Chapter 21

Bilbo lay in bed, slightly fearful that things were too good to be true. He'd awoken surrounded by his dwarven family, Thorin by his side. None of them had died. While every battle has its losses, Balin had confirmed that because of his forewarning the men and elves had been minimal losses while Dain had only lost two of his dwarrow. This news made him start to cry, the heaviness of his burden finally lifting. The company had simply smiled at his show of emotions, excusing themselves to tend to other matters. Thorin had squeezed his hand before joining the crowd and leaving him with Dwalin and Beorn.

"What did I miss?" he rasped, his throat giving a painful throb at the movement. He wiped the tears from his face as they continued to fall against his will.

"Ye're the luckiest hobbit in Middle Earth, and I can say with certainty. If you weren't I'd have already throttled ye by now. What were ye thinking!?" Dwalin shouted, the anger in his face even more pronounced by the bruises marring his dwarven features. His nose appeared to be broken, dark circles like raven wings resting under his eyes, while his cheek was swollen with a bright red and purple shiner. Beorn nodded his agreement from where he sat on the floor.

"I agree, I didn't think I'd survive that one. How long was I out?"

"Only two days. Elrond didn't have high hopes ye'd make it out of this one, so we assumed it would at least be another week until ye woke. Good thing though, Thorin might have starved himself."

In truth, Bilbo didn't remember much about his fight with the pale orc, but the vivid moment of having his throat slit would live in his nightmares for a while. He was lucky that the monster had had his attention fixed on Thorin, or he might have removed Bilbo's head. "Is Azog dead?"

"Aye," Dwalin crossed his arms over his chest. "Honestly, why did ye go after him by yerself?"

"I couldn't see Thorin, but watching Azog move up river all I could think of… was that I couldn't let Thorin die. Not again. That was where I found him, after the battle last time. I was terrified I'd climb up there and find him bleeding out once again." He shrugged weakly as Dwalin's expression shifted to one of sympathy.

"Then ye can imagine how I felt when we found you up there. I honestly wasn't sure Thorin wasn't trying to kill you at first. But… Great Mahal, are ye ever going to stop trying to die on me?" Pain flashed through the dwarf's eyes.

"I can assure you that I won't be trying again." Bilbo wasn't sure what else to say, but this seemed to appease Dwalin as he began to grumble about suicidal hobbits and how he was never leaving Bilbo's side again. Lord Elrond slipped into the tent, seeming pleased that the gaggle of dwarves had finally dwindle.

"Ah Master Baggins, how are you feeling?"

"Alive?" the raspy reply came out a question, he still wasn't sure. His entire body felt like a giant bruise, while his leg had a sharp tingly sensation like it had fallen asleep. Hit throat was downright painful with every swallow or head shift.

"Yes, you are that." The elf smiled kindly as he checked over the bandages.

"How is my future friend?" Beorn asked the elf, standing to make his way over to the cot. He appeared none the worse for wear, barely a scratch on him despite the strenuous battle.

"Better that I'd expected him to be at this point, but still a long way to go." If Elrond was threatened by the much taller shifter, he didn't show it, instead tending to the bandages with the ease of someone who had been doctoring for the last millennia. "I'd give him another day before moving him anywhere and a week of bedrest as a minimum. No more time-travel, epic journeys, or historic battles for at least a month." He gave a jesting wink before excusing himself.

Bilbo spent the rest of the day and the following one snoozing, with the others coming in and out to check on him. Fili and Kili made sure to crawl into bed with him, each nephew wrapping their long limbs around him to snore loudly in his ears. Thorin didn't reappear.

By the second day, while laying in bed alone in the tent, Bilbo knew he'd go mad if he had to stay one more minute. That said, he wasn't sure where he could go or if he would even be welcome in Erebor. Beorn and Dwalin had disappeared a few hours ago, leaving him to fret to himself. It was in the middle of this worrying that Balin walked in with Bofur and Dori carrying a stretcher between them.

"Whats that for?" He inquired, grunting slightly as he moved to a sitting position. His leg ached and his throat was still paining him, but he was pleased to feel his energy returning.

"Well, it was either this or Dwalin carrying you, and as he hasn't been invited back into Erebor, you're stuck with this." This caught Bilbo off guard, the hobbit's face turned to stone as he stared at the elder dwarf

"Dwalin is invited back, he can go anywhere I do." His tone indicated he wouldn't be argued with on the matter. Balin's face immediately grinned, as though he wasn't surprised by the news.

"As you wish, then would you like him to carry you?"

"Depends, where are you taking me?"

"To Erebor, where else?" Balin gave an awkward little laugh, the doubt clear in his eyes. From where Bilbo sat, he and Thorin hadn't yet talked so he wasn't sure where he stood with his 'husband'. He also knew what the elder dwarf standing before him was thinking; that Bilbo had escaped from Erebor and probably didn't want to go back.

"Where is Thorin?"

"He- uh. He's indisposed at the moment." Bofur and Dori exchanged a look behind Balin's back.

"I'm not moving from here until I talk to him, so you'd better get him un-indisposed." It didn't matter to him if he was being unreasonable, there wasn't any point in moving him back. He might crave Thorin with his whole heart, but it wouldn't do him any good if the dwarven king was still gold sick or if he didn't want Bilbo after regaining his sanity. He hadn't been back to see him in the last two days, which only made the hobbit dread the encounter.

This had the dwarves scurrying out of the tent, leaving behind the stretcher on the table. Close to an hour passed without a word, and while Bilbo wished he could snooze again his anxiety wouldn't let him. When Thorin did finally enter the tent, he stood at the flaps, his body stiff and his expression wary.

"Which one hit you? Beorn or Dwalin?" He noticed the black eye, that was a mix of purple and sickly yellow, encircling clear blue irises without any touch of insanity.

The king seemed to have forgotten about it, reaching up in surprise to press two fingers into the flesh before wincing. "It doesn't matter. Balin said you wished to speak with me?" He looked as if he would rather be anywhere else, causing Bilbo's heart to drop into his stomach.

"If you're regretting these," He gently pulled the beads from his hair to hold out to the dwarf, "I'll understand. You needn't keep up the pretense by moving me to Erebor."

This caused the dwarf to stiffen further, a frown puckering his brow as his gaze landed on the circles of silver in Bilbo's hand. "Is this what you wish? To leave? To never see me again?"

Bilbo laughed bitterly, tears beginning to flood from his eyes, "Never see you again? I see you in everything I do and have done for the last seventy-eight years. Ive tried to escape you by putting myself to sleep, only to be surrounded by every version of that I've ever known all living in my dreams. Then I don't want to wake up, because you are still there with me. But I will not live as your regret, so I'll let you out of this marriage if that is what you wish."

This seemed to snap Thorin out of a trance. Without thinking, without a moment's hesitation, he surged forward, his hands shaking as they cupped the hobbit's face. His lips crashed into Bilbo's, desperate and consuming, as though this kiss could erase all the hurt between them. And at that moment, it did. Bilbo felt relief in the embrace as if he could finally breathe again, his arms reaching out to wrap around the dwarf's waist.

When they finally came up for air, Thorin leaned his forehead against Bilbo's, their eyes meeting. "I could never regret you. I know I am the one who drove you away in the mountain, and you don't know how it eats at me. But I can promise you that if you do stay, I will never give you reason to doubt the decision." His voice was barely a whisper, "Please, come home?"

Clear blue eyes never wavered, and Bilbo knew he was already home as he nodded. Another softer kiss followed, a balm on both their souls as they just took the moment to breathe the same air and exist. A light cough drew their attention to the tent flap where Dwalin stood, his arms crossed over his chest.

"We're off to Erebor then?" The dwarf simply grinned mischievously. Bilbo cut in before Thorin could answer.

"Later, yes. Can you let Balin know that I'll need a few hours before he goes toting me around on that thing?" He motioned to the stretcher.

"Aye, will do." He slipped back out of the tent.

"A few hours?" Thorin raised an eyebrow.

"I have a story to tell you."

Thorin had seemed a little shell shocked after the news of Bilbo's time traveling misadventures. He was patient through the many pauses the came from having ones throat slit the week prior, and he'd sat quietly through the whole tale, even fetching a glass of water when Bilbo's voice had grown hoarse. At the end, they sat together through several minutes if silence before Thorin worked up the courage to ask, "So... Fili, Kili and I were fated to die?"

"And did die, yes."

"Then we owe you our lives double over." The shock in his voice was undisguised as he stared at the hobbit in amazement.

"No, you don't owe me anything. With the amount of times you've saved me this go around I feel we're even." Bilbo was sure there would be more, as he seemed to be a magnet to catastrophe.

This made Thorin laugh, lightening the atmosphere. "Were we married before too?"

"No... That's definitely a new development." During his story, Bilbo had attempted to work the beads back into his hair with bumbling fingers. Luckily Thorin had come to his rescue, reworking the braids and securing the silver after a few short minutes.

"Then I'm smarter this time." Bilbo could feel his face turning red under Thorin's gaze.

The flap opened, with an unknown dwarf peaking his head in before giving the couple a deep bow. "Your Highness, m'Lord requests your presence."

Thorin rolled his eyes dramatically for Bilbo before kissing the hobbit's forehead. "Get some rest, let Balin and Dwalin escort you back to Erebor. There's a lot going on right now, but I'm sure the others will find time to keep you company. I'll find you for evening meal."

"Alright." Bilbo pasted on a smile as Thorin followed the other dwarf from the tent. Dwalin, Balin and Beorn entered shortly after, the dwarves with wide grins on their faces.

"So we're off then?"

"I suppose so," he looked to the shifter who was frowning. "Is everything alright?"

"I'll not travel into your mountain." He crossed his arms over his chest while the dwarves gathered up the table and chairs to take out of the tent.

"No of course I'd never ask it of you. Are you heading back to your home then?" The shifter had once told him how he would never go underground again, and while it disappointed Bilbo that his friend wouldn't be staying, he knew that it was for the better.

"Yes," he smiled then, looking somewhat shy, "they are waiting for me."

"Then safe travels my friend. I will come visit soon." He promised, his heart aching just a bit already missing the large male.

"See you soon future friend," he took his leave; and then there were three.

"So Dwalin?"

"Mmmm?" The dwarf had gathered his things and helping him put on a shirt.

"What happened to Thorin's face?"

Dwalin froze, then gave Bilbo a sly look. "What, ye mean the black eye?"

"Yeah," Bilbo said, trying not to laugh. "The one that makes him look like he lost a bar fight with a troll."

"Ahhh, that." The dwarf cleared his throat dramatically. "A grand tale, really. Epic proportions. Ye see, it all started with ye dyin'—not that I'm blamin' ye for that."

"Thanks for the clarification," Bilbo said dryly, folding his arms and leaning back to wait patiently for the explanation. Balin simply rolled his eyes before exiting the tent.

"Anyway," Dwalin continued, "Thorin was leaning over you, strangling you really, and here I was rushin' around tryin' to save yer sorry hide—heroically, I might add—and, well, things got a bit... chaotic."

"Chaotic how?"

"Picture this," the dwarf said, grinning. "I've got the elves to come to yer aid, doin' me best to keep ye from keelin' over completely. Thorin just happened to be in the way. Next thing I know, his swinging, and—WHAM! Down he goes like a sack o' potatoes."

Bilbo raised an eyebrow as he stared at him. "You defended yourself from Thorin… while I was dying?"

"Accidentally!" He defended quickly, raising his hands. "It's not like I planned it! It was a misunderstanding. I mean, who swings their head into someone else's fist? Poor judgment on his part, if ye ask me."

Bilbo couldn't help it—he laughed, a short, breathless sound that made his throat ache. "Did he at least hit you back?"

Dwalin looked scandalized. "Hit me? No! He's not daft enough to fight someone who just saved yer life. Though..." He rubbed his bruised cheek, "now that I think about it, he may have grazed me just a tad. So we're even, I'd say."

"Sounds like it," Bilbo said, shaking his head with a grin. "So am I to ride the stretcher?"

"Nah, Balin said it would set the wrong example or some such. We can't have ye walking so we've borrowed a horse."

"A… Horse? Not a pony?"

"Aye," Dwalin laughed outright at Bilbo's frightened expression, "Ye've faced down trolls, dragons, and orcs. Ye can sit a horse to Erebor."

"Coming from someone who has likely ridden a horse, did you know that before our journey I'd never even been on a pony?"

"It's only a wee bit taller, and truly is a tame beast. Ye rode Beorn, whom I would consider much scarier."

"Who are you borrowing it from?" Bilbo threw his legs over the side of the bed, feeling slightly dizzy at the movement. His leg protested as he came to his feet with a wobble. Dwalin was instantly there, steadying him with a hand on his shoulder, worry painting his face.

"We can stay here, Elrond can eat rocks." Bilbo rolled his eyes and smiled up at the dwarf.

"I'm fine, I want to finally go home."

The 'ride' back to Erebor was uneventful. It ended up being Bard's horse, and he was pretty sure 'borrowed' was an exaggeration though he didn't bring it up. While he sat atop the beast, Balin and Dwalin held the reins to guide it forward. Passing through the camp, many of the soldiers, men and elf alike, openly stared at him with mixture of respect and fear. Even Thranduil's men seemed to have lost their irritation with him, giving him wary nods of acknowledgement as they passed.

It took about an hour to reach the now-broken gates of Erebor, and it amazed Bilbo the progress they'd already made it. Dwarves were everywhere; organized labor moved stone and brought in supplies, some helped to clean up while others rested. It was almost like an ant hive.

"They're so busy." He observed out loud as Dwalin helped him from the horse.

"Aye, we need to be ready for the first wave." Bilbo gave him a questioning look for him to elaborate. "Ye know; we've got half of Dain's forces here, but the rest have been sent back to the Ironhills to escort dwarrow who want to live here in Erebor. Some of our original families, and many more who've never even seen the lonely mountain will be here in a fortnight. More still are being summoned from the Blue Mountains."

"Bilbo!" Bofur shouted from a crowd entering the main entrance. Several from the crowd gave the dwarf an odd look as he rushed forward, but even more openly glared at Bilbo. Balin whispered something to Dwalin who quickly stepped in front of Bofur, a heated exchange between the two ending with Bofur looking crestfallen as he stepped back.

"Your Highness…"

"No!" Bilbo said with some force, pushing around Dwalin to grab hold of Bofur's arm. "I'm still just Bilbo, and the company will always be able to address me as such."

"May we speak of this in your chambers, Sir?" Balin and Dwalin's face were matching stone. Dread washed over him, but he nodded. Bofur rejoined the other group while Bilbo let Dwalin lift him into his arms as they made their way through the cold hallways once again. Unlike the last time he was here, they made their way deep into the mountain, high above the city portion, and even higher than where his and Thorin's room had been. He was grateful to be carried because he knew he'd be huffing from exertion by this point.

Once they reached a set of gold-plated double doors, the image of Aulë molding the first dwarves from stone etched into the precious metal. Balin pushed open the doors to reveal an opulent sitting room. While dusty, most of the furniture remained untouched by time. Silks of purple and green lined the cushions of chairs and couches. Dark stained woods made up the tables and chests set about the room, while the lighting remained dim, he could make out the craftmanship in each piece. Dwalin set him down on a couch to tend to getting a blaze started in the fireplace.

Balin turned, sitting across from him in one of the chairs. "You need to be strong now. No one outside of the company wants this marriage. It puts a strain between the Ironhills dwarves and Thorin to have you seated next to him on the throne. They need to know they can't bully you out of this position, and by extension the company need to be setting an example of respect for your position. We know you love us, but it is our duty now to protect you."

Bilbo thought on Balin's words; while logical, he could feel a rift growing between him and the others. As much as he wanted to fight Balin on the matter, he understood where the dwarf was coming from. After hundreds of years spent advising the royalty of Erebor, Bilbo knew Balin only had his well being in mind. But this was all new territory. Baggins hobbits had always been landholders, but it hadn't ever truly mattered with very little politics in the shire. On the road, they had all been on the same footing except for Thorin who was simply the leader. Now it would take greater finesse than murdering some trolls to keep his family safe and together.