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“No, no, no, no, not you too, Fili. Stay with me,” Bilbo pleaded. Scuttling over rocks, blood, and death, the hobbit fell to the side of the blonde dwarf in a flurry of panic. Not even minutes ago he had witnessed the mighty dwarf king, Thorin, get struck down by a horde of orcs and hadn’t seen the majestic dwarf get up again. After Thorin had fallen, Bilbo had taken it upon himself to find and protect Thorin’s nephews. Now, Fili lay down for the count as well, blood welling up from a deep side wound. Small hands pressed into the wound eliciting a yip of pain from Fili’s lips.
Bilbo had grown rather protective and fond toward the brothers as if they were his own nephews. He had spotted them across the way and saw they were getting pushed apart from one another by the swell of enemies. Kili was doing well until he turned too late and received a blow to his head hard enough to knock him unconscious. Bow and arrow clattered to the ground, Kili’s body soon accompanying his weapons. Fili heard his brother’s pained cry and turned to him just as an orc decided to try to end the young, blonde prince’s life.
Hurdling over the last few dead carcasses that covered the distance, Bilbo had leapt at the orc and managed to push the arm far and fast enough to the side; it wasn’t as bad as being completely skewered, but the blade still cut Fili deep. Dropping his twin swords, Fili clutched his side, stumbling forward, wheezing in pain. With a furious stab to the throat and another to the chest, Bilbo ended the orc’s life before he quickly took hold of Fili and guided the older brother down to the ground. He was in terrible pain, Bilbo knew, and losing a lot of blood fast.
“K-Ki--” the golden-haired dwarf coughed out, reaching in the direction of his collapsed brother.
“He’s just knocked out,” Bilbo hoped. “Fili, let me wrap this or you’ll die.” Bilbo knocked Fili’s hands away from his side and used his waistcoat to wrap the thick material around the prince, knotting it tightly. Still the older brother reached toward the younger. “Don’t worry, Fili. I’ll get you both somewhere safe.” With that, he propped Fili up and wrapped his arms around all the bulk of armour. He dragged Fili under a small outcropping nearby and brought his brother in as well where it was safer. Coming into range of Kili, Fili reached out desperately and felt for a pulse. Fili slumped over in relief when the pulse was steadily beating under his fingers.
“Kili,” Fili wheezed. He tried to bring his brother into his arms but he was in much pain. Bilbo couldn’t bear the sight of Fili struggling and gingerly maneuvered the younger one’s head to rest on Fili’s chest, curled up to his uninjured side. Fili gave a weak smile and started to stroke Kili’s hair.
What disturbed Bilbo the most was the look of resigned contentedness the older dwarf wore. “Fili,” started Bilbo, “you’re not going to die.” He tried catching the Fili’s eyes, but they never left the younger. “Kili is not going to die. Not today.” When no response came, the frown and worry lines deepened on the hobbit. No one should be content to have it end this way, least of all these two.
Carefully so, Bilbo picked up Fili’s head and brought it down to rest on his folded lap to try to offer some comfort. Laying a hand to rest on Kili’s cheek and another on the opposite side of Fili’s, pain-filled blue eyes finally met Bilbo’s and the hobbit could see all his insecurities. Fear of dying, sadness for Kili, worry for many things, Bilbo imagined. In all honesty, Fili looked more like a dwarfling, eyes wide and scared like that.
Bilbo couldn’t help but let his tears start to fall.
“Uncle?” Fili rasped. Bilbo just shook his head, sucking in a broken gasp. The dwarf dropped his gaze and stared unseeing into the battle still raging, his breaths shorter and clipped. He could feel the young dwarf start to tremble. Bilbo started to stroke the princes’ faces with his thumb and that gained Fili’s attention once more, tears barely hanging onto the blonde lashes.
The hobbit took in a shuddering breath, held it for a moment before letting it out. He winces at the guttural sounds of the orc’s cries. Fili went to look but Bilbo caught his chin and made teary eyes look at him. He needed to comfort and distract the dwarf. “Listen to my voice, okay? Just--just my voice.” The only response he got was a few blinks for it was too painful to speak or move anymore. Taking in a more controlled breath now, Bilbo started to sing, low and shaky, but smoother as he went on. The noise of the battle seemed to fall mute under the hobbit’s voice. “Home is behind, the world ahead.” Fili watched Bilbo close his eyes, not minding the tears that fell onto his face. “And there are many paths to tread.” Thorin, Bilbo thought, he’s dead. “Through shadow.” What the shireling did not know, as he sat singing, “To the edge of night,” was that the new King Under the Mountain had risen from the ground, “Until the stars are all alight” and taken Orcrist once more in his hands. “Mist and shadow.” And the black blood of the Defiler did spray amongst the rocks. “Cloud and shade,” and the beast fell, “all shall fade.” Turning to the battle, Thorin gave a cry of victory. “All shall fade.” And the tides turned.
When Bilbo’s last note receded into the background he opened his eyes and found Fili holding his gaze, indecipherable to Bilbo, before they slid shut. Bilbo choked out a sob, fearing the worst had befallen the prince. “Mister Baggins!” Bilbo’s head shot up and he came face to face with Thranduil’s son, Legolas. “We must get them back behind the lines. I can take them.”
“I’ll help.” Bilbo said quickly. With Legolas’s help, the elf carried the wounded Fili and Bilbo managed to support and carry-drag Kili not too far behind. They didn’t come across any enemies, thankfully, and once behind the last line dwarves, elves, and men alike came to help them. Bilbo refused treatment for his minor wounds until he knew Fili and Kili would be safe.
The healers did what they could. Fili had lost a lot of blood even with the thick waist coat used to staunch the worst of the flow. The blow to Kili’s head was a more complicated matter. His head wasn’t cracked but they didn’t know if he’d wake up, or if he did, if there would be any repercussions accompanying such a heavy blow. The princes were settled down into cots, all bandaged up and asleep. Bilbo wrung his hands nervously. He needed something to do--but, he felt useless on the battlefield. There was no way he would go out to seek Thorin. He wasn’t sure if he could handle seeing the lifeless body of the King. Hands twitching for something to do, Bilbo decided to untangle the brothers’ hair.
Carefully, Bilbo worked out the snares with deft hands, having untangled many little heads of his cousins. He plucked out the random rocks and washed the blood away. He made sure to leave the braids in, tucking in loose strands here and there. Bilbo was vaguely aware of the background noises. It sounded like birds screeching and somewhere in there--a bear? Shaking his head, he returned to his task at hand.
Then there came a near deafening roar. Bilbo recognized it as one of victory. The gruff, rumbling yells of the dwarves, the higher shouts of men, and even the cries of the elves could be heard, melding together in the air, celebrating the retreat of their enemies. They had triumphed, Erebor was reclaimed--for good now.
Though the cries of happiness rang out, gazing upon the sleeping brothers, Bilbo felt hollow. Thorin had not been able to see his kingdom claimed and restored. That tore through the small hobbit sharper than any words or elvish blade could. Bilbo fell to his knees between the cots and let out a sob. Tears felt like magma on the cuts of his face but there was no use wiping them away for more would quickly take their place. A voice came closer calling out to Fili and Kili. It was Balin. Oh, he couldn’t face the older dwarf, not now. He could not bear to face any of the company or what was possibly left of them. Lifting the back of the tent, Bilbo fled and ran out of the cavernous halls of Erebor’s entrance to the outside. Reaching a cliff that overlooked the battlefield below, Bilbo collapsed and sobbed, whimpered, and rocked himself back and forth until his throat was raw and could not utter another sound. By that time the sun had started to set on the bloody day.
Down below people were sifting through the dead, reclaiming lost family and friends. Bilbo couldn’t help but wonder: Who had survived? Were any of them injured? Why Thorin? Why the dear brothers? Why any of it? It wasn’t fair Bilbo thought, all this strife and blood to protect a kingless mountain.
How many months has it been since he had left the comforts of Bag End? Traversing across the vast wilderness of Middle Earth. Leaving behind his hobbitish respectability and favoring the evenings around the campfire and smiling at the dwarves’ rowdy dispositions. It had taken some time but he had become one of them and they had taken away the loneliness that always gnawed at his heart. Now it was back with avengence. Thorin had casted him out, furious, with the threat of death upon on his head. No one had said anything, least those who had witnessed it didn’t. He could not make amends with the dead and doubted if any of the living Company would want to face the betrayer. He had betrayed their trust, somthing Bilbo knew from the very beginning was something they did not give out easily. Bilbo knew the risks, he wanted them to live because they had made life so happy even in the darkest of times, but the cost-- it was too great. He couldn’t handle any form of their rejections, spite, deaths, or the hollow loneliness of Bag End awaiting him back in the Shire. No, he couldn’t go back. Not to that.
In a fit of self-loathing and rage, Bilbo drew out Sting, its edge now crusted in dry, black, orc blood. Grasping the hilt with both hands, he aimed the blade toward himself. He pulled the sword away from his body, arms shaking--from what? He couldn’t tell if it was his self-hatred, fatigue, or fear. Tensing to steel himself to do the deed, he held his breath. Then a whimper spilled out instead and his arms fell limp, still clutching the sword. He curled down over his lap, the tip of Sting poking his gut. He couldn’t kill himself, he was a coward, afraid to face Thorin in the after lands. His last words of disappointment and rage of betrayal still stung Bilbo. Sitting up once more, he looked toward the setting sun, silent tears still making their way down.
The sun’s crest had just dropped below the far horizon line, casting the world around him in shadow when he heard someone calling his name. It was Bofur. He didn’t turn or call back to the dwarf, but still the dwarf found him.
“Bilbo!!” Bofur cried out, spotting the hobbit on the cliff’s edge. He grew worried when the hobbit didn’t turn and acknowledge him. Coming closer, Bofur saw Sting’s tip touching Bilbo’s gut, though lax, Bilbo still had both hands on the hilt of his sword. “Bilbo, no! Don’t--!” Bofur rushed forward but Bilbo held up his hand in surrender.
“It’s alright, Bofur.” His voice was a raw rasp. “I’m not going to do it.” Dropping his hands, Bilbo looked to the twilight settling over the land, masking the death on the field below him. “I can’t face Thorin in the afterlife yet.”
“Afterlife? I’ve come with a message from Thorin, who is very much still in this life, thank you, saying he wants to see you.” Bilbo’s breath caught in his throat, the pounding of blood a loud drumming in his ears.
Alive. Thorin Oakenshield was still alive. Swallowing, Bilbo faced Bofur. “He’s not…dying...” he managed to squeak out. “Is he?”
Bofur gave him the largest smile and shook his head. “The line of Durin lives, they all do, thanks to you.” Before Bilbo could question how he knew, Bofur laid a warm hand on the hobbit’s shoulder. “We’d be dead if you hadn’t done what you did. Before and during the battle. Fili is awake, so is Kili. They’re resting in the same tent as Thorin now. Come on, let’s not keep the grumpy dwarf waiting. He’s more impatient when he’s injured, you know.” Bofur chuckled. Helping Bilbo up, he patted the hobbit down, flicking off the dust and rubble, finally resting a hand on either shoulder. “Thank you,” he said with a warm smile, slightly shaking the hobbit.
“For what?”
“Sticking with us till the end.” They shared a smile and Bofur wrapped an arm around Bilbo’s shoulders as they walked into Erebor where the medical tents were. Bilbo could easily tell which one housed the line of Durin because most of the company was standing outside of it, jittery, war worn, but in good health. “Everybody has been worried you know?” the cherry dwarf said as they approached the tent. Bilbo gave him a skeptical look, to which Bofur gave a stern gaze to. “I’m serious, don’t think after all the hardships we’ve been through that we would just easily give you up.” Braids and hat flaps alike flapped side to side with Bofur’s head. “Just ask them all a question to get their attention.” he gestured to the gabbing dwarves. “You’ll see.”
“W-why are you all standing out here?” inquired Bilbo. All heads immediately snapped toward him and gleefully they shouted his name in unison. Bilbo found himself being dragged out of Bofur’s hold and hugged on all sides by everyone present.
“I’ll go inform the others he’s been found!” Ori said, and rushed off after he had furiously hung onto Bilbo for a few moments.
“Others?” Bilbo managed to squeak out as Bombur squeezed him hard.
“Scouting for your body among the dead,” gruffed out Gloin, slapping Bilbo on the back. “We thought you were gone to the halls of your ancestors already.”
“Everyone survived?” Bilbo didn’t dare hope, a smile creeping onto his face.
“Aye, that we did, laddie,” Balin said as he stepped out of the tent. “Thorin wishes to see you now.”
Bilbo’s smile fell, and he swallowed, though it did nothing for his mouth was dry. The last time he had spoken with Thorin… Bilbo steeled himself once more, lips pressed into a line. This was his chance to make things right and apologize. He nodded and strode into the tent. Though he feared the worst going in, he could not help but smile at the bandaged up, and very much alive, royal line of Durin. They all lay on cots. Thorin was propped up and the most bandaged but he looked well enough, not pale, unlike Fili who still was, his own bandages taking up his much of his torso. Kili had a few bandages on his body but the most Bilbo could see was on his head.
“Bilbo!” chorused the brothers happily.
“Bilbo Baggins,” neutrally echoed Thorin. Bilbo could not help but flinch as Thorin spoke his name. Gesturing to the chair between him and Fili. “Please,” That startled Bilbo. “Come sit.” The brothers knew their Uncle must have something important to say to Bilbo, for they kept quiet, but their smiles never faltered. Bilbo sat down, his nerves starting to fail him, and scooted the chair closer to Thorin, though all instincts told him to promptly get up and run away, all the way back to the Shire. Without a word, Thorin laid out his hand, palm up to Bilbo, it was wrapped in bandages winding all the way up to his elbow. Hesitantly, Bilbo drew up his hand and let it rest on top of Thorin’s, who curled his hand around Bilbo’s smaller one. “Thank you.”
Bilbo blinked. “Excuse me?”
Thorin’s laughed rumbled in Bilbo’s ears, “I said, thank you, hobbit. Thank you for many, many things.” The king smiled at Bilbo. This was-- unexpected.
“Yes, thank you, Bilbo,” added Fili. “I would not be alive without your help.”
“Nor, I,” grinned Kili.
“You’ve done so much for me and my kin, as well as the company. I was wrong to yell at you earlier.” Thorin looked down, “I offer my sincerest apologies, Master Baggins. You--you were merely trying to save us from an avoidable, useless battle, and certain death. I take back what I said. Even under the throes of the gold sickness,” The King squeezed Bilbo’s hand a little tighter, eyes filled with shame unable to meet Bilbo’s, “They were my words and I have no justifiable excuse for them other than being a complete and utter idiot. You are far braver,” here Thorin managed to look Bilbo in the eyes again. “Than anyone else here and twice the hobbit or dwarf I shall ever be. Were people to enjoy food, ale, and good company as much as you do, the world would be a better place.”
“I’m sorry this is--”
“Not your fault and if you so much as even think it is, no-” Thori held up his hand to stop Bilbo’s words. “You have nothing to apologize for my dear friend. If,” the dwarf hesitated, “I may call each other that still.”
Bilbo brought up his other hand to join the first and squeezed the king’s hand. “This simple hobbit would be honored to still be considered your friend Thorin Oakenshield.”
“You are not just any ordinary hobbit, Bilbo Baggins,” Thorin smiled, “and I hope you will see that now. Please,” he reached over to a small lump on the nightstand by his cot and placed it in Bilbo’s hands. Covering them with both of his own. “take this.” Gesturing him to open it and releasing his hands, Thorin settled back down into the pillows. Bilbo unknotted the leather thong and uncovered–
“The Arkenstone, but--”
“Like you said to me earlier,” Thorin grunted, watching how the soft blue light illuminated the hobbit’s face. “It is not a shiny rock that makes me a great king.” He smiled gently at the hobbit. “And finally,” taking Bilbo’s hand once more, “I would be most honored if you would consider Erebor as your new home.” His nephews cheered and Bilbo was absolutely astonished. “We can even make you a new hobbit hole on the outside of the mountain if the inside of Erebor is not to your liking.” Thorin added swiftly, stumbling for reasons and words.
“I-I don’t know what to say.” stuttered Bilbo.
“Say yes!” pleaded Kili. “It won’t ever be the same again without our little Burglar around.”
“You helped fight for this, Bilbo, it’s as rightfully yours to call home as we call it home!” added Fili. Thorin just smiled, nodding at what his heirs said, and tilted his head at the hobbit, waiting.
Bilbo laughed, grinning with tears of happiness sliding down his cheeks. “How can I say no to that?”
Thorin gave Bilbo the widest and warmest smile Bilbo had ever seen on him. Thorin caught sight of the older tear tracks on their burglars’s face and the cuts they went over. His smile fell a bit as he scanned Bilbo’s form and frowned. “Have you not been treated?” Bilbo’s smile faltered and he wiped the tears off his cheeks, averting his eyes.
“Ah, no, I was too preoccupied with Fili and Kili.”
“No, you haven’t been with Fili and Kili for a few hours now. Where were you just now? Surely you would not think we’d deny you aide.”
Bilbo felt a twinge of guilt and embarrassment in him. “No. I-I was o-outside, I needed air. I thought--” He swallowed. “I thought none of you--” Bilbo swallowed and kept his eyes to the ground. Thorin’s frown deepened.
“We are all well. Are you okay, Bilbo?” The hobbit didn’t respond.
“You can tell us anything, Bilbo,” Kili softly encouraged, his brother agreeing.
Bilbo flickered his eyes to everyone before they darted down, “That grief I had,” his voice was low and very small. “That you wouldn’t live to see your kingdom be reclaimed and restored. That the healers weren’t sure if either Fili or Kili would wake to see the next dawn, not knowing if any of the company had survived, it was all consuming.” Bilbo’s voice cracked. “Al...almost too much.”
A horrified look came across the family’s faces. “You didn’t try--” started Thorin, voice raw with emotion.
“I was going to...” He tapped Sting at his side, the other pressing to his stomach. “But, uh--” Bilbo let loose a few shaky laughs, gripping the Arkenstone with white knuckled hands. Thorin was deeply shocked and worried, as were Fili and Kili. Bilbo was a part of their dwarven family now. To know he almost killed himself in grief for them, it was heartbreaking. Bilbo played with the leather wrapping of the stone before he continued. “But I was too afraid to face you in the afterlife. You’d be furious at me still I thought. I--”
Thorin used both hands to cover the one of Bilbo’s, bringing it up toward him. He waited till Bilbo looked at him. So weary around the eyes he looked, premature crinkles in the corner of his eyes, purple bruise-like bags present, and a fathomless, haunted look replacing the innocent look his eyes had once held. “Bilbo Baggins,” he firmly said, “don’t you ever throw away your life for us. If we should ever die, mourn for us. Never. Please, by Valar, never kill yourself. You have a life yet to live and I’m sorry. So sorry. I’m glad my words stopped you from committing the act, but I am more sorry than my words can ever express about what I’ve put you through.” Bilbo trembled, letting the stone fall from his hands, he desperately grasped Thorin’s, resting his forehead over them, openly sobbing.
Bilbo managed a few words between his tears. “I’m happy,” he shuddered, “you’re alive. So happy.”
A tidal wave of guilt crashed down on Thorin as he watched Bilbo release his stress and worries in choked broken gasps. He tugged his hands, with Bilbo’s up to his lips. Chapped and split lips kissed the smooth back of the hobbit’s hands. Thorin pressed a kiss to each knuckle, his penetrating blue gaze never leaving Bilbo’s face who looked on through blurred vision. “I’m happy you are alive as well, my dear Burglar. With all my power, I vow to try with everything I have to never make you feel so overwhelmed, so desperately saddened, and alone, ever again.”
Bilbo nodded mutely, a wobbly smile trying to make it’s way onto his face. Thorin leaned over, ignoring his protesting wounds, and met their foreheads together. A smile came easier to Bilbo now as he closed his eyes, their breath mingling. “Thank you,” whispered Bilbo, just loud enough for Thorin to hear. The king smiled and closed his eyes as well, enjoying the moment. Over their heads Fili and Kili shared a grin. They couldn’t wait till mother met their Burglar.