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Pain. Throbbing. These were the first things Bilbo felt as he opened his eyes to a clear, grey sky. He groaned, sitting up on the cold snow-covered rocks beneath him. “What on Earth is going on?”
It was then that he saw them, large silhouettes in the clouds above him. ‘Eagles,” he breathed, “The Eagles are here...” And it was then that the events of the last few days came flooding back to him. Smaug. Thorin. Gold sickness. Elves. Men. Orcs. Thorin.
Bilbo stood with a start, only one thing, or to be more specific one dwarf, on his mind.
Rushing down the stairs to the platform below, Bilbo saw the body of Azog the Defiler, unmoving, surrounded by a pool of dark blood and with Orcrist buried in his chest, pinning the pale orc to the ice. The Hobbit turned to his left and saw the one and only Thorin Oakenshield, King under the Mountain, the dwarf he loved, standing victorious at the top of the waterfall, overlooking the battlefield below.
Bilbo let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding. Thorin was alive. Slowly, he began to cross the ice towards the waterfall. He didn’t make it halfway there before Thorin sensed that someone was behind him and turned around. Bilbo stood still and let out an audible gasp at the extent of Thorin’s injuries.
Thorin had a large, bloody gash running down the right side of his face. There was blood everywhere; it was on his hands, his face, in his hair, and was seeping through his clothing...oh. Thorin sent Bilbo a pleading look, reaching out towards him with one shaky hand, and crumpled on the ice.
Bilbo ran towards his dwarf without hesitation. “Bilbo!” Thorin gasped, his voice thick with pain.
“No, no, don’t move! Lie still.” Bilbo knelt next to Thorin, peeling back his clothes to reveal a gaping wound in his middle.
“I’m glad you’re here...” Thorin started. Bilbo shushed him as he put pressure on the dwarf's wound, desperately tried to stop the bleeding.
“I wish to part from you in friendship.” Thorin continued, wincing when Bilbo pressed down hard on his wound.
“No, you are not going anywhere Thorin,” Bilbo told him decidedly. “You’re going to live.”
Thorin stared up at his hobbit, desperately trying to convey his emotions. “I take back my words and deeds at the gate, you did what only a true friend would do. Forgive me...I was too blind to see.” He took another raspy breath, struggling. “I’m so sorry that I have led you into such peril.”
Bilbo grasped one of Thorin’s hands tightly as he began to cough. “No, I’m glad to have shared in your perils Thorin, each and every one of them.”
They shared a look, Thorin’s lips curling into a small smile once he knew he had Bilbo’s forgiveness. “It is far more than any Baggins deserves,” Bilbo continued, squeezing the king’s hand.
Thorin gazed lovingly at Bilbo then, the snow reflecting off of his blue sapphire eyes. “Farewell, Master Burglar. Go back to your books and your armchair, plant your trees, watch them grow.”
Bilbo's eyes welled with tears as Thorin struggled to continue. “If more people valued home above gold, this world would be a merrier place..” Thorin began to fade, struggling for breath, his eyes going wide.
“No, no, no, no, Thorin! Don’t go! Don’t you dare!”
Thorin only smiled at him, almost lovingly, and his eyes closed as he fell into the depths of unconsciousness.
“Thorin! No! Wake up! Please, please don’t leave me...” Bilbo pleaded, tears spilling over and rolling down his cheeks. He didn’t register a pair of strong arms wrapping around him.
“Is he...is he dead?” Bilbo heard someone say. Through his tears, he could see numerous blurry figures standing by him and Thorin.
“No,” Someone replied. “But we must act quickly and get him to the healing tent!”
Bilbo watched through blurred vision as the mysterious figures lifted Thorin, laying him on some sort of stretcher, and carried him away.
“No!” Bilbo cried, “Don’t take him away, please!”
“It’s alright, lad.” Another voice said, the owner of the strong arms still wrapped tightly around him.
Bilbo sighed, finally giving in to the darkness swarming his vision and falling unconscious.
“Move, move out the way!” Oin shouted, meandering his way through the crowd of dwarves, men, and elves and towards the healing tent.
Gloin, Nori, and Bifur tailed him carrying Thorin on a makeshift stretcher, with Balin following behind with Dwalin, who was carrying an unconscious Bilbo in his arms. The rest of the company who had gathered at the top of the waterfall were scattered across the battlefield, helping out where they could.
“Get the King in that room with Fili and Kili and on the cot in the corner,” Oin instructed, once they were inside the healing tent. “Dwalin, take Bilbo to that cot over there and get a cold rag for his head and Balin, you’d better go fetch some elvish healers.”
The dwarves did as Oin had instructed and a few minutes later Balin re-entered the tent accompanied by two elvish healers.
“Hurry, please,” Said Oin, ushering the elves into the room which held Thorin and his nephews.
Fili and Kili were on one side of the room. They were both deathly pale, still unconscious, and had a slight fever, but Oin hoped that he had patched them up well enough and that they would heal in time. Fili had sustained a broken leg and a few broken ribs, while Kili had sustained mostly flesh wounds.
Thorin meanwhile, lay on the cot on the other side of the room, pale and covered in blood. “Come,“ One of the elves said, beckoning for the other elf to join him at Thorin’s bedside.
“I’ve managed to stem the bleeding,” Oin explained, “But he’s going to need some elvish medicine if we are to save him!”
“Athelas.” One of the elves spoke. “We need athelas, it’s a healing herb, I believe you dwarves refer to it as ‘kingsfoil’.”
“Aye, kingsfoil,” Gloin remarked. “I can get ya some of that! It’s a weed, the men use it ta feed their livestock!”
The elves shared a scorned look. “Well bloody well hurry up then, brother!” Oin urged Gloin, all but shoving him out of the room.
When Gloin returned with the athelas, the elves got to work healing the gravely injured dwarven King. They spent hours healing Thorin while Oin tended to the two princes.
Oin and the elves had tried their best and done all they could. It was now a waiting game, to see if any of the three dwarves would wake.
For the second time that day, Bilbo awoke to feelings of pain and throbbing. The only difference was now, he had something cold on his head rather than underneath him.
Bilbo opened his eyes and was glad to see the Fundin brothers sitting on each side of him. Dwalin was on his right holding a cold rag against his brow and Balin was on his left smoking a pipe.
“Ah, Bilbo!” Balin exclaimed, patting the hobbit’s arm lightly. “We’re so glad to see you awaken!”
“H-How long have I been unconscious?” Bilbo asked, rubbing his eyes.
“About four hours. We found ye and Thorin up at Ravenhill.” Dwalin replied, removing the rag from Bilbo’s head and helping him sit upright in the cot.
At that, Bilbo looked down at his hands curled in his lap, reminded of the moments before he fell unconscious. Balin noticed Bilbo’s sudden change in demeanor. “What’s wrong, laddie?”
“Thorin.” Bilbo gave Balin a steely look, trying desperately to hide his emotions. “Did you recover his body?”
Balin gave Dwalin a sidelong glance. “Yes we found him but, Bilbo...” The white-haired dwarf took a breath. “He’s alive.”
Bilbo felt like he was about to pass out again. “He-he’s alive?”
“Aye,” Dwalin confirmed. “And the rest of the company is too.”
“Oh, thank heavens!” Bilbo replied, smiling brightly.
“We can take ye to see Thorin if ya feeling strong enough?” Dwalin asked.
“I-yes, yes of course.”
Dwalin and Balin helped Bilbo out of the cot and took him into the next room. And there, sure enough, lay Thorin Oakenshield, his body bruised and wrapped in bandages like a mummy and his chest rising and falling reassuringly. Bilbo saw that Fili and Kili were also in the room, they were wrapped around each other in the single cot on the opposite side of the room to their uncle.
Balin followed Bilbo’s gaze towards the two princes. “They were calling for each other in their slumber. Oin thought it best to not keep them separated.”
“Aye, they’ve never been apart since Kili was born,” Dwalin added, a fond smile forming at his lips. Funny, Bilbo thought, I think that’s the first time I’ve ever seen Dwalin smile.
It was then that Oin entered the room from the other end of the tent, arms full of healing herbs and tonics. “Bilbo, lad, you’re awake! How are ya feeling?”
“I’m fine, Oin. Just a little headache that’s all.” Bilbo reassured the healer. “How are Thorin and the boys?”
“The princes are recovering nicely. Fili has a few broken ribs and a broken leg and Kili sustained mostly flesh wounds, but I’m hopeful that they will both fully recover.” Oin told him, placing the herbs and tonics on the table by Thorin’s bed. “The King meanwhile, as you would have seen, sustained large flesh wounds to his chest and foot as well as a nasty blow to the head. I’ve patched him up as best I can and the elvish healers have managed to heal his wound but only time will tell if he will recover.”
Bilbo nodded. Thorin was alive, and that was enough. “Thank you Oin, is there anything I can do to help?”
“Just keep an eye on them, I suppose. Especially Thorin,” Oin replied, gesturing towards the King.
“Yes, of course.” Bilbo, aided by Dwalin and Balin, walked over to Thorin and plopped down in a chair next to the bed.
“We’ll leave ye to it then, lad,” Dwalin said, nodding his head towards Bilbo and gesturing for Balin to follow him out of the room.
“I’ve got plenty more people that need healing Master Burglar, so I’ll take my leave as well. Tell me if anything changes.” Oin told Bilbo, before leaving the room.
Bilbo sighed and took this opportunity to study his dwarf. He looked so peaceful like this, probably the most peaceful that Bilbo had ever seen him. His hair had been smoothed back from his face and was sprawled out, framing his face like a lion’s mane. He had bandages wrapped around the top of his head, his middle, and his foot. His pale skin was clean of the blood and dirt from the battle but was littered with a multitude of black, blue, and purple bruises.
Bilbo reached out and took hold of Thorin’s wrist, reassured that he could feel a steady pulse there. Oh, how he hoped Thorin would wake up soon.
Bilbo sat by Thorin’s bedside for a week, only leaving when he was dragged away by Dwalin to the mess tent for food or ushered out of the room by Oin when Thorin’s bandages needed changing.
Fili had woken up 4 days after the battle, and Kili had awoken not a day after his brother. The pair had been moved into separate cots now, and yet they still somehow found their way to one another in the night. While the two princes remained together, Thorin had been moved into the adjacent room.
“Here you are, boys.” Bilbo re-entered the healing tent holding a tray with three bowls of soup on it, having just come from the mess tent.
“Thanks, Uncle Bilbo!” The brothers chorused as Bilbo handed each of them a bowl and a spoon. Bilbo rolled his eyes, although he secretly liked being referred to as the boys’ ‘uncle’ he was confused as to why they insisted on calling him that. Thorin was their uncle, not him. Regardless, it wasn’t the time to talk about such things.
“Eat up now,” Bilbo told them, helping to prop the pair up with pillows. “You’re recovering well and we don’t want any mishaps now do we?”
The boys shook their heads in tandem, both of them almost halfway through their bowl of soup.
“Dwarves,” Bilbo chided, rolling his eyes once more.
“I’ll be back to check on you soon.” He promised, turning to walk towards Thorin’s room holding his bowl of soup. “Be good.”
Fili and Kili gave him an innocent look as Bilbo chuckled and entered the other room.
Kili turned to his older brother, after licking his bowl clean. “You thinking what I’m thinking?”
“Yes,” Fili replied, eyeing his brother mischievously. “But you’re going to have to help me up.”
After entering Thorin’s room and seeing that he was still unconscious, much to his chagrin, Bilbo seated himself in his chair by the bed and began to eat his soup.
“You are one stubborn dwarf, Thorin Oakenshield,” Bilbo said in between spoonfuls of soup. “Although, I suppose you’re just catching up on all of the sleep you missed during the quest. I mean, come on, first, you refuse to sleep and insist that you take first watch every single night and now you refuse to wake up!”
Bilbo softened. “Nevertheless, Oin mentioned that I should talk to you, about anything really, he said that it sometimes helps unconscious people, that sometimes they might be able to hear you. I’m not completely sure I believe him but if Oin says it might help then I will give it a try.”
The room went silent for the next few minutes as Bilbo finished up his soup, resisting the urge to lick his bowl clean and placing it instead on the table beside Thorin’s bed.
“I do miss you, you know,” Bilbo confessed, fiddling with his thumbs in his lap. “I’ve always been very terrible at showing my feelings but I feel like, around you, I wear my heart on my sleeve, so to speak. To be honest, I feel like I can do anything around you. I feel like I could conquer the world, if only you were at my side.”
Bilbo took in a shaky breath before continuing. “Since you decided to almost die at Ravenhill, I feel-I feel like a part of me has been missing. I haven’t been myself at all and at least a few members of the company have noticed, Fili and Kili especially. Do you know they’ve started referring to me as their ‘uncle Bilbo’?”
Bilbo chucked, as he absentmindedly reached for one of Thorin’s calloused hands. “Oh what I wouldn’t do to have you back. What I wouldn’t do to feel your arms around me...what I wouldn’t do to have you love me back.”
A single tear trickled down Bilbo’s rosy cheek as he gave Thorin’s hand a small squeeze. The world around him came to a sudden stop when Bilbo felt Thorin squeeze his hand in return.
“Th-Thorin?” Bilbo asked unbelievingly.
“Bilbo?” Thorin rasped, his bright blue eyes fluttering open to catch Bilbo’s gaze.
“Oh, my! Thorin, you’re awake!” Bilbo laughed, tears now spilling down his face freely, and launched himself at the dwarf.
Thorin winced, his body bruised and aching, as Bilbo’s small body collided with his but he nevertheless wrapped his sore arms around Bilbo and held his hobbit close. “My Bilbo,” Thorin started, his voice deadly serious but his eyes kind. “I could never leave you.”
Bilbo looked up from where his head lay on Thorin’s shoulder. “You-you mean it?” He asked.
“I’ve never meant something more.” Thorin inhaled deeply before continuing. “I love you, Bilbo Baggins.”
Bilbo looked up at Thorin, dazed, as a flurry of emotions swirled in the deep blue depths of the king’s eyes. “And I love you, Thorin Oakenshield.”
Thorin laughed heartily, though his voice remained hoarse, as he placed his large hands on each side of his one’s face and brought their lips together in a kiss. Bilbo melted into the kiss, his hands reaching up into Thorin’s raven locks for purchase.
The two only broke apart a few minutes later, when they heard giggling from the doorway of the room. Thorin and Bilbo shared a knowing look. Fili and Kili. “Boys!” The pair shouted towards the door.
“Sorry uncles!” Came the reply as footsteps were heard stumbling away and laughter filled the air.