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It was dated back to the elves of old, all the way back to Finwe the high king of the Noldor, even back to the Aratar and the shaping of Middle Earth where all creatures of the land would be gifted with the knowledge that they would find their One. There were poems and songs created to tell of how it happened, the red dot that would form at the base of one’s palm, how when this dot formed it was then that you would start your quest to find your One. It happened to some very early in their lives while others very late, some it did not happen at all before their time had passed.

Sometimes it was not the most conventional of matches but if it was what was on your palm then it was understood that was designed by the fates and woven into your destiny. The shape of the line would take the exact shape of your match when you came to the end of your journey. It was rare but sometimes there was a bond so strong that when a match was made, their lines immediately filled out.

In some cultures it was accepted to be married without a match, without your One. Not all lives could wait. Unmarked couples were not looked down upon.  As times in Middle Earth grew darker the possibility of finding your One became less likely. With the dawn of the Third Age and the fall of Sauron brought forth a new generation of matches.  

The lines were called heartlines and they mapped out your destiny. The closer you got to finding your One, the more the line would grow. At the end of your journey your line would turn into an exact match for the pair of chosen.

 Rain pounded against the wooden roofs of Bree causing a constant stream of noise. Thorin Oakenshield trudged through the mud covered streets on his way to the Inn he heard of in the last town he ventured from. He looked up at the sign The Prancing Pony and repressed the urge to let out a groan.

The inside of the tavern was a vast difference in temperature from outside. He had assumed that it would be cold and run down on the inside from the condition of the town, but was pleased by the warmth that it brought. Men and Halflings pushed past him towards their tables and bar. Laughter roared over the pouring of the rain. 

Thorin sat down at a table closest to the fireplace, feeling the heat through his furs. After the bar maiden had come to take his order he took off his gloves so that he could pack his pipe with tobacco. Looking down at his hand, Thorin noticed a small red dot at the bottom of his palm. Confusion set in as the world seemed to shift. His equilibrium felt off as he realized the implications of this red dot. Blood rushed through his ears causing a pounding in his head as he stared at his palm. No, not me, not now. I do not have time for such trivial things.  

He had been looking for his father, Thrain, after hearing tales of his sighting. The lead was false and there was no sign of his father but Thorin was not ready to give up on his search. He would just have to trace his steps back, find out exactly who spread such rumors to see if he could find any truth to them. He had no time for a quest, not for one of love.  Not when his people were still without a home, without a king. His food was set in front of him then, a small distraction from what was occurring.

A moment later he heard the scratch of chair legs against the wooden floor. He looked up to see Gandalf the Grey sitting across from him, long hair drenched and tangled from the rain. Thorin immediately put his hand flat against the table. The wizard spoke to him of Erebor, of a map and of a key, a secret passage and the chance to be king. Thorin could feel himself coming to, the world shifting back into place, like he wasn’t looking at it through a glass anymore.

“I will do it, I will lead a company into Erebor.” Thorin’s posture had changed, his back was straight, his chin held up as he looked at the wizard. As the words came out of his mouth he could feel that this was what he was meant to do. He lifted his palm off of the table to see that the dot had turned into the smallest red line.

“I did not expect you to agree so easily,” Gandalf said, pleased.

“Not only is it my duty to my people but I believe it is my quest.” Thorin held out his palm to show Gandalf the red line that had formed.

“I have never heard of someone’s One being their duty to their people.” Gandalf looked at the red line on Thorin’s palm and then to Thorin.

“Before you came in here my hand had just received a small red dot. You spoke of Erebor and I remembered the vast halls, gold beyond measure, my people being happy, thriving. That is when I knew. After I agreed to it the dot changed into a line. I know it is not conventional but I believe this is my path.” There was a light behind Thorin’s eyes, a fierceness that had not been there since before the battle of Moria and the loss of Thror.

Gandalf wanted to dispute Thorin, to tell him in all of his years, in all of his travels he had never heard such a thing but the quest to reclaim Erebor weighed heavy on his mind. “Perhaps you are right.”

You’ve changed and not entirely for the better, Bilbo Baggins.

The words echoed in Bilbo’s mind as he slammed his front door shut. How dare he! Who is this wizard? Hasn’t come to Bag End in years and thinks he can say that I’ve changed? Bilbo could hear a faint scratch on his door as he leaned his ear down to press against it. He moved away from the door and to his window to see that the wizard was looking in at him through the glass. Well, I never! Bilbo moved into the hallway, pressing his back against the wall. His head became light as he felt everything sway around him. He moved his hand to run it through his hair and push it out of his face. As he brought his hand closer to him he realized that his right hand at the bottom of his palm now rested a single red dot.

No, no, no, no.

There were a few hobbits in Bag End who had found their One but many who had not, but lived normal lives. Bilbo had resigned himself to the fact that he would never in his life receive the red dot that now seemed to be staring him down. His eyes got bigger as he examined it, pulling his palm to and from his face. He blinked a few times as if it would cause the dot to disappear.

Not the wizard, it cannot be the wizard. Stay calm about this, Bilbo, this could mean anything.

Bilbo ran down one of the halls and into the bathroom where he began vigorously scrubbing at his hand. After drying his hands he realized the dot was still there and sighed.

I said I didn’t want an adventure!

 Bilbo spent the rest of his day going into the market in town, asking if anyone had seen the wizard. He moved quickly from table to table, purchasing food, past a table selling soft leather gloves. Bilbo stopped and made his way back to the table. He hastily picked up a pair, tossing money at the merchant before slipping the leather onto his hands.

“Isn’t it a little warm outside to be wearing gloves?” the merchant asked him as he collected the coin off the table.

“I’m about to do some gardening,” Bilbo replied before making his hasty retreat back to his house.

Bilbo spent the rest of the day in the quiet of his home with a heavy weight on his chest. He kept his gloves on, ensuring that even he could not see the red dot that rested on his palm.

A knock came to his door in the evening, which lead to another, then another until his house was full of dwarves. Bilbo was rushing about his house, getting his clothes back on while trying to stop the dwarves from doing any permanent damage.

He could feel the anxiety rising in his chest as he watched his plates being thrown by a group of dwarves that had been drinking. Soon after a firm knock came to the door, changing the atmosphere in the house. The dwarves who had been merry just moments ago now awaited this guest in solace. It wasn’t just that to Bilbo though, he could feel something else had changed. As if the objects in this house now held little import. Bilbo knew then that the dot had grown into a mark and that it had something to do with the dwarves.

 He looks more like a grocer than a burglar.

Bilbo looked at the contract, the words of Thorin Oakenshield playing over in his mind. He looked at the gloves holding the contract in his hands, soft brown leather against parchment. He could feel himself fighting, a part of him knowing that this quest is what he should be doing. He wanted to pull off his glove, to see that the line had grown as conformation that this is what he should do. The thought scared him though, that this would be his fate. Lost Kingdom? A dragon? These things were not meant for simple folk.

A burglar? Bilbo looked again at the gloves thinking that perhaps he could be a burglar.

“Incineration?”

“Aye, melt the flesh of your bones in the blink of an eye,” Bofur replied with ease.

 “There is no choice Balin, not for me.” Thorin showed the red mark on his palm to Balin. “It is what I must do, reclaim Erebor.”

“Then we’re with you laddie. We will see it done.” The older dwarf rested his hands against Thorin’s arm, not daring to mention he had never in all his years heard of a heartline referring to a great deed rather than a person.

 Thorin Oakenshield walked into the sitting room of the hobbit’s home, his mind racing with ways to try to get the hobbit to come on their quest.

 Since arriving in Bag End, in this specific home, he could tell that his mark had grown just a little bit longer. Once Gandalf spoke of this hobbit, of his skills, how he would be able to sneak into the mountain, Thorin knew that he was needed for this quest. The hobbit had disappeared off into his bedroom and was being more stubborn than a dwarf on the issue of joining everyone in the sitting room.

Thorin stood at the fireplace, watching the embers land in the grate as the flames roared. It was then he knew what he must do. He had not sung in many years, it was something that he could not bring himself to enjoy anymore. He left song to merrier folk, ones that had not let peril into their hearts. He would often listen to Fili and Kili sing, remembering what it was like to sing in the halls of Erebor. No, singing was not for him anymore.

There was a song he knew though, one of his home that he would not mind singing. He knew that he could sing it well, for every time he did there were always maidens wishing to speak to him of the Misty Mountains. He always had to immediately excuse himself once the song was done to avoid the lustful gazes and barrage of questions. He started to hum, low and rumbling through his throat.

Bilbo Baggins sat on his bed with his head leaning against the wooden bed post. The door to his room was open, only the light from the sitting room illuminating his bedroom.

The gloves were pulled off of his hands, resting next to him on the quilt of his bed. He stared at his palms and the small red line that was now formed. Heartline. He remembered the word for it and sat there feeling an ache in his chest.

He heard a hum from the sitting room, then the low timbre of a voice. He knew immediately that the voice belonged to the leader of the company.

Far over the Misty Mountains cold…

Biblo looked at his palms again and noticed that the line had grown a little longer.

 Bilbo sat on a pony making its way out of the Shire, sun shining down on the company. The dwarves laughed as they tossed coins amongst themselves, collecting on their bet. Bilbo took a peak at his hand under his glove to see that the red mark had grown now again that he was leaving home.

Bilbo listened as Balin told of the battle of Moria, of Thorin Oakenshield. How he lost his grandfather and his father in that battle. The brave dwarf prince battling against Azog the Defiler with an oaken branch as a shield.

Bilbo looked to Thorin then, who was standing in front of the ponies as they were eating. Even here, in the wild, he could tell that Thorin was of royal descent. It was the second time he could see the leader in him, the king.

He remembered Thorin in his house, rallying the dwarves to fight the dragon and reclaim their kingdom. He imagined this Thorin out in battle. He understood Balin then, he could see how others would follow him. This Thorin was not the same one that did not speak most of the time but instead sat on his pony brooding as he looked out amongst the trees. Bilbo didn’t understand his stoicism or his harsh words at times but now everything seemed to make a little more sense.

That night when Bilbo laid awake on his bed roll, he looked under his glove to see that the line had grown a little more.

With each new village or town the line grew on Thorin’s hand. It kept him determined, to keep the company pushing on.

“We have to keep on, we’re losing ground,” Thorin said as he led the way on foot away from the troll cave.

“Oh no, uncle is at the front, I fear we will end up back in the Shire if he is leading us,” Fili whispered to Kili which caused his brother to roar with laughter.

“If you two spent more time focusing on the task at hand then maybe we could have been to the next village by now.” Thorin was referring to the incident with guarding the ponies and the very unfortunate incident of the trolls. Fili and Kili immediately dropped the look on their faces. Kili kept his eyes to the ground as Fili looked on ahead with a set jaw.

“Listen, I know you don’t need rest or joy or laughter on your all mighty quest, but the rest of us do,” Bilbo said as he clenched his fingers by his side.

Thorin looked at the Halfling, his teeth ready to grind as he bit back a retort. Who was this Halfling to speak to him like this? It was then that the brown wizard showed up with an orc pack on their trail. The company picked up speed, making their way out of the woods.

Thorin and Bilbo both knew then that their marks had grown just a little longer.

Thorin looked at the map, knowing now that he needed the light from Durin’s day to see the door in the mountain. He sat in his room in Rivendell looking at the red line trailed a quarter of the way up the palm of his hand and compared it to the map that laid out before him.

“You might be the first being ever to have their destiny laid out before them like this. To know that you are so right for one thing that it has become your One.” Bilbo was in the doorway, he had been standing there looking at Thorin. Every day Bilbo caught glimpses of Thorin’s hand but never had the chance to speak to him about it.

“What are you doing here?” Thorin said as he rolled up the map, slipping it back into his pocket.

“Does it bother you? Knowing that there is no one out there for you?” Bilbo did not know what had caused him to say it but the words had tumbled from his lips.

Thorin looked up at Bilbo then, his eyes hard. “My duty has always been to my people, it was no surprise to me when this happened.”

“You’re alright then, with being alone?” Bilbo asked as Thorin stood up from the table.

“Aren’t you?” Thorin pushed past Bilbo and out into the hall.

Bilbo stood there in the doorway, Thorin’s words sinking down into him. Bilbo thought of Bag End and what awaited him if he were to return home. He would have his books, his armchair, and his garden, but he was starting to realize that these things no longer held the same comfort.

That night neither one of them felt their heartlines grow.

“Fili and Kili have their heartlines, and they’re identical.” Bilbo stated as he stood next to Balin who was reading a book that he had taken from the library in Rivendell. Bilbo tried not to smile at this as he was sure that Lord Elrond would know it was the dwarves when the text came up missing.

“Aye, only when you have completely found your one do the lines match up.”

“How old were they when it happened?” Bilbo asked as he looked at the two brothers who were leaning in closely to each other as if their centers of gravity revolved around the other.

“Fili was five and Kili was but a minute old.” Balin looked over at the brothers as well, a small smile tugging at his lips.

Bilbo’s eyes went wide as he looked at Balin.

“Right when Kili was born, little Fili ran into the room yelling about the red line on his hand. His mother was in shock, not expecting it at such a young age and she had just come out of labor. Their father uncurled Kili’s hand then to see a red squiggle on his palm. They were always meant to be together; you can’t have one without the other. Fili grew up fiercely protective of Kili because of it and Kili grew up thinking his brother was crafted in the greatest of forges just for him. Though I guess in a way they were. The lines weren’t really lines back then, they didn’t look fully developed until they were years older.”

“It’s never bothered you that they’re…” Bilbo trailed off as he looked at Fili and Kili. He saw how when one moved the other one moved in sync.

“When you find your One it is not a question of things like that.” Balin left him after that, going off to help gather wood for the fire.

Bilbo looked down at his gloved hand then, wondering who exactly his One was.

Bilbo could feel twigs and leaves pushing into his back through his bed roll. He could smell the earth in the air, the pollen from the flowers, taste the change in temperature. He smiled lightly to himself, thinking of how earlier in the day the dwarves had found a spring and without thought or an ounce of shame stripped down to nothing and jumped in the water. 

Bilbo had blatantly avoided a similar scene in Rivendell but out here in the woods there was very little else for him to do. His eyes had met Thorin's body as he was gracefully lowering himself into the water as the others were splashing and thrashing around. He could feel the heat rise in his cheeks. He glanced at Thorin through his eyelashes, seeing a solid body. Thorin's chest was covered in black and silvering hair/ Bilbo had imagined running his hands through them. Bilbo turned in his heel, facing away from the dwarves. His fingers tapping at his thighs as he tried to understand the imagery that had crossed his mind. 

"Master Baggins won't you join us?" He could hear Kili call over the laughter and splash of water. 

"I....uh I.....sorry I have to find herbs for dinner!" Bilbo had called over his shoulder and ran quickly into the woods.

Bilbo now laid in his bed roll thinking of the day's events and wondering when he stopped thinking of home so much.  

“Master Baggins, why do you wear gloves all the time?” Kili asked one night as Bilbo walked back to the camp with herbs in his hand.

He stumbled on his words for a moment before he remembered the prepared line he had in case he was asked this question. “I…I uhh…it is because I am a good burglar.”

“I have yet to see you steal anything,” Thorin proclaimed as he packed a pipe full of weed and put it in between his lips, his eyes staying on the Halfling.

He has been lost ever since he left home.

Thorin laid awake in the cave, remembering the look on Bilbo’s face as Thorin spat out those words. He closed his eyes, trying to erase the image from his mind but it only cemented it further. The pang in his chest was unfamiliar to him, it was a different type of guilt that now weighed on him.

A part of him wanted to tell Bilbo that he didn’t mean it, that he was just saying it to make Bilbo…to make him what? He needs to be strong if he is going to make it into Erebor. Do not feel guilt over a burglar. He can help you, then he can collect his share and be on his way. Even the thoughts weren’t sitting right with Thorin.

He could hear the faint whispers of Fili and Kili from somewhere in the cave. He did not ask them to take first watch that night, knowing that they needed each other instead. That night their bed rolls were a little closer than normal but no one said anything of it.

Thorin looked at the heartline on his hand, seeing that the red mark was almost halfway to the center of his palm. Little did he know it had grown when he grabbed Bilbo’s hand and pulled him up from the cliff face. That night was the first time that Thorin wished the heartline on his hand represented something other than the duty to his people.

Bilbo stood against the tree, his back pressing into the bark. He listened to Thorin Oakenshield speak of him leaving, how the hobbit wanted nothing more than to take his chance to go back home. Bilbo looked down at his hand then, slipping off the glove to see that the line almost to the center of his palm. He could not go back now, not when he was so close to figuring out what all of this meant.

“You don’t have a one – a home.  It was taken from you, but I will help you take it back if I can.” As the words left Bilbo’s lips he could feel his heart swell. He knew without looking that his heartline had reached the middle of his palm and that maybe this was his quest too.

Bilbo looked on at Thorin as he faced Azog the Defiler. Will no one help him? Bilbo though. He could not look on any longer as he watched Thorin fall to the pale orc. He could hear Dwalin screaming out Thorin’s name over the rush of blood in his ears. A sword was raised and ready to come down to behead the dwarf king.

Bilbo charged the orc, knocking him to the ground and running his blade through his chest. He stood over Thorin then, ready to protect him with his life.

This is my quest too.

Bilbo stood in front of Thorin, heart racing in his chest. He knew these words were coming all along, he knew he was a burden to Thorin and his company but he was trying so hard to prove them wrong. To prove to Thorin that this was where he belonged.

“I have never been so wrong in all of my life.” Thorin reached out, pulling Bilbo to him. Bilbo’s eyes widen in shock. His hands gently reached around Thorin.

It was as if the weight that had been resting on him was finally lifted, he no longer would question what the growing red line on his hand meant. He knew he belonged here, next to Thorin Oakenshield where he would help to reclaim Erebor.

Thorin had the Halfling pressed against him. Thorin took in a deep breath, smelling smoke and earth tinged in the hobbit’s hair. This is where he belongs, with us. Thorin knew the moment that he thought it that he line had reached the center of his palm. He knew then how important Bilbo was to reclaiming Erebor.

“We have to cross the lake if we wish to out run the orc pack.” Fili stated as the company stood on a frozen grassy bank staring across an ice covered lake. “It will save us time.”

“It is also dangerous, what were to happen of us if the ice can not hold our weight?” Balin asked Fili.

“We cut back on supplies, take only what is necessary. I will go first to test the ice.” Fili said as he started pulling some of smaller weapons from his furs.

“No, you are not the lightest. The smallest one should go first.” Thorin said stepping forward as he pressed his hand to Fili’s chest.

 “I guess that means me.” Bilbo walked out from the back of the circle where he had been standing, placing himself now on the bank of the grass. No one said anything as Bilbo gently placed a foot on the ice. The cold was biting but Bilbo was determined to get the company across the lake. Bilbo kept his right foot out in front of him, gently tapping the ice before stepping on it. Bilbo could feel his heart all the way in his throat with each tap of his foot. 

They were half way across the vast lake when Bilbo heard the crack. As the noise reached his ears he was only half aware of what was about to happen. The ice shattered beneath his feet dropping him into the frozen lake. He trashed his hands above him, only to have them come in contact with solid ice. He did not know how to swim and kept flailing his arms around him wildly. He tried to keep his eyes open but could only feel the stinging cold. He opened his mouth to screaming only letting in the frigid water to his lungs. He did not know if the ice had completely caved, if the rest of the dwarves were in this prison with him. His body burned for air, his mouth kept opening trying to get in oxygen but only letting more water. His vision began to black around the edges as he tried not to think if Thorin Oakenshield was safe.

Thorin watched it happen from halfway down the line of dwarves following Bilbo. The ice collapsed beneath Bilbo. Fili pulled Kili to the side immediately and far enough away from the cracking ice. The others followed suit and began jumping on the breaking ice to try to make it to a more solid spot. Thorin ran where the ice had broken, falling to his knees on a piece of ice that was crashing into another. The ice titled and he grabbed the edge of it to gain balance. He looked down beneath him and could see small hands pressing against the ice. He reached in, his hands grabbing around Bilbo’s wrists and pulling his body out of the water.

That night Bilbo laid in his bedroll by the fire, his small body shivering under furs and blankets that the company had given up for the night. Thorin watched his frame shake and could hear the chatter of Bilbo’s teeth. He will never get warm at this rate. Thorin got up, leaving his bed roll on the ground as he went over to Bilbo. Thorin leaned down, lifting up the furs that were around Bilbo. He laid down beside him, pressing his chest to Bilbo’s back. Bilbo did not say anything but Thorin could feel his body tense.

“You will never get warm, you have been laying here for over an hour and I have yet to see any improvement. This will be the quickest way.” Thorin said his words with surety as he wrapped his arm around the hobbit, pulling him even closer to his chest.

Bilbo relaxed into Thorin then, letting out a deep breath as the tense squaring to his shoulders was released. Thorin ran his hands up and down Bilbo’s arm, hoping that the movement would help to not only heat the Halfling but also comfort him.

Bilbo’s breathing became more even and his teeth stopped chattering. Thorin could tell that Bilbo had finally fallen asleep. Thorin continued the stroking movements up and down Bilbo’s arm. He rested his chin on top of the hobbit’s head and took in a deep breath, smelling the clean scent of ice lingering on him. Thorin repressed a shiver as he remembered Bilbo falling into the ice.

What would I do without my burglar?

That night Thorin Oakenshield watched for the first time the line on his palm grow.

A year went by traveling through Middle Earth. Bilbo had been training with the dwarves, teaching him how to be quick on his feet, how to parry blocks and most importantly how to strike. Thorin looked at Bilbo fondly, his determination to prove himself caused a tugging at Thorin’s heart. There were nights by the camp fire where Thorin would take over training from Dwalin or Fili, those nights were amongst his favorite during their travels. Balin took to teaching Bilbo the history of the seven Dwarf Kingdoms.

One night in the autumn, when the leaves on the ground smelled of embers and ash Thorin told Bilbo of the day that Smaug attacked. Thorin was to be on watch for the first shift of the night when he noticed the halfling’s breathing was different from the others.

“You might as well keep me company if you are not going to sleep,” Thorin stated as he filled his pipe with Old Toby.  The fire next to him cracked as Bilbo got up from his bed roll and sat by the fire.

“What happened in Erebor?” Bilbo curled his knees up close to him as he kept his eyes on Thorin.

Thorin looked up from his pipe to see Bilbo’s dark eyes from across the fire. “You are not one for tact, Master Baggins.”

“I have always said exactly what was on my mind. It might be why I don’t have any friends, come to think of it.”Bilbo smiled as he tried to make light of the situation.

“Of course you have friends, Master Baggins. I cannot speak for the others but I know you have me.”  Thorin did not know where the words had come from, nor why he said them out loud. Upon reflection he realized the words were real and true.

“You wish to hear of Erebor?” The tone in Thorin’s voice changed, to Bilbo it seemed as if it wasn’t so rough around the edges.

“You never speak of the day when Smaug attacked.” Thorin looked at Bilbo then, realizing the determination in the hobbit’s eyes. He had seen that look many times before and knew that there was no way for him to get around this.

“I think about it far too often to speak of it.” Thorin put the pipe to his lips then pulled in a drag. “I was twenty four when the dragon attacked.”

Bilbo’s eyes went wide, he moved his knees away from his chest, stretching his legs out in front of him. He body sung with urgency, it was speaking to him to move, to do something, anything besides sit there as his heart beat wildly in his chest. “But you were just a child.”

“To my people I was. It started before that day though. You must understand that Erebor was once the greatest Kingdom in Middle Earth, that my grandfather Thror was fiercest of the dwarf lords, even the elves paid homage to him in our halls. I was always by his side, watching him rule. I knew that one day I would be expected to be just as great if not better than him. Erebor kept growing in wealth as we kept digging deeper and deeper into the veins in the mountain. It was there that we discovered the Heart of the Mountain, the Arkenstone. It was a gem beyond all measure, greater than all the gold in the mountain. My grandfather believe it a sign of his right to Rule. I saw what it was doing to him though, saw the madness slowly sinking in. I watched him one night, he was alone in one of the rooms filled with nothing but gold. I saw it there in his eyes, that he was lost to this treasure. Word quickly spread of how much gold was really in our halls. Months went by before the firedrake from the North attacked. I was out on the ramparts, when I saw him fly above Dale. I stood behind a pillar as he breathed fire into Erebor. He flew back to Dale then, destroying the city within moments. The city of men was no match for a dragon. I gathered the army then and led a charge onto the gate. I was Captain of the Guard, I hadn’t held the title for long. Flames crept in through the cracks, I could feel the heat even behind what little protection the door gave. Smaug entered Erebor then, our rocks and pillars were nothing to him. I watched many of my kin die that day. We needed to evacuate. I went looking for my grandfather to find him trying to get back the Arkenstone that had fallen to the dragon. He was already so lost then, he was willing to give up his life, to risk everything for that gem. I stood outside of the gates, ensuring that my people made it out safely. That is when I saw the elf king Thranduil, with a great army behind him. He watched the peril that we were in, how many of us were dying, my home burning and he turned his back on us. I will never forget the look he cast down on me before he turned his elk and his army away from us.” Thorin looked into the fire, flickers of orange and red reflecting in his teal colored eyes.

“Why didn’t the elf king help you?” Bilbo could still feel his heart aching in his chest. He wanted nothing more than to rest his hand on Thorin’s back, to feel his spine beneath his fingertips, the rise and fall of his breaths, and to let him know that everything would be alright.

“Because he is a cruel creature with a desire only for what he thinks belongs to him.” Thorin remembered the shimmering gems of starlight in the mountain and the elf king’s reaction upon seeing them.

“What happened after that?” Bilbo had moved around the fire now, his body drawn towards Thorin. He was sitting mere inches away now. Bilbo could smell the pipe weed, how it clung to the furs in Thorin’s clothes. He imagined leaning in, his nosed pressed against Thorin’s chest and breathing in. Bilbo looked off to the side then, eyes wide, wondering where the thought had come from. He shook his head lightly then as if clearing the thoughts away.

“My people were without a home and with an ailing King. He was not the same after that, his mind was forever lost to the treasure that lay within the mountain. I led my people then. Found a home for them in the Blue Mountains. I forgot that I was a prince, that there was ever a right to rule in my blood and I worked for men. It was the only way that I could ensure that my people were looked after. But every single day I remembered. I remembered the mountain smoke beneath the moon, the trees like torches blazing bright. It is my duty to my people to reclaim their home, I owe them this much.” Thorin kept his eyes to the flames, not risking looking at Bilbo’s reaction.

“Don’t you think that you have done enough? You have been there for your people every step of the way. You have done far more than I think anyone would have expected out of someone so young.” Bilbo reached out then, his hand resting on Thorin’s back. His fingers gripped the furs, wishing to be able to feel the soft hairs between his fingers but feeling nothing but his gloves. He hadn’t realized how long he had been wanting to do that.

“I have failed them. I should have been able to do more for them, they wandered for so long. I should have been able to fight the dragon that day, convince the elf king to help. I should have been able to pull my grandfather out of his sickness long enough to figure out what to do.” Thorin’s last words were barely a whisper and Bilbo moved himself just a little closer to Thorin, causing their legs to press together. It was only then how close Thorin realized Bilbo was. Pulled out of his reprieve he looked down at Bilbo, seeing his eyes filled with a steadfast gaze.

“I will help you take it back.” Their eyes locked on one another’s then. There was a sureness to Bilbo that Thorin felt that he himself did not have. A tenacity to do what he believed to be right. Thorin admired Bilbo so much for that, to wish to be as brave as this creature before him.

Bilbo wanted to take of his glove. To show Thorin of the mark now almost three quarters of a way up the palm of his hand. He unclenched his fingers from the fur clothing on Thorin’s back, extending out the joints after realizing his grip had been harder than intended. His heart skipped a beat as he saw the small smile that Thorin was giving him in the fire light. He decided then that he didn’t wish to change anything, he didn’t want to risk losing whatever this was.

That night, after months of having no activity on either of their marks, each heartline grew. When Thorin Oakenshield feel asleep that night, all the restless energy and frustration he had built up being chased by an orc pack and seeing no activity on his palm was released.

Thorin watched as Bilbo pulled out a small leather journal from his coat pocket. The hobbit sat on the ground with a stick made of charcoal pressed in between his fingers. His wrist began flicking across the page. Curious as to what he was doing Thorin walked behind him. He could see on the page an exact replication of the flower before them.

"What is it that you are doing Master Baggins?" Thorin asked as he continued hovering over Bilbo's shoulder. 

Bilbo looked up over his shoulder at Thorin, his face in a smile. "I've been cataloging different flowers and herbs. Comparing environments, soil condition and wildlife in the area to see what grows best and where. For example at home I can grow a whole field of chamomile during the summer if I wished but just a few moons passed it was the perfect temperature for such a plant yet when I discovered them at the base of a mountain they were not the same size nor shape in the ones in Bag End. Which tells me that would not be good for tea. It will help me to see if I can do anything to improve my garden at home. I've also been taking some herbs that I have not seen before and seeing if I can get them to grow in my garden. I may not need them for all of their medical uses but it will be a fun way to pass the time." 

Thorin crouched down on his knees then, picking a stem of the plant and putting it between his fingers. "Would you teach me?" Thorin kept his eyes on the chamomile as he asked.

Bilbo stopped the movements of his drawing then. "Teach you? What? How to garden?" Bilbo was sure he looked as lost as he felt.

Thorin smiled down at Bilbo, twirling the flower between this fingers. "Yes. What would be essential as knowledge for a healer, what would taste best with which food. And when we get to Erebor you can tell me what would grow best by the mountains." 

Bilbo stopped fidgeting then, the charcoal no longer twirling between his gloved fingers. Bilbo looked into Thorin's eyes, which reminded him of a patch of teal colored cremons flower he had seen not too far out of Rivendell. Bilbo wondered if he would be able to capture that color and put it in his book. Bilbo could hear snickering and it brought him out of his thoughts. He blinked a few times as a blush rose to his cheeks, realizing that it was entirely unacceptable how long he had been looking at Thorin. Bilbo looked around to see Fili and Kili sitting up in a tree not too far away. The urge to throw something and show off his skill in conkers rose inside of him. Bilbo suppressed the urge as he noticed that Thorin was still waiting for his answer. "I would like that very much." 

That night when everyone was asleep Bilbo pulled off his gloves to see that his heartline had moved. 

 Thorin sat inside his cell in the woodland realm, feeling somewhat satisfied over what he told the king. He could still hear Balin’s sighs of defeat from the cell next to his.

“And what do you presume will get us out of these blasted cells?” Dwalin called through his gate.

“A burglar.” Thorin could not help the smile that tugged at his features when he said the word.

 Hours went by and the tension in the air was thick. Thorin could feel how restless the dwarves were becoming in their cells. Thorin had not faltered though, he knew it was only a matter of time before their burglar would come to their aid.

Just when he could hear the dwarves speaking of not reaching the mountain, a voice floated through the cavern. Thorin felt his heart leap in his chest, pushing against his ribs as he ran to the door of the cell. His fingers clenched around the iron bars as he saw Bilbo Baggins with a ring of keys in his hand.

The door to his cell opened and Thorin paused in front of the hobbit. He wanted to say a thousand things, how he never for once doubted Bilbo getting them out of there. For some reason, the hobbit already knew what was on Thorin’s mind and gave him a nod before he was off unlocking the other cells.

They made their way into the cellar, where Bilbo instructed all the dwarves to get into barrels. They all stood there, refusing and whispering rebuttals. Bilbo looked at Thorin.

Can you do something about this? Thorin could practically hear Bilbo’s words in his head. “Do as he says!”

All the dwarves ceased their complaining as they climbed into the barrels.

 “Me, I’ll vouch for him. I have traveled far with these dwarves through great danger, and if Thorin Oakenshield gives his word then he will keep it.” Bilbo stepped out from behind the group of dwarves and out into the open.

Bilbo looked to Thorin, he could see the incredulous look in his eyes. If I do not do this, then who will. Bilbo thought to himself as he stood there for all of the town to look upon him but most of all Thorin. Bilbo held his gaze, his back straightened as he lifted his chin with pride. He would go to the ends of the earth for Thorin Oakenshield. In that moment Bilbo’s heartline reached three quarters of the way up his palm.

 “I am going to tell Kili to stay behind tomorrow, he is too sick to travel into the mountains.” Thorin said to Bilbo as they stood in the armory of the town, packing weapons for the rest of the journey.

“Fili will never stand for that.” Bilbo said as he looked at Thorin with disbelief.

“I know.” Thorin didn’t bother to look at Bilbo as he continued inspecting weapons.

“I don’t understand.” Bilbo blinked rapidly a few times, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides.

“I am counting on Fili to stay behind. There is a sickness that lies in that mountain and a curse upon my kin. I do not wish to see what will become of my nephews if they are to enter it while the dragon is still in there.” Thorin looked at Bilbo then, his face filled with resolve. Bilbo only nodded as his picked up a helmet, pretending to understand the craftsmanship of metals.

 Bilbo watched from the boat as Thorin told Kili to stay behind. He was gentle with him, more so than Bilbo had ever seen him be. This was not Thorin, son of Thrain, Son of Thror, nor was this Thorin Oakenshield. This was Uncle Thorin. Bilbo was amazed at the different roles that Thorin took on with each person and what was required of him.

Kili looked ill, skin tinted grey. As much as Bilbo understood the reasoning behind what Thorin was doing it was still painful to watch Kili be denied seeing the door to the mountain open.

He could feel the betrayal rolling off of FIli in waves, the anger rising in him. “I belong with my brother.” It was exactly as Thorin had predicted.

And once more Thorin put his people before himself as he continued on his journey. Bilbo only wondered the toll that all of this would take on Thorin.

 They key to Erebor clattered on the ground. Thorin pushed the map into Bilbo’s chest. “Thorin, you can’t give up now.” Even the words sounded weak to Bilbo’s ears.

Bilbo had seen the despair in Thorin’s eyes, the color drain his body as all hope left him. He saw Thorin Oakenshield shattered, desperate, and destroyed. This was his quest, his One, how could he give up on it now?! We are so close.

Bilbo stood at the mountain, one of his hands to his chin as he inspected the rock for any inclination of a keyhole.

Thorin Oakenhshield made his way back down the secret pass, the last light of the day had long since faded. His heart weighed heavier than before. How could I have been such a fool? To think that I could reclaim the mountain? I am nothing but a lowly dwarf lord.  

With each step it felt as if there were stones tied to his ankles. Thorin looked down at his palm to see that his heartline had finally reached three quarters of the way up his palm. Thorin stopped walking then, the rest of the company ahead of him. When did this happen?

“It’s the light of the moon, the last moon of autumn!” Thorin could hear Bilbo’s voice carrying down the mountain. It was then Thorin knew that Bilbo had found the keyhole.

 “I know these walls, these halls, this stone. Do you remember it Balin? Chambers filled with golden light.” Thorin laid his hand upon the cold carven stone of the mountain, feeling it beneath his fingers. Never again in his life did he think that he would see the halls of Erebor once more.

Thorin rested his back against the stone wall, feeling the uneven stone dig into his back. He looked down the staircase that lead into the mountain. He could here Balin talking to Bilbo.

Where would I be without this halfing? I would have given up long ago if not for him. He helped us so many times in more ways than I can count. This small simple creature who has never left home, what would I be without him?

“That, Master Burglar, is why you are here.”

“Yes I am afraid. I fear for you. A sickness lies upon that treasure hoard. It drove your grandfather mad!” Balin was angry with Thorin, for he could already see the sickness setting into him.

“I am not my grandfather.” Even as Thorin said the words he could feel the wrongness to them, feel how they were false upon his lips. How will I explain to my people that a burglar took back the mountain as I sat aside and watched him perish to dragon fire?

“The Thorin that I know would not hesitate to go in there.” Balin pointed to the mountain, where they could hear the noises of the dragon. Smell the fire coming up through the stairwell.

“I will not risk this quest for the life of one….burglar.” Thorin could not make himself look at Balin, could not see the pain in his eyes as he spoke of the hobbit.

“Bilbo. His name is Bilbo.” The hobbit’s name broke through the thoughts that Thorin was having, the madness that was already sinking into him. Bilbo. He could hear Bilbo’s laughter. How could he be so foolish to think that this small life did not matter? Thorin looked down at his palm, to the vivid red line that was there and knew the only way to complete this quest was by entering the mountain.

“What have we done?” Bilbo collapsed down on broken stone as he watched Smaug fly to Lake Town.

He had a feeling that after this night his heartline should no longer be allowed to grow. For who deserved to finish their quest when the lives of innocent people were at stake?

Lake Town was burning. The company feared for the lives of their kin as they watched everything be engulfed in flames. Bilbo looked away from the scene, to look for Thorin.

Thorin stood with his back to the company and his eyes on Erebor. Bilbo hoped that he was looking at Erebor instead of looking at Lake Town in hopes to not thinking of the fate of his nephews. Bilbo had a sick feeling in his stomach that it did not have to do with that at all.

Days passed in the mountain and with each day Bilbo become more and more worried. Thorin would not eat or sleep. He became restless and at times refused to speak to anyone but Bilbo. He spent hours in the piles of gold, running his hands over the precious metals and gems.

If the company was awake then they were to be looking through the piles of gold for the Arkenstone. It hit Bilbo with a pang of guilt each time knowing that the gem rested on his person.

“Thorin this is madness! Fili and Kili could be dead and you are making everyone slave away for a stone!” Bilbo screamed at Thorin one night after he had not let anyone take a break from searching the massive piles of gold. “You’ve won the mountain, is that not enough?” Bilbo’s voice cracked as his hands dropped to his sides.

Thorin slowly turned to look at Bilbo, his eyes rimmed with dark circles from lack of sleep. “I have one the mountain but my heartline has stopped moving. It is because I do not have the Arkenstone. Only when I have the Arkenstone will I be able to finish this quest. I must be King under the Mountain.” Thorin nodded to himself in agreement, as if his idea was truth. The only one who was to agree with him in this madness was himself.

Bilbo wanted to thrust the Arkenstone into Thorin’s hands. To scream at him, just to see that the line would not be complete. There would be no way that the fates would design something so cruel as to watch someone fall into sickness. There is no way this is his destiny. Bilbo left Thorin to his thoughts then, his fingers gripped tightly around the Arkenstone in his pocket.

“Gold, gold beyond measure. Beyond sorrow and grief.” Thorin walked into the main hall filled with gold. He watched the light from the torches reflect off the gold and gems, causing an ocean of color to swim in his eyes. I may have lost my nephews but I still have my treasure. Now I just need the Arkenstone.  

Thorin looked up then, to see his nephews standing on a platform overlooking the room. It cannot be.

Bilbo saw the look on Thorin’s face and realized that a moment ago he believed to be in this room by himself. Bilbo realized the implications of Thorin’s words, how he believed the gold was going to heal him of any of his sorrows.

I’m almost tempted to let you take it, if just to see Oakenshield suffer. Watch it destroy him. Watch it corrupt his heart and drive him mad.

Bilbo sat outside on the ramparts, where the air was not as saturated with the small of dragon. He thought that the dragon’s words were false, that something as small as a gem would cause someone as strong as Thorin Oakenshield to delve into madness. But Bilbo had seen the madness, had been watching it grow every day.

He rested the stone against his palm. Compared the colors in the Arkenstone to the stark contrast of the red line on his palm. It is impossible. You cannot be the reason for Thorin to complete this quest. You cannot be his One. You’re just a gem and if this is what completes his heartline then it would be what completes mine and I will not live my life knowing that I helped to destroy Thorin. What creators did we offend that I have fallen into this fate with him? Bilbo looked at the stone one last time before slipping it back into his pocket. He was determined to believe that there was more to this quest than the claiming of the Arkenstone and he was set to figure out what.

“It is a fierce and jealous love Bilbo. It sent his grandfather mad.” Bilbo watched as Balin fought back tears as he spoke of the Arkenstone and of Thorin.

Bilbo wanted to tell Balin of the Arkenstone and of the vow he made to himself to protect Thorin but he could not risk it. Could not risk Thorin finding the gem or of the heartline on his own hand.

Bilbo sat in one of the many halls of Erebor, on a stone bench, trying to find a moment of peace. He reached into his pocket to pull out a small object.

“What is that?” He could hear Thorin’s rough voice from behind him. “In your hand!” Thorin marched up to Bilbo with quick steps as Bilbo quickly stood up.

“It’s nothing.” Bilbo clenches his fists tight.

“Show me.” Thorin waited as Bilbo looked at him with wide eyes, contemplating showing him the tiny object in his gloved fingers.

Bilbo uncurled his fingers to show an acorn resting in the palm of his hand. “I picked it up in Beorn’s garden.”

Thorin looked down at the acorn. It reminded him of autumn, of warmer nights and stories by the roaring fire. Of Bilbo’s cooking, the laughter from hearing tales of when Fili and Kili were nothing but children and Thorin trying to teach them of courtly manners, how they always seemed to backfire on Thorin until Dis would get involved. It reminded him of Bilbo’s hair in the sun, how it had a red tint to it. He could remember the crackling of leaves underneath his boot on the forest floor. How it seemed so long ago here in these halls.

“You’ve carried it all this way.” Thorin could feel the smile on his face, how it seemed foreign and unfitting on him after all this time.

Bilbo took in a sharp breath, forgetting what Thorin had looked like, back when he was happy.  The Thorin Oakenshield he had called his friend.

“I’m going to plant it in my garden, in Bag End.” Bilbo could feel a blush creeping up his cheeks from the way that Thorin was looking at him. Bilbo kept looking down to the ground, unable to hold Thorin’s gaze.

“It is a poor prize to take back to the Shire.” Thorin could not hide the smile anymore as he looked down at Bilbo. Even after everything that had been through Bilbo was still thinking of home, and the simple things.

“One day it will grow and every time I look at it I’ll remember, remember everything that happened. The good, the bad, and how lucky I am that I made it home.” Bilbo looked up to see that Thorin was looking at him in a way that he had never before. Or at least in a way that Bilbo had not noticed until now. He remembered the carrock and how Thorin’s eyes and smile seemed very similar to then. Am I talking to Thorin? Bilbo held on to a hope that he had gotten though to Thorin and past the wall of madness.

Thorin smiled wider at him then, a small laugh escaping his lips. Bilbo could not help but smile back. He could feel the change in air, the difference amongst them.

“Thorin…I…” Bilbo began to speak before Dwalin entered the room.

Bilbo saw Thorin’s features immediately drop as he slipped back into the role of Thorin, King under the Mountain.

Once Thorin had left the room, Bilbo looked down at his palm to see that his line had grown and was close to reaching the top of his hand. Was it because I was going to tell him of the Arkenstone?

Bilbo watched Thorin slip further and further into his dragon sickness. Watch it slowly claim him and take over his body, turning him into a dwarf that no one knew. Bilbo stood there as he watched the dwarves build them into a barricade and wished nothing more than to have Thorin back, his Thorin. For he did not understand what now stood before him. No longer a man, but more a dragon in his mindset than even a king.

“Master Baggins, come here!” Thorin called down the hallway to Bilbo as the dwarves prepared themselves for war.

Bilbo hesitantly walked down the hall and towards Thorin who was standing at the end of it with a shirt made of what looked like fine silver to him, in his hands.

“You’re going to need this.” Thorin’s face looked worried as he held out the material to Bilbo. “Put it on.”

Bilbo didn’t hesitate as he took off his coat, looking at Thorin as he did so. “This vest is made of silver steel.” Thorin held the material up to his face, his eyes gazing through the small metal work. “Mithril, it was called by my forebears. No blade can pierce it.” Thorin handed the Mithril to Bilbo who slipped it on over his waist coat.

“I look absurd! I am not a warrior, I’m a hobbit.” Bilbo looked down to the end of the hall to see the rest of the dwarves watching them.

“It is a gift, a token of our friendship. True friends are hard to come by.” Thorin grabbed Bilbo by his shoulder and pulled him around the corner, away from the others. “I have been blind, now I am beginning to see. I am betrayed!” Thorin’s voice broke on the last word.

Bilbo could feel his heart pushing against his ribs, his blood flowing through his ears as his adrenaline started pumping. “Betrayed?” He knows of the Arkenstone.

“The Arkenstone. One of them has taken it.” Thorin looked around them to see if anyone had followed. Bilbo let out a breath that he had not realized he was holding in. He looked over Thorin’s shoulder, to the company who was still putting on armor.

“One of them is false.” Thorin’s voice had changed, his octave going lower and his words taking on a hissing sound. Bilbo had heard a voice similar to this and realized that it was the dragon sickness claiming Thorin.

“Thorin, the quest is almost fulfilled, you’ve one the mountain. Do you really think that the Arkenstone is the last piece? That you fill find it, and what? Your heartline becomes complete? Is that what you want? To be a dwarf so full of greed that your One was not reclaiming your homeland for your kin but a piece of treasure?” Bilbo could not stand by anymore as he watching the Thorin he knew disappear into the dark halls of Erebor and be replaced with a foul creature whose heart desired nothing more than treasure.

“Then so be it!  This treasure is ours and ours alone, every step of the way you have helped me and each and every time my heart line has grown more and more from your actions. I must have that last piece, and you must be the one to help me find it. I will not part with a single coin, not one piece of it.” Thorin backed away from Bilbo, his movements becoming serpent like.

Bilbo looked at Thorin as the dwarves marched between them and knew that Thorin was lost.

Bilbo took the Arkenstone to the Elf King in hopes that it would help bring Thorin back.

“Why are you doing this, you owe us no loyalty.” Bard questioned Bilbo as his fingers rested on the cloth on the table where the Arkenstone lay.

“I’m not doing it for you. I know that dwarves can be obstinate and pigheaded and difficult and suspicious and secretive with the worst manners that you could possibly imagine but they are also brave and kind and loyal to a fault. I’ve grown very fond of them and I would save him…them if I can.” No one mentioned the slip of word when Bilbo was speaking but all knew he was there to bargain for the life and sanity of Thorin Oakenshield.

That night when lying in bed in the tent under the watch of elves and men, Bilbo noticed that his heartline had grown. I am doing the right thing, I will save you if I can.

“The Arkenstone is in this mountain, it is a trick!” Thorin screamed over the wall, down to the elf king and his army below.

“It’s not a trick. The stone is real. I gave it to them.” Bilbo stood with his back straight, waiting to see what Thorin would do as he turned to face Bilbo.

“You.” Thorin could not find another word to say, he could feel the betrayal working its way inside of him and eating away what was left of Thorin Oakenshield and leaving only Thorin, King under the Mountain.

“I took it as my fourteenth share.” Bilbo looked to the ground then, not able to look at the shell of a dwarf now standing in front of him.

“You would steal from me?” There was no threat to his words, just a ghost clinging to his friendship and trying to make sense of the events unfolding before him.

“Steal from you? No. I may be a burglar but I would like to think I’m an honest one. I’m willing to let it stand against my claim. ” Bilbo sounded more sure with each word as he watched Thorin’s reaction.

“Against your claim? Your claim? You have no claim over me. You miserable rat!” Thorin walked toward Bilbo then, throwing the bow to the ground.

“I never said I had a claim over you. The Arkenstone is not a part of you, it does not make you who you are. You are changed Thorin, the dwarf I met in Bag End would never have gone back on his word. Would never have doubted the loyalty of his kin.” Bilbo’s hands were now clenched at his sides, his nails digging into the leather of the gloves.

“Do not speak to me of loyalty. Throw him from the ramparts!” Thorin gestured toward Bilbo as Bilbo looked at him with wide eyes. Not one dwarf moved at Thorin’s request.

“Did you not hear me?!” Thorin grabbed Fili by the arm and pulled him towards Bilbo. “Never mind, I will do it myself.” Thorin pulled Bilbo just as Kili tried to pry Bilbo from Thorin’s hands.   

“No, Kili, its fine, don’t.” Bilbo said calmly as his back pressed against the cold stone. Bilbo reached his hand down to lift the glove off of his right hand, to show Thorin of the red mark that resided there, to hope that it would make him understand.

The Grey Wizard arrived then, causing Thorin to release his hold on Bilbo. Bilbo moved the glove back down his hand and hastily made his escape out of Erebor.

“Do not speak to me as if I’m some lowly dwarf lord, as if I were still Thorin Oakenshield.” Thorin’s voice cracked as his said the words, pain lingering on each syllable. How could anyone think that Thorin was still Thorin Oakenshield, the pathetic dwarf who could not save his grandfather or find his father? He was a king now with vast halls and a mighty treasure.

Thorin tried to remember the paths that lead him here to this moment. The summer nights out in the woods where it was too warm to sleep, the small Halfling who told stories of festivals and fireworks. He tried to remember the warmth when Bilbo would tell him those stories, how even in his foulest moods this would pull him out. He had begun to realize Bilbo had been picking up on his emotions and pulling him out of his darker moments when he thought that the quest was nigh impossible. Bilbo always spoke of home with a fondness, it made Thorin want to be in the warm halls of Erebor with their golden light. But all he could feel was the cold ache, the smell of dragon and an over whelming desire to be King. There was no warmth left in Erebor.

This is Thorin, Son of Thrain, Son of Thror. You are the heir to the throne of Durin.

I am not my grandfather, I am not my grandfather.

Take back your homeland.

You are changed Thorin.

I am not my grandfather.

To be a dwarf so full of greed that your One was not reclaiming your homeland for your kin, but a piece of treasure?

I am not my grandfather.

You are changed Thorin.

I am not my grandfather.

You are changed Thorin.

Thorin stood in the room where he had turned the floors to gold trying to destroy the dragon Smaug. He saw the gold turn to liquid and swim before his eyes. He could feel himself slipping, see himself falling beneath the gold as it swallowed him whole.

That your One was not reclaiming your homeland for your kin but a piece of treasure?

Does it bother you? Knowing that there is no one out there for you?

Thorin threw off the crown then, the voices ceasing. The gold stopped moving. He looked to his right hand then. He pulled off the gauntlet, looking at the red line on his palm, how it sat there perfectly in the indentation of his hand. He fell to his knees, feeling the hard gold press into his bone.

“Bilbo.”

“Durin’s folk do not flee from a fight.” Thorin smiled at Kili then, pressing their foreheads together. Kili smiled back then pulled away.

“Also, I believe the elves have our hobbit.” The company smiled at his words, knowing that that finally had Thorin Oakenshield back.

Bilbo slipped the ring on his finger, becoming invisible to all those around him. He pushed past orcs, elves and men as he made his way to Raven Hill to warn Thorin of the oncoming army. I will not let us end this way.

“Thorin, you have to leave here now! Azog has another army attacking from the north, this watch tower will be completely surrounded. There will be no way out.” Bilbo rested his hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath in the cold mountain air.

“Find Fili and Kili, call them back. We live to fight another day.” Thorin swore to himself then, that if he were to survive this, that he would tell Bilbo of his true quest.

Bilbo woke to the frigid mountain air and a throbbing in the back of his head. He looked around to see that no one was fighting, there were no longer orcs surrounding him. Thorin. Bilbo pushed himself to his feet and began searching Raven Hill.

“Fili, Kili! Are you alright?” Bilbo screamed out as he saw Kili leaning over Fili who was holding his shoulder.

“We are fine, Master Baggins,” FIli said as he pressed a piece of tunic that Kili had ripped from himself to his bleeding shoulder.

“Fili here escaped a deadly blow from Azog and was struck in the shoulder.” Kili grinned down at Fili as Fili repressed the urge to roll his eyes. He could feel himself smiling though and knew he was hopeless when it came to his brother.

“Have either of you seen Thorin?” Bilbo asked as he looked around, watching the Eagles flying higher up the mountain.

“I haven’t, I believe he’s over where the Eagles are circling,” Fili said as he motioned to the birds.

Bilbo ran up the hill, to a staircase where he saw Thorin lying on the ground. Blood mixing into the ice and snow. Bilbo ran to Thorin then, to see that he was still breathing.

“Bilbo.” Thorin’s words were a gasp.

“Don’t move, lie still.” Bilbo moved Thorin’s tunic aside to see the wound. Bilbo was not a medic but he believed that the wound looked treatable if he could get Thorin off of the mountain.

“I’m glad you’re here, there is something I need to tell you.” Thorin tried lifting his arm, to rest his hand on his stomach, to show Bilbo what he meant but there was a gash in his arm that was causing any type of movement to be difficult.

“I don’t know if now is the time.” Bilbo pulled off his blue tunic, uncaring of the cold and pressed it to the bleeding wound at Thorin’s side.

“Forgive me, you did what only a true friend would do. I want to take back my words and my deeds at the gate.”

“I was too blind to see it.”

Bilbo looked into Thorin’s eyes that seemed to match the frozen water.

“To blind to see what?” Bilbo asked, blinking rapidly as he looked into Thorin’s ice blue eyes.

Thorin lifted his hand then, turning his palm to face Bilbo. There sat his heartline, almost to the end of its journey.

“I don’t understand,” Bilbo said, as he tenderly reached out and set his gloved fingers on the palm of Thorin’s hand. His index finger began tracing the red line.

“It was never about Erebor, or the Arkenstone, or becoming King. It was about you.” Thorin’s fingers gently clasped around Bilbo’s hand. He slowly removed the glove to show a red line on Bilbo’s palm. “I didn’t realize it till today, that that is why you were wearing them this whole time. Why did you never tell me?” Thorin asked, letting out a small cough at the end of his words.

Bilbo put his hand in front of his mouth, curling it into a fist. The corners of his eyes began to well with tears. “I didn’t know, I didn’t know,” Bilbo repeated as he let his right hand fall into Thorin’s.

It was then that both of their heartlines reached the end of their journey. Bilbo and Thorin watched as the lines took shape to match one another’s. There on Raven Hill, after the Battle of the Five Armies, did Thorin Oakenshield and Bilbo Baggins realize that home was not a place, not a thing that you went home to at the end of the day filled with worldly objects. It was a person, and to Thorin Oakenshield, Bilbo Baggins was home.