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Thorin limped along, hand pressed against his bleeding wound, his vision blurring at times. He did it. He defeated the scourge of his family line. Words could not describe the satisfaction he derived as he drove his sword straight through the Defiler. Now, he needed to know how everyone else fared. Then he could rest. Images of Azog running Fili through played in his head bringing him immense pain. He would send someone to collect the body. Give the lad a proper funeral.
His dear nephew deserved so much more, but fate never seemed to be kind to Thorin. Not when he watched his grandfather and brother die in Azanulbizar. Not when his father was carried off to be lost to him. Not when Dis lost a husband, and Thorin a dear friend. Certainly not when the terrible malady of his grandfather nearly caused him to pitch his One from the ramparts. Thorin coughed when he breath caught, something wet dribbling from his lips, but he was more focused on the fate of Bilbo. The hobbit had come to warn him of the attack. Where was he now?
Thorin was panting as he continued up the incline. He didn’t know how much longer he could last, but he knew he couldn’t pass out here. It was a death sentence. He had to get closer to the main battlefield so someone could find him. He came to an outcrop littered with dead orc bodies. Thorin smirked at what was clearly Dwalin’s handiwork when he spied an odd bit of color out of place. It was a blue jacket.
Thorin felt his chest seize as he limp-jogged to the fallen hobbit. He fell to his knees painfully. His hands shaking, hovering over the too pale skin. His eyes drawn to a bloody gash in his hairline. Oh Mahal, please, please don’t let Bilbo be a casualty of his foolishness. Was Fili not enough? Despite the searing pain in Thorin’s middle, he gathered up Bilbo’s body holding him close as the tears began to fall like rain on his beardless face. Thorin mumbled prayers for forgiveness, pressing the hobbit’s face in the crook of his neck when he felt it. An exhale against his skin. It was as if Thorin had been struck by lightning.
He pulled Bilbo back, letting his hand press to his chest, and there it was. A heartbeat. Thorin sagged, nearly collapsing in his relief. Bilbo was alive. Blessedly alive. His hand smoothed back the hobbit’s curls, no matter how improper, as he spoke to him, urging him to awaken. There was a quick furrow of his brows, a soft sigh, but Bilbo remained unconscious. He needed help. Head injuries were tricky. Just because he was breathing didn’t mean he was out of the woods yet. The problem was, Thorin had no idea how to get him out of there.
Thorin was barely in any condition to walk much less carry Bilbo down the mountainside. And calling for help presented the problem of alerting straggling enemies to their location, neither being in any condition to ward off their blades. Thorin was going to have to go get help and come back for Bilbo. No matter how much he hated the idea of leaving the hobbit exposed out here.
He was looking for cover of some sort when it hit him. Bilbo’s magic ring! What better protection was there than invisibility? He immediately began searching the hobbit’s pockets pausing to pull out another sacred artifact. Bilbo’s acorn. He pet the small seed gently, a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth as he redistributed the object into his pocket unintentionally. He went back to his search feeling triumphant when he came across smooth gold. He pulled the unassuming ring out, completely mesmerized. He hadn’t realized he had never seen it, but he could see the appeal now. Perfectly smooth, perfectly golden, it would be a grand prize for the King Under the Mountain.
Almost as if he had been dunked in ice, Thorin came back to himself. No! He refused to be a slave to the gold ever again. Besides, Bilbo was the one who needed the ring’s protection. He would do this for Bilbo. Finding it more difficult than he realized as his shaking became worse, Thorin struggled with lining up the ring to Bilbo’s finger. When he was finally able to connect though, it slid up his finger perfectly and the hobbit was immediately gone from his sight. Thorin blinked. Even after Bilbo’s stories, it was still rather difficult to believe if he hadn’t just experienced it. Thorin patted the space just in case, confirming there was in fact a hobbit body there.
He sighed as he struggled to bring himself to his feet. Now came the hard part. Finding help. His abdomen gave a sharp, painful protest that had him groaning, sweat dripping down his face as he found his feet. He licked his lips, blinked the spots from his eyes, and gave the invisible Bilbo one last look.
“I’ll bring help. I swear it.” He whispered before sliding his feet forward.
Thorin had never felt so dizzy in his life, and he was having trouble drawing in a breath. He was also starting to feel numb and cold, and he knew none of those were good signs. It was merely his stubbornness and his promise to Bilbo that kept him going. However, just when he felt like the mountain would claim him anyways, he heard the most welcome sound in the world. Voices. Calling his name.
He braced himself to call back, only to trip himself up and fall to the ground. He shouted in pain landing right on his wound. He was quite certain he had blacked out because two dwarves he didn’t recognize were suddenly there, shaking his shoulder and calling his name once more. He grabbed the closest dwarf by his tunic needing to tell someone about Bilbo before he passed out again.
“Find…hobbit…h-hidden…” Was all he was able to get out before the blinding embrace of unconsciousness curled around him once more.
***
It was the smell of one of Oin’s poultices tickling his nose that first brought Thorin from his dreamless sleep. It was almost as if he were floating on that scent alone. Sound came to him next. Low murmurs just outside the tent. The wind slapping at the flap. A spoon tapping against glass. And his own deep breathing, nearly a snore. It was about that point that Thorin felt brave enough to open his eyes only to groan at the assault from the morning sun. Ill timing from whoever had walked in, but it was enough to make Thorin flinch which came with it a whole mess of other feelings.
Of course his body was sore, but the sharp blinding pain stretching from his abdomen was enough to make his mouth water in nausea. Or at least it would have if he wasn’t aware of just how dry his throat was.
“Here, lad. Drink this.”
Thorin obeyed the healer, opening up obediently to down the poppy water knowing it would dull the pain soon enough.
“Are ya with me?” Oin asked him.
“Bil…bo.” Thorin whispered through cracked lips.
“Will do what?” The deaf dwarf demanded, holding his ear trumpet closer.
Thorin rolled his eyes, not bothering to repeat. Instead he signed, slowly, for Oin to bring Balin to him. The dwarf grumbled about not being a courier, but left the tent anyways. Thorin stared up at the ceiling until his eyes blurred with the desire for sleep when someone entered. Thorin craned his neck slowly, relieved to see Balin looked to be relatively healthy.
“Good to see you awake, laddie. How are you feeling?” Balin asked warmly.
Thorin ignored the question, figuring the older dwarf could see quite well how he was doing for himself.
“The others?” He asked.
Balin hesitated before giving a nod. “In mostly good shape. Dwalin lost an ear, Bifur his axe, and Gloin has a broken arm. Those are the manageable ones. Kili took on Bolg and would have lost his life if it wasn’t for the Prince of Mirk- ah, the Greenwood and his Captain.”
Ice traveled down Thorin’s spine. Both of them? Was Mahal truly so cruel he would take both his nephews from him? And now he was once again in the debt of the Woodland Realm. But it was a debt he would happily pay if Kili’s life was the alternative.
“His wounds are similar to your own.” Balin continued with a knowing and kind smile. “However, he is expected to recover.”
Thorin heaved a sigh of relief.
“As for Fili…”
Thorin choked. “Please…send someone to retrieve his body. We shall give him a proper burial in the mountain he fought so hard to regain.”
Balin’s eyebrows furrowed together before laying a knowing hand on Thorin’s arm.
“Thorin…Fili lives still. Azog’s blade missed his spine. We were able to treat him before he left us for good.”
Thorin wasn’t sure he had heard Balin correctly at first. After all, he had watched Azog stab Fili with his own eyes. However, the longer the old dwarf stood there with a kind look and the patience to endure Thorin’s confusion, the more a burning took place inside of him. It rose straight up to his eyes and made its way down his face in tears. Alive? Was it truly possible he would get to keep both his boys? A sob choked its way past his dry throat next, and Balin shushed him like he was a young pebble as he held him close and rested his forehead against Thorin’s own.
Balin held him until Thorin was quite sure he was going to cry himself to sleep again. At which point he tapped Balin on the arm. The dwarf said nothing as he released Thorin, fetching him another glass of water. This one free of the poppy. He drank his fill, and then asked the question that had been burning since he awoke.
“And Bilbo? Did you find him?”
The warm and fondness Balin had just a moment ago became oddly guarded as he frowned at him.
“I think I’ve taken enough of your time. You should get your rest in so you can heal…”
“The hobbit, Balin! Tell me of his fate.” Thorin demanded as worst case scenarios spun in his brain.
Bilbo’s injuries were far more serious than Thorin had realized and he succumbed to them on his way down the mountain. Some foul beast had gotten to him instead despite the little magic ring on his finger. For the love of Mahal! Please don’t tell him Bilbo was still laying there unconscious!
“Did they find him? On the mountainside?” Thorin clarified as Balin continued to stare at him.
That finally evoked some sort of emotion as Balin furrowed his brows.
“The mountainside?”
They left him behind! Didn’t Thorin tell them exactly where the hobbit was?! He couldn’t remember now. Thorin tried to sit up only to cry out as it felt like he was being ripped in half at the middle.
“Thorin! Calm down! Don’t try to get up. Use your words and tell me what of the hobbit?”
“He…was laying there…unconscious. Not far from where they found me.” He panted.
Balin’s face drained of all color as his mouth dropped open.
“You…Bilbo…Oh Mahal.”
Balin raced across the tent, pulling the flap back and exiting quickly. Thorin made a noise in frustration as he slowly tried to pull himself up into a sitting position. Sweat was pouring from him by the time Balin returned and Thorin only had a few inches to show for it. The older dwarf quickly chided him as he pushed him back down.
“Thorin, this is very important. What exactly did you say to the dwarves who found you?”
Thorin picked through his memories as best as he could.
“I said ‘Find the hobbit. He’s hidden in the rocks.’”
Balin collapsed onto the stool by Thorin’s bedside.
“Balin…” Thorin pleaded. “Please don’t tell me he’s been out there all night.”
Balin shook his head, opening and closing his mouth a few times. He swallowed once, twice, before finally answering Thorin. His eyes glued to the ground.
“You’ve…been asleep for three days.”
Three days. Three DAYS?! Three days in which no one had clearly heard from Bilbo. Three days freezing up there on the mountainside. Bilbo had already told him that these were temperatures much colder than he was used to in the Shire back before they had even entered the mountain in the first place!
“I have to…find him.” Thorin determined, pushing himself back up on his elbows again.
Balin stilled him with a hand to his chest. “I have already sent for Dori, Nori, and Bofur. They will accompany the dwarves who found you back to that spot.”
“Balin…I put his ring on him. I thought it would keep him safe.” Thorin admitted.
Balin took a deep breath before nodding. “I will pass that along as well. We’ll do all we can.”
“Why was he not searched for before this?!” Thorin demanded, his frustration getting the better of him.
“Because we thought you were seeking to punish him.” Balin answered back.
Thorin shrank away as if he had been slapped. Balin continued, his words softer but no less hard to hear.
“The dwarves that found you…they didn’t repeat your instructions in the way you clearly thought they did. It was implied that you sought the hobbit who was hiding from you.”
“And you all would continue to hide your friend from the mad king who demanded him.”
Balin sighed. “Thorin…”
“Thank you.”
Balin seemed brought up short by those two words so Thorin repeated them.
“Thank you. For protecting him. Even if it was from me.”
Balin gave him a small, warm smile as he put his hand on Thorin’s arm. He assured Thorin they would find him. Thorin expressed his wish to be a part of the search party again, but the older dwarf wasn’t having any of it. He met each of Thorin’s concerns with a calm, straightforward answer. Thorin was healing. He would have to wait for the search party to return. They would decide what to do about Bilbo once they reached that point.
Balin left shortly after that, and Thorin found the silence oppressive in more ways than one. Thorin was beside himself with worry, but couldn’t fight back the lull of sleep that had been lurking at the back of his mind for the past hour. His dreams were still shapeless and vague, but he knew he was trying to find something. Find someone. When he awoke again, it was darker and colder. Thorin didn’t think that was a good sign.
He turned his head to see if any water had been left for him only to blink at the little acorn waiting for him on the table beside him. He slowly reached out, giving it a light pet with the tip of his finger when it dawned on him. The acorn! That must mean Bilbo made it back! He was here somewhere, he…Bilbo didn’t have the acorn. Thorin had slid it into his own pocket when he found him.
Thorin gripped his head tightly, groaning in an effort to keep the tears at bay. That was it. He couldn’t sit here any longer. He was going to go find his hobbit. He didn’t even bother with trying to slowly push himself up this time. Instead he quickly swung his legs out of the bed, trying to flip himself over onto his side. He was panting just from the short exertion, but the rush of energy that came from the need to find Bilbo was in his favor. Now he just needed to stand…
With barely any pressure, Thorin was collapsing under his own weight. He braced himself to hit the ground when he was caught, suspended in midair. Thorin looked up expecting to see Oin or Balin ready to chastise him for his foolishness, only to blink at no one being there. Yet, Thorin could feel the body supporting him. Pushing him back towards his bed. There was a breathy sigh next to his ear.
“You ridiculous dwarf.”
Thorin’s breath caught. Was he hearing things now? A farewell from the beyond? He would have accepted both had he not somehow found himself being assisted as he was.
“Bilbo?” He breathed.
There was no answer until Thorin had been put back to rights. Laying back in bed, sheets tucked in around him with the kind of care only Bilbo was capable of. He had to remind himself over and over that he put the invisibility ring on him. That there was a chance this was truly Bilbo and not a dream he had concocted.
“Bilbo, please.” Thorin whimpered, not caring how broken he sounded.
And then, there he was. Popping into existence in the next moment. Bilbo looked rough. Haggard like he hadn’t gotten any good sleep recently, dried blood and dirt still clinging to him, and far too thin for any hobbit of good standing. But he was there. Thorin sucked in a sharp breath as a single tear slid down his face.
“You took my acorn.” Bilbo accused.
“I…yes, I did?” Thorin answered, having not expected that to be what the hobbit would say.
“Why did you take it?”
Thorin opened his mouth and closed it again, not coming up with a good answer. It wasn’t like he had meant to take it. Bilbo looked close to tears himself as he shook his head, his brow furrowed.
“Do you understand what I’ve been through? Do you realize the entirety of Dain’s dwarves believe I am to be punished for stealing the Arkenstone? And then I find you in here, and you have my acorn.”
“Bilbo, I…”
“You have my acorn like…like it means something to you. Like it’s important. Like I’m…”
Bilbo collapsed into Thorin’s furs, sobbing in earnest. Thorin truly didn’t know what to do so he ran his fingers through Bilbo’s hair, doing what he could to soothe him.
“I’m not going to punish you. If anything, you should be cross with me over the way I treated you.”
“I am cross.” Bilbo mumbled. “I’m cross that I’ve been hiding for three days in this room, waiting for you to awaken because I feared I wouldn’t be welcome.”
Whether Bilbo meant it or not, Thorin couldn’t help but feel a great relief shudder through his being. Bilbo hadn’t been out there in the wild all alone. He had been here.
“Then you finally awoke, and you were asking about me, and begging Balin to find me…”
Thorin’s brows furrowed. Bilbo had been here for that entire conversation?
“Why didn’t you show yourself then?” He questioned.
Bilbo shook his head. “Seemed like bad manners. After all, I had been eavesdropping.”
Thorin threw his head back into his pillow, chuckling softly. His hobbit sure was an odd one. His hobbit. Thorin swallowed, realizing for the first time, he actually had everything he could ever want. His sister sons would live, his company would live, his homeland had been fought for and reclaimed, and now here was his One in his arms. He reached out for the acorn, twirling it between his fingers.
“We should talk about this acorn though.” He stated.
“Oh Thorin.” Bilbo scoffed, sitting up to rub at his face. “I wasn’t truly cross about that. I mean, I was confused, but…”
“I’m talking about your desire to plant it in the Shire.” Thorin interrupted, causing Bilbo’s breath to catch. “Because the mountain probably deserves to have some greenery returned to it. Along with someone who would care for it.”
Bilbo slowly looked up at him. “What are you saying exactly?”
Thorin’s heart pounded in his chest, his head felt light, and his throat felt tight. Yet, he powered on. Hoping beyond hope that Bilbo held the same fondness, the same love he had carried all this way.
“I would like you to stay in Erebor, at my side. If you would have me?”
The time between spouting his last word and Bilbo’s answer was the longest Thorin had ever endured. The hobbit merely stared at him with his searching hazel eyes, before seeming to find whatever it had been he was looking for. His gaze softened as he slowly leaned forward, his lips just barely brushing Thorin’s own.
“Oh Thorin, nothing would make me happier than to plant my trees with you.”