Work Text:
I.
Bilbo ran through the carnage as fast as his feet could carry him over the icy ground. Orcs were falling left and right, but where one went down, two more seemed to appear.
The dwarrow fought valiantly. The elves and the men fought by their side. Thorin, Dwalin, Fíli and Kíli raced to take out the pale orc leader on Ravenhill.
"Thorin must be warned!" Gandalf had said.
"They won't see me."
He ran. Over snow and ice, across the frozen river and up the hill.
"Thorin!"
"Bilbo!"
"This hill is about to be overrun!"
"It's a trap."
He ran, and looked desperately around the ruins.
There. A body on the ground.
Kíli.
"No," he said, and looked around again. "Thorin!"
He turned and ran, still searching. In the distance, he heard a pained scream. When he reached the top of the stairs, he saw them.
Azog, the pale orc, stood above Thorin Oakenshield. Thorin's arms strained from the effort it took to push back against Azog's blade.
Memories came to Bilbo unbidden. Images of trees set ablaze from flaming pinecones, of a fallen king's final stand, of the pale orc going for the kill.
Bilbo ran. He lunged with a cry, and tackled Azog square on. Both slid towards the waterfall's edge.
"Bilbo!"
The hobbit scrambled for purchase. He grabbed at anything he could to stop his momentum and finally managed to get to his feet. He drew Sting and stood before Thorin.
Bilbo glanced back at him just as Azog stepped closer. With one arm, the pale orc knocked Bilbo away.
Thorin came up from behind Bilbo and swung Orcist. Metal sung as Azog's blade was deflected. They spun around one another and struck.
Orcist was embedded in Azog's chest. His eyes were blown wide as the king drove the blade into the ice.
The entire world seemed, to Bilbo, to hold its breath as the King Under The Mountain stood. Then Thorin Oakenshield staggered backwards and fell to his knees.
Bilbo ran to him and saw the snow gathering red.
"What happened?" he demanded.
"He caught me with the small blade," Thorin choked, and he gripped Bilbo's arm. "Bilbo. I am so sorry. I would take back my words and my deeds at the gate. You did what only a true friend would do. Forgive me."
He spasmed and Bilbo held him closer.
"No," he said firmly, trying to press on the wound. "You are not going anywhere. Do you hear me? You are going to live."
Voices called out from across the ruin. "We found some!" one said.
"Over here!" Bilbo shouted.
"Bilbo," Thorin whispered. "I am so sorry that I've led you into such peril."
Bilbo leaned down, gripping Thorin's hand. "I am glad to have shared in these perils, Thorin. Each and every one of them."
"We found them!"
Bilbo looked up to see Dwalin at the top of the stairs.
"Down here!"
II.
"Bilbo," Thorin said as he entered their chambers. "There you are. I've--"
Bilbo snatched the ring behind his back and faced his husband.
"What! Yes. I'm here. What is it?" he said quickly.
Thorin slowed. "I've been looking for you... Are you alright?"
"Yes, quite alright." He shoved the ring into his pocket. He'll put it back later.
"I've come to see you were packed."
"Ah, is it that time already? Yes, I believe I'm quite prepared."
Thorin moved forward and slid his arms around his hobbit’s waist. "Are you sure you don't want me to join you?" he asked.
"I'm only going to pick up young Frodo," Bilbo said. "I will be there and back again before you know it. You stay and be a king."
Thorin sighed. He dropped his forehead to press against Bilbo's. "Soon, I will pass the crown to Fíli," he said, "and we can retire to your books and your trees, or go between as you see fit."
Bilbo closed his eyes and took a deep breath to steady himself. He embraced the scent of minerals and leather, and he smiled. "But not yet," he said. "Now, I will go, and come back with another."
Thorin kissed him softly, longingly.
"Amrâlimê," he whispered, "be safe."
“I will.”
Bilbo left Erebor promptly after breakfast. He planned to make a good headway before second breakfast and was eager to try the tea that Bombur had packed him, the good old dwarf.
When the sun set, the moon found him unsaddling his pony and setting up camp.
“There you are, girl,” he murmured and patted the pony down.
Dinner that night was foraged mushrooms and potatoes roasted over the fire. Bilbo fixed his plate and chuckled to himself over his excitement for such a simple dish. He reached into his pocket to grab—
“Oh…”
His fingers stroked the cold metal. Smooth as sin.
“Oh, I've quite forgotten you there…”
He must've forgotten to leave it behind. It would seem his Ring was coming along, too, then.
III.
Kíli laughed nervously. “Uncle’s going to kill us, isn’t he?”
“Oh yeah,” Fíli deadpanned.
“How’d he even get up there?”
“I don’t know. You were supposed to be watching him.”
“No, you were supposed to be watching him!”
It had only been about three months since Bilbo Baggins returned to Erebor with young Frodo as his charge. The little hobbit seemed to be adjusting well, and Bilbo asked the brothers to keep an eye on him while he explored outside.
The problem was that, well, he had somehow managed to scale a particularly large boulder while the two weren’t looking, and they had no idea how to get him down without injury.
“Master Frodo!” Kíli called.
A curly head peeked over the top of the stone a good ten feet up.
“Are you alright?”
“Yes, Master Kíli! Quite alright. I brought a book to read,” Frodo replied.
Bofur walked up to them then, snacking on some dried meats. “What are you two up to?” he asked.
“Frodo’s up there,” Fíli said.
“Why’d you let him do that?”
“We didn’t!” Kíli defended.
“How’d he even get up there? There’s no footholds,” Bofur asked. “Mister Frodo?”
“Yes?”
“How’d you get up there, laddie? There’s no footholds.”
“I don’t know,” he replied, completely unbothered.
Kíli looked impressed. Fíli looked like he was coming to terms with some impending doom.
“And, uh,” Bofur asked, “how d’ya plan to get down?”
“I don’t know.”
“I see.” Turning to the brothers, he said, “Well, best of luck, lads," and walked on.
It took a good thirty minutes of planning, plotting, and walking the circumference of the boulder. Fíli tried launching Kíli up the smooth rockface using his joined hands as a stirrup. Kíli tried standing on Fíli’s shoulders and pulling himself up. Finally, they found a slight indentation on one side and Kíli managed to jump off of Fíli’s shoulders and he dragged himself up and over, panting.
Only, Frodo wasn’t up there anymore.
“Mi targê,” Kíli hissed. “Frodo!”
“I’m here,” Frodo said from where he stood on the ground next to Fíli, which made the crown prince jump in surprise.
“How did you do that?” Fíli asked.
“I got a bit bored,” Frodo shrugged.
“He is akhrub inbarathrag barath!” Kíli laughed off the edge of the boulder.
“What does that mean?”
“It means you’re full of mischief,” Fíli said.
IV.
The cart had barely reached Bag End before Frodo left to find his cousins.
Despite staying under the mountain, Bilbo refused, on principle, to give up Bag End to the likes of Lobelia Sackville-Baggins. It was, instead, kept as a vacation home for the family, with the Gamgee's hired on to maintain the garden.
"Here at last," Bilbo sighed, and stretched out his aching back.
"I'll light the hearth," Thorin said.
Bilbo unloaded the packs into the entryway and set out for the kitchen to make some tea. Which he would need if he was going to be properly sociable this trip.
The Ring sat heavy in the pocket of his waistcoat. He'd grabbed it before they left Erebor. Or maybe it was already there. It was true— the Ring spent more time in his pocket than it did on the mantle. Wouldn't do having young Frodo finding it. Or Thorin, bless him. No, no, it stayed quite safe. Quite safe in his pocket. Never hurt to have it on hand...
Thorin walked into the kitchen and took the kettle from Bilbo's hands. He blinked, coming to, and followed the king with the mugs and the tea.
"Mudùmel."
"I'm quite alright," Bilbo murmured.
Thorin looked over at him, assessing, from his seat by the fireplace.
Bilbo leaned down to press his forehead against his dwarf's. He stepped away to set the mugs on the table and fix the tea leaves, and in ten minutes he was sat in his beloved armchair with a book and a cup of tea.
Tomorrow, he would suffer through the necessary social interactions so that everyone could rest assured that he was not dead and that Bag End was not up for auction. All while Frodo galavanted around, and Thorin did whatever it was that kings do when they were supposed to be on vacation.
Oh, yes. He would need more tea, indeed.
For now, though... He fingered the cold ring in his pocket.
"I'll enjoy what is mine," he murmured to the hearth.
V.
A fellowship was formed, Bilbo heard. The "Fellowship of the Ring," they called themselves. They would be off on their own great adventure, but Bilbo did not go to see them leave. Not after what he did to Frodo.
The door opened and Bilbo looked up from his seat by the window.
"Thorin," he said.
The dwarf king's hair was not as silver anymore as an ashen white. The gold clasp at the end of his marriage braid stood out all the more where it sat tied back into a low ponytail.
"Bilbo," he said carefully. "Will you not speak with me, 'ibinê?"
Bilbo turned back to the window and stayed silent for a long while. Thorin draped his thick cloak across the elven guest bed.
"Thorin, what have I done?" Bilbo finally asked. "I've brought harm to Frodo and I've brought harm to you."
Thorin, having approached slowly, as though towards a wounded animal, grabbed Bilbo's chin and forced his gaze. He met the shining eyes of his hobbit, and gently tugged on Bilbo's matching marriage braid.
"Do you think I care for you so little," he whispers, "that this would make a difference?"
Tears fell as Bilbo wrapped his arms around Thorin's waist, and he allowed himself to be held as though he were more precious than any ring, or any betrayal.
"I am ashamed," he choked out past the lump in his throat.
"Of what?"
"Of hiding it for so long. Of letting it consume me so. Of seeing in you someone I could not trust."
"Did you not forgive me for my deeds at the gate all those years ago?"
Bilbo shook his head. "You were sick."
"As you are now."
Thorin cupped the back of Bilbo's neck, and they stayed like that until his breaths evened out and his shudders turned to quiet sniffles.
"Come," Thorin said, planting a kiss into his wispy curls. "Let's return to the mountain, and all will be well."
"Until war comes to our door..."
"If this evil should come to our home, we will defend it as we always have."
VI.
Bilbo jerked awake and sat up as though electrocuted. In a moment of panic, he searched the bedsheets desperately for something unseen, something unfound.
"Thorin!" he cried.
A hand gripped his, stilling it, as an arm pulled him gently back down. Thorin cradled Bilbo in his half sleep, and shushed him with a kiss.
"Sleep," he said. "You're safe now."
Bilbo let out a shuddering breath against his chest, but wasn't able to relax. Thorin ran a palm up his spine and kissed his curls.
"What was it tonight?"
"I don't... I don't remember. Thorin, I believe it's getting worse."
Maybe it was the fear in Bilbo's voice, or the knowledge that this was not a beast he could slay. Thorin looked down at his husband’s, his hobbit, eyes, and saw them shining with terror. Maybe that's why his arms tightened to cradle him closer, as though he could shield him from his own mind.
"The elves invited me to sail West," Bilbo whispered.
Thorin thought about this. If Bilbo had an invitation to the Undying Lands, he could be well again. No more nightmares of nothing, or a slow decline towards insanity.
No more Thorin.
To live without his hobbit—.
"I told them no."
Thorin's eyes snapped to Bilbo's. "Why? Sailing West would mean you could have their aid, live at peace. Even if it is with elves."
"It would mean leaving you behind."
Thorin looked down at him. A life without Bilbo would be akin to falling into madness, himself. But it would mean that Bilbo would get the care he needed.
"I don't want to leave you behind, Thorin. Anywhere without you would be a half life, at best. But, I don't... I can't put you through a life..."
Thorin rolled them over just enough that he could push himself up onto his elbow to see Bilbo's face more clearly.
"Amrâlimê," he began. "Do you remember what you said to me all those years ago on Ravenhill?"
Bilbo sniffled. "I— I don't..."
"'I am glad to have shared in your perils. Each and every one of them.' I would not trade a single one, a single day with you by my side, for any number with you elsewhere."
Thorin brushed his thumb along Bilbo's cheek, then reached back to cup his neck and press their foreheads together.
"I will write to the Lord Elrond in the morning," Thorin whispered. "Perhaps he might welcome us both there."
"Rivendell is empty," Bilbo said. "All except Lord Elrond, they evacuated to the Undying Lands."
"Then perhaps the old elf would like some company."
VII.
The next morning, the letter was sent.
Lord Elrond,
It pains me to write to you on so grave a matter.
Bilbo told me of your offer to send him West, and he told me of how he declined it for my sake. I cannot change his mind. It is, on this matter, set.
However, his conditions worsen daily. At night, he writhes from terrors unseen. During the day, I sometimes find him wandering the halls listlessly. When asked about his destination, he seems to forget that he was walking at all. He has taken to having his tea on the ramparts. He says the sunlight and fresh air help to clear his mind.
As I said, I cannot convince him to travel West; he says he will not go without me to a place where I am unwelcome. But I cannot sit and watch him wither. It is for this reason I write to you and ask for a favor, though I know that none is owed.
Bilbo Baggins is a friend to us all. It was his obtaining, however accidental, of the Ring, and keeping it hidden, that has kept evil at bay for more than sixty years, at great mental peril to himself.
I ask that we might both be welcome in your halls — Bilbo seeking asylum and I as his caretaker.
Fíli reigns now as King Under The Mountain. Need for me here at Erebor has come to an end. I wish to spend the rest of my days by Bilbo's side, ensuring he is well cared for in his ailment.
Thorin Oakenshield