"He's not nearly as sage and solemn as you'd described brother." Dis wiped her eyes as she finished laughing. Thorin could feel the hobbit in his arm's stiffened in indignation.
Bilbo raised an eyebrow, looking up at him, "Sage?"
Thorin looked down at him innocently, "I simply implied that you were wiser than the rest of us."
"That's not hard to do," he grinned as Thorin jostled him lightly, still safely encased in his arms. His husband felt smaller than the last time Thorin had seen him, more fragile. Dark bruises of purple and green spread like dragonfly wings from his nose under each eye, remnants of a broken nose making him look tired.
"You and I will have to have a chat in the near future," Dis said pointedly at the hobbit, her face pleasant, but there was an intensity behind the request before she turned to the others, "What are you all looking at? Let's get moving, we've got work to do! Has anyone seen my bonehead son's?" She disappeared into the crowd as they began bustling, leaving Thorin and Bilbo to watch the organized chaos. He could only imagine what his sister had planned to talk to his One about, almost shuddering at the thought.
"Where is Balin?" Thorin looked around, spotting Dwalin who was doing the bodyguard pose, pretending not to be there. He'd also need to discuss the larger dwarf's methods of protection since he kept finding his hobbit worse than how he'd left him. Perhaps now would be a good time…
"Later," Bilbo reached to grab Thorin's hand, interrupting his thoughts to lead him through the throng of dwarves who eyed the hobbit warily. Pulled along by his husband, many attempted were made to stop the couple with inquiries, more work, or to simply say hello. Each time Bilbo would greet them cheerfully, followed by a "later" before continuing on. This had Thorin grinning like a fool by the time they reached their doors.
Once inside, Thorin shut the door before turning to face Bilbo who ambushed him; jumping up, the hobbit wrapped his arms around Thorin's neck, pressing his lips to the surprised dwarf with a newfound eagerness. Thorin stumbled slightly at the force of Bilbo's enthusiasm, his hands instinctively coming to rest at the hobbit's waist to steady him. For a heartbeat, he froze, his mind racing with uncertainty, but the warmth of Bilbo's lips against his own was like a beacon, guiding him away from his doubts.
Bilbo pulled back just enough to whisper against Thorin's lips, "I've missed you since before you left." His voice trembled with emotion; his meaning unmistakable as his fingers tangling Thorin's hair.
The dwarf's heart clenched, a swell of love and guilt rising within him. He cupped Bilbo's cheek with one calloused hand, his thumb brushing lightly over soft skin. "I missed you too, my light," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "I'm just not sure..." He instantly regretted his words as he watched the hurt blossom in the hobbit's eyes, ripping at his heart anew.
"We don't- I'm sorry, I thought…" Bilbo began to pull away, only to be drawn in closer as Thorin tightened his grip, leaning in to stare deep into his lover's eyes.
"I want to, I do. It's just… Last time, I wasn't myself. I don't want to scare you away, revisiting those memories." His voice was raw, the pain of his thoughts laid bare.
His husband's eye softened, "You won't, we're making new memories."
Thorin hesitated, his hand faltering, but the determination in Bilbo's gaze was undeniable. Slowly, the tension drained from the dwarf's frame, replaced by something warmer, something surer. He leaned in, this time initiating the kiss, slow and deliberate. Bilbo melted into him, all hurt giving way to unrestrained affection. They clung to eachother, pouring every ounce of longing and love into the embrace. The kiss deepened, turning from tentative to fervent, Thorin's restraint crumbling as he surrendered to the moment.
Wrapping his arms around Bilbo's waist, Thorin lifted him from the ground, their lips still connected as he made his way to the bed. Stepping up on the platform, he laid Bilbo down gently, his movements unhurried, as if savoring every moment. The hobbit's hands roamed over Thorin's broad shoulders, fingers brushing against the silken strands of his hair before sliding down to rest on the solid expanse of his chest. Their eyes met, the air between them thick with longing and unspoken emotions.
"You're sure?" He asked again, searching his husband's eyes for any doubt, his voice low, barely audible over the sound of their ragged breaths.
Bilbo answered with action rather than words, his hands tugging at the fastenings of Thorin's tunic. Tugging lightly, the shirt was pulled over his head, leaving him bare for the hobbit's curious fingertips. The hobbit's touch was eager, but not rushed, each movement deliberate as though reacquainting himself with every scar and muscle beneath his fingers. Neither of them had come away from the week unscathed, and Bilbo ran his hand gently over a new set of stitches along Thorin's ribs before placing small kisses along its edge. Fingers trailed further, coming to the waistband of his pants. A gentle tug of Thorin's belt loosened the cloth to slip down to his boots which he promptly kicked off.
Thorin's hands found their way to Bilbo's waist, his thumbs brushing over the soft skin just above his hips. He leaned down, pressing a trail of kisses along the beardless jawline, pausing to breathe in the familiar scent of his partner. "You're my everything," he whispered, his voice rough with emotion.
Bilbo's response was a soft laugh, tinged with affection. "Then stop holding back," he teased, his fingers finding their way to Thorin's cock with practiced ease. Thorin sucked in a shaky breath as soft fingers encircled his girth, fighting the urge rock into the warm embrace. Instead, he leaned forward, their lips meeting light crashing waves. They pulled and pushed, a dancing of tongues and clashing of breaths. Heat pulsed through his body to his very core.
Pulling Bilbo's shirt over his head, Thorin climbed up on to the bed, settling between the male's thighs. His fingers tangled in the mix of long curls and braids, tugging lightly to draw a low moan from his hobbit's lips. The sharp sting of nails sliding down his back elicited a similar response, his cock pulsing between them. Sitting up, breath's heavy, he quickly removed the last of his husband's clothing before pulling him close once more.
The weight of the past month fell away as they came together, their movements a mixture of urgency and reverence. They rediscovered each other in the soft firelight, every touch a promise, every whispered word a reassurance.
When they finally lay tangled together, their breaths mingling and hearts pounding in unison, Thorin traced idle patterns along Bilbo's back. "I'll never let that much time pass again," he vowed softly.
His hobbit looked up, his cheeks flushed with a tender smile. "I'll hold you to that," he said, pressing one last kiss to Thorin's lips before settling against him, their bodies fitting together as perfectly as they always had. Thorin felt the shift; Bilbo finally finding sleep in his arms. His breathe evening out to small puffs of air, muscles relaxing.
In the dim light, Thorin looked over his love with concern. While the hobbit had appeared skinny in Lake Town compared to when he'd seen him during their chilled bath after the Misty Mountains, Thorin and the company had worked diligently to make sure he progressed to gaining back his original weight. Similarly, he had worried that Bilbo wasn't eating enough after his encounter with Azog. Before he'd left to collect Dis, Thorin had caught his husband when didn't think the dwarf was looking was looking; the usually ravenous hobbit turning away food, or looking ill after consuming it.
Now, his fingers traced over a prominent rib cage, his One's form wasting away. All the progress lost in little more than a week. Extracting himself from the bed, he draped the covers over his lover before pulling his pants and tunic back on. Determined to get to the bottom of this, he sought out Balin in his chambers.
The elder dwarf's room was down the hall, only a few minutes from his own; a simple stone door hiding a labyrinth. Both Balin and Dwalin resided in this dwelling, with several rooms, a kitchen and sitting area. It had belonged to their family well before Thror, and the brothers hadn't wasted any time moving back into it. Thorin knocked politely on the door and waited till he heard someone call out "Enter!"
Inside, Thorin's eyes widened at the sight. Every surface was covered in parchment save a small path that cut from the main sitting area to the other rooms in the space. Balin sat in the center of it all on the floor, a piece of older stained paper in his hand as he held it at an angle while tugging on his beard with the other hand.
"Bad time?" he inquired, stepping gingerly around the chaos.
"No, no; welcome home by the way. How was the trip?" The pleasantries left the dwarf's lips in a muted tone, the elder obviously distracted.
"You know Dis, always making thing's harder than they have to be." This got a laugh as Balin set the paper down, turning to give Thorin his full attention. "How did everything go while I was away? I noticed the camp outside had dispersed; did they find a peaceful resolution to their greed?"
"Aye, well Bilbo did." Balin shook his head in amazement, "That one sure can think circles around the rest of us. I know he's much older than his current form, but I feel like his mind is older still with how well he problem solves. I'll have a formal report for you by the morning, your arrival caught me off guard." He trailed off, looking back to a stack of papers to his left.
"Is there anything else I missed?"
"Oh, well…" Balin scratched his brow, a sure tell that he was keeping something from Thorin. The king sighed, sitting down to wait out the elder who rolled his eye's in response. "Now you can't overreact… but in summary; Bilbo is sick, Dain challenged him to a duel of honor and lost, and the council is trying to annul your marriage."
Thorin took a deep calming breath, his anxiety skyrocketing over the news. While the issue with Dain and the council could wait, his mind stuck on illness. It shouldn't have shocked him to hear that Bilbo was sick, having deduced as much from the comfort of his embrace. But to hear it spoke outload…
"Has Oin seen to him? Is there a cure?"
"He hasn't been able to diagnose him, but Fili brought up that it might be cave-in sickness. After everything that occurred, his mind and body might be reacting to being underground in Erebor. It would make sense, as he didn't have it before, or in the elven camp after Azog." This struck Thorin like a battering ram, that his home -their home- might be slowly killing his husband.
"What should I do?" He whispered, trying to think of possible solutions. The idea crossed his mind of building a hobbit hole on the side of the mountain, a cute grass covered null with a garden… or possibly abdicating, moving to the shire with his fragile hobbit. This would surely see him well again…
"He mentioned that you both have moved past the events that occurred before he left. Have you two spoken about what happened?"
Thorin thought back to when Bilbo summoned him to Elrond's tent, the determination mixed with sorrow in his eyes as he asked Thorin if he wanted to stay married. The wariness of his posture as he bared his soul, revealing where he'd come from and everything that had happened before up until now. Thorin had taken in all the information, amazed at the hobbit's commitment to him and his company. To fight for him not once, but twice. While in awe of the hobbit's strength, it had never occurred to him to ask if his husband was okay.
"No, we… I … I think I tried to pretend like it didn't happen. I comforted him through his nightmares, fed him my love in kind words and actions. But we never spoke about what occurred before he left." Grief gripped him as he contemplated all his mistakes up to this point. He'd feared scaring away his hobbit by bringing up the past, but now he wasn't so sure that his cowardice wasn't going to cost him his One.
"We don't know for certain, he could very likely be plagued by an unknown disease. Oin will discuss it with Lord Elrond next week when the elves arrive for your coronation. Until then, perhaps you can find a moment to broach the subject with him. Here," Balin passed him a small vial of white crystalline powder. "Smelling salts, we've all started carrying them. Bilbo's symptoms include sharp cranial pain that can cause momentary loss of sight, followed by weakness and fatigue. As well as ongoing headaches that have him turning away from food with nausea. The fatigue is the most concerning, it leads to his loss of consciousness from which he's not roused easily- hence the salts."
"Is it possible his head was damaged in the battle or in his fight with Azog?" Thorin tucked the vial into his pocket.
"It is, but Oin isn't well versed in hobbit medicine and believes it would be a good idea to wait on the elves." He shrugged, the worry in his features mirroring Thorin's, "Go, spend the rest of the eve with him. I'll bring you my reports in the morning."
Thorin stood, nodding as exited the dwelling. He had to fight the urge to run as he made his way back to his quarters, the idea that Bilbo might be laying in their bed fighting for his life, again, playing on rerun in his mind. By the time he reached their bed, the air heaved from his lungs as he felt like he couldn't catch his breath, his chest feeling constricted. Reaching down, he laid his hand on the sleeping hobbits chest, feeling the gentle rise and fall to reassure him.
Pulling off his shirt, he slipped beneath the covers to pull his One's small form snuggly against his chest. Nuzzling his nose into blonde curls, focusing on the male's scent as he simply breathed, trying to calm himself.
"Where'd you go?" A groggy whisper, faint against the sound of the crackling fire.
"Nowhere important, love. Just rest, I'll be here when you wake." He responded with a content sigh as he drifted back to sleep, leaving Thorin in the chaos of his own thoughts.
Bilbo awoke to Thorin's arms wrapped snuggly around him, the first uninterrupted sleep he could remember having in months. As he stretched, all his sore muscles were in just the right spots, and he appreciated the fact that he felt okay. Not necessarily energized, but not the overwhelming fatigue that plagued him every day. Turning with a smile, he found Thorin staring at him with a guarded gaze.
"Good morning," Bilbo whispered, cupping the king's face in his palm. His eyes remained a light blue, no gold sickness in sight. With Bilbo's tender touch, his dwarf turned to kiss his palm, closing his eyes and enjoying the closeness. "Did you sleep?"
"Mmm," He hummed a non-answer, before planting a kiss on Bilbo's lips, effectively silencing any further inquiries. A loud knock sounded from their door, echoing into the room and drawing Thorin from their bed. Bilbo watched him walk away, fear eating at him. He'd thought that after last night there would be nothing holding Thorin back. I must have done something wrong, he thought, replaying their lovemaking in his head to try and figure out what would have his husband so withdrawn.
He didn't have a chance to ask before Thorin opened their door to a flood of dwarves. Balin, Dwalin, Dain, Fili, Kili, and Dis all entered the sitting area of their chamber with little more than a quick good morning from each. While the others sat around the table, Dwalin made his way to Bilbo, closing the door behind him.
"Good morn'," The dwarf grinned at Bilbo's disheveled state, a fresh black eye having replaced the one Thorin gave him two weeks before.
"Morning; what happened to your face?"
"What you should be asking is what happened to Delic Flamebeard's face," Dwalin replied cheerfully, pulling Bilbo's shirt from the floor, "Your's or Thorin's?"
"It's mine," he shook his head, pulling himself from the bed to stand as Dwalin entered the closet to fetch him something clean to wear. "Which one is Delic?"
"The council member with the mostly red beard and matching nose." He called back; Bilbo could hear shuffling as drawers were rapidly opened and closed.
"And what happened to his face?" He could hear as Dwalin froze for a moment, then let out a hearty laugh. "Oh, well, ye see, that was a wee misunderstanding."
Bilbo looked to the ceiling with a prayer for strength, "A 'wee' misunderstanding?"
"Aye," Dwalin returned with his arms filled with clothing, grinning. "Turns out he has a nose that's perfect for catchin' fists. Pure coincidence, o' course."
"Coincidence?" Bilbo repeated, folding his arms as he was getting a sense of deja vu.
"Well..." The large dwarf scratched his beard, looking sheepish but still grinning. "He might've been standin' too close when I was demonstratin' my perfectly innocent point."
"Innocent, huh?" Bilbo snorted. "And did this innocent point involve swinging your fist into his face?"
"More of a... a gesture," Dwalin admitted, clearly trying not to laugh. He slipped a silken tunic of dark blue over Bilbo's head, "A very emphatic gesture."
"And your black eye?"
He shrugged. "Collateral damage."
"Collateral damage," Bilbo repeated, shaking his head with a chuckle.
"Ach, don't look at me like that," he raised his hands in mock defense. "It's not my fault he got lippy. Anyway, he deserved it for insulting ye in front of me."
Bilbo laughed outright at that as Dwalin handed him a dark brow pair of pants. "You really clocked him for that?"
"Ye would have if ye weren't constrained playing the 'amiable consort', I was simply doing my duty by ye." The dwarf was grinning so widely it was impossible to even pretend to be mad at him.
"You're not wrong, now, why have you got me in such finery?" In truth the clothes were some of the nicest he'd ever owned, and to top it off Dwalin draped a thick golden necklace embossed with glistening sapphires across his chest.
"Balin told me to get you ready for your first official outing with Thorin; he will be meeting with the council today, and your ambassadors from the men and elves sent missives that they will be arriving this evening."
"Wonderful," Bilbo drawled, rolling his eyes, already dreading a second meeting with the council. He was looking forward to meeting with his ambassadors, while he hadn't been expecting anyone until the coronation it would be good to get started on the trade agreements early so they would have plenty of supplies of the feasts. While he had requested Tauriel from Thranduil, he hadn't named any specific man for Bard to send and was eager to meet whom ever he'd chosen. I might just adopt my Gamgee impression for the meeting, he chuckled to himself.
