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Thorin was sat on his vibrantly painted throne on the top platform, looking at his people and his kingdom with the same kind of awe as he always did when he saw how content they were.
He was still astounded that his people, his new people, had everything in this new world that they had never had before in the old one.
Dagor Dagorath had been and gone. The dust had settled, men had overtaken the world and somehow Thorin and his people had been reborn. They themselves were also men, but it was obvious they had descended from the Durins. From the Ereborians of old, the dwarves he had been a part of before.
Thorin looked at his longer and slender fingers where they were placed on the arm of his throne. He still found it odd and always expected to see them as shorter and stubbier digits with more rings than he wore now. His body was so different from the one he had as a dwarf and yet he could still see himself, see who he was in every line, every muscle, every facial expression of this new body.
It was the same for his people, his family. They were different and yet still themselves. Still obvious Durin descendents, still Longbeards at the heart of them all.
Thorin had once again been born a prince. Now a king. The king of Erebor. A title he had held for many years in the old life and yet in this one he knew something was missing. He knew exactly what was missing and his heart ached for his other half.
The joys of this new life were still tempered with the difficulties of being a king. He was now accountable to the rest of the world in some ways. His council had more powers which, when Thror had shown the subtle signs of an illness that scared Thorin to his bones he and the council were able to retire his ageing grandfather before he destroyed their kingdom and their relationship with the other countries of the world the way he had in the other world. It was one less trouble for Thorin to focus on, one less worry. He didn’t have to fret over in this newer, happier world.
Erebor was the capital city of Rhovania. A small country that comprised the sprawling province of Dale that stretched from Old Dale to almost up to the edge of the Greenwood (a place that Thranduil had entrusted to Stonehelm when he sailed and according to the latest historical tales the dwarves protected it) even as they died off and their half blood children took over. The Greenwood was now fresh and safe and had a mystical air that had tourists rushing to visit.
Rhovania was also one of the few countries in Arda that still had a ruling monarchy. That had a thriving and functioning royal family. One who had their citizens’ best interests at heart, unlike a lot of the other countries, even when they used elections and diplomacy instead of a monarchy..
It was also one of the safest and most liberal countries in the world. With ironclad trade and protection agreements with other countries who thought as the Rhovanions did.
The perfect example of this was happening all around him now and was the reason for the almost neon colours his throne had been painted in for the festivities.
Pride month was loud and colourful and full of fun and love in Rhovania.
It still amazed Thorin that even now, ages later, some races of men were still hung up on things like homosexuality, genders and other such things that had no effect on anyone but those it personally affected. Other governments should do as Rhovania did and keep their noses out of their subjects’ personal and sexual lives unless it was to make things better, easy for them like Rhovania did as far as Thorin was concerned.
Thorin had been born as part of the race of men this time around, but even before he had regained his other memories 4 years ago when Kili had come of age, it had baffled him how men were still cruel to one another, how they fought just to fight, how they didn’t care about the world around them.
Rhovania did all it could, especially under Thorin’s rule for the last 18 years to protect the land and its natural resources, but most importantly, to protect its people. It had made little sense why he was so concerned about plants and growing life until his memories resurfaced. Of course he cared because the other half of his soul cared, even if he hadn’t realised it at the time.
Thorin was also proud to show the world that Rhovania wasn’t a pushover. He and Dwalin had worked hard to create one of the strongest and most successful military and judicial states in the world. He was aware that other countries found Rhovania a threat, and he didn’t care. His people were safe, his family were safe. Rhovania had the lowest crime rate in the known world, the best benefit system, and the lowest rate of re-offenders. They didn’t care if others found them barbaric, even when their dwarven blood made them masters of innovation like their forefathers. They had a no repeat offenders policy, especially for violent criminals. Murder, abuse, harm to children wasn’t tolerated in Rhovania and if other countries wanted to let their violent criminals back out to harm their populace, that was their business. Rhovania minded its own, mostly, and expected other countries to do the same.
When Thorin thought Rhovania minded his own business, he meant mostly. It didn’t get involved with others politics, at least not out in the open. It was a well known secret that they also had a large number of refugees and fugitives running to them for a safe place to live. Fugitives like Tauriel who had been born Thomas in this world but had known that was wrong long before her memories resurfaced. Her own police force had been trying to find her, and thankfully she had found Nori’s expansive network of smugglers before that. Thorin could now see happily laughing and kissing Kili in the crowd. Safe and precious, the way she always had been to Kili. To them.
Thorin had often seen the cruelties of the word and had decided from a young age he would make sure he hurt no one the way he saw happening around him. After his memories from before had resurfaced, he swore never to make the same mistakes. Gold and greed had no place in a happy life. Bilbo would never feel fear caused by Thorin, even if he had forgiven him and they had lived 90 years side by side. Thorin never wanted to be like that again and had put contingencies in place and improved upon the ones used when they retired Thror.
Thorin had lived a lifetime of pain and loss before Bilbo in their old life, and had then lived with a bounty after he had found his One.
After losing Bilbo and living another 18 years without him, he was almost desperate to find him, but nothing Nori had found, even in England, the country the Shire had been absorbed into, had pointed to his One, his love, his hobbit. After 4 years of nothing, Thorin had all but given up. He would wait a few more years for Fili to grow a bit wiser and then he would search the entire world if necessary. He couldn’t let doubt stop him. If he and all the others had returned, then it made sense to Thorin that Bilbo would too. After all, he had promised. Before he had passed, he had told Thorin he would find him after the last battle and Bilbo would do anything for those he loved, and Thorin knew Bilbo loved him more than life itself, just as he did Bilbo.
Thorin was pulled out of his spiralling thoughts when a bang had him all but leaping out of his throne. It was just a confetti cannon thankfully, but his heart was now hammering in his chest
He sat back on his throne, trying to calm himself down. Ever since his memories had come back, he found himself a little more alert, a little more weary, a little more sure of how quickly life could change, both for the better and for the worse.
Thorin sat back and allowed the happiness and good cheer around him to fill him with calm and cheer. He was, after all, sitting in a gaudy painted throne (thank you Kili) watching his sister-son’s laugh and joke with their countrymen. He watched them as they got to be the young men they hadn’t gotten to be back before they had made it to Old Erebor. He watched as they enjoyed the joy of being young and free the way they had always deserved.
Thorin got lost in those memories from 4 years ago, the day of Kili’s 18th birthday.
It had been a normal day up until the 16th hour of the day, the actual hour of Kili’s birth. Thorin had dropped his cup as a lifetime of memories had flooded his mind, fire and death and despair filling his memories.
Dis and Frerin had run from wherever they were to join him. Dwalin and Balin too. Nori, who also worked in the royal wing, had rushed over too, not wasting a moment to grab Dwalin and kiss him senseless. As far as Thorin knew, the two had barely interacted in this life and yet were reunited the moment they remembered.
Thorin had been distracted from his two friends to see Vili holding Fili and Kili close. Dis also wrapped around him.
Frerin had stayed close to Thorin, shaking. “So young. I was so, so young. We were so young,” was all he kept repeating.
Thorin allowed his tears to fall. He remembered that grief; he remembered holding Frerin as he died in his arms. Remembered being granted the leave to carry their brother home, one of the few granted that privilege.
Now he just held him again. Held him so tightly that he was sure he would cause bruises and neither brother cared as they pressed their foreheads together as they stayed close to one another, Frerin snagging Dis as she got close enough for him to do so.
“You will have to tell me everything I missed,” Frerin said with a wet chuckle.
“Everything?” Dis said with a mischievous smirk, even as she wept in gratitude to have her One and her brother alive and here with them.
“Dis,” Thorin had shot back in warning.
Dis had, of course, ignored him and looked at Frerin with a treacherous smile. “Thorin married a hobbit, a hobbit who gave us back everything. You know The Company’s Burglar? Thorin married him after finding out he was his One,” she said with a laugh.
“A hobbit? Your One?” Frerin had asked, scandalised. He had then looked at Dis, a mischievous gleam in his eye. “You have to tell me everything. Come on Thorin.”
Thorin had brushed them off and walked over to Vili to embrace his brother-in-law, the missing piece of his sister’s heart. If he refused to turn around and listen to Dis and Frerin gossip about him, well, he was the King. He could do what he liked.
Over the next few days, the entire Company had made its way to Erebor. Had made their way to Thorin’s, and each other’s side.
Each were as ecstatic as the next. Somehow, even though some of Bombur’s children weren’t of age, they all remembered. The Company had talked about it for weeks and it was decided that it must have waited for the original members of their Company to come of age. With Kili’s 18th birthday, they had all remembered the before and Thorin had looked around at his family that he hadn’t realised he was missing and felt almost at peace.
There was, however, a hobbit sized hole in all of their lives though, one that had everyone scrambling to find some mention of Bilbo and possibly Frodo.
Even now, 4 years later, no one had been successful. The longer it took, the harder Thorin had to try to be happy, to be content.
Dis was the worst for trying to force Thorin to talk about his feelings. It wasn’t like he didn’t, especially whilst drunk.
Mahal, there was a whole magazine piece about how he had outed himself as gay (not that it had been a secret) and was in love with a missing man at one of the festivals.
he festival been full of flowers. Thorin had seen a table of yarrow and being a bit more drunk than usual he had sobbed, holding on to a bunch. A concerned citizen had asked the king what was wrong and Thorin blurted out nonsense about big feet and his little love. It made it into all the papers the next day, and his friends still hadn’t let Thorin forget it.
So yes, Thorin was sad and missed his other half with everything inside of him, but he also couldn’t help but smile at the world he lived in now, that all of his nephews and nieces had grown up in.
Though he could have done with a bit less glitter (also thanks to Kili). He was very shiny at the moment, almost Arkenstone shiny thanks to his second youngest nephew (just because they didn’t know where Frodo was, or even if he existed, didn’t mean Thorin didn’t still love and miss him).
Kili had decided that Thorin, in his boring Durin blue suit (even though he was wearing a pride tie), hadn’t looked nearly as PRIDEful as he should, especially as he was an openly queer king.
To rectify that, he had doused Thorin from head to toe in glitter. He had also draped the progressive PRIDE flag over his uncle’s shoulders and then painted the flag on his cheek for good measure, all because he could, and Thorin was sitting there letting him. He had shooed the boy away before he had gotten even more carried away, but now Thorin was as bright as everyone else, something he couldn’t help but chuckle over.
Thorin sat back as he smiled softly with fondness at his country, at the beings who called it home. He looked at the glitter covering his suit and couldn’t help the soft laugh he let out.
Thorin had just laughed and indulged the boy. He was a 41-year-old man after all. He was content with who he was. If him being covered in an array of different colours helped at least one person, it was worth it. Plus, it made Kili smile, which made it worthwhile regardless of anything else.
It filled his heart with joy that he both lived and ran a country where people were able to express who they were, where they could be the best versions of themselves, in whatever way that looked for them. It made him proud, and he knew that when he finally found Bilbo, and he would find Bilbo, he would be just as proud, just as pleased with the direction that Erebor and all of Rhovania had taken.
Of course, with that pride, with that feeling of happiness, came heartbreak. He would never begrudge others their happiness, they deserved it just as, if not more, then he. But it hurt. oH How it hurt to see all the relationships around him. How it hurt to know his beloved wasn’t here, in Thorin’s arms, where he belonged.
He felt both joy and despair that others were so in love, that they were able to be with their other half when he remained hobbitless.
He would wait for Bilbo, of course he would, forever if need be, though he hoped that wasn’t the case. He missed his love, his best friend, his partner. He just missed everything about his One.
The pain of his absence was often shoved away, was often pushed to the back of Thorin’s mind, but on a day like today it crept back to the forefront of his thoughts. It crawled through him, making even his bones feel weary with the longing inside of himself.
Thorin was trying not to sink into his darker thoughts, thoughts of what if.
What if had Bilbo remembered and just didn’t want to be found? What if Bilbo didn’t remember, never remembered? What if Frodo wasn’t Thorin’s little iben any more? Thoughts that would sink him deeper and deeper into his own mind if he let them.
Thankfully (or not on some days) Thorin had very meddling siblings who could see him sinking deeper into himself with just a glance.
“You could always go find him, you know?” he heard Frerin say from beside him. Frerin, who had no interest in romantic love himself, at least not that hehad shown. Frerin, who just wanted to love and enjoy every moment of his life, considering he was barely more than a child when he died violently in his last life. Frerin, Thorin’s baby brother, who he would do anything for, anything but this, not at the moment.
Dis however knew her oldest brother inside out. “As if,” she snorted inelegantly. “He would rather be miserable and alone than inflict himself upon the hobbit,” she said in a mocking tone. Thorin just sighed sadly. This time, Dis was so far off the mark that it wasn’t even funny.
He would “inflict” himself upon Bilbo if (A) he could find him, and (B) Bilbo actually knew who he was, and not just as the King of Erebor.
What was he supposed to say if he found him? “Hello Bilbo, you probably don’t remember me, but in another life I was the love of your life. Oh, you were also a hobbit with big feet, a big appetite and a bigger capacity to love than any being I’ve ever met.” He could see that going down like a gold bar in a bathtub.
No, Thorin would just live with this ache, this uncertainty until either Bilbo found him, found them, or he was all but desperate to search the entire world for his love. He was sure it wouldn’t be too long, especially after he had officiated Kili and Tauriel’s wedding. Thorin knew they were young, but they had been together for a lifetime in the old world. He was sure it would be the same in this one, too.
Thorin was happily basking in no one needing him, or bothering him as well as watching his people and their happiness when there was an almighty racket that he recognised getting closer. He just closed his eyes for a moment as his horde of nieces and nephews, as well as Tauriel and Legolas, descended upon him.
He would admit to no one but himself that their laughter, their happiness, was a balm to his aching heart. They deserved to be happy, to smile, to be content, even if he wasn’t, at least not fully
Thorin chose to ignore the noise heading straight towards him until all the overly loud youngsters were around him. He looked over at Gimli and Legolas giggling together and smiled. “You boys ok?” he asked them.
“Of course, Uncle Thorin,” Gimli said with a big smile, one that was aimed behind Thorin. With a sigh, he turned around, knowing who was causing whatever mischief the others were laughing at.
“Boys,” Thorin growled out in warning before turning around. As he did, he got a face full of multi coloured glitter, Fili and Kili standing still with the open and almost empty tub between them.
“Kili ...” Fili whispered, staring at Thorin with his mouth open.
“His beard...” Kili said before he bent over, howling with laughter. The others joining in soon enough. Thorin wiped at his face and then shook his head quickly, a puff of glitter rising up from him as Kili and Fili howled even louder.
“Laugh later, run now, look at his face,” Hezzur said between her large belly laughs before she grabbed the closest person and ran off with them. The others followed, laughing their heads off.
Thorin stood, shook his head like a dog before he spotted where they had tried to disappear into the crowd. Sadly for them, his eyesight was much better as a man, plus they were all grouped together instead of scattering.
“Idiots,” Dwalin laughed as he clapped Thorin on the back and followed the group with his own eyes.
“Come on, let’s go round them up before they cause more chaos,” Thorin said with a long-suffering sigh. He left the dais with Dwalin laughing beside him, both unable to fight their smiles.
Thorin and Dwalin had split up as they walked through the crowd, trying to corral their youngsters back to the dais, as they would be needed for speeches soon.
He had snuck up on them and grabbed Grorur’s collar before gently shaking him. “Stay still, you bloody rascals,” he said to them all, causing them to freeze and their eyes to widen. “You didn’t think yo....” Thorin trailed off as he heard something. Something impossible.
“Uncle Thorin?” Grorur asked hesitantly as he extracted himself from Thorin’s grip. “You ok?”
“It can’t be,” Thorin said, more to himself than the youngsters before him, his eyes scanning the crowd frantically.
“Thorin? What is it?” Dwalin asked, suddenly beside Thorin.
“It can’t be Dwalin,” Thorin repeated, almost dazed.
Dwalin was about to ask again when he heard it, too. “Oh. Never? Go, go Thorin,” he said as he quickly pushed Thorin in the direction they had both been looking.
The others looked at Dwalin, confused and concerned. “Dwalin, what is going on?” Fili asked him worriedly.
“Nothing, stay here. Wait!” Dwalin ordered them all, though he was all but ready to race after Thorin himself shortly.
Thorin had no idea what the others were saying. He did not know that the crowd had parted for him. That his own family had seen the commotion he was causing and were descending upon him.
His entire focus was before him, on that one voice and nothing else.
He made it to a clearing around one of the fountains, and his breath caught in his throat. It couldn’t be.
“I’m tired, Uncle Bilbo,” that voice, filled with a whine that Thorin would recognise anywhere, shouted. Thorin felt tears rising in his eyes.
“I know, my little one, but I didn’t know how hard it was going to be to get here. Let alone that everything would be this busy,” Bilbo said as he picked up Frodo. His back to Thorin.
“I want Uncle Thorin,” Frodo said sadly as he buried his head in Bilbo’s neck and sobbed. Overwhelmed now that they were safely in Rhovania.
“So do I, love. So do I.” Bilbo said as he gently rocked Frodo in his arms. The four-year-old was clearly exhausted from their dangerous journey. Bilbo just had to find Thorin. Then they would be safe. No one would ever persecute him for being gay again, no one would ever try to take Frodo from him again. Damn that Lobelia for spilling all of his private business just to get his home, he thought with hatred.
He could do this, though. He had done it. They were safely in Rhovania now. They just had to make it to the mountain for an audience with the king. They just had to make it to Thorin, he thought.
Bilbo was so caught up in his fears and worries that he hadn’t realised Frodo was suddenly squealing and trying to get out of his arms.
“Frodo, what?” he asked before putting the lad down before he dropped him.
Frodo evaded Bilbo’s worried hands and ran as fast as his little legs could carry him, screaming “UNCLE THORIN,” as loud as he could.
Thorin bent down and caught the boy as soon as he was close enough to launch himself into Thorin’s arms. He rose with Frodo held tightly against his chest.
Thorin didn’t even try to fight the tears rolling down his face as he held his youngest boy in his arms.
Frodo was thin and filthy, something he was sure he would have to talk to Bilbo about. Whatever journey they had taken had been difficult for the pair, but right now it didn’t matter because Frodo was here, safe in Thorin’s arms, where he belonged.
He listened to Frodo’s babblings mixed between his body-shaking sobs. “I missed you,” and “we made it, we found you,” distinguishable between the crying. Thorin just held on, soaking up Frodo’s very presence.
Thorin then raised his head slowly, seeing Bilbo for the first time since he had died in his arms in their other life.
“Thorin?” Bilbo said as he looked at his lost husband, looked at the differences the new world had wrought with him, but his eyes. Bilbo gasped as those eyes settled on him. Those eyes that still looked at Bilbo as though he was the greatest gift the Valar had ever bestowed upon any being in any world.
Thorin watched as Bilbo took a staggered step forward. His shoulders tensing with each shuddering breath he took. “Thorin, it is you, right?” Bilbo asked nervously.
“Bilbo, my Ghiveshal, my One. You found me,” Thorin croaked out.
That was enough for Bilbo. He stumbled his way into Thorin’s arms, wrapping his arms around Thorin’s waist as Thorin adjusted Frodo and wrapped his free arm around Bilbo before gently lowering his head to press their foreheads together.
“I wasn’t sure. We remembered. Then we had to run and then I saw you on the news as King of Rhovania. We made it,” Bilbo rambled as he stood, forehead pressed with Thorin’s as his tears fell unguarded.
“You did. You made it. You found me, you came home,” Thorin whispered to his little love.
“I did promise you after all, didn’t I? No matter what,” Bilbo stuttered out between his sobs.
“You did. No matter what, Amralime,” Thorin said gently as he moved his head to softly nuzzle his nose with Bilbo’s.
Bilbo wasn’t satisfied with that, he raised his head and gently kissed Thorin. A kiss full of love and joy, old memories and the chance for new ones. A kiss that felt like the future and the past, an old lifetime and a new one. Most of all, it was a kiss that was full of the taste of love, of forever, of home.
Thorin could hear his people chattering and gossiping. He heard voices that he knew: their gasps and cries clear in the hubbub around them shout with excitement.
But it didn’t matter. All that mattered was that Bilbo had done it. He had found a way to stay out of Yavanna’s Gardens. He had found Thorin again. He had reunited them.
Bilbo had come home and Thorin’s soul was again whole. Thorin was once again whole.
“This time I go wherever you will,” Thorin said softly.
“I will ALWAYS find you, Thorin. Nothing will ever stop me,” Bilbo replied as he basked in Thorin’s love for the first time in much too long.