Chapter Text
"Farewell, Master Burglar."
Cold dread gripped Bilbo's chest in a vice as his head jerked from side to side. Tears stung his eyes but he refused to acknowledge them. Not while Thorin lived. There was no need for them.
"No, no, no." Thorin's face still looked eerily beautiful even as it was caked in blood and grime and he gave the hobbit the softest of smiles as he gripped his hand.
"Go back to your books and your armchair. Plant your trees, watch them grow." Each word seemed to strain the dwarf but his eyes were locked on Bilbo with a quiet intensity. "If more people valued home above gold, this world would be a merrier place."
Bilbo could feel the blood seeping out from between his fingertips as he pressed his free hand on the massive wound in Thorin's chest and he could no longer hold back a sob as he saw the life rapidly drain out of the dwarf.
"Look the eagles. The eagles are here. Thorin. Help! Someone please! HELP!" The hobbit pressed his whole weight on his hand and frantically looked around the frozen terrain and the sky while he screamed his voice raw.
Yavannah, please it couldn't end like this. Not now. Not when they were so close to all that they had been working so hard for all this time.
Sudden movement at the edge of his vision made Bilbo's head snap left and his eyes met the ones of the elven prince, Legolas. They had barely interacted at all but right now he would take any vaguely friendly face he could get.
The cold wind pulled at his hair and clothes and dried the tears on his cheeks that had started falling against his will.
"Please." The word was all but a whisper thought the elf had probably heard it anyway.
Legolas furrowed his blond brows and after brief hesitation whirled around and disappeared again.
A violent jerk ripped through Bilbo as he wanted to chase after the elf and drag him back to help but he couldn't leave Thorin alone. His eyes were closed almost completely and his breath was nothing more than an almost imperceptible rise and fall of his chest. Every single one could be his last.
Bilbo's shoulders shook from loud sobs and the strain of keeping himself plastered on the dwarf and he almost didn't notice the two figures fast approaching them.
The elf king strode across the ice of the river with confident and smooth steps. His armour was splattered with dark blood that also coated the long, beautiful blade in his hand, his usually neat and glossy hair was slightly mussed and a few stands stuck weirdly from his silver headpiece but it did not diminish any of the regal air that constantly seemed to surround him.
His son trailed behind him, bow still at the ready.
Looking up through teary eyes the hobbit opened his mouth but no words came out. He heaved through several breaths and cleared his throat. He couldn't give up. Thorin needed him.
Thranduil came to a halt just a few steps away and his gaze wandered over the scene in front of him with a coldness that sparked red hot anger in Bilbo's stomach.
"If you can help him, please, I beg of you. I will offer anything I can give. Just please, save him."
Almost bored the elf king raised one eyebrow.
"You have nothing I desire, little halfling."
In this moment Bilbo came to understand the hatred Thorin had for the beautiful, tall creatures as he felt it in his own heart.
"Ada." Legolas came up to his fathers side and gave him an imploring look. Then he added some quickly spoken elvish words that Bilbo didn't understand but they made Thranduil tense up.
After a moment that felt like years the elf king's attention returned to the hobbit and the dwarf to his feet. An expression Bilbo couldn't read flitted over his face and with a heavy sigh he lowered himself on one knee, placing his sword on the ground beside him.
"Move back."
Immediately Bilbo scrambled backwards his gaze darting between Thorin's and Thranduil. A tiny morsel of hope blooming inside of him.
With an open palm the elf waved his hand over the dwarve's body and tilted his head as if listening to something.
"I cannot promise anything." He took a quick glance at his son, his voice losing some of its ever present arrogance. "But I shall try." He raised one hand over the gash in Thorin's flesh while the other wandered up over his body until it hovered over his face.
The hair on Bilbo's neck stood up as he felt the energy around them shift and pulse like a heartbeat and he held his breath, simply watching and silently praying to all the Valar that whatever was happening would work.
Thranduil's eyes had drifted close and he was muttering unintelligible words under his breath, his fingers twitching over the unconscious dwarf.
At first the hobbit couldn't see any change but then in the blink of an eye it was as if tiny specks of starlight weaved themselves into the wound and through Thorin's hair and skin. Small, twinkling lights, as fine as diamond dust.
The ashen complexion of death that had crept onto the dwarve's face slowly receded and Bilbo could feel new tears spilling over but this time they sprung from relief.Abruptly Thranduil's murmuring stopped. A single bead of sweat glistened on his temple right beside his hairline.
He waved the hand over the wound outwards with a flourish while the one over the face straightened and he pressed his stretched out index finger to Thorin's forehead. A beat later he flicked his wrist and in one fluid motion rose from the ground, picking up his weapon on the way.
"I have done what I could. If he dies it will be because of his own weakness." Without another look he turned around and returned on the same path he had come from.
Bilbo hastily lurched forward to return to Thorin's side, gripping his hand as soon as he could reach it.
"Thank you! Truly!" His words echoed over the river and the elf king halted in his step. He kept his back to them but his voice still carried clear.
"With this I consider every debt I have ever owed payed. The Gems of Lasgalen are to be delivered to my door step at the earliest convenience. Should you fail to do so I will return to take what I have so graciously granted." Thranduil's head turned slightly and Bilbo could make out the edges of his profile illuminated by the golden glow of the sun. "Do not forget, Bilbo Baggins."
The hobbit nodded furiously. He would dig out those forsaken jewels from the gold himself and steal them if he had to. He had got good at that.
A chill ran down his spine and muffled the relief he felt as a though occurred to him.
"Wait!" He sucked in a hurried breath, the cold air stinging in his lungs. "Kili and- and Fili? Do you know what happened to them?" Bilbo couldn't make out any details from where he was kneeling besides Thorin but he could have sworn he heard the elf king click his tongue.
"You are testing my patience, little one." Thranduil started walking again and for a second Bilbo thought he would simply leave. Just as he reached the end of the plateau though the cold voice rang out again.
"I'll see what I can do." With that the farther son duo disappeared behind the rocks again, leaving a shivering hobbit and a unconscious dwarf behind.
The screech of an eagle drew Bilbo's gaze skyward and saw one of the majestic birds circling closer and closer, calling out again and again.
He quickly wiped his face and busied himself with tucking Thorin's arms at his side so he could easily be picked up, only faltering for a moment when he looked into his face. Not being able to help himself he cupped the dwarf's cheek with one hand and softly brought his forehead down to touch it to Thorin's.
"You have to live, you hear me. You will live. You will not give up, Thorin Oakenshield."
Forcing himself to get up, Bilbo stepped away from the dwarf even though that was the last thing he wanted to do and started waving at the eagle who was now directly above them.
Just like before the carrock it swooped down and gently grabbed Thorin in its huge claws, lifting him off the ground with ease.Bilbo's heart was heavy with anxiety as he watched his friend being carried away. The pale complexion as the life had seeped out of the dwarf king was burned in his memory and he was sure he would hear the strained, rattling breaths in his nightmares to come.
All of a sudden he felt impossibly tired, his limbs might as well be made out of lead and even the thought of taking one more step had his throat closing up. He wanted nothing more than to curl up into a ball and close his eyes.
But he couldn't do that, he still had to check on the others. He needed to get to Thorin and make sure he was truly going to make it.
So with the resilience and determination that he had found in himself on this journey he willed himself to move. One hairy foot in front of the other.
He was barely halfway across the river when he heard another screech above him and the next thing he knew was his feet leaving the ground as sharp talons wrapped around his arms, hoisting him up. A small yelp escaped him and he froze up, cold wind slapping his face and pulling at his clothes as he was carried off towards the camp of men in the ruins of Dale.
Unfortunately he made the mistake of looking down and the steep drop gaping right below him towards sharp stones and rubble pushed his already overwhelmed mind beyond it's breaking point.
The edges of his vision went black and he could only manage a quick, for a gentle-hobbit very uncouthly curse, before his world dipped into complete darkness.