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Chapter Text

The hobbit stood in the middle of the battlefield. He did not know where to go, where his dwarves might be. Everywhere he heard the screams of orcs, goblins, elves, dwarves, and men. Cries of anger and despair. The sounds of metal hitting metal and dead and wounded bodies falling. 

Bilbo was disoriented, and only the ring of invisibility protected him from becoming a direct target. This does not mean that he was safe. The battle was everywhere, and sometimes the hobbit had to dodge random blows and swings that flew too close for comfort. He had to constantly monitor the trajectory of others' movements to avoid accidental blows and, preferably, not to catch a stray arrow. 

He had one goal: to find his dwarves. He had to alert them to the second wave of orcs led by Bolg, son of Azog, and help them in any way he could. There was only one problem with this plan — he didn't know where to go or where to look for them. Bilbo decided to find a high point to survey the battlefield and get his bearings.

Looking up, he saw the slopes of Ravenhill. There were banners there, directing and ordering the army to the enemy. Near them stood a pale Orc. Bilbo knew where Azog the Defiler was, where Thorin would go, and where the Company would support him. If they were still alive. He did not want to think about it. Not now.

He had a goal. He just had to get there. Fortunately, his training with Dvalin hadn't gone to waste. He dodged and avoided danger, using his height and agile legs. 

He climbed Ravenhill. There was silence, as if there were no orcs here. He saw Dvalin first, and when he ran up, also saw Torin. Alive. Where are the princes? They are always with Thorin.

“Where is that foul orc?” Thorin said under his breath.

Bilbo remembered the ring and quickly took it off: “Thorin!”

“Bilbo?” It was a happy voice. It was not Thorin who tried to throw him off the wall. This was his Thorin with clear eyes.

“We have to go. Now. Azog has another army coming in a second wave from the north. This observation tower will be completely surrounded. We'll have no way out.” 

“We're so close,” Dwalin interjected, “That orc scum is out there. I say we advance.”

“No.” King grabbed the dwarf's arm. “That's what he wants. He wants to lure us in.”

Realization and horror flashed through Thorin's eyes.

“It's a trap.” Anxiety rose in his throat, “Find Fili and Kili. Call them back.”

“Thorin, are you sure about this?”

“Do it.” He turned his gaze to the tower where the boys had disappeared. “We'll have to fight another day.”

Bilbo's heart skipped a beat as the drums sounded and the lights in the tower came on. A pale Orc, Azog the Defiler, came into view. He had a terrible, wild smile on his lips. As he came closer, one could see that he was dragging something with his right hand. It was Fili. Azog was dragging him by the hair to the edge.

Bilbo's heart sank. He did not know what to do. He would not make it. They had no time. He could only stand tense and stare at Fili. Then he saw Kili. He was down below. The orcs hadn't noticed him yet, thank Yavanna.

Azog lifted the battered Fili into the air as if he weighed nothing. That wild, triumphant smile of satisfaction never left his lips. It chilled his whole body. The only worse thing was the doomed look in Fili's eyes when they met. He had resigned himself to death. The bright and cheerful dwarf, who could always make them laugh, now looked at them with a face full of pain and doom.

“He will die first,” Azog began, shaking Fili off as proof of his words, “Then brother. Then you. You will be the last to die, Thorin Oakenshield.”

Fili wanted to scream something, but the sound got stuck in his throat and turned into a cry of pain. Azog pierced him through with the sword attached to his stump. Dwalin looked away, unable to bear to see the young prince die.

A painful wail escaped Bilbo's lips. He watched bitterly as Azog pulled out the blade and threw the prince down to Kili. This moment snapped everyone out of their trance. Kili ran upstairs screaming. He was followed by Thorin and Dwalin. Bilbo, putting on the ring, rushed to Fili. 

Please live. Breathe. Don't you dare die. Bilbo ran up and knelt down by the beaten body. He heard him letting out a gasp of air. He was alive. There is still hope. He could still save him.

“Oh, Green Lady, Yavanna, give me the strength to save him. He is my family. Let me take away his pain.”

Bilbo, like every hobbit, had the magic of healing given by their Mother. He concentrated on the prince's wounds. He summoned all his strength. The hobbit put his hand to the wound, which was bleeding profusely, and began to heal it. Terrible pain shook his body, but he did not stop and continued. Until the wound in his front was covered with a pink scar, and Fili began to breathe more freely. Bilbo let out a groan of pain. The blow was no longer through and through, but he could not continue. He had to stop and find another healer. His whole body ached, and he was dizzy. Every second of healing felt like an eternity. Disoriented, he turned around and looked for others. Someone. Somebody help.

But there was a battle going on everywhere. Orcs were coming at Thorin in a constant flood, and Legolas was shooting them down. He could hear Tauriel and Kili fighting nearby. Tauriel.

Bilbo ran toward the sounds of the fight. They were battling on the lower levels against a pale orc who looked very much like Azog. Bolg. Azog's son and a strong warrior. They were overpowered. Bilbo ran with all his might toward them. The Sting was firmly in his hand when he swept behind Bolg and slashed at his legs. Not expecting an attack from an invisible enemy, he staggered, losing his balance. Tauriel rushed at him, but he easily tackled her and threw her into the wall, hitting the hobbit as well.

Bilbo could barely think from the pain when Tauriel flew into him. She didn't even notice because she was too terrified by the scene before her eyes. Bolg was holding Kili with his warhammer raised, intending to pierce the prince with the sharp handle. 

The hobbit took one of Nori's throwing knives from his belt and threw it at the orc. Time seemed to drag on in slow motion, and he was horrified to see the sharp handle enter Kili's chest.

Tauriel screamed in a voice full of pain. He was too late. Too slow. His knife found its target, entering the head of the surprised orc smoothly. He let go of Kili and began to fall to his side, lifeless. It was still too late.

Bilbo took off the ring and rushed to Kili. Tauriel followed him, wondering where he had come from. Kili was breathing, but with a whistle. His lungs. Not his heart. He can work with that. 

“Tauriel. Tauriel!” The elf looked up at him with tearful eyes. “I need you to go to Fili. He needs help. Bring him here. I will begin the healing.”

“But…”

“There is no time! I'm begging you to help him, and I'll start here.”

Tauriel nodded, kissed Kili's forehead, and left.

Bilbo concentrated. He was already in pain, but he could not leave his Little Raven. Pulling himself together, he directed his strength to the prince. The pain pierced his whole body. Tears were streaming down his cheeks, and a groan was coming out of his mouth. He cannot do it. He has no more strength. But he couldn't stop. Not now. He didn't care about the cost. He'll save him. He would at least do what he could. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Tauriel and Legolas laying the Little Lion down beside him. Then he allowed himself to stop. He felt dizzy and fell on his back. Tauriel immediately rushed to Kili, who opened his eyes. They held each other for a few seconds before Tauriel let go and concentrated on treating him. Through the agony, Bilbo stood up wobbly.

“I…” his voice was failing him. “I will find Thorin. Do not let them die.”

The elves only nodded in acknowledgment. Bilbo put the ring back on and staggered to the place where he had last seen Thorin. He could barely move his feet, but he still made it to the icy waterfall. Thorin and Azog were circling each other on a broken ice block. But something was wrong. The hobbit's eyes widened. Thorin fought without concern for his safety. As if he had nothing else to live for. He thinks the princes are dead. He is in despair.

Bilbo was slowly approaching them. He was of no help in his condition, but he was moving on anyway. The cries of the Eagles distracted Azog for a second. This moment was enough for Thorin to throw the orc into the icy water. A victory? The blood was pounding in his ears. 

Thorin walked on the ice and looked down at his feet. A scream of pain broke the silence around him. Azog burst out from under the ice, now without his sledgehammer on the chain. He rushed at Thorin, knocking him onto his back. The dwarf blocked with his sword-stump, but he did not have the strength to hold the orc's pressure and all his weight. Bilbo looked at the scene in horror. He had no more throwing knives left. He looked at the Sting. It might work. It would either hit the orc or distract him long enough for Thorin to escape. 

The hobbit threw his sword with all his might. The blue blade dug into the orc's side. He growled in pain and turned toward Bilbo, even though he was still protected by the ring. The pressure on Thorin lessened, giving him a chance to slip out from under the orc and chop off his head. Bilbo breathed a sigh of relief and took off the ring, becoming visible again.

A surprised look found the hobbit, and King began to move toward him. Bilbo shook his head, swallowing down the nausea, and pointed in the direction of the wounded.

“They are alive…” That was enough for Thorin. He jumped up and ran to his nephews as fast as he could with his injured leg.

Bilbo, having no more strength, fell to his knees. Agony now completely clouded his eyes. The world went black.

Chapter Text

When Thorin heard that his nephews were alive, he ran as fast as he could in the direction indicated. He saw Tauriel sitting over the princes and muttering to herself. Thorin knelt down beside them and began to stroke their hair, saying how glad he was that they were alive and holding on. 

“Legolas ran to get help. The halfling and I did everything we could. He should be back soon.”

As if on cue, Gandalf came rushing around the corner, followed by Thranduil. He was not very happy to see Elvenking, but the lives of Fili and Kili were more important. 

“My king, Mithrandir, they were mortally wounded, but the halfling somehow brought them back from the brink of death, and I have been supporting them with my strength ever since.”

Thranduil gracefully sat down beside the wounded and extended his hand for treatment. Tharkûn, on the other hand, was very concerned by what he heard.

“Where is the hobbit? Where is Bilbo?” The fear in the wizard's voice worried Thorin.

“He is behind m…” he turned around to check on his Burglar, but he was not there. “He was behind me. On the ice, he said about the boys, and I rushed over. Tharkûn? What is it?

“We need to find him now. If I understand correctly, he's dying alone right now.”

Gandalf took off in the direction Thorin pointed. King stood up and limped after him. He saw Tharkûn crouch down beside a small body that did not move and showed no signs of life. Thorin's heart was breaking. Was he so blind that he did not see that Bilbo was wounded? It was his fault. After the battle with Azog, he should have asked his One if he was okay. But he did not even look at him to see that something was wrong. He did not even notice that Bilbo was not there. What if Tharkûn had not come? How much time would have passed before he would have noticed the absence of his One?

 The wizard pointed his hand at Bilbo, and it began to glow white. Tharkûn was concentrating for a few minutes, then he gently took the hobbit in his arms and muttered to himself. As he walked by, Thorin saw the wizard's mournful face and the way his hands were shaking. How bad was it? Is he alive?

“Gandalf…”

He continued to walk toward Thranduil.

“He is still alive, but barely. I've given him first aid, but we need to get all three of them to a healer as soon as possible. Thranduil, please, heal our hobbit as well. I'm not sure my skills are enough to keep him alive.”

The Elvenking nodded and did as he was asked. Tauriel took Kili, and Legolas — Fili.

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Oin and the elves had been working on the princes and the Burglar for several hours. Occasionally, quite disturbing shouts came from the medical tent. Thorin would jump up and, after a while, sit back down to wait. Gandalf still hasn't said anything. He was already on his wits' end to have at least a little bit of information. The part of the Company that did not need medical care came to express their sympathy and set up a small camp nearby. He could have gone to them. They could see the tent from there, but Torin couldn't leave. He could not leave them. Leave Bilbo again. So he sat on a barrel and waited for news, praying to Mahal.

A few hours later, Gandalf came out to them. Everyone jumped up and gathered around him, echoing: “Well?”, “For Mahal's sake”, “How are they?”, “Don't be silent”. The whole Company was agitated.

“Atkât!” [Silence] Thorin ordered. “Gandalf, tell us how they are.” 

The wizard took a breath, either to find the right words or to make it more dramatic. The wizard had always loved the dramatics. He looked around the Company, weighing his thoughts.

“Fili and Kili are stable and are now in a medical sleep. They should wake up within the next two days. Bilbo, on the other hand. Our Burglar is in a terrible condition. Nothing definite can be said now. We can only wait. The next few days will be crucial to his survival.”

“Tharkûn, why did you get so worried when the elf said something about hobbit magic? Where did she get the idea that he was a healer?”

The wizard looked around, as if checking to see if anyone was listening. 

“Not many people know about the healing magic of hobbits. Not only because they don't like outsiders, but also because they hardly ever use it themselves. You see, their healing magic is different from mine or the elves'. Their Goddess, Yavanna, gave them magic, but they have to pay a price to use it.”

“A price? What does that mean?”

“They call it “taking away pain”. If hobbits use it, it is only for minor injuries or inconveniences. Most often, they heal fawns. They take the pain on themselves, and then it with the injury is fully transferred to the healer. It is very useful when an infant has colic, and you can take away their pain.”

“So you mean that the injury that is being healed is transferred to the hobbit?” Thorin turned pale.

“Yes.”

“So Bilbo is in this state because he took away the pain of the princes and now has the same wounds?”

“Not exactly. But the direction is right. Our Burglar took away not just a scratch, but most likely a fatal wound. He healed Fili partially, as best he could without killing himself. And then Kili. Fortunately, Kili's wound was not so fatal from the beginning. That is, he and the princes have partially fatal wounds. The difference is that Bilbo has two. I can't imagine how such pain feels. You'll have to ask Bilbo himself.”

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Thorin was finally allowed to visit them. He looked at his nephews with pain. They almost died because of him. He led them into a trap. He had fallen into Azog's hands, and now they lay mangled in his place. 

Finally, he approached his hobbit. He looked terrible. Pale as a ghost. Only the faint rise of his chest indicated that he was still alive. Thorin looked over his wounds, from the cut on his temple to the wound on his chest that mirrored Kili's. He lingered on the neck. On the blue neck with his handprint. He had tried to kill his One. Thorin looked away, ashamed.

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A few more days passed, and Bilbo did not wake up. Fili and Kili were already conscious most of the time. When they learned about the hobbit's magic, they felt terribly guilty. The princes promised themselves that they would apologize to Burglar. 

Thorin was always by their side. He was even given a bed because he refused to leave his nephews or his One. Meetings with Balin and resolving problems also took place in the ward. Only occasionally did he have to fulfill his duty outside the medical tent. Oin's eye was already twitching from the king's questions. The only joy was that he did not leave the tent, so his leg was also healing well.

The Company visited constantly and did not allow the young princes to be sad for too long. They did not know what to do with the usually cheerful young lads. Now, although they smiled and joked, the smile did not reach their eyes. They tried not to leave them in their thoughts for long. Everyone suspected that the change in behavior was due to the proximity of their deaths. And of course, Bilbo's sacrifice, which might still cost him his life. 

Oin tried to remain optimistic, but hobbit's temperature began to rise and he could not do much about it. He could only wait and hope that their Burglar would show them his strength and stubbornness again. He also pretended not to see Thorin taking Bilbo's hand and wiping his sweat with a cool cloth.

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A little over a month has passed since the Battle of the Five Armies. 

They have a new routine. Fili and Kili were allowed to walk around the room a little bit. They took turns sitting by the unconscious hobbit's bedside, talking about nothing in particular. They just filled the silence so that he would not feel lonely. Sometimes they would apologise with tears while their uncle was away for business. This happened more and more often due to the active restoration of the Kingdom, which required constant supervision. 

As winter approached, as soon as the hobbit was more or less stable after his fever, they moved up the mountain to the royal infirmary. In actuality, they had simply organized a room that could accommodate not only them, but everything they needed or might need. Even a table for Thorin. It was a spacious room that could hold the entire Company when Bilbo would wake up.

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Today was a bad day. Bilbo's temperature rose during the night, which worried Oin and the royal family. The Company did not know. The fever fell by morning, and no one wanted to worry the others.

Fili and Kili always felt very guilty when Bilbo got even a little worse. Thorin, as much as he didn’t want to leave his One after an anxious night, had to. Negotiations with Dale would not happen by themselves.

“You must be careful, Mr. Boggins. Our hearts can’t take it,” Fili said with a crooked, fake smile. “You have to fight and wake up.” 

“If only we had been more careful. If only we hadn't fallen into the trap. If only we hadn’t rushed into battle without thought or caution. 

“If only... if only I had died from a blow or a fall. You wouldn’t have sacrificed yourself.” There were quiet, muffled sobs. 

“Come back to us. Smile at us. We miss your smile so much.” 

The brothers took Bilbo's hand, “We miss you. Please.”

They calmed down a little. They had to stop and fix themselves up so that no one would see them in this state. Pulling himself together, Fili leaned down to touch Bilbo’s forehead, but stopped. Something was wrong. Had something changed? His breathing? Fever? Expression? A tear. A wet teardrop glistened on his temple. They rushed to the guard outside the door, despite the unpleasant, lingering pain in their fresh wounds.

“Get Oin over here. Now.”

Oin, despite his age, came running within minutes, panicking that Bilbo was getting worse. He had a bag with additional equipment and medicines. The crying faces of the princes did not help calm the anxiety. 

“Tell me what happened,” the Company's doctor asked sternly as he began to examine the wounded.

“Bilbo…”

“He started crying. We saw a tear on his temple.” Finished for his brother Kili.

Oin raised an eyebrow as he looked the young princes up and down. Then he turned his attention back to their Burglar. He examined him more calmly and saw confirmation of the boys’ words. After completing the checkup, he took a calm breath and announced that their hobbit was fine.

“What did you do to make an unconscious hobbit cry?” He looked at them with a metal tone in his eyes. He was not pleased.

“We… I… We…” Kili opened his mouth in panic, like a fish on land, casting a pleading look at his older brother.

“We told him how he scared us last night and how much we missed him.” Fili’s voice dropped to a whisper as he stared at the floor.

Oin looked them over closely and nodded.

“Good. Good. That's good. That's progress. Maybe he'll wake up within a few days.”

Fili's and Kili's eyes brightened as a smile touched them. The first genuine smile since the battle. They almost jumped on the spot with happiness.

But Oin interrupted their joy. He sat the princes down and checked their bandages. Kili's was a little loose, but Fili's was drawing a little blood. He took care of them in silence with ointments and bandages.

“You need to be careful. You shouldn't be on your feet for a long time, let alone run across the room to the guard,” Oin said sternly. “We don't want to throw Bilbo's work into disarray, do we?”

The young dwarves lowered their heads and shook their heads. Oin had found this lever for the Sons of Durin at the beginning of his treatment. It was the only thing that helped keep these muttonheads under control. The healer gave them permission to approach the hobbit again after resting and talk to him. Perhaps this will serve as an impulse to guide a friend to them.

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Soon, almost the whole Company knew about the good news. They sent a messenger to Dale to tell Thorin, Balin, and Dwalin.

The room was filled with happy dwarves. After a long argument and the timely arrival of Thorin, who ordered everyone to shut up, they created a schedule to stay with Bilbo. Everyone had their own time to sit and talk with him. This system allowed them not to leave Bilbo alone and not to disrupt the work schedules. 

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All the dwarves took their task responsibly. Now Bombur was sitting next to the hobbit. He came with his lunch. Dwarf did not stop and continued grumbling about the lack of time in the kitchen, or about the empty-headed assistants.

“Оh! I baked a wonderful pie today! With caramelized apples. Fili isn't very pleased about it!” Bombur laughed and continued to talk enthusiastically about the recipe, its nuances and subtleties, and how delicious it looked and smelled. “I think you would like it, because I also found cinnamon.”

“Soun’s deli’ous,” a quiet voice muttered in response. The gaze flicked open to meet Bombur's shocked eyes, and a faint smile spread across hobbit's lips.

“Bilbo!” Bombur jumped up, drawing the attention of everyone in the room.

In a moment, everyone was at the hobbit's bedside. Someone ordered that Oin be found immediately, and another rushed for water. The room burst into activity. Fili and Kili asked him how he was feeling and if he was in pain. Bilbo didn't have a chance to say a word. So he tried to raise his right hand, which was close to the boys. He wanted to touch them. To reassure them. But he didn't even have the strength to lift it off the bed. He couldn't reach them.

“Is something wrong, Bilbo? Do you need anything?” Fili noticed the movement and, concerned, took the hand that was reaching out to them. Their eyes glistened with unshed tears and anxiety. He didn’t know what they could do except hold his hand.

“ ‘on't worry,” Bilbo smiled softly and stroked the prince’s hand reassuringly with his thumb. That was all he could do at that moment. “Everything’s fine. ‘m okay.”

These words brought tears to the eyes of the princes and perhaps others in the Company. They knew how devastated Fili and Kili were to learn what Bilbo had done for them. Bilbo did not let them go. He held Fili and calmed him with gentle movements. He was very tired, but he had to hold on a little longer. Just a little longer.

Oin rushed into the room, out of breath, and shooed everyone away from the bed. Fili thought to leave, but Bilbo was still holding him, and without a healer's direct order, the prince wouldn't take his hand away.

“Well, lad, you scared us. How are you feeling?” Oin listened to Bilbo’s lungs and heart. But he didn't hear any abnormalities.

“I’ve been better.” The thief swallowed the lump in his throat and continued, “It's like I’m meat on a hook, ready for cooking.” 

Bilbo couldn't help smiling, and some of the dwarves masked their laughter with a cough. 

“I see you still have a sharp tongue. What’s the last thing you remember?”

“Ravenhill. Eagles. Thorin killed Azog.”

It was still difficult for him to speak, and hobbit was given water again. With each passing moment, his blinking slowed. He no longer had the strength to hold on. His whole body ached, and he simply wanted peaceful oblivion, to sleep through this pain. He needed to sleep. He couldn't think about anything else. He didn't even notice when he slipped into slumber, despite the dwarves' conversations above him. They didn't immediately notice that their hobbit was asleep. Their conversation turned into whispers. They were happy to hear Bilbo's voice and began to bombard Oin with questions. Oin was already getting annoyed, because not only were they all talking at once, but they were asking the same questions over and over again. On top of that, they wouldn't even let him get a word in.

“Atkât! [Silence!] Oin, how's our hobbit?”

“Thank you. He's fine. He has no brain damage, and he remembers what happened. Humor is always a good sign. He will need a lot of physical therapy, but he will pull through and make a full recovery. Right now, he's just sleeping. Not the kind of sleep he had before. It's normal. He will sleep a lot, but over time, he will be able to wake up more easily and stay alert longer. Now we need to do what we did before. Just give him some time to rest without talking. I don't know what his appetite will be like now, but even if he doesn't feel like eating, he needs to eat. He's already skin and bones. We mustn't let it get worse. Now tell me how he woke up and what happened while I was running.

Everyone looked at Bombur because he was the first to alert them that Bilbo had awoken. And so they gradually informed the Company's doctor about what had transpired.

“Of course, our hobbit awoke at the mention of food preparation,” Balin chuckled. “Perhaps our approach was incorrect. We should have talked to him more about food, rather than how the day went and the restoration of Erebor.”

“Or books!” Kili laughed. “Ori would have handled that easily. They always talked during the journey.”

This greatly lifted the spirits of the Company. Everyone cheerfully discussed possible topics to wake Bilbo. But Oin stopped the commotion to give their Burglar some rest. It was impossible with such noise in the chambers. And the princes needed to rest and take their medicine. They had been on their feet for too long, overexcited. And the King could use some rest, too.

Chapter Text

As Oin said, Bilbo slept a lot in the early days, but over time his periods of alertness began to increase, as did his appetite. Although his appetite was not yet what it had been, it was still not bad. Almost always, someone from the Company was in the room. Most often, it was Dwalin or Balin who worked with Thorin all the time. 

Fili and Kili were now able to move around and walk long distances without getting scolded by their healer. But Bilbo was still unable to talk to Thorin alone, or to the princes. 

The only more or less private conversation with Thorin was when he apologized profusely for what had happened on the walls of Erebor, as well as for leaving Bilbo alone on Ravenhill. Bilbo also apologized for stealing Arkenstone, but Thorin would not hear of it. He just kept repeating that it was a desperate act of a true friend.

But after that, they never spoke again. Thorin just stared at the hobbit from his “office” and occasionally asked how he was feeling.   

It was a bit more difficult to catch Kili and Fili for a serious talk. As if sensing a difficult conversation, they either ran out of the room or changed the subject. 

But their luck couldn't last long, and the conversation should have taken place long ago. Bilbo woke up when only Fili and Kili were in the room. He couldn't miss such an opportunity. He didn't know when such a chance would come again, or when Thorin would return.

“Fili. Kili. We need to talk. Come here, please.” Despite the hobbit's sweet smile as he sat up a little higher on the bed, his eyes were serious. This time, there was nowhere for them to run, and no one to save them from the difficult conversation they had been so diligently avoiding.

The princes rose from the bed and exchanged glances. They looked like beaten puppies in the rain as they walked toward him.  

“Bilbo!” Fili said with false cheerfulness. “We were going to the kitchen. Would you like anything on the way?”  

“Don’t even think about it, boy. You won’t get out of this so easily. Sit down.”  

“Bilbo...”

“No. I'll do the talking. While I was sleeping, I heard some of the dwarves talking from time to time. Even though I couldn't wake up completely, I could still hear them. At one point, two muttonheaded dwarves sat down next to me and started talking nonsense. Can you remind me what they were talking about?” Bilbo asked menacingly. The princes lowered their eyes and couldn’t answer. They knew where the hobbit was going, but they couldn't say it out loud. “If I remember correctly, it was something about how I shouldn't have chosen to save my family, but should have let them die. One of them said he would rather have died from his wounds or from falling.”

Bilbo's voice broke. He breathed in and out as calmly as possible. Now was not the time to give in to emotions. The young dwarves sat on either side, afraid to look up at the angry hobbit.

“Bilbo, you... You are hurt because of us. All because we were not strong enough and careless. You are in this state because of us and our recklessness.”

“Recklessness!? You fell into Azog's trap. Thorin also realized this too late. And I couldn't watch you bleed to death. I couldn't watch you die. I used the magic given to me by Yavanna. And I would do it a hundred times over if it meant you would survive. I didn't care about the pain or that I might die. I wanted to do everything in my power to save you. I couldn't do much, but I could take away the worst. Never say I made a mistake. Never say you should have died there, in that fucking tower.”

He was fuming when he finished. He didn't say it the way he wanted to. Yavanna will witness that he rehearsed in his head how this conversation would go and how he would assure the boys that they were worth dying for and worth living for. But when they approached him, broken, he lost the train of thought he had been practicing.

“I don't regret saving you. I don't want you to regret it either.”

Bilbo reached out to the tearful Kili and Fili, who were barely holding back their emotions. They cautiously fell into Bilbo's arms. The three hugged each other carefully so as not to disturb each other's wounds. Bilbo was glad that he had lost so much weight and that the dwarves had such large beds. Although it was cramped, they all fit together. He hoped that the boys would feel better after talking and after they had cried themselves out. There was no need to keep so many emotions bottled up inside.

Gradually, the dwarves' breathing evened out, and they fell asleep. Bilbo looked at them with a quiet smile. Gently stroking their hair, he followed them. 

When Thorin returned, he was surprised to see such a sight. His heart was filled with warmth. He didn't want to interrupt the moment, so he slipped out again unnoticed.  

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 Bilbo gradually recovered and was now able to walk slowly around the room. Out of boredom, he was ready to climb the walls. He was forbidden to do almost everything.  

He was left alone more and more often. Thorin, who never had a moment's peace, set up a proper office for himself, rather than just a small table in their room. But from time to time, he still brought documents with him that needed to be reviewed. 

The princes were given permission to move around Erebor, which made them very happy. They couldn't help with the reconstruction of the kingdom, but that didn't stop them from wandering around and often stealing something tasty from the kitchen, where Bombur pretended not to notice how the plate of cookies was growing empty.

Ori, thank Yavanna, noticed the hobbit's restlessness and found him books to read from the huge library. Although most of the volumes were in Khuzul, the young scribe dug up a few in Westron on cooking, dwarf culture and history. He knew Bilbo loved to read about these topics. They had discussed them many times during their journey.

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Bilbo's hair had grown so long that it was constantly getting in the way, and every day he wanted more and more to find the scissors that the dwarves were carefully hiding from him and make himself look presentable. Not only did he not know how to braid his own hair, but it also hurt to hold his arms up so high for a long time.

A few weeks ago, Bilbo asked Thorin to have dinner with him. It wasn't much, but it was something. The dwarf couldn't refuse him when he said that he was sad to eat alone and that he was worried about Thorin, who worked too hard. How could he refuse his One, with his big eyes and bright smile? And Thorin kept his word. Maybe not very punctually, but he always came to dinner.

During the meal, Bilbo dared to start the conversation. It could go perfectly or turn into a disaster. He hoped for the former.

“Thorin... May I ask you for a favor?”

The dwarf stiffened and looked up at Bilbo.

“Of course. Are you lacking something?”

“No, that’s not it. My hair is very long, and I have no idea how to take care of it. I was wondering if you could braid it for me? So it doesn’t get in the way.” Thorin stared at his One as if he had grown a second head. His spoon froze halfway to his mouth. Blushing slightly, the hobbit continued: “If it’s not too much trouble, of course. I just wanted to ask you, not someone from the Company.”

“Y-yes. It's no problem. When would you like to do it?”

“If possible, after we eat. I’d like to do it now, but it wouldn’t be right to let the food get cold. Food is always better hot.”

Thorin just shook his head, at a loss for words. Bilbo hid a satisfied smile in his plate. He didn't miss how flustered Thorin was and how red his ears had turned. Although he guessed that he himself was pretty red too.

After dinner, the dwarf took their plates and cleared the table. He placed a chair next to the table so that Bilbo could sit down, and the oils and comb were within reach on the table. The hobbit sat down and waited patiently for Thorin to begin. He could sense his hesitation, but after a long breath, he began to comb his hair. 

He didn’t know how much time had passed because Thorin's careful, gentle hands had put him into a trance. Bilbo was almost sure that he had dozed off somewhere in between. Who would have thought that the King under the Mountain could be so gentle?

“There. I've secured your hair with my beads. You can keep them.”

“Thank you,” Bilbo said, running his fingers carefully through the mysterious, intricate braid that incorporated several of Thorin's beads. “It feels very nice. When it comes undone, I will definitely come to you.”

The hobbit stood up, turning around. He took the dwarf's hand and squeezed it gently with gratitude.

“Later, I'll make your favorite honey scones,” Bilbo said with a broad smile. He didn't let go of his hand right away. He wanted to keep touching it as long as possible, but he had to let go. Pleased, he went back to his bed and lay down. He had sat too long on the wooden chair, and his injuries were hurting again. Bilbo immersed himself in reading again, not noticing that he was smiling and fiddling with the end of his braid. 

——————————

The company immediately noticed Bilbo's new hairstyle. They were very happy for the two of them. It was about time. Everyone had seen the looks they gave each other and how they cared for one another. 

Fili and Kili took to calling Bilbo Irak'adadith [Small Uncle]. Balin began to hold lessons for the princes in the medical room and invited Bilbo to attend so that he would not be so bored. He did not say that this information would be useful to him as the future Consort under the Mountain. 

Thorin still braids Bilbo's hair from time to time and pretends that it means nothing, and Bilbo pretends not to know the meaning.

——————————

Finally, Oin allowed Bilbo to go to the kitchen or the library. Everyone was very worried, but the hobbit assured them that he was not made of glass and that he would mostly be sitting down anyway.

He couldn't wait to make a gift for Thorin finally. As promised, he set about baking honey scones. Thorin has a sweet tooth, and Bilbo is taking advantage of that.

It took a long time, and Bilbo had to sit down several times to reduce the strain on his injuries, but he finished just before dinner. He had planned to finish earlier, but this was even better. Now they would still be warm when he presented them to Thorin.

He was very nervous as he walked into the room. He was glad to see Thorin already at the table with two plates of stewed potatoes and meat. The delicious smells of dinner and baking intertwined, filling the room. Bilbo gave Thorin a broad smile, which Thorin returned. They both enjoyed this routine. They talked a lot about everything and nothing during and after dinner. Bilbo felt so close to Thorin at moments like these.

When they had finished their meal and the conversation had settled into a pleasant silence, Bilbo took courage and picked up the plate of scones again. He looked at Thorin, taking a deep breath. He was very nervous, but there would be no better moment.

“Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thrain, son of Thror, King under the Mountain, I, Bilbo Baggins of the Shire, present you with my gift of courtship. Will you accept it?”

Large blue eyes darted between the scones in Bilbo's hands and the face of his One. He was shocked, but he had known the answer to that question for a long time. His lips spread into a happy smile.  

“Bilbo Baggins of the Shire, I accept your gift and return it in kind.”  

The hobbit put the plate on the table and stood up. In two steps, he reached Thorin and stood before him. Bilbo took Thorin's face in his hands and gently stroked his cheek with his finger, and King leaned into his palm. Without wasting any time, he tilted his beloved's head up and pressed his lips to his. It was a short, soft, but long-awaited first kiss.

Thorin sat him on his lap. Bilbo didn't mind. His whole body ached from standing on his feet all day. The dwarf pressed his forehead against the hobbit's and stilled.

“You are going to make the next move,” whispered Bilbo. “I've already made three. Now it's your turn.”

“Three? The gift and the kiss, that's two, Master Baggins. You've miscounted.”

“Oh no. Braid. I had to literally hand you the comb so you would finally do something.” 

“Braid? Do you know what it means?” 

"Thorin, Ori gave me a book about your culture. Of course, I knew. I didn't want to sit there anymore and watch you glance at me across the room. I had a whole chain of events planned. First, dinner. Time just for the two of us. By the way, this is also part of hobbit courtship, but I don't count it because I didn't cook the food. When my hair was long enough, I only had to complain a few times to put the next plan into action. I asked you to braid my hair. I was worried you would refuse, but you blushed and braided my hair that very evening.” Bilbo laughed. The look of shock on Thorin's face was priceless. “I proudly showed everyone in the Company that I belonged to you. Unfortunately, I couldn't come up with a plan to braid you without anyone realizing it. And then Oin finally let me out of the room into the kitchen and the library. The whole mountain knew that I was yours, and you were mine.”

“You're cunning, Ghivashel [treasure of all treasures]. You've got me wrapped around your finger. Today, you can officially weave me a braid of courtship.”