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The series of events that brought Bilbo from the halls of the Elf King and into the dingy town of men was an experience he wouldn’t wish upon his worst enemy. And he’s wished Lobelia much ill will over the years. It had been hours since they snuck their way into Bard’s house through the toilets of all places, and yet the cold of the water seemed permanently seeped into Bilbo’s very bones to the point that he couldn’t stop shivering. Hunching deeper into the old ratty blankets that their host provided, Bilbo just knew he was going to get sick from this. Yavanna help him if he has to face down a dragon with a stuffy nose.
He held the warm cup closer to his body as he fought off a cough. To call it soup would be too generous, but he was grateful nonetheless. As his eyes settled around the room, he could see several of the dwarves were making the most of their warm accommodations and hunkered in blankets, much like Bilbo. Others were trying to enjoy the meager broth in front of the fire. Clearly, he was not the only one to feel the bite of the winter water. However, the one dwarf Bilbo could not see appreciating their improved circumstances was Thorin.
His eyes scanned the room automatically before landing on the imposing figure staring out at the landscape through the slightly too tall window. Thorin was pale and his eyes looked haunted, making Bilbo immediately make his way over to him. Thorin’s desperation as he searched the barrels for him after their trip down the river coupled with another fully engulfing hug as soon as he was spotted on the shore had Bilbo hoping beyond measure that he wasn’t just imagining the lingering gazes and soft touches. Perhaps, Thorin might desire Bilbo the same way.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” He commented as soon as he was close enough that the frog in his throat would allow him to be heard.
Thorin turned towards him, but Bilbo’s presence didn’t seem to offer him any comfort. Something that caused Bilbo’s chest to ache.
“It’s a dwarvish windlance. The last time I saw one…”
Ah. Yes, Bilbo could fill-in-the-blanks well enough from there.
“I assume it hasn’t seemed real until now.”
The barest hint of a smirk pulled at the corner of Thorin’s mouth, finally breaking through the painful memories. “Something like that, and I owe it all to you, Master Baggins.”
Bilbo ducked his head as his face managed to finally muster some warmth.
“I may have helped a little…” He admitted.
“No,” Thorin shook his head as he turned his entire body towards Bilbo. “Your help has been invaluable, more than once on this quest. In a lot of ways, I would dare say you’ve been the heart of the Company.”
Thorin’s hand reached out towards Bilbo as if longing to feel his curls, a sensation Bilbo would be most agreeable with, but barely a breath away, Thorin pulled back his eyes hardening as they looked over the top of Bilbo’s head. The hobbit turned slightly to see Bard had returned. Bilbo could only mentally sigh as he anticipated whatever news the fisherman brought back being dire indeed.
***
Bilbo’s instincts prove accurate as the lack of ‘acceptable weaponry’ had the dwarves plotting a mad heist in the night which ended with them having to declare themselves and their quest before the entire town. The only good to come from the ordeal was the upgrade in accommodations and a full meal that night. Not that Bilbo could enjoy it as his nose seemed to leak like a faucet and his throat grew tighter and scratchier. Only a few hours into the evening’s festivities, and Bilbo decided it was time to turn in. Upon the morrow, he would set out to find some peppermint leaves and ginger for his mother’s special ‘Healing Tea’.
Bilbo was almost to his room when he heard a set of boots behind him. Spinning around, he was surprised to see Thorin following him abashedly.
“My apologies, Thorin. Was there something you needed?” Bilbo asked.
Thorin shifted from foot to foot before taking two steps closer and forcing Bilbo to arch his head backwards. The moonlight from the adjacent window now slanted at the perfect angle for Bilbo to catch sight of those glorious blue eyes that still held the same delicate warmth from his declaration of support.
“You are turning in early?” Thorin questioned, more as a stalling method it seemed.
“It’s been a long day.” Bilbo sighed, not wanting to worry the dwarf with the beginning symptoms of his cold.
Thorin nodded his head in understanding. “Then I shall not keep you. I just wanted you to know that...you have honored me with your words earlier tonight.”
Bilbo felt the breath leave his body, and had to work hard to ignore the cough tickling at the back of his throat. That would certainly be impolite in the face of such a declaration.
“Of course. I meant it. Every word.”
Thorin’s eyes crinkled with a wry grin. “I have noticed that about you, Master Burglar. You are most assuredly of an honest nature. That’s why I have a request of sorts.”
Bilbo blinked in surprise before nodding his head. “Sure, sure. What do you need Thorin?”
“Balin and I are to meet with the Master to outline the...terms of our alliance.”
Bilbo wasn’t immune to the hostility in Thorin’s tone. For good reason. The Master was a slimy character, there was no doubt about it. Almost reminded Bilbo of a bullfrog, if he didn’t think it would be an insult to the obnoxious creatures. Bilbo most certainly would have preferred to stay in Bard’s company if it wasn’t for the strain of the fisherman’s limited resources and the adamancy the man held against their goal. Bilbo could understand why Thorin would want as many allies as he was allowed when negotiating with the greedy Master. However, that would interfere with Bilbo’s plans of lying in bed, drinking tea, and trying to prevent a full-on illness from a teensy head cold. Thorin would understand his reasoning. Just as Bilbo opened his mouth to give his answer, he caught sight of Thorin’s eyes one last time. Damn it. His nephews clearly learned his pleading puppy eyes well.
“Of course. I would be happy to accompany you.” Bilbo sighed.
Thorin grinned widely once more. “Until tomorrow, Master Baggins.”
“Until tomorrow. Good night, Thorin.” Bilbo returned as he slipped into the overly large room provided to him.
Perhaps all he needed was a good night’s sleep, and he would be right as rain.
***
Bilbo wanted to die. Somewhere between passing out and waking up, his body managed to produce a large amount of...undesirable fluid and jam it all into his nostril cavities while at the same time stuffing his head full of cotton. His face felt hot at the same time his body was wracked with shivers, and he managed to perfect the art of coughing wetly in between the cycles of the sun. It may be too late for his mother’s cure and time to go straight to Grandma Baggins’ ‘Nettle and Elderberry Lung Tea’. If he could be arsed to get out of this bed, which was not looking likely at all.
“Master Baggins?” Balin knocked on his door. “Thorin and I will wait for you downstairs. Don’t take too long.”
Bilbo groaned as he instinctively rolled himself into a tighter ball. Right, he told Thorin he would go to their meeting. It couldn’t be helped. He was going to have to let Thorin know that he was too sick. The disappointment he could visualize in his head was almost tangible thanks to his weakened condition. No, he couldn’t do that. Not after last night. Besides, there was no way this would last longer than elevensies. He could handle it. With a groan and a slight dizzy spell the moment his feet hit the ground, Bilbo set off to wrap himself in the warmest clothing he could find while simultaneously preparing a grocery list for one of the other dwarves to get for him in the markets. Only an hour or two, and it was right back to bed with him.
Four hours later, and Bilbo wanted to die...again. He could barely even hold his head up at this point, and Balin had already elbowed him when he almost fell asleep. What were they even talking about anymore? The last he heard it was something about the ‘price of weaponry and armor on top of ten percent of the riches’ and Thorin had just about come unwound. It was only after Bilbo had offered, in a soft wispy tone, that until they knew the exact amount of wealth in the mountain, anything more than a fixed price was out of the question. Luckily, Balin had heard him and managed to repeat his words. Yet, they were still here.
“Perhaps we table the discussion until tomorrow.” Balin finally spoke up. “That will give both sides a chance to...mull over the arguments presented.”
“If we must, but I will remind you that it is only by my generosity that you are guests right now instead of prisoners.” The Master of Laketown stated with an oily grin.
Balin’s returning smile was tight at the threat. “Until tomorrow.”
Thorin was already stomping out with not even a ‘by your leave’. Balin was quick to follow his king, and poor Bilbo stumbled along as best as he could as he tried to hide his coughs in his very abused hanky.
“He's going to try to strong arm us into that last deal.” Balin grunted once they were far enough away from the Master’s office to not be overheard.
“A sham of fairness!” Thorin growled in response, throwing his hands in the air. “I would have expected nothing less from men. ”
Bilbo stayed quiet having nothing to comment on considering he didn’t even know what the final offer was. However, that only seemed to agitate Thorin further.
“And you!” He whirled around with an accusing finger. “You were supposed to help! Yet, you just sat there the whole time.”
Bilbo’s jaw dropped in indignation. “Excuse you! I am no expert in dwarven politics or that of men. What help could I have possibly been?”
“Like that! You seem to have no shortage of opinions, but it appears only in regards to my decisions!”
Bilbo’s brows furrowed. A small part of him recognized that Thorin was in a foul mood with no positive outlet for it, but the larger part of him was sick, tired, cold, and rather irritable. It was that part that worked out a rather impressive tirade if only his little overused body saw fit to deliver it. The moment he opened his mouth, he was racked with a coughing fit so intense it brought him to his knees.
“Bilbo?” He could hear Thorin, but his voice was muddled as if coming through a door.
Oh dear, this was certainly not good as little spots danced before his eyes. The last conscious thing he was aware of was warmth wrapping around him like a cocoon and holding him closely as he swayed side to side like he was back on Bard’s little raft.
Lost in the world of vivid illness-induced dreams, Bilbo was standing out on the docks shiving in the winter air when a large red dragon began to swim towards him. His dwarves were out there waving at him and bobbing in their barrels, but every time he tried to warn them, the dragon gobbled them whole. Thorin stood on the dock behind him, and Bilbo was aware of him wearing his invisible ring even though he couldn’t see him. A silent judge to Bilbo’s decisions. Once all of the dwarves were gone, two gold eyes raised up to pierce through Bilbo, only instead of a draconic face, it was that of the Master.
“TEN PERCENT OF THE TREASURE IS MINE!” The dragon declared before opening his mouth wide the flames of his breath right upon him when...
Bilbo flinched with a jolt back into the world of the living. He assessed his condition slowly as he carefully peeled his eyelids away. He was certainly warmer, and the flickering orange light dancing on the ceiling above was more than confirmation as to why. His body felt heavy, and when he tried to shift around, he realized furs had been piled upon him. An overly warm cloth on his forehead and stickiness on his back confirmed he had been sweating the illness out. And while a fire continued to rage in his throat, his nose didn’t feel as full. No, just dry and arid.
“Master Baggins, are you awake?”
Bilbo turned his head just slightly to see Thorin sitting beside him with a worried expression on his usually stoic face. Bilbo didn’t even get a chance to respond before a glass filled with water was placed under his lips and a hand at the back of his head set him up enough to allow the cool liquid to dull his aching throat. When Bilbo had drunk his fill, Thorin placed his head back on the pillow.
“I’m going to get Oin. He said he wanted to listen to your lungs. I’ll be right back.” He stated, almost reassuringly before he was gone.
Bilbo let his eyes close as he tried to recalibrate himself back to the waking world and forget that awful dream. Bilbo couldn’t tell exactly how long Thorin had been gone as his eyes had slipped back close for a light snooze when Oin was suddenly shaking him back awake with a gentle touch.
“Come on lad, let’s get you up, and then you can rest.”
Bilbo leaned back on his elbows trying to push himself up when Thorin’s arm snaked out his shoulders in support as they got him in a sitting position. Oin placed his trumpet against his chest as he had Bilbo breathing as deeply as he could a couple of times as well as checking his color and his temperature. Once the elder dwarf was satisfied, he had Thorin lay him back down.
“Doesn’t sound like it’s settled in the lungs, and you’re looking better. Best keep an eye on it for the next day or so. I’m going to send up some broth. Finish as much as you can! No healing can be done on an empty stomach.” Oin instructed.
Bilbo smiled softly remembering something his father once told him. “You have to feed a cold.” He rasped.
“Aye! Then you can go ‘lead the bold’! Until then, rest!”
Thorin shook his head behind the healer’s back as he left the room. Bilbo smiled fondly, his gaze drifting over to Thorin. The dwarf held his stare, his expression unreadable before he finally released a sigh.
“You could have said something. I would not have pushed you if you were ill, Master Baggins.” Thorin explained as he returned to the chair beside Bilbo’s bed.
“I didn’t want you to worry.” The hobbit whispered, closing his eyes briefly only to open them wide when Thorin took his hand in his own.
Thorin’s thumb seemed content to lazily pet Bilbo’s knuckles which made Bilbo’s ears hot in a way that he couldn’t entirely blame on his fever.
“And yet,” Thorin smirked, humorlessly. “I worried. In case you haven’t noticed, Master Baggins, I always worry when it’s you involved.”
He kissed Bilbo’s knuckles at that point to further illustrate his point, as if he wasn’t already being overly obvious. So they were clearly going to discuss this now, when Bilbo’s wit was too dulled by delirium to properly respond.
“I have to face a dragon.” Bilbo reminded.
Thorin’s shoulders seemed to sag. “Aye.”
“It doesn’t exactly seem...conducive to allow anything to develop until our task is complete.”
“But after…?” Thorin asked, unable to disguise the hope in his voice. “Would it be something you are...amenable towards?”
Bilbo couldn’t help the grin stealing across his face. “Yes.”
The responding smile returned to him was enough to make Bilbo wish he was well enough to reach over and taste it. Regardless of the decision they came to.
“Here we are!” Oin announced loudly returning with the soup.
Thorin immediately broke eye contact to stare at his lap as he released Bilbo’s hand, and Bilbo tried his hardest to act like his focus was solely on the fireplace.
“Bofur also gave me the ingredients you had him buy earlier. I imagine some sort of hobbity concoction? I noticed he failed to get any mushrooms so I added it to the broth for you.” Oin prattled on.
He suddenly stopped, staring between Thorin and Bilbo with a suspicious gaze. Bilbo tried to return the look as nonchalantly as he could. Finally, Oin groaned and shook his head.
“Not until after his fever has broken for good.” Oin demanded.
Bilbo was mortified as Thorin barked the healer’s name with a warning tone. The older dwarf paid him no mind as he deposited the tray of soup in Bilbo’s lap.
“We were just discussing what to do about the dragon.” Bilbo explained as calmly as he could.
“Well I have some oil that might help.” Oin muttered, clearly as uncomfortable with this conversation that he brought upon himself.
Bilbo covered his face with his hands as he tried to figure out how this conversation went so awry so quickly.
“I can take care of things from here.” Thorin grit through his teeth.
“Just as well.” Oin easily surrendered. “I need to check on Kili. Poor lad also seems to be feeling under the weather. We’ll have an epidemic on our hands at this rate!”
The door clicked shut, locking them in the oppressive silence until Thorin snorted. Bilbo giggled at the same time which had them both in near hysterical laughter until Bilbo was cut off by some very violent and wet coughs. However, there was no blood and everything seemed to be the proper color so they deemed it unimportant to retrieve Oin once more. Instead, Bilbo instructed Thorin on how to prepare Grandma Baggins’ tea as he carefully spooned small bites of the rather tasteful mushroom soup. He didn’t know Oin’s fascination with mushrooms, but Bilbo wasn’t going to complain. Thorin stayed by Bilbo’s side as they talked about inane things until sleep dragged Bilbo’s weary body under once more. The promise of ‘after’ keeping his dreams peaceful.