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Thorin was never one to let nerves get to him. He relished competition, and proving people wrong seemed to be a skill he was especially deft at. However, stretching in their warm-up room as the clock on the wall continued to count down the time until they were on the ice was making him shake. 

“Thorin? Are you listening to me?”

His gaze immediately flew over to where Bilbo Baggins sat, calm and collected as ever. However, rather than be envious of his partner, he found himself completely taken with how fluffy his curls were tonight. And how even under the heavy stage make-up, Bilbo’s fawn eyes still managed to reflect a level of innocent naivety that he knew were not actual traits in his companion, but caught him off-guard all the same.

“It’s just another night. Don’t think about who is in the audience or what’s at stake. Think about me and how vexed I’ll be if you drop me.”

Thorin laughed knowing exactly how Bilbo would be. Down to being more upset that Thorin messed up their routine than the actual injury itself. Not that Thorin would let that happen. 

“Are you ready to walk through our steps?” Bilbo asked, popping up off the mat.

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

Thorin rather detested warm-ups that weren’t on the ice. He knew Balin and Gandalf would kill him if he didn’t do it, but there seemed to be a lack of finesse when you were clunkily running around the room versus literally gliding on the ice. Still, he and Bilbo went through the whole routine, spending a little bit of extra time on the tricky sections. Every time was perfect. Bilbo was perfect.

Two years ago, Thorin was continuing a family legacy of being one the few dwarven skaters in all of Arda. In a sport dominated primarily by the taller men and elves, dwarves were considered too boorish and clumsy to make good figure skaters. Then Thror took the world by storm, nearly winning a world championship in his first year on tour. Thrain was quick to follow in his footsteps until his untimely death, leaving Thorin to carry the mantle as well. For most of his career, he had only done singles. Elves and men didn’t make good partners, and Thorin had never been able to find a dwarf he was compatible with. Then he had been approached by Gandalf and Bilbo.

Bilbo Baggins had been an enigma. Hobbits did not figure skate. Ever. Their foot hair was so sacred in their culture that covering it was practically sacrilegious. Thorin understood this well as it was the same for dwarves and their braids. Yet, Bilbo wore his custom skates proudly, spending extra time in the locker room after a competition on making his foot hair presentable again, and let Thorin know that his goals were the same as his: to make it to the top and prove everyone else wrong. 

Thorin wished he could say that they clicked immediately, but Thorin spent the first few months of their partnership trying to push Bilbo away. He saw the hobbit as a liability. Something too new in the world of figure skating to ever get him the score he deserved. It was after watching him skate literal circles around Azog that changed Thorin’s mind. They had been partners ever since. Something Thorin wished to extend past their professional lives as the velvet box sat heavy in his gym bag.

“It’s time, lads.” Balin stated poking his head into the room.

“We’ll be right out.” Bilbo promised.

He waited until after the older dwarf had gone before surging onto his feet to press a kiss to Thorin’s lips.

“For luck.” He smirked.

Just like that, all of Thorin’s jittery energy had been completely grounded. One more reason why he loved Bilbo Baggins.

“I don’t believe in luck. We make our own luck.” He teased.

“Couldn’t hurt our chances.” Bilbo declared before surging back up for a longer kiss this time.

“Third time’s the charm.” Thorin remarked.

Only it was Thorin bending down in order to explore Bilbo’s mouth thoroughly. Letting all thoughts that weren’t about the hobbit he loved fall by the wayside.

“Satisfied?” Bilbo asked breathlessly when he finally, reluctantly pulled away.

“Well actually…”

“Two minutes!” Gandalf called as a warning, not bothering to poke his head in.

Thorin groaned as he rested his forehead against Bilbo’s.

“His timing.”

Bilbo pet Thorin’s cheeks with his thumbs as his grin seemed to light up his whole face. It made Thorin want to kiss him again. 

“We need to go. I’ll let you kiss me afterwards. As well as other things. ”

“I love you.” Thorin blurted unashamed. 

Bilbo’s grin widened as he gave Thorin one last sweet kiss.

“Come on. We have a gold medal to win.”

Looking back, Thorin always blamed the fourth kiss as a sign of what was to come. He shouldn’t have pushed for more. He had been too greedy in his love. He had been too greedy in a lot of ways.

They left the room and followed their coaches down a long hallway that led to the main arena. The closer they got, the colder it got. A welcome change as far as Thorin was concerned. Bilbo gave a small shiver as he did every time before they went out on the ice. Thranduil and his wife had just finished, and were exiting the rink and headed to the “Kiss and Cry” to await their score. However, the haughty elf clearly made time to find Thorin’s eyes and give him a challenging eyebrow raise.

“Ignore him.” Bilbo immediately whispered.

It was fine. If anything it got Thorin’s blood roaring. It would be his great pleasure to wipe the floor with the prissy platinum blonde twit. Still concerned that Thorin may start something, an apt fear considering it had happened once before, Bilbo led Thorin over to a bench far from Thranduil to put on their skates.

Finally ready to get out on the ice, Thorin popped up and immediately made eye contact with the one person in the arena who could unravel his confidence in seconds. His grandfather’s eyes bore back into him as if daring him to impress him. Memories and fears became entangled in his mind to the point that Thorin wondered if he would ever find his way out again. However, with a quick touch to his cheek, Bilbo reminded Thorin he wasn’t alone once again, and the moment their eyes met it became easier to breathe.

“Just look at me.” Bilbo whispered. “Don’t take your eyes off me.”

Probably the easiest instructions any person could give him. Thorin covered the hand on his cheek giving it a small squeeze. 

“Just another chance to fly.” 

It was a phrase Bilbo used often, and it had stuck with him. Something of a mantra they would say right before heading out onto the ice. It was the last good moment Thorin could remember before everything went terribly, terribly wrong.

It was all just flashes of sights and sounds to Thorin now. Pieces of his memory that refused to go away no matter how hard he tried. The horrified screams from the crowd somehow louder than the track to their dance they didn’t quite realize should be turned off. The cold seeped into his knees as he cradled a small body close. The flashing blues and reds of the ambulance as he clutched tightly to an unresponsive hand pleading with every deity he could think of to let Bilbo Baggins awaken once more even as blood pooled from behind the gauze held tight over Thorin’s eye that he wasn’t a hundred percent sure he was going to get to keep. 

There were two things and two things only that he remembered with absolute clarity that night. The first was staring at Bilbo’s pale body in that hospital bed. The neck brace swallowing him as Thorin had to listen to the long, awful list of possible symptoms Bilbo could face after this. Paralysis being the one to stick in his brain and not let go. The second was Thranduil’s interview after the accident, and while Thorin had never wanted to punch the elf more, a small part of him told him he deserved it. After what he did to Bilbo, he deserved it and more.

“There’s an affliction in the skating world known as goldsickness where the desire to achieve gold invalidates everything and everyone else. I always suspected Thorin Oakenshield had it, especially considering it was the condition that essentially ended his grandfather’s career, and yet even I was unprepared for such a devastating and heartbreaking scene. My sympathies go out to Mr. Baggins who was dragged down by the dwarf’s madness, and my hopes that he can find solstice in a promising career cut short by greed.”

***

Thorin awoke to his phone’s alarm blaring through the tiny bedsit he called home. Without opening his eyes, he hit the snooze button pleading for those extra nine minutes with his entire being. Instead, his mind began to drift. Back to his dream of the accident, and the more he thought about it, the more adrenaline seeped into his system until he was sitting up with a groan, running a hand through his hair.

“It’s been four years, Oakenshield. Let it go.” He grunted to himself before getting out of bed. 

His routine was much the same as anyone else: start the coffee pot, relieve himself, take a shower, relieve himself again, brush his hair and teeth, don’t stare at the scar in the mirror, get dressed, ignore the engagement ring in his sock drawer, drink the coffee, drive to his shitty job. Thorin managed the local ice rink. After years around it, he couldn’t quite stay away completely, but he did not skate. Never again did he think he could. He drifted through the motions of opening up, turning on the lights, checking the cash register, and other maintenance duties before the afternoon rush came in.

There was free skating until about five o’clock, and then he rented out the next two hours to a local hockey team. He would smooth the ice down afterwards, pack up, and go home for the day. It was rather monotonous if he was being honest, but he did like his routines. That’s why the bell ringing so early had him frowning from his workstation. He looked over to the door to the gentleman in the funny hat only to freeze as recognition struck him.

“It’s been awhile, Thorin Oakenshield.” Gandalf hummed.

“I don’t know what it is…and I don’t want to know. The answer is no.” Thorin growled.

“Oh come now.” Gandalf pouted. “You wouldn’t even hear out an old friend?”

“Absolutely not. That life is behind me.”

“Well I think that’s an absolute waste, and I think after you hear what I have to say, you’ll agree.”

Thorin turned to who used to be his choreographer with his arms crossed against his chest. Gandalf and Balin have been wanting to get him back out on the ice ever since it was determined that his eye could be saved. Nevermind that Thorin wouldn’t even get out on the zamboni if he could help it. Every time he tried, he just remembered that night all over again, and his legs would start shaking. No, Thorin’s career as a skater was behind him for good, and he highly doubted anything Gandalf was going to say would change that. 

“Perhaps it might sway you to know that a certain hobbit has been training again.”

Thorin’s chest tightened as his breath caught.

“He’s looking for a partner.” Gandalf implored.

It was something that both made his heart soar and made him want to throw-up at the same time. Thorin thinks some days he would love nothing more than to skate with Bilbo again. However, the more prevalent part of him remembered the sound of his head bouncing against the ice. Remembered the days spent by his bedside in the hospital, not knowing if he would even be able to walk again. No. It couldn’t be Thorin. He would not put himself in a position to hurt Bilbo again.

“Then I wish him the best.” Thorin choked out, turning back towards the cash register.

Gandalf didn’t say anything for a long moment.

“I’m surprised by you, Thorin.”

Thorin bit down on the urge to lash out against the man, his shoulders shaking from the suppression. 

“There are many things you are, but a coward has never been one of them.”

“Leave!” Thorin snapped, having finally reached his breaking point.

He didn’t hear anything for a long time, and when he finally trusted himself to turn around, Gandalf was gone. He could almost convince himself it was some sort of wild fever dream, if it wasn’t for the business card sitting on the counter. Thorin took it, tore it into eight pieces, and threw the remains away. There. Now there was nothing to remind him of that conversation other than his own memory, which he could easily push to the back of his mind. After all, he was starting to get customers.

***

Thorin was making his rounds of shutting down for the night. He hadn’t quite gotten over Gandalf’s sudden appearance and had been waiting all day for the other boot to drop. However, it had been a pretty typical Tuesday. Did he miss skating? Sometimes. Durin, all the time. Especially considering how easy access he had to ice. There were times where he wanted to lace his skates up and just take a small trip around the edge. Nothing fancy. Nothing like he used to. But he couldn’t do it. He had an attack so strong the last time he even tried, it had pretty much scared him away for good.

Still, he found his thoughts caught up in Bilbo. He never would have guessed he would be skating again. After they had left things where they did, Thorin figured he would want nothing more to ever do with that life. It actually hurt to know that Bilbo had been able to move on, and Thorin was trapped in this limbo of guilt and shame. Even with that though, he couldn’t begrudge Bilbo the chance to move on. He wasn’t lying to Gandalf when he said he wished him all the best. Maybe someday Thorin will get over the fact that the best wasn’t himself.

So lost in his thoughts, he didn’t even notice the appearance of someone else until the gate opened and a figure zoomed out before him. Thorin shouted as he rushed over to the side of the rink only for his words to get stuck in his throat. Their curls bounced and their oversized skates danced. Using the length of the ice to pick up speed before performing a flawless single toe-loop jump. He landed backwards, extending his leg up as he glided across the ice spinning in a wide arc before going through a few lazy twizzles and gaining enough momentum to effortlessly spin into a triple axel.

Not the best he had ever seen of this particular skater, but Thorin was positively mesmerized. It was an act he thought he would never again have the privilege of seeing, and he didn’t waste a single second of it. Finally, the hobbit slid to a stop in front of him, his gaze hesitant, his chest heaving. 

“Hello, Thorin.”

Thorin couldn’t move. He didn’t feel like he could breathe. He never once imagined he would get this moment, even when he dreamt about it so many times. He didn’t deserve it. And now that Bilbo was here before him. Staring at him imploringly, Thorin was as frozen as the ice beneath Bilbo’s feet. 

“Gandalf said you turned him down this morning.”

That woke Thorin up rather quickly. 

“So he sent you in his stead hoping that would sway me.” He growled, pissed at the old man for a whole new reason.

“So I came down to talk to you myself.” Bilbo responded coolly.

Thorin shook his head with a bitter huff. It’s been four years, and Bilbo didn’t even have the courtesy to catch up before jumping right into the sales’ pitch.

“You wasted your time.” He snapped.

He moved to walk away, and Bilbo leaned as far over the ledge as he dared, grabbing onto Thorin’s passing hand. It was like being hit with a live wire. Electricity danced down his hand and sent a jolt straight to his heart. He closed his eyes tightly against the pain of it.

“Wait! Please. Just hear me out at least.”

Thorin heaved a huge sigh knowing this conversation was going to undo him. No matter the outcome. If it splayed his heart open and left the remains laid out and freezing on the ice, he would deserve it. Slowly, he lifted his gaze back to Bilbo’s determined one.

“You never gave me the chance to tell you.”

“Tell me what?” Thorin asked softly.

Bilbo’s eyes were searching. Taking in every square inch of him, and Thorin couldn’t even begin to imagine what he found. 

“I’m sorry.”

Yep, heart splayed and splattered on the ground. Thorin could feel his hands vibrating as he shook his head.

“Before in the hospital, I was angry.” Bilbo continued. “I was laying there with no feeling in my legs thinking I never will again, and I took it out on you.”

“No! Bilbo, I…”

“I’ll admit.” He mused, his voice going a bit hoarse. “I didn’t realize it would send you away for good. If I had known…but that’s in the past right? The point is, it wasn’t your fault. No matter what anyone says, it was an accident. And I know I’ve said this all to you before. Unless…you never listened to my voice messages. But I need you to know, I don’t want that to be how we leave things. Even if you can’t forgive me. I just wanted…”

“Bilbo! Stop!” Thorin urged, grabbing the hobbit’s hands in his own.

Thorin couldn’t let him continue. He couldn’t let Bilbo apologize to him. He had heard the voice messages. They were still there on his phone, and sometimes in the night after drinking a bit too much, he would listen to the pleading in Bilbo’s voice as he begged him to come back. 

“I couldn’t handle it.” Thorin admitted, feeling like the worst sort of being in that moment. “It wasn’t you. Mahal, you were entitled to your anger. That wasn’t what pushed me to go. It was the selfishness of being unable to watch you go through it, and being reminded every day that I put you there in the first place. So please, please don’t apologize when it should be me. I hurt you, multiple ways, and I couldn’t handle it. I’m the one who’s sorry.”

There was silence. Pressing silence as Bilbo grappled with the fact that he ran before softly speaking the words that Thorin never allowed himself to hope to hear.

“I forgive you.”

Thorin shook. And the hands he was gripping slowly moved to cradle his own. 

“You can’t mean that. It’s something I’ll never forget. I’ll never be able to forgive myself for what happened.”

Thorin finally was able to look up again as Bilbo tilted his head, his gaze non-judgemental as he answered.

“Well, that’s two separate things, isn’t it? I can’t forget it either. In fact, I think it’s for the best that we don’t forget. It serves as a reminder to be better. As for the forgiving, we’re both here Thorin. We’re both whole and hale. How many get to say that after what we’ve been through?”

Bilbo’s hand left his to flutter up to his eye, only to stop himself at the last moment. He dropped his hand at the same time as he dropped his gaze. 

“I want to try again. For us. I don’t want this ugly thing to be what defines our legacy. We’ve made mistakes, but we can be better. You gave me the chance once, allow me to return the favor.”

Thorin looked up into the smiling face of the hobbit. Same bronze hair, same shining eyes, same small hands held out in front of him. Yet, there was something different. A wariness, a knowledge that only came after surviving something tragic. Thorin didn’t skate anymore. He didn’t trust himself out there. But maybe, maybe with Bilbo at his side…

“What does this mean? About…us?” He questioned, needing to know what Bilbo wanted from him upfront. Or more accurately, what Bilbo would allow him.

The hobbit blinked as he let his hands drop to his side. 

“Strictly professional. That’ll do.”

Thorin tried not to wince at the clipped manner of Bilbo’s delivery. Honestly, it was more than he expected and he should be grateful. Didn’t mean it didn’t hurt though.

“Right, of course.” He murmured.

Thorin took a deep breath in before holding out his hand for the hobbit to shake. Bilbo eagerly grasped at it, and Thorin prayed to Mahal in the light of that beaming face that he made the right choice.

***

They met back at Thorin’s rink the next night after he had closed it up. Balin and Gandalf were both delighted that Thorin was going to skate again. Thorin’s hands shook as he fumbled with the laces on a rented pair of skates. He had tossed his old pair years ago. He would probably need to get a new set before all was said and done, but he couldn’t bring himself to do so just yet. Balancing on the precarious edge of this whole enterprise, he wasn’t convinced it wouldn’t all go up in ash and smoke before he could even get his hands on it. Bilbo was the only thing keeping him grounded.

The hobbit took to the ice almost as if he had never left. With his overly large skates and little body, Thorin had always been skeptical of how he flew through the air with such grace. It just didn’t seem possible. Perhaps that’s why he’s never been able to take his eyes off of Bilbo when they were skating. 

“Alright, Thorin. You’re up.” Balin grinned as Bilbo finished the warm-up.

Thorin’s knees felt like they were going to buckle when he placed that first skate out on the ice. The onslaught of memories all came rushing back at once. The smell of blood dripping down his face, the blinding lights of the paramedics bus backed up to the edge of the rink. Pale cheeks, usually rosy, on his unresponsive partner. Thorin gasped and immediately clutched the wall, burying his head in his arms as he just stood there. Unable to slide a single step.

Before his spiraling took him any further into the abyss, there was a warm hand on his arm. Thorin looked up to see Bilbo’s half-smile and shining eyes. He held his hands out in front of him for Thorin to take. So small in comparison to Thorin’s own, but he latched onto them like a lifeline.

“Just keep your eyes on me.” Bilbo declared confidently.

He started skating backwards as he led Thorin around the rink, never once letting go of his hands. The nausea never abated, and by the time they had made a full circle, Thorin pulled away to head over to the nearest bench. He put his head in his hands between his knees as he tried to focus just on breathing. The other three were quiet above him which Gandalf was the first to break.

“Perhaps we need to consult Oin after all.”

Oin turned out to be a therapist, and he diagnosed Thorin practically within the first five minutes of meeting him. PTSD. It was something Thorin always thought was exclusive to war veterans and gunshot victims, but apparently freak skating accidents can do it too.

“You’re reliving the accident every time you get out on the ice. Now, that’s never going to completely go away, but I’m going to give you some coping mechanisms to reduce the intensity of it so you can actually skate again if that’s something you’re serious about doing.”

Thorin wasn’t sure he was serious about it. Not yet anyways, but for Bilbo he would try. It was slow progress to the point that Thorin thought he was never going to be able to skate on his own again. However, slowly with Oin’s advice and Bilbo’s encouragement, Thorin was able to run through an entire routine on his own. 

Gandalf started putting together a program for them after that. He felt like it should have some sort of ‘rising again’ metaphor to it, and came up with a routine with a lot of jumps, upright spins, and flying twists. Thorin was pretty sure it was a program he could have invented in his worst nightmare. Thorin and Bilbo spent a lot of time in the practice room, going over the steps before making it out on the ice. Even there, Thorin was shaking so bad every time Bilbo was to jump in his arms that he started begging him not to.

Bilbo looked helplessly over at Gandalf and Balin before turning back to Thorin. 

“We only have two months until the opener. Are you sure… ?”

“How many times are you going to ask?!” Thorin snapped. “I said I’ll be ready. Just not right now!”

It was the biggest fight they had gotten into since they had started working together again. Maybe ever, and it ended with Bilbo marching out of the room with the slam of the door. Before his coaches could say anything to him, Thorin was quick to follow, demanding they smooth the ice and lock up for him. An emergency appointment with Oin was called for him the next day.

“You don’t trust him.” Oin concluded after Thorin grudgingly admitted what happened.

“Who?” He asked bewildered.

“Bilbo.”

“Of course I trust him.” Thorin snorted, crossing his arms. “He’s the one who shouldn’t trust me.”

“And yet he does, so you don’t trust him or more specifically his decision making abilities. Unless you can find that trust again, you’ll never allow yourself to hold his life in your hands again.”

Balin and Gandalf’s solution involved team building activities that had Bilbo just as annoyed. That Saturday, Thorin had gotten a text from Bilbo convincing him to play hooky with him and skip practice. They had met at the local amusement park, one they used to take their nephews to together, and Bilbo bought the tickets with the promise that Thorin could buy him food for the day. Remembering how much Bilbo ate, Thorin felt like he got the short end of the stick, but he was happy to do it. He was happy to actually be with Bilbo and not have the stress of skating hang over him.

They spent much of the afternoon walking around, talking and laughing, buying Bilbo all the fair food he wanted, and watching Thorin attempt to win him a prize at the carnival games. It was at the strongman competition that he was able to put his dwarven strength to use and rang the bell. They were given a dragon almost as big as Bilbo himself, but the hobbit was happy to name him Smaug and cart him around with them. Thorin thought this might be the perfect time to start making their way back as he tried to think of a subtle way to ask Bilbo to dinner when Bilbo stopped in front of one of the rides.

It was called the Carrock. You were strapped into a chair, raised about a hundred feet into the air, and then the seat was turned downwards as you plummeted back to the ground. That happened two or three times before you were let off, and Thorin wasn’t about it. His feet were just fine firmly planted on the cement. In the past, Bilbo had been in the same camp. Flying was for the times he was in Thorin’s arms and no other. However, Thorin had a bad feeling when Bilbo gave him a gauging look before motioning for him to follow him into the line.

Thorin shook his head, his heart spiking just from the idea of getting on the death trap. Then Bilbo said the words that he couldn’t ignore if he wanted to.

“Trust me. Another chance to fly.”

Thorin felt weak as Bilbo pulled out their phrase. The one he had heard uttered before every performance they were together. It was near impossible for him to say no now. However, Thorin was sorely regretting not just going to practice at that point as he let the hobbit pull him into the line of eager tweens and young adults. Not exactly his crowd. 

Bilbo let him put Smaug down against the fenceline, and Thorin eyed the exit sign hard. It was the idea of Bilbo’s disappointment at abandoning him that took him back towards the ride. However, he was fairly certain he was hyperventilating when they came by to check his straps. It was only Bilbo latching onto his hand that kept him from calling out to the workers to get him out.

“I’m scared too.” He admitted nervously.

It was one of those rare moments where Thorin understood perfectly. Bilbo wasn’t just talking about right now, on this ride. Of course, Bilbo would be scared to skate once more as well. Of course, Bilbo would be scared of what would happen to him if Thorin dropped him again. Which just proved to Thorin that Bilbo was without a doubt one of the bravest people he knew. 

It was a realization that lasted all of about five seconds as they finally reached the top and had just a moment to appreciate the spectacular view. Then their chairs were tilted downward and they were plummeting towards the ground. Thorin felt his heart leap up into his throat, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to scream and that mostly had to do with the ridiculous high-pitched shout that came from the hobbit next to him. Bilbo had tears streaming down his face as he blubbered, praying to any deity he could think up. They started to go back up and Bilbo’s breath hitched as he released a half-aborted shout before they were dropped again.

Thorin really shouldn’t have been amused. After all, his legs were threatening to give out with the way his knees shook when they were finally released from the ride, but all it took was one look at Bilbo. Tears still trapped in the corners of his eyes, his cheeks ruddy and red, hair windswept as he cradled Smaug close and Thorin was laughing. Hard. Even the hobbit’s glare and swift kick to his shin couldn’t stop him. It was just what he needed, and as crazy as the day had been. It had managed to work its magic. 

The next day, Thorin had a change of choreography for Gandalf that nearly unwound the man completely. However, after listening to his reasoning, all four of them were able to get on the same page. This wasn’t about them ‘rising above the accident’. This was just another chance to fly. Thorin wanted them to use the track “The Eagles of Manwe” and require more throws than twists.

Gandalf adjusted the choreography accordingly and Bilbo and Thorin took to practicing the routine. When they finally stepped out to run it on the ice for the first time, they executed the program flawlessly. It would seem that they were finally back in rhythm, and then their first competition came up.

***

Thorin had to keep from tossing his skates as he marched his way back to the locker room. He didn’t even bother waiting to see their scores. He already knew they were going to be rubbish. Right out of the gate, Thorin had gotten off beat. Then he had gotten off-balance after the first loop jump, and when Bilbo went to jump in his arms for the lift, Thorin had set him back down again almost immediately. He didn’t remember being this bad even when he was a teenager just starting out.

Thorin’s phone began to buzz, and he pulled it out of his bag, only to toss it back down again after checking the screen. If there was one thing that would make his bad day worse, it would be having to talk to his grandfather on top of everything else.

“Thorin…” Bilbo appeared, exasperation in his tone.

“You should have gotten someone else.” He snapped as he changed into a pair of sweats.

Bilbo flinched. “I didn’t want someone else. I wanted you.”

“Clearly, that was a mistake.”

“Thorin!” Bilbo called out again, this time more desperate as he latched onto Thorin’s elbow.

He shook him off with ease.

“I’m going home. This time, don’t come looking for me.”

He didn’t dare bring himself to look at Bilbo’s reaction. He marched right out the door, back to his miserable life. This time with one more failure added onto his list. 

It was three days later that Thorin sat on his couch, staring at his phone and wishing Bilbo would call. He let a hand fall over his eyes as he repressed the urge to groan. He really wished he would stop lashing out when he was angry. He had already tried texting Bilbo for it to go unanswered. Not that he blamed him. Feeling truly miserable, he went shifting through his performance videos, hesitating on the one that had ended their career. Deciding he couldn’t feel much worse, he pulled it up on his laptop. 

Ori, their cameraman, seemed to be playing with the zoom as Bilbo and Thorin took a couple of warm-up laps around the rink. Thorin watched as his eyes were drawn to the stands where he knew his grandfather had been sitting. No warmth to be found within him, Thorin remembered, he sat there almost as if he were judging Thorin already just for a simple skate across the ice. Pretty soon, Bilbo and Thorin took their places, and a hush fell across the crowd. The music started and Thorin and Bilbo began their routine. The start was flawless. Thorin had forgotten what it was like to move with such confidence. However, it was Bilbo he couldn’t take his eyes off. Bilbo with the biggest grin as they performed the step sequence that would give them enough momentum for the big twist lift. The one that ruined everything.

Here it came as Thorin pulled Bilbo up into his arms, throwing him above his head as Bilbo twisted in the air perfectly. However, Thorin’s head gave a twitch, and he was off with where he put his hands to try and catch Bilbo. Trying to overcompensate, the blade of Bilbo’s skate sliced perfectly through his eyebrow. There were gasps and screams in the audience as Thorin dropped Bilbo to bring his hands to his eye, blood already pooling between them. Bilbo fell to the ice, his head bouncing against it before he went still. The camera shook as Ori must have jumped to his feet, and Thorin immediately pressed pause and pushed the laptop off of him. 

He cradled his head in his hands, the thick ropy scar pressing against his palm as he sucked in a deep breath. Somehow it was worse watching it happen than living it through the broken memories that he had. What happened? What changed this time that made him bungle that catch? The twitch. Something was off with that twitch.

Clearly a glutton for punishment, Thorin grabbed the laptop off the ground, and restarted the video. He fast forward to right before the accident. He squinted at the screen as his head did that same twitch again, but now that he was really watching, there was something really weird about it. He got up, fumbling around the room to find his reading glasses before rewinding the video once more. A light!

There was a small pocket of light that passed directly into Thorin’s eyes and had him squinting and twitching right before Bilbo came back down. It wasn’t the overhead lights though. Where was that coming from? Thorin backed it up again, and realized it was shining from the audience somewhere. Once Thorin felt like he had it pinpointed, he backed up the tape to see if he could see who was sitting there. Sure enough, at the very beginning of the video, two laughing individuals came in to sit right where the light was coming from. And Thorin felt like his blood was going to boil right out of his veins. Azog, and his miserable spawn, Bolg.

Azog and Thorin’s families had been rivals since Thror’s time. In Thror’s final run, Azog had come in as the young newcomer to upstage him, denying him the chance for one last gold medal. Then later, Thorin stole Azog’s defending champion status out from under him. The older orc had been retired at that point, living vicariously through his son, but would still love to see Thorin screwed over. Thorin just underestimated how far he was willing to go. 

Thorin called up Gandalf, much to the older man’s surprise and demanded an emergency meeting. Thorin could tell Bilbo was still pissed and hurt when he arrived, but then he showed them the video just to see all of their faces drain of color.

“We can take legal action.” Balin demanded.

“We can’t prove it was Azog just from this video.” Gandalf huffed, although his eyes were dark with anger.

“Surely someone would have seen…” Balin tried to argue only for Gandalf to shake his head.

“The only way we beat him is on the ice. We win Worlds.” Thorin declared.

“I thought you were done.” Bilbo spat, speaking for the first time.

“I thought I was too.” Thorin sighed. 

Reaching out, he took Bilbo’s hand and gave it a squeeze. 

“I don’t know that I’ll ever be the dwarf I was before, and to be honest, I’m tired of trying. Yes, I’ve made mistakes. Yes, I’ve been broken in ways that still bear scars, but for the first time in a long time, I am ready to fight again. I’m finally where you’re at Bilbo, and I won’t abandon you this time.”

There was something soft, almost vulnerable on Bilbo’s face as he accepted Thorin’s words. He took a deep shattering sigh as he forced a small smile to his face.

“I’m going to hold you to that.” He promised.

Thorin nodded as he used the hand he was holding to pull Bilbo in tight for a hug. He couldn’t guarantee that he wasn’t going to freeze up again. However, there was something to knowing it wasn’t his fault that Bilbo had been hurt that settled deep inside him. A little flame flickered to life in him that worked to thaw the icy fear of losing Bilbo. They had a lot of work to do, but this time, this time, Thorin was all in. 

***

They placed third at the next competition and second at the competition after that. Bilbo and Thorin were well on their way to qualifying for Worlds, and others were taking notice. It was at the regional qualifiers when they were approached by none other than Thranduil. The tall, thin elf was unchanged with the exception of where grief had streaked his face with harsh lines. 

“Isn’t this an unpleasant surprise? I had rather hoped you had learned your lesson.” Thranduil sneered.

Thorin felt himself puff up with the urge to punch the slimy bastard, but Bilbo stepped in before he could do anything of the sort.

“And so I did. I learned how to walk and skate again, and now, here we are.”

“And here you are.” Thranduil mocked. “I don’t quite know what that says about halflings. That you’re resilient to dwarven incompetence or naive enough not to know when to quit.”

Thorin’s fists were clenched at his side in a white-knuckled hold that was leaving his fingers cold and numb. Bilbo didn’t even flinch. 

“Perhaps merely that we are forgiving enough to recognize an accident as that.”

Thorin knew he didn’t mean it as a slight, but the way Thranduil reeled back clearly meant he took it as one. His eyes were icy as his jaw clenched and unclenched. However, he spared them no more words as he stormed off, joined closely by his son.

“I don’t understand.” Bilbo blinked. “What happened?”

Thorin shared a look with Gandalf, knowing Bilbo was going to feel awful after he knew the truth.

“His wife was hit by a drunk driver just five months ago.” Gandalf explained softly.

Bilbo threw a hand over his mouth as his eyes widened in horror. Thorin quickly turned Bilbo around, and held his face between his hands.

“Hey, you didn’t know. Your words weren’t mocking. He’s just a bit overly sensitive to it. Not that he shouldn’t be.” Thorin quickly added when Bilbo opened his mouth to argue.

The hobbit’s face scrunched up as it always did when he couldn’t disagree, but didn’t necessarily like it. A smile pulled at Thorin’s lips as the nostalgia lay over him like a warm blanket. 

“Still, I would like to apologize.”

“Afterwards, we’ll both give our condolences.” Thorin agreed before making a stupid, costly mistake.

His guard was down. It was all too familiar as he leaned forward and kissed Bilbo lightly on the lips. It was only as he pulled away and saw Bilbo’s eyes wide with shock that he realized what he had done. It was like a cold bucket of water had been poured down his back, as he dropped his hands and stepped away. Professional. This was supposed to be professional only. And now Thorin may have just ruined everything.

Bilbo’s eyes were searching, and Thorin wasn’t quite sure what he found before he narrowed his brows and stomped off. Thorin felt his heart sink as he let the hobbit go. Any smidge of hope he had been able to scrunch up was shattered in an instant.

Thorin didn’t see Bilbo again until literally three minutes before they were due on the ice. They hadn’t warmed up together, and Bilbo wasn’t saying a single word to him. The furrow between his brows was ever prominent. He knew he should speak up. Apologize or say it didn’t mean anything, but he couldn’t find the words to do so. Instead, he hesitantly followed after Bilbo onto the ice, feeling apprehensive again for the first time in a long time.

As they began their performance, everything went off without a hitch. Their moves were flawless, perfectly executed, but perhaps a bit robotic. Thorin definitely knew he was overthinking everything, relying solely on muscle memory to get him through. However, the moment they got to their jump, Bilbo hesitated, and it completely threw Thorin off. He just barely managed to catch Bilbo and set him back down almost immediately, forcing them to improvise a glide to get to the spot where Thorin was supposed to set him down.

Thorin was deducting points in his head for his stupid mistake as his heart sank further and further. He half-heartedly finished the performance, trying to catch Bilbo’s eye as they held their pose at the end. But the hobbit was purposefully not looking at him. As soon as they were clear, he skated out ahead of Thorin, leaving a sizable gap between them as they took their places on the bench to await their score. As their numbers came up, he could only release a shaky sigh. Just barely qualifying for Worlds by a tenth of a point, and Thorin thought that had been rather generous of the judges. 

Bilbo used the moment to jump to his feet and head back to the locker room. Balin and Gandalf both gave him significant looks, but Thorin didn’t need it. He was already tearing off after the hobbit.

“Bilbo!” He called out. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, I gathered that you’re sorry.” The hobbit shot back over his shoulder. “It was written all over your face when it happened.”

Thorin ran a hand through his hair as he spotted a vacant warm-up studio and quickly shoved the hobbit inside with him despite his squawking. 

“What do you want me to say?” Thorin begged, grabbing Bilbo by his forearms. “I made a mistake. It was a lapse in judgement, that’s all.”

“No!” Bilbo sobbed as he pounded his fists against Thorin’s chest. “No, I don’t want to hear that.”

Bilbo stilled only to lean forward, resting his head completely against Thorin’s chest as warm tears began to make damp spots against his costume.

“Just let me gather the shattered remains of my heart with as much dignity as I can muster. I’ll be better put together come tomorrow, but tonight. Please. Just stop digging at it.”

Thorin stilled as Bilbo’s soft spoken words somehow seemed to echo in his mind. 

“What do you mean?” He asked after a beat.

“Oh, Thorin.” Bilbo sighed, moving to pull away.

“No, Bilbo! Tell me. Please.”

Bilbo’s eyes were still watery as he looked up at Thorin unwavering. 

“I’m still in love with you.”

It was like Thorin’s world suddenly tilted off its axis. Somehow he was both gliding across the ice and falling hard. It was something too glorious, too coveted to even be a dream. Eyes wide, and mouth slightly open, Thorin could only stand there as Bilbo continued to plow on. Saying such wonderful things, and he didn’t even realize!

“I know this was just supposed to be professional this time around, but I couldn’t help myself. I’ve just missed you so, so much. I’ve wanted to call you nearly every day since you left, but I never could bring myself to do it. These last few months have been some of the best and worst of my life, because while I get to have you back in my life, I don’t get to have you. ”

“Bilbo…” He spoke the name reverently. Needily. Yet, still the hobbit didn’t get it.

“But I understand that’s not how you feel anymore. This doesn’t have to change anything. I can cork the bottle back up again, so to speak. You just have to give me time to…”

Thorin cut him off as he pulled him in tight, and took his lips for his own. It was nothing like earlier. This was messy and wet and breath-taking as Thorin attempted to pour every ounce of love he possessed for this hobbit into this single act. When they pulled away, both were panting, and just looking at Bilbo’s shining, kiss swollen lips made him want to dive back for more. It was Bilbo’s hesitation that kept him from acting.

“But before…you regretted it.”

“Because I thought I was the one with the unwanted feelings.” Thorin explained.

Bilbo’s chin quivered. “You left me.”

Thorin winced before gently laying his forehead against Bilbo’s own. He should have known that chapter wasn’t truly closed. It was easy to speak of forgiveness, but harder to move past the hurts.

“It hurt me to see you so pained, and to know it was my fault. I couldn’t stand seeing you and being reminded of my own failures. Eventually I was able to convince myself that you would be better off without me.”

Bilbo grabbed his braids as if to tether them both to this moment.

“We were partners! You talk to me about these things, not make decisions for me!” 

“I know that now, lukhudel (light of all lights).”

Bilbo almost seemed to shutter before a calm settled over him.

“There will be long discussions in our future, Thorin, son of Thrain, but for now…I just need you to tell me that you love me in that secret dwarf language of yours and kiss me like that again.”

Thorin smiled as his hands cradled Bilbo’s face. “Of course, mudùmê (my comfort). Amralizu. (I love you.)”

Bilbo curled into him, and Thorin wrapped his arms tightly around him in return as he bent his head and picked up again right where they left off.

***

It was exactly twelve days later that saw Thorin pulling up into a driveway he definitely did not want to be in. For a moment, he just let his head rest against the steering wheel as he sucked in a deep breath and slowly let it go. He absolutely did not want to do this, but after finally being honest with Bilbo, he felt like he owed it to himself to heal this last hurt. Before he could talk himself out of it, he stepped out of the car and walked up to the door. He hesitated once more before knocking heavily three times. He had about twenty seconds to hope that he wasn’t home when the stone door slowly swung in. The dwarf on the other side seemed to be as surprised to see him as Thorin was resigned.

“Thorin.” He stated gruffly.

“Hello, Sigin'adad (Grandfather).”

Sitting on a couch he must have sat on at least a thousand times in his lifetime, Thorin could feel his leg bouncing up and down as Thror returned with a couple of mugs of tea. 

“Milk? Honey?” Thror offered to which Thorin only shook his head as he accepted the plain beverage.

For a long moment, they just sat there in the silence, heavy and oppressive that it was. It became very apparent to him that he no longer knew how to talk to his grandfather. Perhaps that’s why he never picked up his calls. Their entire relationship had been built on Thorin following in his footsteps to become a Worlds ice skating champion. The pressure to maintain the image his grandfather had crafted fractured any warmth that may have existed between them. And after the accident that ended his career the first time, Thorin didn’t think he could bear to hear the condescension from the older dwarf. Yet, here he was. Trying to glue together the pieces on something that may be broken beyond repair.

“I saw that you’re skating again.” Thror gruffly declared.

Thorin tapped his fingers against his mug, unable to bring himself to meet the other dwarf’s eyes as he nodded.

“And with that same hobbit as last time.”

Thorin’s eyes pierced their counterparts as he felt his shoulders tighten.

“Yes. Bilbo is, and always will be, my partner.”

Thror scoffed at this. “You could find plenty of other partners if you weren’t so thick-headed…”

“I don’t want another partner.” Thorin interrupted firmly. “Bilbo is my partner. End of discussion.”

If he had thought the silence had been heavy before it was practically suffocating at this point. Finally, he heaved a huge sigh as he set his tea aside.

“I didn’t come to fight with you.” Thorin admitted.

“What did you come for?”

“I wanted you to know that Bilbo and I qualified for Worlds again.”

Thror didn’t react immediately other than the furrowing of his heavy brow. 

“So I read. Although, your performance was anything but stellar.”

Thorin pinched the bridge of his nose. This is why he didn’t want to come. He knew inevitably it would come back to this. If Thorin wasn’t first, he might as well be last. The thirst for gold. The goldsickness.

“There was…a misunderstanding, but Bilbo and I have gotten it sorted out.”

“The same sort of misunderstanding that had you bleeding out on the ice?”

“It was an accident!” Thorin declared, leaping to his feet. “And one that I’ve only just learned I didn’t cause. I’m done punishing myself about it, and I’m certainly not going to let you hold it over my head that I didn’t win either!”

Thror’s face remained still even as his eyes were blazing. He slowly placed the mug on the side table and got to his feet, all the while holding Thorin captive by his gaze.

“You think this is about winning and legacies? YOU WERE INJURED! There was talk about you not even being able to salvage your eye, and I had to watch as blood dripped down your face while you held tight to your hobbit and know…it was my fault. I put you in the position to begin with.”

Thorin froze as he watched his grandfather’s fists shake at his side. His ears felt like they were ringing, and he wasn’t confident that he actually heard what he thought he just heard. 

“What?” He asked weakly.

Thror shook his head, finally lowering his eyes.

“Thrain, your father, always said I pushed you too hard. Expected too much. But you were just so talented, and you had a fire about you that your father never did, Mahal rest his soul. I thought you would surpass me eventually, and I wanted to get you there as quickly as I could.”

Thorin was horrified to see tears falling down the old dwarf’s cheeks now.

“Sitting there and being unable to do anything more than watch was hard. Seeing how it broke you and stole that fire away…that was harder. And I didn’t know how to help. I didn’t know what I could say to make it better. In fact, I just knew I was actively going to make it worse. And here you are again, about to go back into the heat of battle and I fear you’re more exposed than ever.”

Thror took a hesitant step and another before winding his arms around Thorin and openly crying into his chest. Thorin didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know how to react. The stern, demanding dwarf he always remembered his grandfather as wasn’t this dwarf weeping on his behalf. Slowly, almost as if afraid he would scare him off, Thorin returned the hug.

“Come watch us skate.” Thorin offered softly. “I am different this time. You’re right to say ‘exposed’ because everything about this experience has felt raw in a way that skating never was for me. But maybe that’s good. I’m more aware of my faults now, and I won’t risk Bilbo again like that. I would really…really like you to be there when I skate at Worlds.”

Thror sniffed mightily as he pulled away and gave Thorin a single nod. A small smile pulled at Thorin’s face that was echoed by his grandfather before they both gave the same awkward chuckle. Perhaps Thorin had been wrong. Their bond wasn’t shards of glass needing to be glued back together. It was bent and rusted metal that just needed to be reforged into something better.

***

Bilbo and Thorin arrived at Worlds in high spirits. Everything was exactly as it was the first time they were here. Enough so that it took Thorin aback until Bilbo grabbed his hand, giving it a squeeze and a small kiss. Everything would be fine. Bilbo and Thorin were different people than they were the last time they came here. Thorin needed to remember, this was just another skate. Just another routine out on the ice.

They walked down to the locker room, changing into their costumes quickly so they could run through a few of their moves in the warm-up room before they hit the ice. Thranduil passed by the doorway before they could exit, and Bilbo raced off to make his apologies from their previous exchange. Thorin took the moment he had alone to shakily pull out the ring box he had smuggled into his bag. A spur of the moment decision that he hoped didn’t cost him greatly.

He had forged the ring himself all those years ago. It was a simple gold band, but the engravings in it were acorns and oak leaves. He even used very small cuts of garnet for the little acorn caps. On the inside, was simply a phrase Thorin had felt was appropriate at the time. ‘Another chance to fly.’

“Well that went much better than expected.” Bilbo announced as he came back through the door.

Thorin fumbled with the box to get it shut and hidden away as quickly as he could which was in his pocket. Bilbo came into view, not suspecting a thing.

“So he wasn’t a total prick then?” Thorin asked with a weak smirk.

Bilbo shook his head with a soft smile. “No, actually, he apologized to me as well. Both for his words the other day, and his interview after the accident. He said he should never have used his animosity with you and your family to induce a lack of compassion for our situation.”

Thorin screwed his mouth up to the side, not quite sure how he felt about that. There was probably always going to be bad blood between Thranduil and Thorin. However, he could accept his attempt at making amends and let bygones be bygones. 

Everything felt like it was suddenly on fast forward from there. Balin arrived to tell them they were five performances away from their number. Thorin and Bilbo rushed into the warm-up room where they went over their routine that was practically second nature at this point. Then they were being rushed out towards the ice. Thorin turned his eyes away from the elvish pair skating currently and instead looked down at Bilbo with a fond expression. Feeling eyes on him, Bilbo blinked up at him owlishly. It was a look Thorin couldn’t help but lean in and kiss him for it. When he pulled away, Bilbo was pleasantly pink.

“Whatever was that for?”

“For luck.”

“I thought you didn’t believe in luck.” Bilbo teased.

“Couldn’t hurt our chances.” Thorin smirked. 

Bilbo leaned up and pressed his lips against Thorin’s for a second time.

“Third time’s the charm.” Thorin pressed, only for his gut to suddenly drop out from underneath him.

This exchange. It was so oddly reminiscent of their previous venture at Worlds that Thorin actually felt his head spinning. Bilbo was giving him a concerned look and asking him what was wrong, but his voice sounded muffled. Like he was under water. It was all hitting him again. The screams of the crowd, the blood dripping down his face, the cold of the ice against his knees as he knelt next to his unconscious hobbit. People were calling out his name. Thorin! Thorin! 

“Thorin.”

He was finally able to focus enough to see Bilbo’s concerned eyes looking up at him.

“We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. We’ve already accomplished so much. We can wait a few years and try again. You don’t have to push yourself.”

Thorin could see the logic in Bilbo’s words, and there was a part of him that wanted to jump on the offer. He had gone from not even being able to stand on the ice to skating their routine like it was second nature. He had nothing to prove. Not to Gandalf, not to Balin, not to Thranduil, not to his grandfather. But perhaps he still had something left to prove to himself. 

Thorin accepted the ice water soaked towel from Balin, letting the coldness ground him back into the present. He took several deep breaths in and out. Focusing on the techniques Oin gave him when he starts to feel overwhelmed. When he looked back at Bilbo, he could see the hobbit was still hesitant. Slowly, he pressed his forehead against Bilbo’s own. 

“Let’s do this. Another chance to fly.” 

Bilbo seemed to relax against him after that, giving him a hum of approval. That’s when they were called out onto the ice. Thorin took a couple of laps before taking up his starting position next to Bilbo. He spent the next moment, before the track began, to banish every last thought out of his head. The accident, his grandfather in the audience, Azog, Thranduil, one by one they disappeared until the only thing left was Bilbo and their performance.

The music began, and when Thorin took his first step, he was no longer skating. His skate was making contact with the ice, but it was like he was on another plane of existence. Completely isolated…except for Bilbo. Their eyes met as Thorin put his hands on his hips for the twist lift, and he knew in that moment that Bilbo felt it too. It was with no hesitation that he tossed Bilbo into the air, sending him flying, only to wait with a sort of calm he’s never had before as waited for Bilbo to return to his arms. Confident that this time, this time, he would without mishap.

***

Bilbo and Thorin were breathless as they were rushed to the Kiss and Cry. They were giggling like children, and their hands were firmly connected as they awaited their scores. Thorin turned to Bilbo, and the hobbit smiled up at him.

“No matter what happens, I’m proud of you.” 

Thorin placed a kiss on the back of Bilbo’s hand. “Proud of us .”

Bilbo shot him a dazzling smile back as there was a hush surrounding them. Gandalf and Balin both pointed their attention to the monitor as their scores came in. Thorin’s eyes widened in shock as there was a roar from the crowd. Bilbo threw his arms around Thorin’s neck, laughing in amazement. They actually did it. They just won Worlds.

“We did it.” He whispered.

“We did it.” Bilbo agreed with a soft smile, and something deeper, heavier hanging in his eyes.

Everything just seemed to click right into place, and Thorin felt himself gasping as he realized this was the right moment. A perfect moment. The ring box seemed to be pressing against his leg as if in reminder of where he placed it, and he practically fumbled with it in his hurry to release it. He fell to one knee, Bilbo’s eyes wide, as he presented the ring. Right there, in front of everyone. Bilbo gaped wordlessly for a long agonizing moment as he shakily reached out for the ring. His answer, on the other hand, couldn’t have been more sure.

He said yes, Thorin was flying again.