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“Bilbo!”
“No, don’t move. Don’t move, lie still. Oh—”
“I am glad you’re here.”
“Shhhh”
“I wish to part from you in friendship—”
“No. You’re not going anywhere, Thorin. You’re going to live.”
“I would take back, my words and my deeds at the gate … you did what only a true friend would do. Forgive me; I was too blind to see it. I am so sorry that I have led you into such peril.”
“No. I am glad to have shared in your perils, Thorin. Each and every one of them. It is far more than any Baggins deserves.”
“Farewell, Master Burglar. Go back to your books, and your armchair. Plant your trees. Watch them grow. If more people valued home, above gold, this world would be a merrier place.”
“No! No, no, no, no, Thorin. Thorin, don’t you dare. Thorin. Thorin, hold on. Hold on; you see the Eagles. The Eagles. The Eagles are here. Thorin. The Ea—”
No good.
It was no good.
Bilbo could not hold back the tears in his eyes, nor the ragged breaths that tore at his chest. Then again, even if he were able to, he would not contain them; he released them freely and without hesitation. Let the others came near, Balin, Dwalin, Bofur, Nori, and Gloin, let them kneel or bow their heads, genuflect, show their respect, worship in their way, while the eagles circle overhead, let them see his tears, hear his sobs; he cared not.
“Let me through! Get out of my way!” Gandalf cried as he closed the distance between himself and the spot where Thorin lie. Kneeling, the wizard ran his free hand a hair’s breath above Thorin’s chest. “How long?”
“What?” Balin asked as he knelt near the Dwarf-king.
“How long has he been gone?” Gandalf demanded.
“Minutes,” Bilbo whispered. “Mere minutes.”
Gandalf said no more to anyone else, but placed his left hand over Thorin’s wound and touched the king’s forehead with his staff. The crystal began to glow, but the light would not hold, wavering for long seconds before, suddenly, Bilbo heard the faintest of sounds; Thorin inhaled.
“We need to get him to the Elves!” Gandalf exclaimed.
But Bilbo was already on his feet, waving his hands above his head and shouting to the sky. “HERE! WE NEED YOU HERE! HELP US!”
A heartbeat later amid the rushing of wind and the beating of great wings, an Eagle descended and in the second before it’s great talons enclosed a barely-living Thorin, Bilbo threw himself down and clung to Thorin side so that the giant bird took both the Dwarf-king and the Hobbit Burglar together.
Bilbo Baggins wasn’t letting Thorin Oakenshield out of his sight.
——-oooooOOOOO88888OOOOOooooo——-
How dare the elves take such liberties! “I will do that, thank you!” Bilbo shouted as the Elven healers attempted to remove the last of Thorin’s clothes.
“We must examine him completely!” The lead Elven healer sneered at Bilbo, in an unveiled attempt to intimidate the Hobbit into compliance.
Bilbo wasn’t buying it. “You can treat him and still maintain his dignity!”
“His dignity will do him little good if he dies!”
“And the loss of your hands will make your life much harder; for I will cut them off if they go anywhere lower than his waist!” Honestly! Bilbo was sick of the Elves and their near-hedonistic attitude towards nudity!
Before the Elves could recover from Bilbo’s shocking words, the Hobbit threw a clean sheet over the lower half of Thorin’s body and proceeded to reach under and remove the Dwarf’s pants; the Elves had already removed Thorin’s boots. Realizing that the Elf was correct, Bilbo turned and snagged a small pair of shears and once again reached under the sheet, and with hands quicker and cleverer than Elves could believe, had cut Thorin’s small clothes on either side; sliding the now ruined garment out. Thorin was completely unclothed yet covered, with dignity intact, from the waist down.
“We still need to examine—” The Elf was stopped by a fierce glare from Bilbo.
Bilbo turned his body so as to shield Thorin from the Elves sight and then he, himself, lifted the sheet and confirmed what he already knew as fact. “There. Done. Thorin had no injuries beyond bruises from the waist down. You may now concentrate on his more grievous wounds.”
The main Elven healer didn’t even bother hiding his ire nor stop his muttering about the situation.
“Whine and bitch all you want,” Bilbo said, cleaning Thorin body in areas the Elves were not currently working. “However, I am not leaving and I don’t care if you think me a half-witted halfling with a brain to match!”
All the Elves were struck silent; obviously, none were aware that Bilbo spoke Sindarin. However, Bilbo missed the look shared between the main healer and one of his assistants, who then snuck out of the tent only to return moments later carrying a bowl of scented water and followed by Gandalf the Grey.
“Bilbo,” Gandalf said firmly. “You must leave at once.”
“I must do nothing of the sort,” Bilbo commented, not even bothering to look at the wizard.
“The healers cannot work—”
“They’d have plenty of time to work if they didn’t waste it complaining and sending for you like petulant children.”
Gandalf sighed. “Bilbo I must insist that you leave the Elves in peace and—”
“I have already threatened to cut off their hands,” Bilbo stated, still not looking at Gandalf. “Do not think yours will be safe if you try and take me from this tent.”
“BILBO BAGGINS!” Gandalf shouted and seemed to fill the tent with his power.
However, Bilbo wasn't buying that either. “Don’t try and scare me, Gandalf.” Bilbo shot a glare so hot that Gandalf did indeed deflate. “I have stood face to face with a dragon and watched the life dim in Thorin’s eyes, do not think that you can frighten me at this point.”
Gandalf realized suddenly that removing Bilbo from Thorin’s side would be ugly and ultimately futile.
“You could at least stand back,” Gandalf offered, “and allow the Elves unimpeded access.”
Bilbo only took one step back, folded his arms across his chest, but never lowered his fierce glare at the wizard; that was all the ‘access’ he was willing to concede.
“Master Armas,” Gandalf addressed the main healer, “you may continue.”
Armas didn’t look the least happy about the Hobbit staying, but there was nothing for it, so he began to work on the Dwarf-king’s injuries. Remembering all the while to keep his comments regarding insufferable, stubborn halflings to himself, least the infuriating creature hear him.
——-oooooOOOOO88888OOOOOooooo——-
Once Armas and his healers were completed with their first examination, cleaning, and dressing of Thorin, it turned out to be their last.
And if the Elves thought they had it bad, it was nothing compared to the Dwarrow.
Bilbo banished everyone from Thorin’s tent and proceeded to care for the Dwarf-king himself. He ordered anyone within earshot to fetch food; veggies, meat, fresh water. He had them fetch firewood and had them install a small pot-belly stove so that he could warm the tent and make Thorin food. He demanded clean bandages and lineaments — which were made by Oin himself, although Bibo refused to allow anyone but himself to apply them. He ordered absolute quiet within twenty meters of the king’s tent, which meant that other tents, wagons, supplies and what-have-you were moved to accomplish this. All guards posted outside the tent’s entrance were forbidden to speak above hushed voices, least they disturb the patient within.
And any talk of speaking with Thorin directly was met with the fiercest of rebukes.
“Master Baggins,” Balin stated calmly. “It is vital that I speak—”
“Absolutely not,” Bilbo said firmly and with arms folded across his chest.
“But King Thranduil and Bard of Dale are—”
“Completely fine and therefore can wait until his majesty has awakened and fully recovered.”
Balin sighed, it was like smacking his head against a brick wall. At least, it made feel like he wanted to at any rate. “Bilbo, please try and see—”
“What I see,” Bilbo said, now turning cross, “is an old friend who seems to be putting the kingdom before the king.”
“That is the way of things, sadly.”
“Not while I’m here.” Bilbo spun on his heel and closed the tent flap behind him; effectively ending the conversation.
As the days progressed, it only got worse until even Lord Dain wasn’t allowed to visit anymore. Of course, that might have been because Dain had said he came to check on Thorin only to enter and immediately start demanding that Thorin wake and attend to his duties and order the “wee mite of a Hobbit to get off the backs of hardworking Dwarrow.” This was met with an indignant squawk from Bilbo who practically threw Dain out into the mud — Dain insisted he was shocked at Bilbo’s reaction and that was why he was so easily cast out. Had nothing to do with the fierce growl and painful ear twisting that the Hobbit gave him. None at all.
Finally, everyone had had enough.
“You must do something, Gandalf,” Bard insisted. Bard, Thranduil, Dain, Balin, Dwalin, and Ori were all together after Thranduil called Gandalf to them.
“It is hindering compensation,” Thranduil stated, although he was less upset over the situation than most. “That, in turn, has delayed our return to our own people.” That wasn’t entirely true as most of Thranduil’s army had already returned, Bard was not that far from Dale and came and went as needed, and Dain had already stated after the battle that he and his army would not go home to the Iron Hills until Erebor was completely secure, all treaties were signed and some of the first wagons bearing the returning Dwarfs from the Blue Mountains, had arrived. However, Thranduil had made a point — Bilbo’s refusal to release Thorin from his sick bed was delaying the finalization of most of their plans.
“There is only so much I can do,” Dain added, “Without my cousin’s approval.”
“Dain is only the interim leader,” Balin clarified. “While Thorin breathes, only his approval will hold; only he is King of Erebor.”
“I don’t see what is wrong with waiting,” Dwalin said. He was not of the same mind as his brother or the other three rulers. “Thorin almost died; Fili and Kili actually did. Can we not give him time to wake on his own?”
“My patience will not hold out forever,” Thranduil stated.
“Why not,” Dwalin smirked. “Your grudges seem to hold that long and you clearly enjoy touting your immortality to us, ‘mere mortals.’”
“It’s because of Bilbo that Thorin is alive at all,” Ori added. Like Dwalin, he did not agree with the others and he had come along to be the voice of Bilbo’s defense. “We owe him much; because of him Smaug was defeated and Thorin lives! If we push now, Thorin may still pass.”
True, it was Gandalf who brought him back, but Gandalf was the first to say that he was not responsible for Thorin’s continued survival; only good care could attribute to that. As to that, he was not inclined to be so ungrateful for Bilbo’s efforts, nor was he so unfeeling as to force Thorin to wake and resume his duties before he was healthy and able to do so.
But he couldn’t ignore the other's concerns either.
There was only one thing to do.
“Very well,” Gandalf concluded. “I will go and see Thorin myself, later this evening. I will ascertain his true condition.”
“That is all we ask,” Bard said.
“Agreed,” Balin nodded as did his brother.
Thranduil said nothing but inclined his head to show that he would accept Gandalf’s decision.
As they filed out of the meeting tent, Ori stayed and held back Gandalf.
“Please do not be unkind to Bilbo,” Ori insisted gently.
Gandalf could only smile the concern and was sure Bilbo would be touched. “Fear not, young Ori. I cannot be cross with Bilbo for that which he does from his heart. And such a great heart it is.”
Ori smiled and nodded. Exiting the room satisfied.
Gandalf only hoped that Bilbo saw it that way.
——-oooooOOOOO88888OOOOOooooo——-
Thorin was perfectly aware that the sun had set some time ago. He took slow, deep breaths, enjoying the feeling of the air filling his lungs. Only a lone, thick candle was burning on a small table in the corner of the tent, but it’s light cast a soft glow throughout and it was as soothing as the quiet that enveloped him.
Well, he and the gentle creature curled up in the chair next to his bed.
Thorin couldn’t help but smile at Bilbo’s napping form. His hair, now almost to his shoulders, was a riot of curls and his skin, though smudged here and there with dirt, still glowed in the candlelight and appeared petal soft.
And Bilbo’s clothes looked crumpled and dingy, evidence that Bilbo had no changed for days. For that Thorin felt a more than a bit guilty.
He knew that most thought him still unconscious; still in the sleep induced by his wounds, but they were wrong. He had awoken days before but he kept his eyes closed; for he believed he ‘saw’ more in his pretend slumber than he did with his waking eyes. He felt Bilbo gently clean and wash his wounds, all the while keeping him covered so as to ‘maintain his dignity.’ Thorin wanted to laugh at that; it was touching, almost sweet. He listened to Bilbo hum and talk to himself while he made Thorin broth with vegetables and meat, gently urging Thorin to ‘have a little, please,’ which Thorin did; Bilbo’s ministrations pulled at Thorin’s heart. And he almost laughed out loud to hear Bilbo dress down and order his kith and kin about; Thorin nearly gave himself away when Bilbo tossed Dain from the tent; ‘OW! Turn my ear loose you vicious halfling!’, ‘Not a chance you sneaky red-headed weasel! And if you ever try a stunt like this again, I’ll do worse than twist your ear!’
But it was the nights that hurt. ‘Please, my lady,’ Bilbo would whisper as he knelt by Thorin’s bed. ‘Hear me and grant me this one thing, for I will ask nothing else if you let him wake and be alright. Let him live. Please. Please, your husband has already taken his nephews, he does not need to take Thorin as well. I beg you … please … don’t take him from me.’
Oh, how it tore at Thorin’s heart. Yes, he had lost his nephews, yes had almost died, he wished he would have, but Bilbo’s tears were too much.
He had told Bilbo that he was sorry, that he was too blind to see it. Now he realized, just what else he had been blind to. And he swore, from that moment on, he would not be so blind again.
He had told Bilbo that the treasure of Erebor was ‘Ours and Ours alone.’ Now he treasured something of far greater value, and it was still theirs and theirs alone.
Thorin reached out a hand and tenderly stroked Bilbo’s face; it was indeed, petal soft. It only took him three passes of his fingertips for Bilbo to wake and stare, gracing Thorin with a surprised look and a brilliant smile. Thorin returned that smile with one of his own.
There were no words needed. Thorin gently took Bilbo’s hand, only needing the tiniest pull and the smallest squeeze for Bilbo to stand and move towards him. Thorin shuffled a bit to one side and continued to guide Bilbo so that he lay on the cot next to Thorin. In moments, Bilbo was gathered up and tucked up against Thorin’s chest, and he wrapped both arms around his burglar, his Hobbit, his love; cradling Bilbo to him. Bilbo released a tiny sniffle and his breath hitched, and then Thorin leaned down, planting a kiss into those honey-colored curls that he had grown to adore. He vaguely wondered if Bilbo would let him put a braid in his hair; he thought he might.
Soon, Bilbo stilled, pressed against Thorin chest, right over Thorin’s heart. Thorin was about to doze off when the tent flap parted and Gandalf walked in. Thorin gave no salutation, no greet, made no sound at all, but he didn’t lower his gaze and felt no shame or remorse for what the wizard saw before him. Gandalf, in turned, made no comment, gave no away no surprise and in fact, looked as if he expected nothing else. Maybe he didn’t.
Gandalf came closer and gazed down at Bilbo, giving the Hobbit a soft smile, before turning to speak in whispers to Thorin.
“The others grow impatient,” Gandalf said.
“What have you told them?” Thorin asked.
“Nothing. They do not know you woke days before; still believing you sleep the sleep of one near death.”
“I should have passed on with my nephews.” Thorin only half believed that. He has been given a second chance, a miracle, and like any true Dwarf, he would not lose his treasure, his Bilbo, for all the world.
“You don’t believe that," Gandalf said, softly.
Leave it to the damn wizard to see through him. “Only in a way.”
“But the others would still have you return to your duties," Gandalf pointed out.
“Let them rot,” Bilbo said with a muffled voice; obviously not asleep.
“I would agree with you, ghivashel,” Thorin replied, giving Bilbo a kiss on his curly head. “But regardless of how much I no longer wish to rule, they will not let you bar them from me forever.”
“I can try,” Bilbo stated into Thorin's chest, still not willing to leave his comfy place, cuddled up against Thorin’s chest.
Gandalf contemplated for a moment before mischief lights up his eyes. “If you truly do not want to rule and do wish you had died, Thorin, there is still time.”
That got Bilbo’s full and undivided attention, and he sat up immediately. “I believe Thorin only said that in jest!”
“Maybe not in jest,” Thorin insisted. “but, I no longer wish to leave this world.” No wish to leave Bilbo went unvoiced; it didn’t need to be said.
“I never said pass on, Thorin,” Gandalf said. “I only asked if you wanted to die.”
Bilbo was obviously confused. “What in the name of the Lady’s Green Garden are you talking about?”
But Thorin understood. And he could have kissed the damn wizard’s robes in thanks. “What do we need to do?”
Gandalf only smiled. “Leave it all to me."
——-oooooOOOOO88888OOOOOooooo——-
So the great kingdom of Erebor mourned the passing of their king, Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror. Lord Dain became King Dain II. Thranduil received his diamonds and his share of the treasure. Bard was declared King of Dale and received the share of gold promised by Thorin Oakenshield.
It wasn't all secrecy of course. There was no way that Thorin and Bilbo could not tell at least the remaining members of the company what Thorin had decided. Their friends deserved that much. Many understood; Thorin had lost his mind and, ultimately, his nephews to the gold-sickness. How could he take the throne with such dark memories lurking forever in his heart? Besides, there was already a worthy and honorable Dwarrow to replace Thorin; Dain Ironfoot. Dain was also of the Line of Durin; his great-grandfather the same as Thorin's. Naturally, of all the company, Balin and Dwalin were the most resistant to the idea, urging Thorin to reconsider and take his rightful place. Thorin refused. After all that had happened, his only rightful place was at Bilbo's side.
Bilbo departed Erebor, with a fond farewell and standing invitation to tea for the company, should they ever find themselves in Hobbiton; no knocking required. However, upon entering Mirkwood forest, Gandalf and Bilbo met up with Thorin, who had snuck out with Nori's help. The three travelers stayed in Rivendell to heal all wounds and wait out the winter, and only then did Bilbo Baggins of Bag End return home.
Yes, he discovered his neighbors, friends and family carting off his belongings. Yes, he had to prove he was indeed THE Bilbo Baggins, son of Bungo. Yes, he did have to buy back all of this things and demand that his cousin, Lobelia Sackville-Baggins return each and every one of his mother’s spoons. But all that was made so much easier with his One and Only at his side.
Once settled, there only remained one last task; meeting with Dis. Bilbo sent a warm, heartfelt but insistent letter that the good lady come and visit him in Hobbiton. When she arrived, she was clearly unsure what she was doing there, but then Thorin emerged and confessed the truth. Of course, she raged and blamed Thorin, who did the same. But each argument grew quieter, less accusatory, less angry until they became long discussions and honest confessions. Eventually, after nearly a week, Dis understood Thorin's position and agreed with his decision. She confessed it would be much longer before she forgave him of her sons' deaths, but even then, they all knew that the time would eventually come.
Dis returned to the Blue Mountains and there she stayed with those few Dwarrow that had no desire to return to Erebor; she ruled them as she had done since Thorin left. Company members would arrive now and then for visits but it was with no bitterness.
Bilbo and Thorin settled down and Thorin thanked the Gods for all that he'd been given; the second chance at life, the forgiveness of his sister, the honor of his friendships, but mostly for the gift of Bilbo's love.