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When Bilbo entered the tent where he was summoned to come to, it was almost completely dark inside, apart maybe from the single candle that had been lit on the small, wooden bedside table, the flame of which danced mournfully. The place felt wrong, Bilbo thought wryly as he stepped closer. It felt as if he entered a space where all of a sudden it could burst into showers of rain and heavy thunder, though the sky was entirely clear outside. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that Gandalf was looking absolutely miserable sitting next to Thorin’s bed, an emotion that he had rarely shown in front of the company.
Bilbo shuffled forward carefully, as if he was afraid that the king might wake up from the sound of his remarkably silent feet. He stopped right next to the dwarf’s side, and he turned his gaze away as if it was inappropriate to look at him right now. Maybe it was impolite to look, maybe Thorin didn’t want Bilbo to see how mortally injured he was right now. He appeared to be unconscious, so the hobbit didn’t want to risk embarrassing the king in his final moments. That’s why he continued to stare at his feet in silence.
Gandalf spoke, though, and Bilbo met his gaze and found his eyes were all sorrow and grief; “Thorin asked me a few moments ago to have a private conversation with you, my dear Bilbo. That is why I shall leave you two to yourselves.”
He rose from his seat and lay one of his hands on Bilbo’s shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze before leaving. Bilbo doubted about what to do, but then took the chair that the wizard had just abandoned and sat down next to Thorin’s bed. He sighed deeply and took one of the king’s hands into his own. It was turning cold already, Bilbo noticed bitterly.
“Thorin?” he whispered, but there was no response. Although Bilbo did notice a slight fluttering of his eyelashes when he spoke his name. So he just continued to rub circles on the top of the king’s hand, hoping he would perhaps open his eyes one last time. For him.
Though his breathing became more and more shallow with every passing second, he did briefly open his eyes after a while at the sound of Bilbo clearing his throat. The hobbit immediately released his hand when he saw that Thorin was waking, afraid of what he might think of such an inappropriate gesture, but the king stretched his arm slowly and pulled Bilbo’s hand back to where it was previously. He wrapped his fingers weakly around his wrist and blinked slowly, trying to focus his eyes. It took him a few efforts before he was able to speak.
“B-Bilbo…” he sighed. His voice was raspy and showed all signs of fatigue. Bilbo could feel his bottom lip starting to tremble slightly as Thorin brought his hand weakly towards his lips, pressing them down onto his knuckles.
“Please… please forgive me. I have done such unforgivable things to you. I have teased you, hurt you, threatened you, a-abandoned you…”
He stopped talking for a moment to catch his breath, still squeezing Bilbo’s hand softly.
“I should never… never have brought your life in d-danger like… like I did.”
Bilbo felt hot tears streaming down his cheeks, and he saw that his hand was shaking slightly in the king’s grip. But he could think nothing, no emotion could pierce the thick mist that was inside his head. A think cloud of pain, sadness and grief for all that he lost in the last couple of days. It was a good thing, maybe, because if he could, he probably would have jumped into that bed and held Thorin close to him through his final moments, sobbing uncontrollably as he listened at the final thumping of his heartbeat.
“Oh Thorin…” was all Bilbo could manage to say, because what words could he ever use in a situation like this? ‘Please don’t leave me.’ ‘I don’t want you to die.’ ‘Please don’t make me live the rest of my life without you...’
“I will die,” Thorin continued weakly, and he closed his eyes for a few moments before he found enough strength to continue; “But I will not leave this world before I’ve had the chance to tell you what you mean to me.”
Bilbo sniffed and nodded, shaking thick droplets of tears onto his dirty, ripped up trousers.
“Though the circumstances may not be how I’d wanted them to be, how I’d imagined them to be, I need you to know that… that…”
Bilbo noticed a tear leaking out of the inner corner of Thorin’s right eye, and the pain of seeing him in such a state shot an arrow of pain straight through his heart.
“That I’ve never met such a magnificent creature in my life, and that it pains me to leave you in such way as this.”
The thick lump in his throat made it impossible for Bilbo to reply in any decent way, so he just waited for Thorin to continue.
“I would have shown you all the glories of Erebor if I could, I would have let you take it all if that would make you forgive me for all the pain I’ve caused you. You would have been so much better off, had you stayed in Bag End that day…”
“No, no…” Bilbo finally interrupted him; “If I had, I would never have had the pleasure of getting to know you, of getting to know, to –”
Bilbo had to take all the effort he had in him not to break down in front of Thorin at the thought of Fíli and Kíli, the dwarves he loved and cared about so much and who were now in a place where neither he nor anyone could reach them. He had seen them take them away… having been inseparable ever since Kíli’s birth until the day of their early deaths. His heart couldn’t have been more broken.
“I’m so sorry, Bilbo. Your dear heart shouldn’t have to bear such grief…”
“I will grief their deaths, but I will more so remember our friendship, the laughter and all the good memories...”
“If I will see them, I shall thank them for the friendship they’ve given you, for their never-ending loyalty, and I shall beg The Creator on my bare knees to have mercy on the rest of your days. No more harm should come to you, my dear Bilbo.”
“Oh Thorin…”
“I would have… stayed at your side, I-I would have helped you through the pain, but I can’t. I would have been the one for you to lay your faith upon, I would… I would have been the one for you to love.”
Bilbo’s eyes widened a little bit at the confession, and he was about to open his mouth to reply when Thorin stopped him.
“M-may your life be wealthy and prosperous, Bilbo Baggins. I-I wish you all the… all the best.”
He raised a shaking hand to place it on Bilbo’s cheek, and Bilbo let himself be pulled slowly towards him. He allowed the king to press his lips onto his while the tears kept flowing uncontrollably over his rosy cheeks. Thorin pulled away a bit when he noticed Bilbo was crying.
“Please don’t cry, m-my love. I shall forever cherish your kind heart.”
They kissed once more before Thorin let his head fall back into the cushions, exhausted and in much pain.
“I hope I will see you once more, dear Bilbo. Our reunion shall be one worth the wait. I will always love you, and I thank the Valar for the chance of having known you.”
He gave Bilbo’s hand a weak squeeze. “Farewell, Bilbo Baggins.”
Thorin smiled at him one last time before finally closing his eyes for good, allowing Bilbo to let his emotions take over and resting his head next to where he was still holding Thorin’s unresponsive hand, pressing multiple kisses onto his knuckles and spilling tears all over the sheets. He hardly noticed it when someone gently took him away from Thorin’s bedside and into another, much bigger tent. It turned out to have been Bofur, and inside the tent were the other dwarves of the company that had survived the battle. They spent the rest of the night in silence, holding each other tight as they sat in a circle around a small fire that Glóin had lit in the middle. Words were of no need, because they knew they had each other to lean on. They knew they were all in pain of the loss of the last Durins, and they knew that the uncountable deaths made the reclaiming of Erebor completely unimportant and bitter. But as long as they were all together, when they shared the grief and helped each other to brighten up even in the darkest of times; maybe, just maybe, it would make it all a little bit easier to deal with.