Work Text:
Thorin’s chest burned. At first, he had dismissed it as one of the consequence of his desperate stand-off against Azog before the Eagles rescued them. He should have been on the mend right now, but it seems to only get worse, despite the teeth-grindingly slow pace Tharkûn had them follow to keep Beorn content.
As if the wizard usually worried about such things, the dwarf scolded to himself. Perhaps it was because the skin-changer was trailing them closely; Thorin kept catching glimpse of his massive form. Beorn was a lot of things, but subtle wasn’t one of them. Thorin coughed, thick and painful. No, this was not a mere injury; yet he couldn’t tell anyone. The company mood was already falling after the brief high of safety they had enjoyed while they stayed at the bear’s home. The looming shadow of Mirkwood made sure of that. He couldn’t show weakness now. Thorin straightened up on his pony, ignoring the painful pull deep in his chest.
***
Unsurprisingly, the damp, sickly air of the forest did nothing to alleviate his injury. It did make the rest of the company sniffle and cough, covering up for him. That only made his hatred for Mirkwood stronger. He took the first watch after they stopped for the day, his chest too painful to rest; sleep felt like a faraway dream since they had entered that accursed place. Thorin coughed in his fist; it came away flecked with blood and some strange, yellowish, delicate things he couldn’t put a name on.
He managed a few days later. Petals. It was flowers petals. What kind of curse was this? His first, angry thought was that the damned wizard was responsible for it. But in that case, why would Tharkûn curse him? Thorin couldn’t make sense of it, weakened as he was by the forest miasma on top of everything else.
***
Well, he had nothing but time to think about it now, Thorin told himself as he sat heavily in his cell. Maybe by the time Thranduil felt generous enough to free them, he would have grasped the mind of the wizard. He coughed more and more often now, handful of cheerful yellow petals coating the inside of his month along with the metallic tang of blood. His nephews were going to pieces over it, but he was too proud to ask for anything from the elves; forbid his company to do it in his stead. As his luck would have it, the answer lay once again at the feet of the strange bulgar the wizard had go out of his way to pick up.
He was mostly asleep when he heard his voice. So soft a whisper, he thought it was a dream. Still, he looked out through the bars of his cell, only seeing the darkened path their jailers walked. The dwarf rubbed his face, unsurprised that his guilt would use this voice to eat at him.
« I warned the wizard I couldn’t keep you safe.»
« you couldn’t even keep yourself from being thrown into jail, » groused bilbo’s voice again, « now listen- »
Thorin coughed thickly, looking at the fresh scattering of petals without seeing them.
« You’re sick?! »
The dwarf startled.
« Bilbo? »
He heard a shuffle, then the hobbit seem to step out of nowhere, messing with the cell door before springing inside.
« Yes yes it’s me, I’ll explain later, » he took a good look at the floor, then at Thorin. « How did you, of all the people of Arda, got this lovesick? »
He seemed utterly baffled. Thorin felt a familiar sting of anger shake off some of the illness’s weight off his shoulder.
« What are you talking about, master bulgar? »
Say bulgar had the cheek to roll his eyes.
« Do dwarves often spit out flowers? » his face softened with concern, « Thought I have never seen so much blood with them. »
« This not for you to worry about, » Thorin said gruffly, looking away.
A lot of things suddenly feel into place for Bilbo. He started fidgeting with the keys he was still holding.
« Don’t you at least want to know what lovesick is? »
« It sound pretty self-explanatory. »
The hobbit winced.
« Well, yes, but- well- it’s fairly easy to treat, as it were. »
The dwarf sat very still, keeping his eyes carefully averted.
« I would not require of you- »
Bilbo cut him off, speaking a touch louder than he intended.
« Eru save me from obstinate dwarves. »
Then he took Thorin hand, ignoring the surprised exclamations coming from the other jail cells.
« I love you. So there, no requiring needed.»
Bilbo smiled, and Thorin understood why the flowers in his lungs had been sunflowers.