for now, as long as he consciously does not think about it.
This morning – and he thinks it is morning, he doesn't quite know – he can catalogue the sounds he hears and glance around at his surprisingly luxurious quarters. The canvas of the tent may be off-white, but is mostly hidden behind a selection of tapestries that helps keeping the wind out and the interior warm. Bilbo recognizes the patterns – he has seen those inside Erebor before.
There are a number of stools arranged around his bed, and a chest next to it. On it sits a chalice filled with clear water and a small bowl with fruits. Hunger is far from his mind – his stomach gives an uncomfortable lurch at the thought of food – but throat is dry. His fingers shake as he reaches out, and after he has stilled his thirst, he is exhausted again.
While Bilbo is busy catching his breath, somebody enters the tent. Bilbo whips his head around so fast his muscles twinge with pain. His body is frozen stiff, even when he recognizes Gandalf.
The wizard looks surprised to find him awake. Then a smile spreads on his face.
"Bilbo," he hurries over, "How are you?"
Gandalf carefully watches the hobbit, looking for any indicators of acute pain. Bilbo has some trouble relaxing his muscles again, but eventually he manages.
"Better I suppose," he replies.
Gandalf nods, and sits on a stool with obvious relief. "Resources are spare now, but please ask if you need anything. I'm afraid between myself and the healers we did all we could – which wasn't much, to be honest, so I'm very glad to see you up right now."
Bilbo nods, and grows increasingly aware of just how stiff his back is. Unsurprising, considering – he cuts the thought of before the memory can rise up.
"How are the others?" Bilbo asks, "I think somebody said we won, but I haven't seen all of them."
"I don't doubt they'll be around sooner rather than later," the wizard says, "They're all alive, some a bit worse for wear than others. Fili and Kili are in the tent next to you, and I think I heard them terrorizing the healers earlier today. Bofur asked for you, and he'll probably stop by later tonight – he went with a party to scout out the state of the living quarters inside the mountain."
"So they're all well?" Bilbo straightens instinctively, as an unfamiliar emotion tugs at his heart.
Gandalf smiles. "They are. Though I think Gloin lost the tip of his ear, if I heard correctly."
The sensation that blossoms in Bilbo's chest is relief. A smile begins to form on his face, and somehow it feels as if he never smiled before. It's a glorious moment – for now, the dark memories are banished and with them all alive there's a future to hope for.
"They will be glad to hear you're up, too," Gandalf adds lightly, "They were all rather concerned."
The words gladden Bilbo. Then doubt gnaws its way to the forefront of his mind – all of them, truly? Even the one who … (and Bilbo knows, that even though he remembers an attempted apology the night before, he cannot think the name or of what was done – not now, not when the darkness is so fresh and all too ready to swallow him should he let himself fall apart).
"Anyhow, I was …" Whatever Gandalf is about to say is lost, as somebody enters the tent.
Bilbo freezes, and it is Kili who wanders in. His head is bandaged and his movements are a little stiff, though altogether he looks rather well put-together.
"Gandalf," Kili starts, and then catches sight of Bilbo.
"Bilbo!" he exclaims cheerfully, and lunges forward. Only Gandalf's extended staff stops him from wrapping his arms around Bilbo. Kili stumbles backwards, coughing, and Bilbo dares to breathe again. Fine tremors run through his hands, his heart is racing and there's a fine layer of sweat covering his forehead all of a sudden.
He doesn't quite know why – but Kili with his arms wide open has suddenly become frightening.
Kili sees the hobbit's wide eyes, and his joy dims a little. He steps back, and sheepishly scratches the back of his neck. "Ah, sorry about that."
Bilbo is too busy getting his breath back, so Gandalf turns to the dwarf. "You were looking for me?"
"Oh, yes," says Kili and takes his eyes away from Bilbo, "Balin said to fetch you. They're negotiating with Bard and Thranduil, and it's not going too well from what I heard, so Balin said to get you. Maybe you can help. I mean, it's all a bit difficult, right now, with Dain, and all his generals and everybody has their own opinion. You probably know, but Balin thought you could help out perhaps."
Gandalf frowns. "Is it truly necessary?"
Kili grimaces. "From what I know they're negotiating supply routes. The rest isn't important, but with winter so close…."
Bilbo can see how this would be important, so he doesn't know why Gandalf hesitates. The wizard then turns to him. "Would it be acceptable to you if I left for an hour or two?"
"Of course," Bilbo replies instantly – and feels confused. Why does Gandalf ask him this? He's not – well, he's not well, but he won't fall apart the moment Gandalf leaves. At least, he thinks so. (And he hates the uncertainty that overshadows each and every thought).
"Very well," says Gandalf and rises.
"Don't worry, I'll keep Bilbo company. And Dwalin is guarding the entrance – he almost wouldn't have let me pass," Kili proclaims while Gandalf puts his hat back on.
"See that you do that," Gandalf says over his shoulder, "But see that you don't do too much, either."
"I will!" Kili calls after Gandalf. Then the wizard is gone, and the young prince turns his attention back on the hobbit. Thankfully, this time his approach is moderated. Instead of throwing his arms around the hobbit, he sits down on the stool Gandalf has vacated.
"So," he starts, "Uncle really put his foot into it, this time, didn't he?"
Bilbo feels how the blood drains from his face. Kili backtracks at once - "Oh, sorry, I shouldn't have said. Balin said to be careful, but nobody's telling me anything, and uncle won't even look me in the eye, so I guess he really … well, I mean, I saw him before battle, but … you know what, just forget I said anything."
Bilbo is dizzy. He fights it the best he can – he's blacked out too much, and he doesn't want it to happen again, so he forces his lips to move. "I… I'd rather not … talk of it."
"Ah, sure," Kili agrees easily, "But you'll tell me if I can do anything to help? Let me know if you want me to fetch you some food or drink? Or maybe your writing materials? Dori kept your things, and the battle didn't touch anything inside the mountain, so it'll all be still there."
Thinking of the interior of the mountain immediately summons related memories. The treasury. The – Bilbo bites down on his lip. He's trembling now, and Kili's face falls.
"I, I'm sorry. Really," he says, sounding contrite and mature (when Bilbo would rather see him cheerful, for all he unintentionally brings up bad memories, Kili's light-hearted nature is soothing), "I really wish I could have done something. Or could do something. You'll let me know if I can, will you? I wish I could just take this all away."
He gestures widely, and Bilbo understands he means to encompass the entirety of the battle. In his heart, he wishes for the same as Kili does – for this to be past, bygone and over. He doesn't want to jump at noises and movements, not when his heart already feels so strained.
He just wants to feel normal again.
The silence stretches just a moment too long to be comfortable. Bilbo can't summon his conversational self, and Kili is afraid of putting his foot into his mouth, again. But somehow he can't quite think of a topic not related to the events of the last few days.
"I heard you dislocated your shoulder," Kili says eventually, "I'm by no means a healer, but would you mind if I took a look at it? Balin said it might…"
"Go ahead," Bilbo offers, even though he doesn't know whether he's ready for it.
Kili then leans forward and gently peels back the collar of Bilbo's shirt. The hobbit stiffens immediately, because even the softest touch to the bruised skin of his back sends spikes of pain through his body. With a conscious effort, he forces himself to exhale.
"Your head wound?" he inquires, while Kili's fingers dance across his skin.
"Healing," Kili replies absently, "Your muscles are stiff – that must be quite painful."
Bilbo doesn't reply, because that's the truth and he isn't up to insisting he's fine – even if the pain in his back seems a minor discomfort compared to what lurks in the abyss of his mind.
"You know, Dwalin is quite good at working out those knots," Kili says and leans back, "I'm certain he'd be glad to do that for you."
When Bilbo remains hesitant, he adds: "It's really relaxing – he did it all the time when he taught Fili and me how to handle our weapons. He just knows where to put his fingers, how much force to apply – and moments later you'll be feeling as soft as pudding. You ought to try."
The offer sounds tempting, though for some reason a part of him is afraid of Dwalin. It's all complex, and very irrational, to a point that Bilbo is fed up at himself. So he nods, before he can change his mind.
Kili smiles brightly, and then proceeds to call the dwarf in. While Bilbo steels his nerves, Kili explains to Dwalin how he ought to give him one of those "amazing muscle treatments" and promises to stand guard outside in the meantime.
Bilbo wonders just what he got himself into.
And once he enters, Dwalin appears just as uncertain as Bilbo feels.
"Are you alright with this?" he asks, and his expression tells Bilbo that he'd more than understand it. That Dwalin is familiar with Kili's enthusiasm, but also familiar with the havoc injury and experience can wreck on a mind.
Even if his fingers are trembling, Bilbo has had enough of feeling delicate. He's pulled himself together before and survived, and he's certain there're soldiers out there in far worse conditions. Unlike many, Bilbo is neither dying nor in blinding pain – and perhaps, once his back stops aching, he can get up and try to make himself useful (rather than rest and allow his mind to wander).
"It's alright, I suppose," Bilbo replies and forces a chuckle, "Kili said you were some kind of miracle-worker."
Dwalin snorts at that. "Did he?"
Then he finally approaches Bilbo's bedside, and his sheer size suddenly feels intimidating. Bilbo takes a deep breath and forces himself to remain calm.
"Turn on your stomach," Dwalin orders, and begins flexing his fingers, "Tell me to stop when it hurts or you start feeling uncomfortable."
Bilbo's heart is pounding as he obeys. Dwalin has never harmed him, yet he's afraid to turn his back to him all of a sudden. He firmly tells himself that Dwalin won't hurt him, swallows, and arranges his pillow until he has found a comfortable position.
"I'll start at your shoulders. Tell me if I press too hard on a bruise," Dwalin says, and Bilbo feels the tips of his fingers settle in the junction of his neck and shoulders. The touch remains light – the dwarf traces the outline of Bilbo's shoulder blades, applying soft pressure on the muscles there.
It's not uncomfortable, even though Bilbo can't quite help flinching the first three times. The thin shirt is a blessing in disguise – he isn't certain whether his nerves would be up to skin on skin contact.
The touch stops half-way down his back, before the fingers gently settle against his left shoulder. The joint is still swollen, and aches at every move Bilbo makes, though for some reason Dwalin's touch is barely more than a tickle. And then it's already gone, and Dwalin lightly palpitates his right shoulder.
Dwalin mutters something under his breath (he's not swearing, Bilbo think, at least his intonation doesn't suggest it), and then returns his hands to their initial position. This time he uses the balls of his hands to rub small circles along Bilbo's spine.
The hobbit can feel his muscles shift under the gentle pressure. And while there remains a knot of fear coiled in the depth of his stomach, it's small enough to allow his body to relax. Dwalin's hands remain gentle and his touch is always mindful of the bruises and abrasions on Bilbo's back. There's no hurry in his movements and he keeps rubbing a number of spots along his spine, increasing the pressure until Bilbo's back is arched.
He even manages to coax the muscles around Bilbo's injured shoulder to relax – the hobbit can almost feel the pain drain out. And when at one point his spine gives a loud crack, it's as if his bones have been realigned in a way that is finally comfortable.
"That's all I can do for now," Dwalin announces an indefinite amount of time later.
Bilbo blinks. He hasn't dozed off, but for the first time in what seems to be forever, he feels warm and safe. Even the nightmarish memories lurking behind his eyelids appear to have vanished for now.
"T's nice," he mumbles, and it makes the tall dwarf chuckle. Bilbo thinks Kili should have told him sooner – this kind of treatment should be a regular occurrence, really. Now though, he should probably get up.
Though when he moves, Dwalin softly presses him back into the mattress (and it is testament to Dwalin's skills that the touch doesn't send Bilbo into a panic) and says: "No, just stay here and sleep a little longer, Master Baggins."
And Bilbo closes his eyes.
When he wakes up, Gandalf is at his side again. Night has fallen, since the oil lamps have been lit – the wizard stares thoughtfully into nothing. He's distracted by Bilbo shifting on the bed.
"How are you?" the wizard inquires. Apparently he likes what he sees, and Bilbo has to admit, he can't recall ever feeling so relaxed.
"Quite fine, actually," he replies. His sleep has been thankfully free of nightmares and he's warm, but the more he awakens, the closer those dark memories draw again. He'll have to sort them out, he realizes – but not now, not when he feels fine and doesn't have to worry about a thing.
Gandalf smiles.
"How was the meeting?" Bilbo asks, before the silence can stretch, "Earlier today, I believe? The meeting with Bard and Thranduil?"
The wizard snorts. "It went rather better than expected, but that isn't saying much. Th – Laketown will be recompensed for the damages caused, and the elves will receive a small sum for their help in battle. But a number of issues that remain unresolved."
Both ignore how Gandalf avoids mentioning Thorin's name or the Arkenstone. There's a seed of curiosity somewhere in Bilbo, but he dreads what discussing either of these subjects will inevitably entail, so he skips it.
"I heard there was something about the supplies?" he asks.
"Trust a hobbit to ask about the food first," says Gandalf, and Bilbo grins, "Well, a joint group for Erebor and Laketown will set out and see whether the plain around the mountain are fertile. The elves have offered to provide seeds. Laketown has enough stores to get through the winter, and Dain will provide for Erebor. Though that'll only cover a very basic fare, so they were thinking if they could use the river to buy further produce from the south."
Bilbo nods, with a sense of relief. "That sounds good."
"Yes, but well, it isn't easy," replies Gandalf, "Thranduil is asking a rather steep price for seeds, Bard still faces some internal opposition from those loyal to Laketown's former Master. And Dain will not only leave grain and supplies, but also a number of his soldiers and generals."
Gandalf's expression is dark. Bilbo can't help but tense – and where the respectable Mr. Baggins would have laughed at the idea of a political plot in the making, the hobbit he is now is wary at how easy it would be for Dain to just march in.
He has never met the other dwarf, only heard of him. Most tales positive, but he still remembers the words "he won't come" spoken in his dining room. It makes Bilbo feel rather uneasy.
"Does he…" Bilbo trails off, realizing he doesn't quite know how to phrase his concerns.
Gandalf sighs. "I don't know. Dain himself seems not ambitious as his advisors and generals – but I have to admit, I do not know him very well. I suppose we shall wait and see."
He straightens up. "Anyhow, a number of people – Thranduil and Bard among them – asked after you. I believe at least Bard was quite worried, too."
Warmth blossoms in Bilbo's chest. It's nice to know he hasn't been forgotten amid the chaos, and he smiles at Gandalf. "If they ask again, give them my regards and tell them I'd like to see them, too, once I'm up."
"I shall see it done," Gandalf promises with a fond chuckle.
tbc