Chapter 15 Not All That Glitters Is Gold
Bilbo awoke, another scream ragged on his lips as he sobbed for breath. The darkness suffocating, the warmth around him constricting. Swallowed headfirst, swallowed headfirst. His arms batted wildly as he tried to free himself.
"Shhh Shhh, Bilbo, it's alright." Strong arms pinned him in the darkness.
"I can't breathe, it's too dark, I can't breathe!" He wept, too weak to escape. In an instant the pressure was gone, a rustling to the side followed by a spark of light thrown into a fireplace. Sitting up, his breaths heaved from his lungs as he tried to orientate himself. He was in a bed; the covers having been tossed aside were hanging off the end onto the floor. The fireplace raged, highlighting Thorin standing to one side. The king's expression was guarded, concern shining in his eyes as he stared at Bilbo warily. Clad in only pants, the flames lit every curve of his muscular chest, shadows dancing in every dip and valley.
Bilbo fisted the sheet underneath him, trying to ground himself in reality. "How long have I been out?" He rasped. Thorin approached slowly, pouring a cup of water from a decanter next to the bed. He took a seat, the mattress giving under his weight as he passed the glass to Bilbo.
"Only a day, Oin say's you're to be on bed rest for the next year." The joke fell flat as Bilbo sipped the water, staring into the flames. Thorin reach out, his large hand cupping Bilbo cheek as he turned his face too meet is eyes. "I would have come sooner. I didn't mean to leave you there for so long. I'm so sorry, ghivashel." His eyes were misted with unspoken emotions. Bilbo closed his eyes, leaning into the warm touch.
"I knew you'd find me." While barely a whisper, Bilbo was confident in its honesty. The ring had worked hard at breaking down his mind but hadn't been able to break the part of him that hoped for rescue by his friends. Thorin scooted farther onto the bed, his motions hesitant, gently pulling the hobbit into his arms.
"In truth, I thought I was digging for a… corpse." He rasped into Bilbo's curls, "They all saw you get eaten by Smaug-" Bilbo shivered, the arms around him tightening in response, "Why? Why did you taunt him? Why didn't you hide or escape with Dwalin?"
"We couldn't let him live. He was already awake, he would have killed all of us, burned down the entirety of Lake Town for disturbing him. I couldn't live with that blood on my hands." Not again, he thought to himself.
"You're a little fool," It was spoken in a warm tone, and Bilbo could hear the smile in his voice as the dwarf king nuzzled his hair.
"Where are the others?"
"Searching for the stone, it's here somewhere, we will find it." He felt as if Thorin's arms tightened slightly, and he knew the tone; the obsession that would soon follow. Bilbo was truly surprised the king wasn't down in the cavern with the others, and only hoped that meant the sickness could be fought. Even if it was futile, he would try.
"We'll need to set up a settlement of sorts. It's been a hundred and seventy years since anyone has lived here, many of the necessities are missing. I, for one, cannot eat gold." He joked, turning slightly in Thorin's arms to meet his heated gaze.
"Have you slept?"
"There will be time for sleep later," he murmured, his voice low and rough, as if the weight of centuries hung on his words.
Bilbo's eyes traced Thorin's face; unsure what to do he reached up tentatively, weaving his fingers through Thorin's dense black beard till he touched the soft skin of his cheek below. "You'll collapse before long if you don't. You're not invincible."
He smirked faintly, the sharp edge of it fading as his gaze dropped to Bilbo's mouth. "No. But some things are worth staying awake for."
The air between them turned electric, the kind of charge that hummed in Bilbo's chest and turned the world around them into static. Without thinking, without hesitating, he closed the distance.
Their mouths met in a clash of heat and hunger. It was a kiss born of desperation, of words left unspoken for far too long. Thorin's lips were soft but demanding, moving against Bilbo's like he was claiming something that had always belonged to him.
Bilbo's hands slid up, threading through long, dark locks as he pulled him closer. The world beyond them—the ruins, the dangers, the crushing weight of the future—blurred into nothingness. All that remained was the taste of Thorin, the heat of his body pressed firmly against him.
Thorin's hands slipped beneath Bilbo's shirt, his fingers kneading the firm planes of flesh, desperate to close the distance between them as if mere touch could erase the space that lingered, drawing a hesitant moan from the Hobbit. Thorin took this as an invitation, slipping his tongue to dance with Bilbo's as their breath's became ragged. The kiss deepened, turning frantic, each movement a wordless plea, a promise neither could fully articulate.
When they finally broke apart, gasping for air, Bilbo's lips curved into a faint smirk, his hands still buried in the king's hair. "You kiss like it's the end of the world."
"And you kiss like you just came back from it." His fingers flexed against Bilbo's sides, as if grounding himself. "Do you always bounce back this fast, or should I be worried?"
Bilbo chuckled softly, leaning in until his breath teased Thorin's lips. "You're worried? That's cute."
"Don't get used to it." The dwarf's voice was sharp as he nipped lightly at Bilbo's lower lip, but his eyes betrayed the concern still lingering beneath the surface. Before he could respond, Thorin closed the distance again, claiming his lips with a renewed fervor that left no room for argument—or breath. Bilbo shifted to his knees to bring his chest flush against Thorin's, his finders trailing over the toned muscles of his shoulder. Their bodies began to move together, and despite their cloths Bilbo could feel Thorin like stone through his pants. Heat rushed to his head, as he tried not to think too hard about what they were doing. Friction causing him to go mindless as their breaths mingled between every touch.
Taking hold of the edge of Bilbo's shirt, Thorin met his gaze, a cautious question unspoken but asked all the same. A slight nod and the shirt found the floor, leaving Bilbo's slight frame touched by firelight. He wrapped his arms around himself, insecurities rising to the surface as he compared himself to Thorin's physique. Where he had barely been holding on to any weight before Smaug, he knew he was now sickly by hobbit standards, muscle and fat eaten away by his trials. Bruised patches inked his skin where he'd landed after being batted away by the dragon while burns marred his skin from stomach acid. Compared to anyone else, he was a patchwork doll that had seen better days.
As if sensing the change in his thoughts, Thorin tilted his chin to meet his eyes, "You are perfect," he gruff whisper full of longing. Gently lying Bilbo onto the mattress, he kneeled at his hip, running fingers over the light unmarred skin, learning each curve by touch. He paused, finding the sprinkle of freckles that dusted the hobbit's shoulders, before moving lower still. When his hands approached one of the burns, they were replaced by his lips, laying gentle kisses as if to heal the hurt. Touch of lips and fingers combined, drawing a heated moan from Bilbo as he watched this god of a dwarf worship his body. His fists gripped the sheet below him as his back arched into every teasing touch. Moving still lower, Thorin gaze traveled back up over every curve to meet his gaze once again. Seeking permission.
A final nod sealed his fate as Thorin slipped his trousers from his waist. Bilbo's breath caught ss he watched the king's gaze shift from reverent to ravenous.
"Ghivashel," His voice growled out as his gaze found Bilbo's shaft, a testament to his craving for the king's touch. Shifting to lay on his side, Thorin's hand found his hip, calloused fingers curling gently against the curve as their lips met once again. The kiss was slower this time, no less passionate but rich with something deeper—an unspoken understanding, a tether to keep them grounded in the chaos surrounding them.
Bilbo sighed softly into the kiss, his body instinctively leaning closer, as though drawn by the pull of Thorin's touch. His hand trailed down his arm, fingers brushing over taut muscle before settling against his chest, feeling the steady, reassuring beat of his heart.
Thorin's thumb skimmed along the edge of Bilbo's hip, the touch feather-light but searing, sending sparks racing up his spine. He broke the kiss just enough to murmur against Thorin's lips, his voice low and teasing. "If this is how you negotiate, I think I'm winning."
A responding chuckle sent feathers of breath warm against Bilbo's skin. "Funny. I was thinking the same thing." His hand slid lower, fingers encircling the girth of Bilbo's dick. Bilbo's hips bucked in shock; a moan drawn again from his lips as his eyes shut. Thorin gave a steady squeeze, shifting his fingers along the length with knowledgeable precision, causing Bilbo's legs to splay wide.
Thorin's lips collided with Bilbo's as the heat between them ramped up to a wildfire, all oxygen feeling as if it had been sucked from the room. Teeth clashing, Bilbo's hands tangled in Thorin's hair as his tongue joined in the dance, their bodies vibrating from need as Thorin continued to stroke him. No room left for teasing or clever words; urgency, of desires long denied, drove each flick of his wrist as he compelled Bilbo deeper into mindless passion.
Climax hit Bilbo like a troll club, Thorin swallowing his groan as his hips bucked wildly against the dwarf's fist, every drop wrung from him. Stars swam in his vision as he broke away from their kiss, laying his head back against the pillows. The feather touch of Thorin's lips met his brow and he peeled his eyes open to find the concerned eyes of ice blue staring down at him.
They were both breathless as they lingered in the intimacy of the moment. While not naïve, this had been greater than anything he could have imagined. Far more than what he had expected to come from this journey. Bilbo's lips curved into a mischievous grin. "So, what's next in your plan, oh fearless leader? Or are we just winging it now?"
Thorin smirked, his fingers still tracing lazy patterns along Bilbo's stomach. "My plan is to make sure you remember how this feels… just in case you need a reminder of why you're sticking around."
Bilbo's laugh was soft, genuine, as he tangled his hand once more in Thorin's hair. "You've got a way with persuasion; I'll give you that." He tilted his head, his lips brushing lightly against Thorin's once more. "But don't think for a second this is what is keeping me here."
The next week passed in a blur, as he was forbidden to leave the room and ordered to bedrest. Not that he did much resting. Most of his time was filled with playful touches, kisses, and passion beyond his wildest dreams. Thorin rarely left him alone except to check on the progress below or fetch them food or water. He'd learned the king's body with a familiarity to his own, and even without the continuous sex they always seemed to be touching.
The hours in between they talked, and while he couldn't broach one particular subject he was happy to share the rest of his life like an open book. They each shared stories about their families, learning more about how they'd both raised their nephews. Thorin shared his experiences since the loss of Erebor, working as a blacksmith. Bilbo spoke of his travels and his love of learning. He felt closer to him than he had anyone in his life.
The fact that he hadn't seen any of the others only started to feel odd as the week wound down and Thorin had tried to insist that he continue to stay in bed. Despite having regained all his energy, Bilbo had attributed it to the fact that while his body had healed, he still suffered from night terrors every time he slept, and thus might seem like he still needed rest. Thorin had started behaving oddly in other ways as well, slipping out of the room when he thought Bilbo was sleeping. Bilbo would often wake to him staring into the fire, or staring at him, but every time he questioned anything he was swiftly diverted with kisses.
Today, however, he was staring down his lover as he attempted to exit the room. "I can't stay here forever," He crossed his arms over his chest, mimicking Thorin standing in front of the door.
"There are many threats to you out there and you're not healthy enough yet." Only the concern in his eyes kept Bilbo from being offended by the gruff response.
Sighing, he reached out, laying his hand on his lover's arm. "I'll be fine, I have you and the rest of the company to protect me. If a dragon couldn't get the job done I think I'll be fine." The grin on his face drew a small smile from Thorin's brooding. After a moment he conceded.
"Alright, but don't leave my sight." Bilbo rose up on his toes to kiss the dwarf's cheek before slipping past him to move down the hallways. The stone was chilly and quite, and it took several minutes to descend from their quarters through the darkness. Bilbo knew it was illogical, but his heart still sped up, anxiety twisting in his stomach as the shadowy corridor offered little light. He'd never been afraid of the dark before... But he'd also never almost died in the dark before.
Trying to regulate his breathing, he rounded the corner to be treated by shimmering light. The others were sitting around a fire, chatting amongst themselves. A permanent settlement seemed to have been built up, based in the center of the massive semicircle of gold. At seeing him, the dwarves jumped up, "Bilbo!" The chorus of excitement brought a grin to his face. Everyone was speaking at once about dragons and treasure, rushing over to pound his back and ruffle his hair. Despite the excited babble of chatter, Bilbo didn't miss the off looks they passed over his shoulder, nor the fact that they were one dwarf short.
"Where's Dwalin?" He asked no one in particular. A hush fell over the group as they looked from one another, Fili and Kili glowering at their uncle, others looking sad and angry.
"He's no longer with us," Thorin answered, placing a hand on his shoulder to steer him towards the chairs encircling the fire.
"What?" Bilbo yelped, grief racked him as he tried to figure out how the stoic dwarf could have died...
Seeing his stricken expression, Balin rushed forward, "No, no lad, he's alive and hale when we last saw him, he's... Just gone back to the blue mountains." This of course didn't make any sense either but given how much he'd messed with this timeline he could only think that it was his fault.
"When will he be back? Is he bringing your kin?" He fished, trying to see where to go from here. One less dwarf equaled one less body to protect the line of Durin who'd been marked for death by an army of orcs.
"Well, I don't rightly know..." He trailed off casting a pleading to look at Thorin. Bilbo turned to catch the cold look he gave in response before smiling down at the Hobbit. "It's nothing for you to fret over, come I have a gift for you." Bilbo followed meekly, unsure of the awkward exchange between the two dwarves. Sitting down the others settled in around him.
"Have you found it yet?" He looked to Bofur, who was promptly cut off by Thorin.
"No, but it is here somewhere." The king walked around the fire, picking up a set of small trunks that had been set to the said. The one on top was covered in brown worn leather with large golden pegs holding it over the exterior, and an ornate gold lock in the shape of a leaf. Bilbo's stomach sank as he recognized the Sindarin script elegantly stamped into the leather.
"These are the White Gems of Lasgalen, they were commissioned long ago by a king as gifts for his One. I thought it fitting that they should go to you." The box creaked open to reveal a mass of white stones that shone like starlight from where they lay like crystals of a geode in the heart of the chest. A string of silver and jewels lay atop hundreds of rocks an intercut lacework that had to have taken fifty years to craft. A gift meant for a queen elf of Mirkwood, and the only thing Thranduil had ever asked for. They were never found and after the battle Bard had gifted the king emeralds as an act of good will to strengthen relations between the new kingdom of Dale the elves of Mirkwood. "Thank you," Bilbo whispered, reaching out to stroke the satin cloth holding the precious gems. He feared his touch might put out their light, but admired the craftmanship.
He knew they weren't his, despite Thorin gifting them to him, he very much hated the idea of keeping them. Not when he knew why the elven king craved them so much; all he wanted was his wife back, and that would never happen so these stones were the only connection he could think of to cling to. Bilbo had known that longing. So he just needed to figure out a way to get them to Thranduil without Thorin knowing.
The second chest was nondescript, but he was much more pleased to see the item inside. As Thorin pulled the elegantly woven mithril armor from the case, it gladdened him that he would have it for the battle to come.
"I love it, thank you." He wrapped his arms around Thorin's neck while the dwarf's arms wrapped around his waist.
"Everything for you, Ghivashel." The whispered sentiment made butterflies in Bilbo's stomach bat rapidly under his ribcage.
It took some convincing, but Bilbo was able to persuade Thorin to sleep in the camp with everyone else. While enjoying dinner and visiting, everyone had been really stand-offish towards their king, and by extension- Bilbo. While he hoped sleeping down here would ease some of that tension, he had an ulterior motive.
It didn't take long for the flames to die down and for the company to find their bedrolls. He was very surprised to see Thorin join, the king laying down on his side to wrap his arm around Bilbo. It was only minutes before a light snore could be heard, his breath tickling Bilbo's ear. He hadn't caught Thorin sleeping once in the last week, much the same way he'd diagnosed the gold sickness last time. However, Thorin didn't spend hours on end staring at riches this time around, so maybe he didn't sleep much as a norm and it was only the long journey that had him in his bed roll every night. Bilbo was hopeful, as he still had a few things to do before the battle and it would be much easier dealing with a sane dwarven king.
Slipping out from under Thorin's arm was just as easy as last time, causing him to roll to his back with a huff. Bilbo quickly stood, looking around to make sure no one was awake. With no Dwalin to act as guard he was less worried about being caught as he tiptoes his way around one of the piles of gold. One fourteenth was an excessive amount of riches, but the group was doing their best to make individual piles for each member of the company as they combed the treasure for any sign of the Arkenstone. At this rate, they wouldn't find it for atleast two more weeks… but he would.
Bilbo wasn't surprised anymore by the coincidences that plagued this adventure. Being at exactly the right place at the right time every step of the way had to be a sign from the Valar. But as he had been flung to the ground by an enraged Smaug he had watched the Arkenstone flying through the air with him. He had been tempted to laugh as he watched kingdom of Erebor's most prized possession become jammed in a crack in the stone wall. Almost as if the mountain had wanted its heart back. The river of gold had slid down from where Smaug had been resting to cover the crack perfectly, with only one living being in the whole of middle earth to know where it had gone.