Chapter Text
As the gold lust left him and reality began to sink in, Thorin realized the gravity of what he had done. He had sent Bilbo away. The betrayal he felt over the Arkenstone had been magnified--not only due to his treasure madness, but also because of his deep feelings for the hobbit. He was only just coming to grips with how fiercely he loved Bilbo...now that it was too late. He had been in denial for months. It seemed a curious thing to him: it was easier to avoid his feelings while he could still keep watch over Bilbo. With his chance taken away from him to act upon his impulses, he was haunted by them. He was never getting another chance. Not now.
Fili and Kili survived but only barely. He had Bilbo to thank for that as well. If the hobbit had not bravely gambled their relationship to form alliances, all would have likely been lost. Thorin was so willing to risk it all and for what? A larger share of the gold? The Arkenstone? A legacy? What good is any of that if those dearest to him would have fallen? If he had fallen? He laughed bitterly. He was the King of Fools. He was lucky that all rational beings did not abandon him after how he behaved. He knew he would carry the guilt of Fili and Kili's subsequent scars and limps with him the rest of his days.
Bilbo did not have the pleasure of knowing he was the Hero Of Erebor. He left immediately after the battle. Even after what he was put through, Bilbo still respected Thorin enough to keep to his command. Those who knew what Bilbo Baggins did were only too pleased to tell his story and it spread like a wildfire. Bilbo had met a dragon and defied a king to save people who were not even his kind--then fought courageously in the subsequent battle! That is to say nothing of the little Shireling creating alliances with Men and Elves to help the Dwarves in spite of themselves. Songs were already being written about him. It deepened Thorin's shame to hear the tales of Bilbo risking all for his friends but Thorin did not begrudge Bilbo any of this. He was filled with too much regret and sorrow to hold any praise against Bilbo. Bilbo deserved it all and Thorin knew it.
Thorin was sick of the sight of himself. He had all the mirrors in his chambers covered. He wept alone each night with shame at what he had done but showed little emotion to anyone else. He could barely meet the eye of any of the former Company. He occupied all his time with plans and negotiations to rebuild Erebor. He tried his hardest to keep his mind busy and off twinkling eyes resting under sandy curls. He worked to exhaustion every day in the hopes that he would not dream. There was nothing pleasant to come from dreams for him, not any longer. They either reminded him of what he could have had or of what he had done. After a particularly nasty nightmare, he sent for word from Gandalf to confirm that Bilbo had made it home safely. Indeed he did, the wizard had eventually written. He continued on to write that Thorin had much for which to atone before he even had the right to say Bilbo's name aloud.
Thorin maintained but merely survived, day by excruciating day. It seemed almost funny to him now how badly he had wanted to win back the mountain and begin this new life. "Life," he thought. "What a joke." This existence. Life meant nothing without his honor. It meant nothing without his pride. It meant nothing without his hobbit.
Thorin approached his largest mirror in front of his dressing table and slowly slid off the sheet that covered it. He looked at himself for the first time in weeks. He was thinner. He had great, dark rings under his eyes. He thought he looked haunted...and he was. He wanted to smash his reflection, unwilling to bear looking himself in the eye. Taking a scissor blade from the table top, he raised it to his neck.
"So it has come to this," Thorin thought with tears in his eyes. "There is nothing more I can do."
He grabbed a large lock of hair and cut it close to the scalp. A tear spilled over. He gathered another section and cut it as well. And another. And another still. He cut all his hair short while he sobbed for forgiveness for the wrongs he had committed. He then balled himself up on his bed and continued to weep to exhaustion.
*****
Some weeks later, Bilbo Baggins answered the door to a package bearing the insignia of the King Of Erebor. He felt his heart fall through the earth and come back around again. He sat the package on his dining table and just stared at it for a quarter hour. He opened it with trembling fingers. There--laid out smooth and soft--was a large, thick bundle of black and grey hair. It contained a braid with a very familiar and unmistakable bead. Bilbo's eyes filled with tears as he opened the accompanying letter. He read the first three words ("Please forgive me") and clutched the letter to his chest. All he could do was cry.