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The battle – which was now being called The Battle of the Five Armies, a ridiculous title if Bilbo had ever heard one – was won, and in the months following a kind of peace settled over Erebor and the lands surrounding it as everyone focused on rebuilding and putting back together their lives as best they could in the wake of so much death and destruction.
Very nearly dying and losing all that he loved in the world had broken the sickness in Thorin’s mind; now he was generous with his treasure, offering it freely to the newly crowned King of Dale to use it however he saw fit. For his part, Bard was true to his word and did not ask for more than what had originally been promised. His dealings with the Master and Thorin had made him cautious about money, especially money that came from Thror’s great treasure hold. A tentative friendship had built between the two of them, partially due to Thorin’s completely changed attitude but mostly to the small hobbit that accompanied the dwarven King to each of the meetings between the two in the beginning, and still came along more oft than not. Bard had not forgotten Bilbo’s courage in bringing them the Arkenstone in order to try to stave off war. He had also been impressed by his staunch loyalty to his friends, and Bilbo in turn was won over by Bard’s devotion to his people. The two of them struck a fast friendship, and it was this more than anything that lessened the resentment between the two kings.
Which wasn’t to say that the tension was completely gone. Change of heart or no, Thorin wanted nothing to do with the elves of Mirkwood, and they wholeheartedly returned the sentiment. Any meeting between Thorin and Thranduil would more likely than not end the same: shouting and stomping from Thorin and icy contempt from Thranduil, Balin on Thorin’s left with his head in his hands and Dwalin glaring threateningly on his right. For his part, Bilbo had tried to mitigate the problem, but had soon realized that it was no good, and had taken to chatting companionably with whoever else was present and ignoring the feuding duo entirely. Eventually, they all gave up and resorted to finding an agreement via a proxy. Negotiations went much more smoothly after that.
After the negotiations, Winter and much of the Spring was spent rebuilding. Dain and his army helped as much as they were able, but when the snow began to melt they took their leave, missing their families and their homes in the Iron Hills. Some would return to stay, but not all. For the youngest among them, Erebor was a tale, and the Iron Hills were home. Thorin said that he understood, though privately he confided to Bilbo that he had thought that they would all wish to return. The bewilderment in his eyes when he confessed it tore at Bilbo’s heart, and he had wanted to reach out and comfort him, but he could not. They had both apologized for their parts in the fiasco with the Arkenstone and had returned to something like the friendship that they had once had, but there was still a distance between them that made a simple gesture like reaching for Thorin’s hand beyond Bilbo’s power.
He hated it, would change it if he only knew how. He missed the casual intimacy that had sprung up between them on the journey, longed for the feel of a hand on his back or shoulder, a grasp of his arm to lead him down a particularly interesting corridor or to steer him to a safer place to set his feet.
Bilbo sometimes thought that if he could but open his mouth and tell Thorin how he felt, then he could recapture their old ease. He thought once or twice that Thorin had started to reach out to him, but the gesture was always pulled back so quickly that he could never be quite sure. Several times he had been on the pointing of reaching out himself, but he could not do it. He thought he understood Thorin’s reluctance to touch him – though they had spoken the words of forgiveness and were in some ways closer than they had been while on the journey, he could not shake the memory of his hands fisted in Bilbo’s coat, shoving him towards the edge of a cliff while he threatened to toss him down. That same memory wasn’t what was stopping Bilbo from reaching out to Thorin, however. The madness had not entered his eyes since the battle, and Bilbo refused to live in fear that it would.
No, what was stopping Bilbo was that he was afraid that in asking for those easy, friendly touches back he might give himself away.
What kind of simpleton, he found himself thinking of late, falls in love without realizing it?
The answer, he knew, was himself, and the more he thought on it – and he thought on it often, for though there was much to do during that Winter and Spring, quite a lot of the work left his mind free to wander – the more he came to believe that he had done it as a form of unconscious self-preservation. That Thorin valued him as a dear friend could not be denied, but he did not love him, not in the way that Bilbo wished.
Hobbits by nature are not the sort to pine uselessly, so though Bilbo might occasionally think wistfully of what it would be like if Thorin returned his feelings, he did not fall into depression or spend his days mourning a love that could never be or anything so dramatic. The very idea of it was laughable. He might long for Thorin to feel something like what he was feeling, but Bilbo found that in keeping busy and appreciating their friendship, he could overcome the wish for more.
The longing for home was less easily put aside, and as Spring began to steal over the mountain Bilbo knew that the time had finally come for him to part with his friends and return to the Shire.
He would not pretend that he didn’t know how his friends would take the news; they would be happiest if he never left at all. However, leave he must, and so he took the route that he had found to be the easiest when dealing with the Company: he went to Thorin first. The two of them had taken to smoking together in the evenings; a practice which had first caused many raised brows and more than a snigger or two from Thorin’s nephews, who thought it a game to spy on them the first few times they lit up. However, when neither of them had reacted in an embarrassed way – or indeed, done anything more than sit in a companionable silence and smoke silently, each content to think his own thoughts – the two soon gave it up as boring and moved on to something else. It wasn’t all silence, of course – as their friendship had gotten back on track the quiet was more often than not punctuated by their voices as they chatted about anything and everything that came to their minds – and it had become Bilbo’s favorite part of the day.
It was during one such evening in the middle of Spring that Bilbo brought up the idea of his leaving.
Next to him, Thorin tensed, then his body abruptly relaxed and he smiled at Bilbo. “I must confess that I expected something like this, though possibly not quite so soon.”
Relieved by the easy response, Bilbo smiled back. “Well, I don’t intend to leave right this moment. I thought perhaps in a couple of weeks, when the last of the snow has melted…”
Thorin nodded. He tapped his pipe on his knee absently and stared off into the distance, face pensive. “Yes, that should be enough time to get them used to the idea, although I doubt that they will ever like it. W-they all hoped that you might stay, even though th-we all know how much you value your home.” He gave Bilbo another smile, this one so full of fondness that he had to look away.
“You are all my dearest friends,” he informed his hands, which were twisting together in his lap. “And I wish that there were a way to-but I miss home. I miss Bag End, and the Shire, and sleeping in my very own bed…I am glad that I was part of the Company, and that I came to know you and help you on your quest. I know that I will miss you all quite terribly. But Bag End is where I belong.”
“Bilbo...” Thorin’s hand twitched toward him; Bilbo only saw it because his eyes were trained downwards. Yet it never made contact; Thorin pulled away. “None of us begrudges you your home; we know too well how it feels to be without one. I will personally see to it that you have everything you need to return to your Shire once the snow has melted.”
Bilbo looked back up; Thorin was studying the remaining snow, his expression grave. “So we’ll have a few weeks more at most to say goodbye to our burglar,” he said, “but how are we to thank him for his service?”
Bilbo shook his head. “Don’t. It is thanks enough to see you all here, alive and well. I need nothing else.” He paused, thinking. “Well, some food for the journey would hardly go amiss.”
Thorin laughed lightly. “I might have known. Fear not, my friend. Food you shall have. Food and much more besides.” His smile faded. “However, that is not nearly enough, not for me. You have done so much more for my Company - for me most of all - than I can ever repay, but I must be allowed to try. Ask anything, any gift that it is in my power to give, and it is yours.” He held up a hand when Bilbo would have protested. “If you will not ask for yourself, do so for my sake. Allow me to try to pay you back in some small way for saving my life, at the very least.”
Bilbo bit his lip, considering this, then nodded. “May I have some time to think about it?” he asked slowly.
Thorin nodded, looking relieved. “Of course. “
Bilbo was true to his word. He thought often of Thorin’s request, and how he might answer him in a manner that would satisfy them both. He did not want to wound Thorin’s pride by refusing, but nor did he want any extravagant gift. What he truly wanted but dare not ask for could not be bought or made, but Bilbo was leery of voicing the question. It would make him vulnerable and might show more than he wanted to reveal. Worse yet, it might be the one thing that Thorin would refuse him.
Almost before he was aware of it, the snow had melted off of the Mountain, and the date for Bilbo’s departure was nearly upon him. As the day drew closer, he made sure to spend as much time with Thorin’s original Company as he could. He spent entire days watching his friends at their jobs: Bofur and Bifur carving, Bombur cooking, Ori sorting the many piles of books in the library. He gave Balin his last bit of Old Toby and found a set of lock picks that could only be from Nori on his bed. He watched Dwalin teach swordsmanship to the younger dwarves and clapped fiercely when Gloin’s son Gimli managed to get in a few good hits. Dori gifted him with a pair of fine gloves that he had knitted during the Winter when he’d noticed that Bilbo’s were getting a big threadbare, and Oin surprised him by handing him his old coat one evening, new buttons sewn back on. He took an entire day to help Kili practice his archery – his right shoulder had been run through during the battle and for a time he’d been so weak in that arm that he could not even lift the bow, let alone draw the string. Yet with a lot of time, patience, and practice, he had first learned to shoot with his left hand, and then had slowly built back up the strength in his right. He was nearly as good as he had been before, and Bilbo quite enjoyed moving targets around and tossing things into the air at random intervals so that he might get even better. Soon enough his elf-lass had joined them and the two of them had slipped into a competition that Bilbo could not keep up with. Still, it was immensely enjoyable to watch, and Bilbo returned to the mountain with them breathless and happy.
For his part, Fili requested that Bilbo teach him how to play conkers, and Bilbo happily obliged. He had not exaggerated when he said he was very good; he won nearly every game even after Fili had gotten the hang of it, and when Kili inevitably found them and demanded the he be allowed to play as well he beat the both of them soundly. They paid him back by chasing him throughout Erebor, all three of them laughing and shouting. Bilbo darted around a corner and slipped on his ring; Fili skidded to a stop and his brother ran into his back.
“Not fair, Master Burglar!” Kili cried, laughing. “Using your ring to get away is cheating.”
“Kili is right; not fair. You have to let us catch you,” Fili added, shaking his finger at a spot about three feet from where Bilbo actually stood.
“And what will you do with him once he is caught?” None of them had seen Thorin, though from the amused looks he was sending his nephews it was obvious he had been watching them for a while. Both of his nephews shuffled their feet a bit and grinned sheepishly. “That’s what I thought. There will be no tackling our burglar. He has a long journey ahead of him and doesn’t need you two hurting him beforehand.”
“We’d never!” Kili protested. “We want him to stay, but we’d never hurt him to make it happen!” Beside him Fili was nodding emphatically. Thorin’s face softened.
“I’m not saying you would do it on purpose,” he said, “but the two of you forget your own strength. You could hurt Bilbo badly and not even know it. Now, if you would excuse us, I would speak with him for a moment regarding his departure.”
Grumbling, they left the hall and Thorin smiled. “If you would be so kind…” he said with some amusement, and Bilbo pulled the ring off of his finger.
“You could have been a little less harsh,” he informed him, shaking his head. “They wouldn’t have hurt me.”
“They wouldn’t have meant to, no. However, they might have forgotten that you are not a dwarf in their exuberance. Forgive me for believing that you would not want your return home delayed due to that.”
Bilbo sighed. “I wouldn’t, but still. You could have been a bit more polite.” Thorin had begun to walk down the hall, and he followed. “What did you wish to discuss with me?” he asked. “Has something about my departure gone wrong?” Half of him hoped that something had; now that he was just days away from leaving he found that he was more reluctant to go than he’d expected.
“No, nothing wrong. Well, nothing except that most of the Company is pouting because they don’t get to be the ones to escort you.” Thorin smiled at Bilbo. “They all offered to go with you, you know. If you wanted, you could have twelve escorts to see you home, and probably more.” He turned to stare straight ahead again, but Bilbo noticed him looking at him out of the corner of his eye. His voice was very soft, nearly a whisper as he continued. “At least thirteen, were I able to join you.”
Warmth filled Bilbo, and he found himself blurting out the first thing that came to his mind. “I wish you could.” He blushed. “What I mean to say is, I know you can’t, but knowing that you would want to is more than enough. It’s more than I could ask for.”
Thorin shook his head. “You could never ask for too much, Bilbo. I wish you’d ask for more.”
Bilbo took a deep breath. “I don’t ask because there’s nothing I want, Thorin. I don’t care for gold and gems; your friendship is far more important, and I already have that, don’t I?”
“Do you even have to ask?” Thorin had led them to one of Erebor’s many balconies; with a smile Bilbo sat on the ledge and pulled out his pipe. Thorin followed his example and for some minutes they sat silently, smoking. Then Thorin broke the silence. “Still, I would have you ask for something more. Have you given any thought to what we spoke of before?”
Bilbo removed his pipe. “Yes,” he admitted quietly. “I have thought on it. Some days it feels like all I can think about. But I fear it might be too much to ask.”
“Did I not tell you that there is nothing that you could ask that would be too much?” Thorin turned to look at Bilbo, not moving his gaze until Bilbo had met it. “Whatever is in my power to give, it is yours.” He smiled wryly. “Even the Arkenstone.”
Bilbo rolled his eyes. “As if you didn’t know that is the last thing I’d ask for.” He bit his lip, considering, then let it out in a rush, “All I want is one day. Just once when we can pretend that things are as they were when we – before anything happened. One day where we forget all that lies between us and act like the friends we were growing to be before we reached Erebor.” Thorin was looking at him with confusion and a fair bit of hurt, so Bilbo spelled it out. “One day where you aren’t afraid to touch me.”
Thorin’s eyes widened in understanding; he reached out, then something flickered in his eyes and he withdrew his hand. Bilbo sprang from his seat. “Like that! Every time you reach out you draw back. Every time. I am not afraid of you, Thorin.” He reached out and placed his hand on Thorin’s shoulder, applied a little pressure. Thorin leaned back with it, his entire face a question. “See? I know that you would let me push you off of this ledge right now before you’d think of hurting me. I trust you, why can’t you trust yourself?”
Suddenly realizing how forward he’d been, Bilbo withdrew his hand, his eyes widening as he skittered back. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. I’ll just – “ he turned and fled, ignoring Thorin when he tried to call him back. His cheeks felt hot, and he berated himself as he fled to his room. Silly, foolish, ridiculous hobbit, he berated himself, you’ve given yourself away. Now he’ll know, and you still have days before you leave. How will you look at him now? How can you bear it? He had never regretted his Tookish side so much in his life.
He’d never really given it a lot of thought, but if he had Bilbo would have assumed that it would be quite easy to avoid running into someone you did not wish to meet while in Erebor, with its endless rooms and corridors, it’s many halls and vast tunnels. During the days before he was due to head back home, he discovered that he would have been wrong. He did not understand how Thorin could be everywhere that Bilbo tried to hide when he had his duties as King to attend to, but he was. Bilbo suspected that the others were telling him where he was, else how would he know where to turn up? While Bilbo understood that they were only trying to help, he really couldn’t bear the thought of seeing Thorin, not while he was still burning with the embarrassment of what he had said. So when Thorin just happened to need a shirt mended when he was visiting with Dori, or had a sudden desire to check a fact against memory in the library while Bilbo was helping Ori shelve, or decided that he wanted to see how the new recruits were coming when he was watching Dwalin train, Bilbo fled, and thus managed to avoid talking to Thorin in the last days of his stay at Erebor.
On the eve before he was to leave, he was ambushed in his room by Fili and Kili. They barged in without knocking, edging Bilbo out of their way and taking over his packing, talking over each other all the while
“Now, Bilbo, we don’t know what Thorin said –“
“-or did. Knowing Thorin, it’s probably something he did –“
“-but you can’t just leave things like they are. He’s been moping for days –“
“-seriously, he’s been unbearable. I’m embarrassed for him, truly. He’s pathetic –“
“-and you can’t just leave without saying goodbye. I know you don’t want to part from him this way, I know –“
“-now that I think of it, you’re pathetic, too, carrying on like this. You two deserve each other –“
“-that you don’t want to leave Erebor on bad terms with Thorin. So we both thought that if we helped –“
“-can’t figure anything out on your own, honestly, how two people can be so oblivious – ow, Fili, what…oh, yes. We thought if we helped you pack, you could use the time to patch things up with him so the two of you don’t go years without speaking.” And they both beamed at Bilbo, so clearly pleased with themselves that he couldn’t find it in him to argue about it. Besides, they weren’t wrong. He did not want to leave Erebor without at least trying to patch things up with Thorin. So Bilbo took his courage in both hands and left them to it, studiously ignoring the whoop from Kili and the smug “see, I told you it would work” from Fili.
He found Thorin on the same ledge that he’d fled days ago, brooding. Bilbo watched him for a moment, taking in the strong lines of his back and allowing himself to ache a little because he would be leaving in the morning, and probably never see that back again.
“Are you going to speak to me, Bilbo, or did you plan on simply standing there?” The question startled Bilbo out of his thoughts and he laughed nervously, moving a bit closer to Thorin, who did not turn.
“To be honest I hadn’t quite decided.”
“I see.” Thorin still did not look at him. “So who was it that sent you to find me? Let me guess. Was it Balin? Nori? Fili and Kili, perhaps?” He shook his head. “You needn’t have done it. I would have understood.”
“It was Kili and Fili. They took over my room and commandeered my packing.” Bilbo clambered up on the ledge next to Thorin, and stared straight ahead while he spoke. “But they only hastened what was going to happen anyway. I was working myself up to finding you when they burst into my room.” He fidgeted lightly, wishing for his pipe so that he might have something to do with his hands. “I don’t want to leave here at odds with you. I wish to apologize. I shouldn’t have said any of that, shouldn’t have acted as though I had a right to…to…”
“You had every right.” A large hand slid into Bilbo’s line of vision, hesitated, then took one of his. “Had you but stayed, I would have told you as much. You were right; I am afraid. I worry that I might harm you without meaning to,
and it keeps me more distant that I might otherwise be. When I think of how I held you over that ledge…” he shuddered, and Bilbo squeezed his hand. “Gold madness or no, it doesn’t matter. I should never have done something so vile. I don’t know how you can bear to have me near you.”
Bilbo shook his head, his hand tightening even further on Thorin’s. “I trust you. Yes, I was scared, terrified even, that when the fighting was done you would return to the way you had been before, and value gold about everything else. But you never did. You’ve stayed the Thorin Oakenshield that I met and knew while on the journey; the dwarf that I came to respect and admire, that I chose to follow despite the danger. As long as you keep in mind what it cost you to succumb to the gold sickness, you will remain that Thorin, I think.” He cast a sly look at Thorin through his lashes. “Mind, if it ever happens again I will not hesitate to use Sting.”
Thorin smiled at him. “If I should ever become mad again I give you my permission. Only do not go easy on me because I am your friend.”
Bilbo nodded solemnly. “It’s a promise.” They shook on it.
“Now, about your request…”
Bilbo shook his head rapidly, feeling his face heat. “Oh, please don’t bring it up. Let us forget I ever mentioned it.”
Thorin chuckled. “Ah, but I would prefer not to. It is the only thing that you requested, after all, and it is definitely within my power to give.” He paused, then added hesitantly, “If you wish to take the request back, I will say no more about it, but please do not think that it would be a hardship for me to fulfil.” He shifted slightly so that their shoulders were brushing. “I miss our former closeness as well.”
“Oh.” A happy warmth kindled in Bilbo’s chest; he smiled. “In that case, I shan’t take it back.”
Bilbo shivered; thought it was warming up the night was still quite chilly, and he was dressed lightly. Thorin shrugged out of the heavy cloak that he was wearing and draped it over Bilbo’s shoulders. Bilbo snuggled into the warmth gratefully. He did not bother asking if Thorin might be cold; experience had taught him that even if it were the case it would never be admitted. Besides, he liked the warmth, and he liked how large coat nearly swallowed him. It felt almost like being held by Thorin might, and Bilbo had decided to allow himself this small bit of sentimentality as it was his last chance to do so.
“Better?” Thorin asked with a small smile, and Bilbo nodded.
“Yes, thank you. I suppose I could have gone in.”
“You could have, but I must admit I am glad that you didn’t.” Thorin’s smile grew; he looked out over the landscape. “I will miss this. It has somehow become the best part of my day.”
Bilbo swallowed his first reply – something glib about how Thorin could still come up here and have his peace – and forced himself to answer honestly. “Mine as well. I will miss you, Thorin.”
Thorin’s hand found Bilbo’s, gripped tightly. He did not reply.
They sat like that for some time, until Bilbo’s eyes began to feel heavy and he found himself letting out a jaw creaking yawn. “I should go in,” he said reluctantly, making to take off the heavy cloak, but Thorin stopped him with a gentle squeeze to the hand that he still held.
“Please stay a little longer,” he requested, the words barely audible. “I find that the closer we come to parting the less I wish to let you go.”
Sudden tears pricked Bilbo’s eyes; the sleepy lassitude that he had been feeling dissipated completely, leaving him wide awake. Thorin’s words had done more than wake him, they had made him realize that he did not want leave at all. He wanted to stay in Erebor and watch Fili and Kili grow to be leaders, he wanted to see Gimli finally best Dwalin at swordplay, wanted to see if Ori would finish his chronicle of their journey, if Kili’s romance with his elven lass might convince two stubborn Kings to try peace. He wanted to be there when both Erebor and Dale were fully rebuilt, when they were once again the great cities of legend. Most of all, he wanted to watch Thorin grow into his reign as King Under the Mountain. He wanted to be there when he stopped looking over his shoulder, stopped expecting that at any moment he and his people would find themselves forced out of their home. He wanted to watch as he relearned how to laugh easily and smile freely, wanted to see the hard lines of his face softened by times of peace and plenty. He couldn’t do that from Bag End. More importantly, he didn’t want to. It didn’t matter if Thorin only felt friendship for him; it would ache, watching him find another to love, but nothing near the ache of being without him.
Before he could tell Thorin that he’d changed his mind, he was cut off.
“Of course, I know that I am being ridiculous. You must go home to your Bag End; to your books and your armchair. You will be happier there, I am sure, and after a while it will be as if you never left. This is the best. For all of us.” He did not look at Bilbo.
“Thorin –“
His hand was released and Thorin stood abruptly. “Forgive me, my friend. The late hour has made me maudlin. We should retire; you have a long journey ahead of you and need your rest.”
“Yes, I suppose that I do.” The words were quiet. Bilbo stood and removed the heavy cloak from his shoulders. He handed it back to Thorin with a forced smile. “Will you be along to see me off tomorrow?”
“I…no, I don’t believe I will be able to. The last of our kin should return within the fortnight, and there is still much to be done. I will be needed elsewhere.” He took the cloak from Bilbo, and it seemed to the hobbit that he was very careful not to let their fingers brush. “Farewell, Master Baggins.”
A wild impulse built up in Bilbo’s chest; he gave into it without a thought. “Surely that is not the only farewell that I am to receive from you. You said that you would not go cold on me again.” And before he could talk himself out of it, he had stepped into Thorin’s space and wrapped his arms around him in an embrace. He could hardly believe his own daring, but decided that it hardly mattered. He would be leaving in just a few hours, more than likely never to return.
Thorin’s entire body stiffened; for a moment Bilbo was sure that he was going to be pushed away. But then he suddenly relaxed, and the heavy cloak fell to the floor as he brought his own arms around Bilbo in turn. He held Bilbo tightly, and Bilbo clung back just as hard, burying his face into his shoulder and clenching his jaw against the words that wanted to spill out of his mouth. He was not so brave enough for that.
They stayed like that for a long moment, then Thorin’s arms tightened briefly before releasing him. He started to say something, then shook his head, bending to pick up the cloak that he had dropped. He placed it about Bilbo’s shoulders once again. “Keep it,” he said. “Use it to keep you warm on the journey.” He fastened the cloak about Bilbo’s neck, his fingers lingering perhaps a beat longer than was necessary before he stepped back.
Bilbo could only nod, not trusting himself to speak. He felt the words that he would not say pressing against his teeth; if he opened his mouth they would come spilling out, telling Thorin how very much Bilbo loved him, begging him to let him stay.
Thorin gave him a half smile. “Goodbye, Bilbo,” he said, and then he was gone.
How Bilbo found his way back to his rooms he never knew. The tears that he had held back were streaming down his face, and he was sure that if anyone chanced upon him they would have the fright of their life, but he hardly cared. When he did at last stumble into his rooms he only took the time to remove his new cloak before he fell upon his bed, where he proceeded to vent his grief into the pillows until he fell asleep.
He woke the next morning feeling refreshed, despite a slight headache from his cry. His head was clear and he had found a new resolve, and it was with bright eyes and a lighter heart that he prepared for the day.
When they met him at the entrance to Erebor, his friends were very surprised to note that he had brought but a light pack with him.
“But where is your luggage?” Balin enquired. “I don’t believe that you have less than three chests to take back to the Shire; unless you’re here to report that they went missing this morning?” he sent a narrow eyed glance at Fili and Kili, who raised their hands in front of them to convey their innocence.
“We behaved! We even helped him pack so he could properly make up with Thorin!” Kili cried, indignant. “I won’t say we didn’t think about it, because we all know that he wants to stay even if he won’t admit it, but we didn’t actually do anyth-ow, Fili, will you stop pinching me? I’m not saying anything that everyone else hasn’t already said!”
Bilbo raised an eyebrow and looked about the group. Not one of them met his eyes; they all seemed to find the floor or walls very interesting indeed. Only Kili and Balin met his eyes, one with defiance and the other with amusement. Bilbo beamed at them both. “I have to say I agree with Kili. Silly, really, leaving when I’d much rather stay with all of you.”
There was a moment of stunned silence, then Kili fairly flung himself at Bilbo, knocking them both to the floor. “I knew it!” he crowed, cackling wildly. “I knew you couldn’t leave us!” Bilbo flailed, trying to squirm out of Kili’s enthusiastic hug without hurting himself.
“Mahal’s sake, Kili, stop trying to strangle him,” Fili reached down and pulled Bilbo away from his brother, giving him a light pat on the back when as he tried to catch his breath. He had a wide grin on his face. “I’m glad you’re staying, Bilbo,” he said. His grin grew wider as he caught the small bag of gold that Dwalin tossed him. “Very glad.”
Bilbo shook his head. He didn’t want to know the particulars of that bet.
His friends crowded around him, exchanging money and all taking a moment to clasp him on the shoulder or give his back a pat, each wanting to express their happiness at Bilbo’s decision.
“But you’re still dressed for traveling,” Ori piped up when it was his turn, “and you have a pack. Are you planning on going somewhere for the day, then?”
“I wanted to head to Dale today, to see if there is a Ranger who might be able to deliver a couple of letters.” Bilbo hitched the pack higher on his shoulder. “I don’t like the idea of Bag End standing empty, and I won’t let Lobelia Sackville-Baggins get her greedy hands on it. I’ve written my cousin Drogo to tell him that it is to be his, when he has finally stopped staring at the Brandybuck lass that he’s in love with and started courting her properly. I’ve also a list of things that I’d want to have delivered here…should Thorin agree to it.” Here, Bilbo faltered for the first time. He was sure that Thorin did not want him to leave, and yet he did not know if he would be glad if he stayed. His actions and his words had conflicted with each other, and part of Bilbo wondered if perhaps Thorin would prefer him gone, after all.
“Of course he’ll agree to it,” Fili said with a roll of his eyes. “But unfortunately we can’t tell him just yet; he’s busy all day with reconstruction and endless meetings with the dwarves from the Iron Hills who decided to stay. They are never satisfied with anything it seems.” He smiled at Bilbo. “But that’s no reason that you can’t send your letters. Even better, you can have your escort accompany you; I know that some of them-“ he shot a pointed look at Kili “-were looking forward to the journey.”
“I was not,” Kili protested, “I was –“ he stopped, then grinned sheepishly. “Well, okay, I was looking forward to a bit of an adventure. But I’m much happier that Bilbo is going to be staying. Still, it would be fun to go to Dale for the day. See what good old Bard is up to.”
Bilbo laughed. “If you like. I would enjoy the company.”
“Balin should go to, so that he might buy some more pipe weed, and Bofur to see what toys they are lacking, and Ori can visit their library and tell them what they are doing wrong,” Fili offered.
Ori gave him a flat look. “Hilarious. It’s not about how they make a library, not to me, not so long as they have one. I’ve told you a thousand times.” He brightened. “But I would like to go along, if you don’t mind, Bilbo. It would be good to see how the children are coming on their reading.”
Balin was looking at Fili with slightly narrowed eyes. “Will you be coming along, laddie?” he asked. “It was your intention to accompany us as far as Dale, if I recall correctly.”
Fili waved him off. “Oh, now that Bilbo’s decided to stay I should really go and help Thorin, don’t you agree? He would appreciate it, and be proud of me for choosing duty over fun for once.” He grinned at the skeptical expressions on the other’s faces. “Oh, alright, he won’t be proud of me; I never actually informed him that I was planning on going to Dale.”
Kili laughed while Balin shook his head. “Thorin better live for another hundred years,” he muttered. “One hundred, at least.”
Fili laughed as loud as the rest at this statement. “We can only hope,” he answered cheerfully.
Dale was a bit of a distance on foot, but all of them agreed that it would be far pleasanter to walk than ride seeing as they were now in no rush, and carrying far less than they had all originally supposed. They were a very merry gathering and the walk fairly flew by.
When they reached the city, they all went their separate ways: Bilbo to the nearest inn to try and locate a Ranger, Balin off to the market to buy his pipe weed, Ori towards the small house that Bard had chosen for his family, Bofur to quiz some of the toy merchants, and Kili to make mischief where he could find it, more than likely.
The inn that Bilbo walked into was dark and smoky despite the early hour, the downstairs bustling and moving with customers enjoying a spot of lunch before they began their day. He cast his eyes about but did not immediately see a Ranger, but he wasn’t particularly worried. Even if a Ranger could not be found there was always someone heading the way of the Shire, and if not he supposed that one of the ravens of Erebor might do, though he was still a bit wary of the big black birds. One of the waitresses went by with a tray laden with food, and his stomach growled at the sight. Once food had begun to flow regularly through Erebor he’d gone back to his old way of eating, and he thought to himself that it was about time for elevenses. He put his order in the same waitress, then found himself a small table in the corner to wait. His appetite had started to flag as his departure date had drawn close, but now that he had stopped fighting his desire to stay he found that it had returned with force, so when his meal was set before him he was more than equal to the task of finishing the entire thing.
The food was delicious, made even better by the exercise he’d gotten that morning, and Bilbo was so focused on enjoying it that he hardly noticed the Man approaching him until he had taken a seat at the little table.
“I would be offended that you came into my city and did not seek me out, but I know well by now that nothing comes between a hobbit and his food,” an amused voice said, and Bilbo looked up into the dancing eyes of the King of Dale.
Bilbo smiled at his friend. “You knew full well I would be here today,” he reminded him. “Though perhaps you expected to see me a bit earlier.”
Bard returned the smile. “Indeed. However, from the look of you it would appear that other plans have been made.” He signaled for something to drink. “Have you decided to stay with your King Under the Mountain, then?”
Bilbo’s face heated; he hid it behind his tankard. “He’s not my King Under the Mountain,” he mumbled, and Bard laughed aloud.
“I had a missive this morning that would beg to differ.” He leaned towards Bilbo and deepened his voice, doing a passable imitation of Thorin as he intoned, “’Even though I can behave like a great horse’s ass more oft than not, I am still going to ask that you detain Master Baggins as long as you can, so that I might enter your city in the most theatrical way possible (as is my wont) to beg him to stay with me, whether or not I deserve it.’” Then he straightened and resumed, in his normal tone, “Why he waited ‘til now to ask you is beyond me, but then I am a simple man and do not cut quite so imposing a figure as he does. And, oh, I just remembered, he specifically requested that I not tell you of his plans.” He tapped his cheek and widened his eyes. “Oops.”
Bilbo pursed his lips and shook his head, fighting a smile. “You have been spending too much time with King Thranduil,” he said, and then Bard’s words actually registered and he froze.
“Thorin is coming here? Today? To…to ask me to stay?”
“Aye, at least that is what the raven he sent this morning told me. I suppose I could have misunderstood the message. Perhaps he was requesting that you hurry yourself along. Or could it be that there is some other Master Baggins that His Majesty was referring to? A cousin, perhaps, that he might have developed a fondness for during his travels?” He cocked his brow and smirked at Bilbo.
“You are not amusing,” Bilbo replied haughtily, sticking his nose in the air, but his heart wasn’t really in the banter. Nervous excitement was growing within him, making him itch to go outside and see if Thorin was actually making his way to the city. He couldn’t help the way he fidgeted and glanced at the door.
Bard studied him a moment, then shook his head with an amused huff. “No, it won’t do. Now you’re too distracted for a proper visit. I demand satisfaction.”
Bilbo laughed. “Name it.”
“When you’ve settled things with your – yes, your – King, you will come back, and the two of us shall go over the trade agreements with Erebor,” he rubbed his hands together with satisfaction. “I confess that this suits me very well. I did not like the envoy that Thorin sent the last time; he spent the entire meeting glaring about the room, as though wondering which items had been paid for with his gold. It was quite disconcerting. I don’t believe he smiled once.”
“I will come back, but with an envoy. You know that it must be a dwarf who negotiates all trade between your cities.”
“Fine, fine, as you say. But please, bring back one who knows how to laugh.”
“Done.” They shook on it. “Oh, before I forget, are there any Rangers about? I have a few letters of business to be delivered back to the Shire, if they would be so kind.”
Bard held out a hand. “There are none at the moment, but Legolas Greenleaf will be visiting within the week. I am sure that he will be willing to take your letters at least as far as Rivendell, for that is his destination. And you know that there is always a Ranger or two near Rivendell.”
Bilbo handed his letters over with a grateful smile, then pulled out his small coin pouch.
Bard stilled him with a hand over his. “It’s taken care of.”
“Oh, no, I couldn’t –“
“Bilbo, you don’t pay here. Don’t think I’ve forgotten the battle, or what you did for us.”
“For all the good it did.”
“True, it did not work out quite as you’d hoped, but it still took great bravery, and I will not forget it.”
There came a commotion from outside, shouting and the neighing of horses, and Bard gave Bilbo a speaking look. “I am going to assume from the sudden increase in volume that King Thorin has arrived.” The tone was dry, but Bard’s eyes were shining with the amusement that Bilbo had been surprised to find made up a large part of his character. With his people well fed and his city well on the way to prosperity, he could relax enough to joke and laugh, which he did well and often.
Bilbo took a deep breath and stood. He studiously ignored Bard’s amusement as he turned his back on him and exited the inn.
Thorin sat astride a pony, his eyes scanning the many faces around the inn. They brightened briefly when they caught sight of Bilbo, and then shuttered. He dismounted and strode straight to him, clutching something in his hands. He stopped a few feet away and held it out, and Bilbo frowned in confusion, recognizing it finally as the cloak he’d been given the night before.
“You left this,” Thorin said, his voice strained. “I thought you might – the journey will be cold and – do you want nothing, then? Nothing to remember us by? Nothing to remember me?”
Bilbo reached out hesitantly and took hold of the cloak. His fingers curled into the soft material and he tugged it toward him, but Thorin did not let go. He merely looked intently at Bilbo, his eyes searching his face, but for what, Bilbo did not know.
“Thorin-“
“Wait, no, that isn’t what I want to say. Why is it that I can never say what I wish to?” He took a breath, visibly working to calm himself. Bilbo’s heart ached to see him so upset.
“You don’t-“
“I do. I do have to, because if I don’t then you’ll leave. You’ll leave and I’ll never know if you might have stayed, if only I’d asked. I have no right to ask you, not after the way I treated you, not after I – but I must. Stay. Please, Bilbo, stay. I don’t want to be without you, not if I can prevent it. Just…don’t leave. I won’t ask anything more of you, I know you don’t want – and I promise I won’t ask, only don’t leave.”
Bilbo stared, his fingers going lax on the cloak and causing it to droop. He noted absently that they were attracting quite a crowd; that his friends had finished their tasks and were watching the scene unfold, that Bard had stepped out of the inn behind him and was hearing all, that Fili had ridden in behind Thorin and was looking at him with fond exasperation.
“Try telling him why, Thorin,” he said, and Thorin started. He’d obviously forgotten that they were acting this out in the middle of a busy road.
For a moment Bilbo was sure that Thorin would not say the words; his mouth opened but nothing came out. But then a steely look entered his eyes and he finally, finally told Bilbo what he’d been trying to get out, in his own way, for months.
“I love you. I’ve loved you for so long that sometimes it seems as though I was born loving you. Nothing would make me happier than to have you beside me, in whatever capacity you choose.”
Happiness filled Bilbo so quickly that he became light headed. He felt the grin take over his face a second before delighted laughter burst out of him. Thorin’s own face fell at this sound, but Bilbo hastily reassured him.
“Of course I’m staying, Thorin; how could I do otherwise? I would have thought that after last night it was painfully obvious how much I love you. I woke up this morning and knew that I wanted to stay if you would but allow it. I told myself that it didn’t matter if you loved me back; it would be enough to be by your side. I am only here to send some letters; didn’t Fili tell you?”
Thorin turned to look at his nephew with narrowed eyes. “Not quite,” he said in a voice that had Fili gulping nervously. He turned back to Bilbo with the look of someone who can hardly believe their good fortune. “Do you truly wish to stay? Even after everything?”
Bilbo dropped his end of the cloak completely and stepped forward, well into Thorin’s space. “I’ve told you time and again that I forgive you,” he said. “I practically begged you to treat me as you did before the madness took hold, and I was willing to live in Erebor just to be near you, even if you never returned my regard. Believe me when I say that now I know you do, nothing could make me leave.”
A slow smile spread over Thorin’s face, and he too dropped the cloak, choosing instead to pull Bilbo into his arms. He rested their foreheads together briefly. “And nothing could induce me to let you go,” he said softly. Bilbo beamed back up at him, his own arms coming up to wrap around Thorin in turn. He heard Kili and Fili letting out cheers and Bard say something to which Balin replied, but he hardly cared. The only thing he cared about was Thorin’s own wide smile of happiness as he tilted his head toward Bilbo’s.
It is quite the task to try to kiss someone through a smile, but those who were there to witness the one between the Dwarven King and his Hobbit were often heard to say that the two of them rose admirably to the challenge.