The wind howled across the North-South Road, ripping through the brush and the scattered trees around them and knocking blossoms off the flowers. It was harsh and biting, relentlessly pommeling the weary riders as they trudged forward. Thorin urged the pony on, but it was of little avail against the backlash of the thrashing wind. It stung his face and whipped his hair around him so he could barely see. His eyes smarted from the assault of the elements, but he pressed on until the conditions became too harsh. The dwarf finally gave in, stumbling forward and seeking out shelter under a fortuitous rock formation. He tied the pony to the brush beside it and curled Evie up in the curve of the rock, hoping the wind would blow against it rather than on them. Battered and exhausted, the prince sat down next to the hobbit and breathed deeply. It was a relief to be out of the cruel wind, if only for a little while. As soon as it let up they would have to move again- it had already been weeks since Evie was stabbed, between their stop at the inn and the traveling time… They were getting closer to the Shire, but not fast enough. Every passing moment he feared he would lose her- the very thought made him freeze inside faster than the effects of any blustering natural force might have.

"Thorin, I'm cold…"

Evie had barely spoken since they had left the comfort of the inn, but now she forced out the words. They had brought little bedding, taking only what food and supplies they needed to lighten the load for the pony. He unrolled what they had, bringing the blankets around Evie and tucking her in beside him. As he went about this business, trying to warm her, she turned into his arms. Thorin froze for a moment, unsure how to respond. The blonde was shivering, and he couldn't resist the need lighting up her eyes as she struggled to stay awake and not to give into the sleep that was constantly waiting for her.

Thorin wrapped his arms around the petite hobbit, drawing her close and fixing the blanket around her neck so it would keep in the heat. He noticed when her gentle fingers latched onto the edge of his cloak and his heart skipped a beat. She nestled her head into the crook of his neck, closing her eyes as she tried to arrest the uncontrollable trembling of her fragile body. She was so close to the edge, and to stumbling off it- Thorin could feel her life hanging by a thread just as palpably as he could sense the faint thumping of her heart as her body pressed against his. A sudden heat rushed through him- he had always desired such intoxicating closeness, such perfect comfort, but not like this. Not here, in the freezing cold, huddled for warmth as she clung to life, and to him… He would have given anything in that moment to heal her; he would have traded anything which was his to relinquish. Thorin sighed, his breath blossoming from his lips in a plume of crisp white smoke, although it was cast off into the wind before he could acknowledge it. The sound of the wind moaning through the plains, creaking and cracking through the branches of the sparse trees decorating the empty land and disturbing the dust of the road, was ominous in its indelible force. Thorin felt Evie's warm breath against his neck and closed his eyes, battling with himself. He must think only of her, of what was best for her… She was weak and vulnerable and her desire to be close to him was only a reflection of that need. She was cold, and he was warm; she had been the source of the recent warmth in his life… It was time he repaid her.

"I-I'm… scared.."

She whispered, and he only heard it over the whistling wind because her mouth was right below his ear. Her breath was coming in broken gasps now, whether from fright or pain he couldn't be sure. One of his hands moved to her arm, rubbing it gently to try and bring her body temperature up.

"You have nothing to fear. We will reach the Shire soon, and your mother will heal you."

The certainty in his voice almost convinced even himself. Evie shook her head, making a small sound into the fur lining of his cloak.

"Of… Of leaving…"

She rasped, and his heart turned to stone within his chest. The deadness of it, of this abrupt reaction to his own terror, was perilously heavy inside him. The hand on her arm moved to her hair, running through her silky curls and holding her close against him.

"The only place you are going is home, Evangeline. And I will be by your side until we get there."

He told her throatily, breathing in deeply through his nose as he tried to maintain his emotional composure. She could not leave him. She could not leave him alone here surrounded by the cold, lifeless wind and the plains that stretched on in every direction without another living creature in sight. She had to stay.

Thorin turned and placed his lips at the top of her head, his breath catching in his throat.

"Fight it. You must fight and stay with me."

He whispered into the crown of her forehead, where her golden curls erupted from her pale skin. He felt her nod, as if promising she would. The wind was cold and the night was dark, but as the hobbit and the dwarf huddled together, struggling against what seemed like insurmountable odds, Thorin knew in his heart that they were both fighting, and that he would continue to fight as hard as he could for as long as he needed to, if only he could be sure that Evangeline Took would never have to leave his side.

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The arrival of Thorin, son of Thrain, with a very ailing Evangeline Took wrapped up in front of him on their pony, created one of the greatest spectacles Westfarthing had seen in some time, perhaps even since the news of Fellin's death at Moria. The first two hobbits Thorin asked for directions simply stared at him with their mouths open, and it was not until he finally came across a particularly brave looking gardener that he was pointed toward the slope which apparently housed Marigold Took's hobbit hole.

Evangeline was half asleep in his arms; she had tried to speak and direct him but it was too difficult for her. They had come a long way, and traveling had not been easy on the enfeebled hobbit. Every motion of the pony beneath her bent her body and aggravated her wound- Thorin exhausted every thought on her comfort and care and the steady prayer that she would continue breathing and her heart would keep beating. They were so close, now, and he pinned everything on the idea that her mother could somehow save her. The dwarf could feel Evie's life in his hands, could feel it slipping through his fingers with each passing hour, and as hard as he fought he did not know what to do to help her. So he did the only thing he could- he pressed on and rushed to reach their destination. He solicited a stunned looking neighbor for help off the pony (he was worried that if he dismounted without securing her, Evangeline might fall), but the hobbit did not reply and simply continued about his business, fetching the mail from a little box at the front of his home. It wasn't until Thorin's deep voice boomed over the diminutive hobbit's hydrangeas that the insolent figure finally turned to squint up at him, eyes burning in the sunlight.

He finally aided the surly dwarf, who was doing his best to stay calm. With the stranger's help, he gently slid off the pony and brought Evie down into his arms behind him. He thanked the hobbit as well as he could, refusing to share any more of his business, although it was quite obvious when he asked which hole belonged to the Took family and the neighbor caught a full look at Evie. The hobbit cried out, and suddenly he was not at all the same person who had turned up his nose at the visitors. He stumbled frantically up to the round, yellow door to the left of his own and began pounding his small fists on it. At least Thorin could commend his sense of urgency, as belated as it was.

"Mary! Mary, open up!"

The hobbit wailed, and Thorin's jaw went tight. The dwarf had tried to focus all his attention on his own hobbit, on protecting her as they traveled; he had deliberately avoided thinking of what he would say to her mother. There was no valid explanation other than the simple truth, as ugly and disappointing as it would prove. His fear of facing her anger and her grief was only diminished by the now ever-present anxiety over the life of her daughter. What he did now, he did for Evangeline. At least, that was what he promised himself as he carried her up to her own front door. She turned her face into the fur lining of his coat, shielding her eyes from the sunlight and snuggling into the comfort of his embrace. He swallowed, enjoying the sensation of her clinging to him, needing him, far more than he wanted to. The prince also recognized what they would look like, standing as they were, and it made him go stiff. All the same, he would not, he could not, push her away or pry her small fingers from the strap of his sword sheath which lay across his chest.

Marigold Took opened the door, looking very cross. At least, Thorin guessed it must be her- she had Evie's tousled curls and the same button nose.

"Bretan, if this is another one of your-"

She stopped speaking and the sour look on her face dissolved immediately upon seeing the dwarf with her daughter cradled in his arms.

"Evie!"

She ran to Thorin's side, her hands immediately moving to touch Evangeline's flushed face.

"What's happened?!"

She demanded, not chancing to take her eyes off her little girl.

"My name is Thorin, son of-"

"That's all very nice and you'll accept my introduction later, I'm sure, but you must tell me what has happened to my daughter."

Mary exclaimed, looking instantly ten years older as she checked the other hobbit's pulse and felt the warmth of the fever radiating off of her.

"We were attacked by goblins while crossing the mountains…"

He tried to explain, feeling himself failing even as he did. "She was stabbed."

"Well, take her inside."

The hobbit ordered curtly, her lips pursing together. The neighbor, who was now far too helpful, was pushed aside as they brought Evie into her old home. Mary thanked Bretan for his help and then all but slammed the door in his overtly curious face. Hobbits and their gossip. Evie's stories came to life here, and he observed that she hadn't exaggerated an inch when it came to her people's nosiness and dislike of outsiders. The visitor had no time to appreciate the fact, however, as he carried her inside and onto the bed Marigold directed him to.

Evie moaned, taking a rasping breath as he laid her down as carefully as he could. Mary was beside him within seconds, pulling out vials of exotic looking potions and salves and all manner of herbs. Her craft was wholly unfamiliar to him, and he watched her in awe as she examined her daughter's wound and provoked a helpless yelp of discomfort. Thorin backed away, stepping to the other side of the bed so he would not be an obstruction to Mary's work.

As she was being poked and prodded, Evie turned her face away from her mother, closing her eyes and biting her lip as her body fought the pain raging through every muscle. Thorin stepped forward without thinking, wanting to help her but knowing he had already done all he could. It was up to her mother, now, and he had no place in the affair. No definite one, in any case.

Evie seemed to want him all the same, however, for her little white hand shifted from her side and reached out to him, although she was barely able to lift it off the bed. Glancing at Mary in sudden uneasiness (what would she think!?), Thorin noted that she was busy going through her medicines and decided that he owed her an explanation in any case (what harm could be done already had been) - if Evangeline wanted him by her side, then that was where he would be.

He went to the edge of the bed and took her hand, which was cold and frighteningly clammy. The dwarf took a deep breath, trying to keep calm as he watched Marigold run back into the other room to retrieve some other cure.

"You will be alright…" He reassured Evie, his voice gravelly. The corner of the hobbit's mouth twitched into a flickering smile, like sunlight passing through clouds for the briefest of moments. Her foggy grey eyes met his, and he despaired to see the fatigue straining them. She looked so tired, so weary… He realized unexpectedly that he felt the same way. The last few weeks had been incredibly trying- he had never experienced such a rush of potent, contrary emotions in such a short time. But they were here now, in the Shire, and it was the safest place for Evie to be. If there was a cure in all of Middle Earth for her, he hoped they would find it here. If not, he was willing to travel all the way to the Black Lands or the Sea of Rhûn and beyond to find it.

Mary paused in the doorway to give him a bewildered and almost angry look before returning to her daughter's side, and it was not lost on the prince. He knew proper decency and the avoidance of an uncomfortable conversation dictated that he should release Evie's hand, but he couldn't bear to do it. Not when he could feel her fingers wrapping around his much larger ones, not when the hobbit closed her eyes and turned her face into the pillow, trying to stifle a moan of pain as her mother dressed her wound. Propriety was the last thing on his mind as he squeezed her hand, trying to offer the support he knew she needed but could not ask for.

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After Mary had finished with Evie for the time being, she kissed her daughter on the forehead and sighed softly, looking over her work. The feverish girl was already falling asleep, too fatigued after her travels and the trauma of her mother's attentions. The elder hobbit turned, looking through appraising eyes at the dwarf and gesturing for him to follow her into the other room. He did as she bid him, and the pair moved into the bright, well lit kitchen. Marigold crossed her arms and unnervingly reviewed the visitor as though preparing to deliver a verdict.

"I think it is time for that introduction."

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Author's Note: So this chapter has some extra fluff which I have absolutely no defense for. I just love them together so much and I can't help it! Hahaha It was raining and super windy last night so I felt like writing something… and voila! It got kind of cute at the end, and I just couldn't stop myself. But hopefully you enjoyed it! I've been loving your comments- I'm glad many of you are enjoying the slow unfolding of their romance… Obviously we've come pretty far, but there's still a ways to go… (Well, to Ered Luin, at least!)