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Bilbo groaned sleepily as he rolled over, not just in protest at being awake, but because his entire body ached. It felt heavy and worn out, more so than usual, he was aware that travelling on the road with little to no creature comforts would take its toll, but this sudden fatigue was entirely new. Normally it wouldn't hurt so much so sit up, a strange pressure on his chest prevented him from rising fully.
The soft morning light almost blinded him, his head throbbed as the dappled sunlight stabbed into eyes. When he saw that no one else was up yet, he flopped back down with a sigh, giving in to whatever had come over him during the night, the sudden movement elicited a sharp gasp as a jolt of pain shot down his side. It eventually subsided and Bilbo drifted back to sleep.
.
The first thing Thorin registered as he woke was hunger. His stomach rolled and grumbled at him rather insistently, begging him to get up and eat something. Strange, considering he hadn't been eating any less than he normally would. In fact, their meal the evening before had been almost lavish, Fili and Kili had tracked and hunted a young deer, that had been used to make a hearty, if somewhat bland, stew.
The second point of interest was the fact that, other than the immediate need to eat something, he felt almost completely fine. Gingerly, he brought a hand up to his chest to press gently on the ribs that he knew were bruised at best and felt nothing, not a twinge of pain. Thorin sat up and found that his back didn't protest once, the light didn't hurt his eyes at all. With a shrug, he got to his feet and ran a hand through his hair to brush it out of his face.
Thorin stopped. His entire body stilled, hand still caught amongst his hair. It was gone, not completely shorn, but it was gone, the familiar weight of it resting on his shoulders so obviously absent. His breathing sped up as his hands ventured down to his face and found it bare, fingertips brushed against smooth skin. Thorin started to panic, if this was some idea of a joke... his thoughts couldn't even form, no, this was too much. He looked down at his bedroll expecting to see the mutilated remnants of his beard and hair strewn about, but there was nothing.
"Kili!" He yelled, there was no one else it could be, his anger masked the voice that passed through his lips, the voice obviously did not belong to him. "Fili!" No one else would have the audacity to do something like this, but even for his nephews, this was close to unforgivable.
The shouts had stirred not only his nephews, but a few other members of the company as well. They eyed him wearily, some rolled over to go back to sleep, but Bombur and Dori started to rise themselves, probably to make a start on breakfast and check on the ponies. Fili and Kili sat up and blinked at him, still very much half asleep, which was so unlike them. Usually when he called their names as he just had, they'd be up and alert, maybe a bit hesitant to approach him. They just looked puzzled, amused, even.
"What is the meaning of this?" Thorin demanded, yanking at the remains of his hair to the point he actually tore a few strands out.
The elder nephew sat up and looked at his younger brother, who just shrugged, then they both turned toward Thorin. "What is the meaning of what?" Fili asked, his frown carved shallow creases between his eyebrows.
"Wha-?" Thorin growled and thundered over to his nephews. "My hair! Look at it!"
Kili stood up, finally free of his blankets, and looked down at his uncle. It wasn't anything unusual, but it seemed like he had grown an extra few inches in the night. He reached out and held up a lock of hair to inspect it then let it fall back to rest on his head. "I am looking, and it doesn't look any different than it did last night, Mister Boggins."
Thorin snapped at that. If this was some kind of game, some stupid joke, then he was done. He did not want to be a part of it."What are you playing at!?" His voice broke.
"Bilbo, wh-"
"Shut up, Fili! I will not..."
"Will you all be quiet!" An unfamiliar voice rumbled through the clearing, immediately silencing everyone. The figure sat up and cast an evil glare in their direction. That swiftly dissolved into a look of utter confusion and then panic, fingers patting down his chest, pulling at long strands of hair, his mouth moved silently, probably whispering the very same questions that were running rampant in Thorin's own head.
.
The sick feeling rising through Bilbo consumed all the other aches and pains that ailed him. He was up and on his feet in a split second, his eyes never leaving... well, himself. Bilbo wasn't vain, but he had looked in enough mirrors to know what he looked like, and that was definitely him stood facing off with Fili and Kili half way across the camp. This had to be a dream, it couldn't be real, but when he watched himself look down, up, at his own hands in complete bewilderment he yelped and swiftly made his way out of the camp and made sure he was deep into the surrounding trees before he stopped.
Breathing hard, Bilbo leaned against a tree, wiping the hairs that stuck to his face away with a frustrated moan. "What on earth..." The voice that greeted his ears was not his own, it was too deep, too harsh. Once again, he took stock of the body he found himself inhabiting. It was tall and stocky, he felt every twig and stone on the forest floor digging into the soles of his feet, and every breath he took was laboured. As the adrenaline wore off, the sharp pains that troubled him when he woke earlier returned in full force.
"Bilbo?" A very small voice came from behind him. He hissed in agony as he turned sharply to face it. Him. Himself.
"Y-yes." He stammered. "I think." Bilbo watched as his face contorted into a grim mask, his nostrils flared in the same way Thorin's did when he tried to suppress one vague annoyance or another.
"What happened?" Thorin asked, he took a step forward and stumbled. "How do you manage to walk with these feet?"
Bilbo let out a bark of laughter. "I could ask you the very same thing!" A slight breeze tugged at their hair, blowing a few strands into his face. Bilbo spluttered as some got caught around his mouth. "Your hair is ridiculous."
Thorin crossed his arms and glared, Bilbo couldn't help but laugh fully. It was no wonder the dwarves didn't take him seriously at first. He was definitely not imposing, no matter how imperious he tried to look. Bilbo winced as the jostling of his chest brought a fresh wave of pain crashing through his body.
"I think you need Oin to take a look at your ribs." Bilbo stated through clenched teeth. "I think some of them might be broken."
"That's the least of my worries." Thorin shrugged and looked away, the defiant look in his eyes waning. "We should go back, before they start looking for us."
Bilbo nodded, despite the fact Thorin couldn't see him, and they set off back towards the camp. "What do we tell the others?"
"I don't know. Should we tell them?"
"I think they're likely to notice." Bilbo pointed out, then before he could stop himself. "I can't exactly pull off 'Majestically Broody Prince Thorin' while trying to hide the fact I have broken bones."
"I beg your pardon!" Thorin stopped and turned to face Bilbo.
"I'm just stating the obvious."
.
'Majestically Broody'? Who did that silly, little hobbit think he was? How dare he? But the haughty look that was plastered upon his own face seemed to bear a slightly superior air.
"Fine!" Thorin threw his hands up in defeat and stomped away, only catching his feet once or twice. "I'll have Oin examine me as long as you make sure you start eating properly, your stomach hasn't stopped complaining since I woke up."
"I'll have you know I have been eating just as much as everyone else, or at least as much as you have allowed me." Bilbo said. "But you must remember hobbits are accustomed to eating at least seven times a day."
"I hadn't realised..." Thorin's voice softened and he slowed his pace to allow Bilbo to catch up. "You can not possibly last if you are practically starving, I will make sure you have food enough to survive, but you will have to get used to no more than three meals a day."
"And you won't survive if you don't allow yourself to heal. You need to rest."
Thorin sighed and closed his eyes. "That isn't exactly feasible under current circumstances."
"As soon as we get back to camp I'm going have Oin take a look at you, how long have you been like this?" The pain he was feeling was so very obvious in Bilbo's voice, he spoke through clenched teeth and short breaths, every now and then a quiet grunt passed his lips as he walked.
"I don't recall." Thorin admitted. "But long enough that I don't register the pain any more."
"Thorin." Bilbo had stopped walking again. Thorin stopped as well when he felt a hand on his shoulder. "You need to take better care of yourself, we're not half way there, if you want to see Erebor again, even from a distance... promise me you won't let it get this bad again."
Thorin let out a long breath and looked over his shoulder, the temptation to lay a hand on top of Bilbo's was almost overwhelming, but he resisted the urge. He settled for a sad smile instead. "I will, as long as you promise to take every opportunity to eat as much as possible, I won't have you fainting on us again."
.
They trudged back to the camp together, they still hadn't figured out how to tell the other dwarves about the extremely bizarre situation they found themselves in. Judging by the wink Bilbo received from Gandalf there would be absolutely no need to tell him. Bilbo made a note to question the meddling wizard as soon as he was done with Oin, but for now there were more pressing matters, for example, how was he supposed to respond to Dwalin when the tall dwarf came up to him, his gaze darting to Thorin's retreating back before catching his eye and winking in a very suggestive manner.