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Chapter Text

Pain.

His chest ached, his head pounded, his shoulders were sore, and his wrists were tied tight behind him.

This was bad.

The last thing he remembered, there had been fire… he’d been fighting Azog, and then-

The hobbit, charging in to defend him. The eagles had come swooping in to their rescue, but-

But Azog had been closer.

“Thorin?” someone whispered next to his head, and he slowly opened his eyes, his heart sinking.

“Master Baggins,” Thorin rasped, frowning at the blood along Bilbo’s temple.

He was next to him on the ground, his arms also tied behind him, and he looked-

Terrified.

At least now he had reason to be scared. Orcs weren’t known to be merciful.

“You’re alive,” Bilbo managed. “Good, good, I was half scared they’d decided to drag your corpse with us.”

“Where are we?” Thorin asked, and Bilbo shook his head.

“Some cave back towards the mountain. The orcs that lived dragged us back away from the eagles, but I think everyone else got away.”

“Why didn’t they kill us?” Thorin asked, and Bilbo swallowed.

“I don’t know. I- Thorin I don’t know why we’re alive.” There were tears welling up in his eyes, and Thorin winced.

“…Thank you. For earlier. Stepping in and trying to save me. It is more than I deserved.”

“Don’t start with me,” Bilbo admonished, “I don’t know why I stepped in but it wasn’t for you to feel bad about it.”

“That’s not what I-“ Thorin cut off at movement from further away, and he glanced over to see Azog walking towards them.

Thorin grit his teeth, glaring down the orc as he approached.

Coming to a stop before them, Azog grinned down at them.

“What now, defiler?” Thorin spat out, glaring at Azog. “The battle is over. But you’ve left us alive. Why, too much of a coward to finish this off?”

If the taunt got under Azog’s skin, he didn’t let it show.

“What are you doing?” Bilbo hissed at him. “Are you trying to get him to kill you?!”

Yes. He was.

Because a swift death would be a far better fate than whatever the orcs had planned for them.

Azog turned his gaze from Thorin, to Bilbo.

“…You care for the dwarf,” Azog commented, and Thorin’s heart sank.

“I’m talking to you, scum!”

Azog ignored him. “You charged into battle, despite your inexperience with a blade.” Azog reached down, grabbing Bilbo’s shirt and hauling him up, even as he struggled.

“Let go of him!” Thorin roared, struggling against the ropes around his wrists, but they held fast, and the pain in his chest stopped him from even sitting up.

He was useless.

Bilbo’s breath was coming faster as he hung from the orc’s grasp, and Azog grinned. “Oh? Do you care for him too?” he asked, tilting his head as he eyed Bilbo up and down. “He does seem… pleasant. ”

“The halfling means nothing to me,” Thorin lied.

Let him go. Please, let him go, or end this now!

“Get your hands off of me! ” Bilbo yelled, anger in his voice, and Azog laughed.

“Your lies are sweet,” Azog commented, “you’re trying to spare him. And revealing your own weakness.”

No. No!

“Thorin doesn’t have weaknesses,” Bilbo grit out. “He’s not lying. I mean nothing to him.”

Azog simply laughed again. . “You think so?” He pulled Bilbo closer, till he was able to growl into Bilbo’s ear: “allow me to prove you wrong.”

Hit bit down on Bilbo’s ear, and Bilbo screamed, even as Thorin yanked against the ropes binding his wrists. “Let go of him you coward! Fight me in combat if you want to prove something but leave him alone!”

Azog pulled back and grinned, Bilbo’s blood dripping from his mouth as he dropped the hobbit.

Bilbo was shaking, pulling in ragged gasps as he stared at Thorin.

“I have already bested you in combat once, dwarf,” Azog snarled, “and now I’ve proven to your little pet, ” this word was emphasized with a kick to Bilbo’s chest he was unable to dodge, “how much you care. You can no longer lie to him. Or, perhaps it is yourself you can’t lie to anymore.”

The words hit hard, and Thorin scrambled for something to say, something to do to get them out of this.

Azog chuckled again, confident in his control over the entire encounter. “What is left for me to prove? Unless it’s how miserably you are unable to protect him.”

“You’re wrong,” Bilbo gasped out, coughing up blood, “about him. Thorin. You’re wrong. He doesn’t care about me. But he’s honorable. I’m a member of his company, so he protects me, because it’s the honorable thing to do. Something you know nothing about. ”

Bilbo.

Don’t. Please don’t.

Trembling, Bilbo tried to sit up, only to be stopped by Azog’s foot on his chest. Azog licked up Bilbo’s blood from his lips, and pressed further down onto Bilbo’s chest, pulling a pained whimper from Bilbo.

“I have defiled many,” Azog spoke, ignoring Thorin now to focus on Bilbo entirely. “Dwarves. Humans. Elves. But never have I defiled a halfling. Would you scream upon my cock? Bleed for my pleasure?”

Thorin nearly threw up.

He couldn’t possibly mean what Thorin thought he did.

But there wasn’t anything else he could be talking about.

“What use have I for honor, when blood tastes better than wine, and screams are the greatest music I’ve ever heard?”

He lifted his foot and Bilbo tried to scramble away, but he was too slow to get far before Azog grabbed him by his neck, holding him up once more even as Bilbo struggled to breathe.

“Don’t touch him!” Thorin roared uselessly from the ground, even as he struggled to roll over, to sit up, to do something to stop this! “Leave him alone you bastard!”

Instead, Azog turned around, walking away, carrying Bilbo in his hand.

“Th-Thorin,” Bilbo rasped, struggling in Azog’s grip.

He couldn’t do anything.

He couldn’t do anything.

Struggling against the ropes, Thorin rolled himself over, pushing through the pain to try and push himself up to his knees, the world spinning around him as black spots invaded his vision.

I can’t pass out now. I have to do something to help him!

He must have passed out for a moment though, because the next thing he knew Azog was back, his hand grabbing Thorin by the hair, dragging him up and forward till he was dropped next to the fire, Azog quickly binding Thorin to a spike next to the flame.

Bilbo was a few paces over, lying on a fur, shaking.

Orc weapons were scattered around the ground, but none of them within reach. Not for him, and Bilbo didn’t possess the skill necessary to sneak a weapon, especially not with his hands tied behind his back and Azog’s attention on him.

“I swear, if you touch him, there will be nowhere on this earth you can hide from me,” Thorin vowed.

Azog stood up, crossing to Bilbo and dropping to his knees, curling his hand around the hobbit’s cheek, sweeping a thumb along his face as he grinned at Thorin. “Keep making your empty promises, dwarf. I want to watch how many of them break when I behead you.”

Bilbo whimpered in pain, and Thorin saw that Azog had cut him along his temple with his claw.

New blood oozed out of the wound, mixing with the dried blood from earlier that night, and Azog leaned down, licking the blood up even as Bilbo tried to pull away.

“Stop,” Bilbo managed, “stop this- stop it!”

Thorin shook as Azog slapped Bilbo for his outburst, Bilbo’s head snapping to the side. Bilbo spat out a mouthful of blood, only for Azog to grab his cheek, pressing their mouths together as he licked up the blood from Bilbo’s mouth.

I can’t stop this. I can’t save him.

The hobbit was tiny in Azog’s grasp, but still he fought, trying to pull away from Azog at every turn, even as Azog let go of his mouth, and began ripping off Bilbo’s clothes, buttons going everywhere.

“Leave him alone you bastard!” Thorin yelled, pulling against the ropes, but going nowhere. “You spawn of the darkness!” He switched to Khuzdul, unable to think of the appropriate insults in common. “ You are no more than the cur on the underside of a goat, a shit stain on the tomes of history!”  Azog ignored him, instead running his claws along Bilbo’s side and stomach, leaving scratches along his skin, until his hands got to Bilbo’s pants, and he tore those off as well.

No.

No.

“Bilbo, look at me,” Thorin begged, and Bilbo opened his eyes, glancing at Thorin, and the fear in his eyes nearly broke him. “When I get free I am going to gut this bastard, do you hear me? His days are numbered, and I will get revenge for you.”

There were tears in Bilbo’s eyes, but he nodded, and Thorin found himself wishing that Bilbo hadn’t come back. That he’d taken the chance to go back to his home, and hadn’t been there to try and save Thorin’s life. That Bilbo were on his way home now, and Thorin were dead.

It would have been a far kinder fate for the both of them.

Azog ran a claw along Bilbo’s cock, grinning as Bilbo whimpered.

He couldn’t look away.

Couldn’t tear his eyes away as Azog turned Bilbo over onto his stomach, spitting onto his backside before forcing one finger inside Bilbo.

To look away would be to abandon Bilbo. He couldn’t do that. Not when it was his fault they were trapped there.

Bilbo cried out, the sound choked off as he buried his head in the fur, his hands clenching where they were tied behind his back.

There was nothing he could do.

There was nothing he could do to stop this.

The ropes around his wrists refused to give, the stake he was tied to didn’t leave the ground, his chest burned at the pressure, and his words had left him.

He couldn’t stop this.

Azog laughed as he added another finger, and Bilbo whimpered again, tears streaming down his face, until Thorin couldn’t see clearly, and he realized belatedly that he was crying too.

“ Does it pain you, knowing I have had him first?” he asked in the tongue of Mordor, a language Thorin had only learned because of the bastard. “ I will take everything from him before I kill you. ”

Azog ripped his fingers out of Bilbo, and there was blood on his fingers, before he lifted Bilbo into the air, licking into Bilbo with the same fervor he’d licked up the cut on Bilbo’s face.

Bilbo was biting through his lip so hard it was bleeding, even as he struggled against Azog’s grasp, trying to kick out at the orc.

His foot made contact, and Azog stilled, pulling back with a cruel sneer before he threw Bilbo down onto the fur, keeping him there with a foot on his chest as he freed his own vicious member.

Thorin swallowed, hard.

He was about to watch his hobbit be raped to death.

“Bilbo,” he managed, his own voice cracking as he tried to pull Bilbo’s attention away from the monster before him.

Bilbo looked over at him, tears in his eyes as Azog positioned himself.

“Think about the shire,” Thorin managed, even as Azog began to push in, and Bilbo tried to keep looking at Thorin. “Think about- think about your armchair. And your books. And your- think about your garden-“

Bilbo cried out as Azog pushed further into him, and Thorin planted his feet, trying desperately to shove himself away from the stake tying him down.

“He thinks he can save your mind, even if he cannot save your body,” Azog growled, then chuckled, planting his cruel mace of a hand next to Bilbo’s head, blocking Thorin’s view of him, before he ducked his own head, and a moment later Bilbo screamed.

He couldn’t see what was happening, but a moment later Azog’s head pulled back, blood staining his mouth, even as he could still hear Bilbo whimpering in pain.

Then Azog began to move.

Bilbo’s cries grew worse, and Thorin continued to strain against the ropes binding him, desperately trying to break free, to come up with a plan, something.

Azog’s speed grew, and Bilbo’s whimpers grew quieter, even as Thorin snarled.

“You bastard! Spawn of a warg’s shit! When you finally die I hope the earth itself rejects your body, leaving you the pray of carrion and worms!”

His footing slipped, and he crashed into the earth, shaking as he heard the orc moan, and Bilbo’s cries get stronger again.

He couldn’t stop this.

He couldn’t save him.

The prince of Erebor, king under the mountain, and he couldn’t save one hobbit.

By the time he’d managed to push himself back up with his arm, Azog had stepped back, and Bilbo was curled up on the fur, shaking, blood splattered down his legs and flowing from a vicious bite along his neck.

That had been the scream, earlier. Azog had bitten him.

And now that he was done with him, Azog would kill him, and then Thorin.

“Bilbo,” Thorin gasped, but Bilbo wasn’t looking at him. Wasn’t looking at anything, his eyes were closed as he shook, burying his head into the fur and ignoring the rest of the world.

Azog stepped away, chuckling as he wiped himself off, his back to the hobbit as he grinned down at Thorin.

“ Did you promise him safety, before he traveled with you?” Azog asked. “ Did you tell him you would protect him? You have failed.”

Azog picked up a sword, grinning, only to pause as there was a sound from further down the cave.

Orcs were screaming, and Thorin could hear dwarves yelling.

They were being saved-

But they wouldn’t be fast enough.

Azog scowled, lifting up his blade, only to let out a scream of pain.

Bilbo was behind him, having managed to snag one of the orc knives and cut his ropes, and had just stabbed Azog in the leg.

Azog swung out at him but Bilbo backed up quickly, and Thorin kicked out at the blade still in Azog’s leg, driving it deeper into the wound, bringing Azog to his knees.

Bilbo scrambled back, and before Azog could recover there was an arrow imbedding itself in the ground between Azog and Thorin.

Azog stumbled to his feet, taking another arrow to the shoulder before he turned and fled, and Thorin glanced over to see Bilbo hastily shoving his torn clothes back on.

A moment later the rest of the company came running up, Gandalf leading the way, the others only a few paces behind him.

“Uncle!” Kili cried, putting away his bow, and Fili was already there, cutting away the ropes binding him down.

He hissed as they hauled him into a hug, but returned it quickly enough, holding his sister-sons close.

Glancing over, he saw Bofur and Nori helping Bilbo up, both trying to look him over even as he shied away.

“You’re both alive,” Gandalf breathed a sigh of relief, then nodded. “As much as I wish we could tend to injuries now, I doubt that the orcs are defeated, merely rallying their ranks. There is a place, half a day from here, where we can truly be safe. We must run for it.”

Thorin doubted that Bilbo could run right now, but Bilbo straightened up, and he nodded. Thorin nodded too. He’d support Bilbo however he could.

He owed him that much at least. 

Chapter Text

He was exhausted, in pain, and still trying to accept the fact that he’d survived, which was something he was quite certain near the end would simply Not Happen.

Every step burned, but he grit his teeth and pushed on, shaking his head whenever anyone tried to offer support.

They were all ragged. This would be a lot easier if he could just pretend that the events of the last several hours had never happened. At least till they were safe.

He could still feel Azog’s hand along his skin. Still feel his- Don’t think about it.

By the time they were at the house Gandalf had mentioned, Bilbo had slipped into a rather numb state of mind, where if he didn’t think about the pain, he didn’t feel it.

But meeting with the master of the house…

The man- or beast as the others were calling him, as he had seen earlier- was taller than Gandalf. Easily twice as tall as Azog had been. And Bilbo quickly found himself ducking behind Gandalf as long as he could.

Which wasn’t long at all.

“And who is this little fellow?” he asked, staring down at Bilbo, who suddenly hoped he’d managed to adjust his clothes enough to hide most of his injuries.

“Ah, this would be Mister Baggins, of the Shire,” Gandalf introduced, keeping a hand on Bilbo’s back.

Bilbo tried desperately not to flinch from the touch.

He was fine.

He was alive, and that was far more than he’d been able to hope for.

The man tightened his grip on his axe, scowling. “He’s not a dwarf, is he?”

“What? No! He’s a hobbit!” Gandalf chuckled nervously, carrying on, but Bilbo was distracted by the way the man’s eyes settled on the cut under his eye, then glanced down at Bilbo’s neck.

The man muttered something under his breath, and lowered his axe.

They were allowed to remain.

“There is a stream in the back, if you wish to get washed up,” the man- Beorn- spoke to him, and Bilbo swallowed, but nodded. “I’ll make sure the others go after you’ve come back.”

Once at the stream, and certain of the privacy, Bilbo allowed himself a moment to run his hands along the line of his shirt and necktie, confirming that yes, the bite was completely covered.

But Beorn had known, somehow.

Had seen it on him.

Shaking his head, he began pulling off his clothes, gently folding them and setting them to the side, frowning at the complete lack of buttons, before he waded into the cold stream and began scrubbing at his skin.

The cold water felt nice on his injuries, but even after several minutes of scrubbing Bilbo could still feel him.

He had to pause, shaking in the cold water, tears slipping down his face.

Not this again. Couldn’t he be done crying already?

It was over.

It was over, and he’d lived.

What more could he ask for than that?

Beorn had even left some soap in a basket, and Bilbo gingerly picked it up, noting that it didn’t feel like the soap back home did. It felt far more oily, but in a very… clean, way.

He shrugged, figuring that Beorn’s love of animals meant he likely made his soaps differently.

It didn’t matter. It still got the grime and dirt off, and while Bilbo didn’t stop feeling violated, he at least felt cleaner.

By the time he had put his clothes back on and made it back to the house, the dwarves were eager to be out to the stream themselves, and Bilbo stood out of the way as they all ran past him, save for Thorin, who stayed behind, staring at him.

Bilbo shuffled a bit, not quite sure what he wanted, but Thorin tilted his head further into the home. “I can take a look at your injuries, while they’re cleaning up,” he offered, and Bilbo relaxed, nodding.

Thorin knew, already, what had happened. There was no point trying to keep any of it from him, he’d seen it.

Seen the way Azog had controlled him with a single hand, held him down and-

He sucked in a breath, letting it out slowly as he followed Thorin to a secluded corner, where even when the rest of the company returned, they wouldn’t see them immediately.

After a moment, Bilbo shrugged off his waistcoat, then his shirt, and resolved not to look at Thorin.

To see his judgment.

He hissed as Thorin applied something to his neck, and Thorin slowed, gently rubbing the cream into Bilbo’s skin.

“Oin gave you that?” Bilbo asked.

“I told him you wouldn’t want the others to see. If I was mistaken-“

“You weren’t.”

Thorin kept working, slowly putting the cream on Bilbo’s various injuries, till everything was covered.

“…I…” Thorin frowned, and Bilbo found himself looking at him, despite his earlier resolve. He looked… torn. Devastated. “I saw the blood. I know you- I know he tore you-“

“I can treat that myself,” Bilbo declared, not willing to let someone else see him like that. “You have already seen me at my most undignified, I wouldn’t want-“

“ Undignified? ” Thorin stared at him. “Bilbo, he raped you. That’s a lot worse than just ‘undignified’-”

“Yes I know what he did, I was there! As were-“ he stopped, taking several breaths, trying not to remember the pain. The terror. The humiliation.

He startled as Thorin rested a hand on his shoulder. “…forgive me,” Thorin whispered. “For this, and… for what I said before. Saying you had no place amongst us… that you would be a burden… I was wrong to have judged you so quickly.”

Bilbo shook his head. “No, no I was a burden. You spent so much time trying to protect me you couldn’t focus on protecting yourself-“

“No, he would have killed me faster. If I hadn’t tried to anger him,”

“I would have felt more alone.”

They both stopped.  

Took a moment.

“Thorin… thank you. For what you did. You could have ignored what was happening. You… you tried to help. Thank you.”

“It was my fault you were there. I was unable to save you. You- you saved me. Twice. ”

Noise from the outside warned that the others were coming back, and Bilbo hastily grabbed his clothes, shoving them back on as Thorin backed up.

“Bilbo! Beorn wouldn’t let us bathe with you! Can you tell him he’s being overly… bearing?” Kili turned to look at the others for confirmation that yes, that was the right word.

Thorin rolled his eyes. “Master Baggins needed a moment of privacy, which you all should respect,” Thorin pointed out, grabbing his own things to go bathe. “Behave yourselves,” he looked pointedly at Fili and Kili as he passed, who both nodded hurriedly, then he was gone, and Bilbo allowed himself to be dragged into the group, trying to smile at their antics.

As they ate dinner, Oin took a seat next to him. “Thorin get to all your injuries?” he asked, and Bilbo nodded. “Good, good, that’s good. There’s nothing to be ashamed of, surviving an orc’s torture, you know. Several of us have been injured or worse, in our lives. But if you don’t want to talk about it, that’s your right. Just know that we get it. We understand a bit of what you’re going through.”

Bilbo cleared his throat, trying to dislodge the lump there. “Thank you,” he managed, and Oin nodded, turning back to his food.

They didn’t know. They couldn’t. But it was kind of them anyway.

A kindness he didn’t know what to do with.

Hot, rancid breath against his face as sharp knives cut into his skin, and he felt as though he were being stabbed with a flaming torch, the pain inside him was so great.

Above him, Azog laughed, that cruel sound surrounding him like a thousand fingers, worming their way under his skin as he screamed and screamed, trying to make it stop, trying to get away.

The next moment the knife was pressing against his throat, pressing down- down- sharp and painful as it cut into his throat, then Azog was pushing his head back, his tongue sliding into Bilbo’s throat as he lapped up the blood spilling there-

He was out of his bedroll before he realized he was awake, looking around as he regained awareness.

He was in Beorn’s house. The company slept on all sides, and a snarling howl from outside told him Beorn was on guard.

“Master Baggins-“

He gasped and whirled around, only to find Thorin sitting at the table. “Thorin!” Bilbo sagged, gasping for breath. “You startled me.”

“Nightmares?” Thorin asked, and Bilbo nodded, coming to take a seat next to him.

“…I…”

“It will take a while, before they calm down. But they will ease.”

Bilbo nodded, accepting the mug of mead Thorin handed him and drinking it slowly.

Tentatively, he leaned a little closer to Thorin, relieved when Thorin shifted and placed an arm around his shoulders, pulling him closer. “…You were very brave,” Thorin whispered. “Not only in fighting back, but in stabbing Azog.”

“If I hadn’t, he would have killed you. It wasn’t bravery, just… desperation.”

“For my life?” Thorin asked, and Bilbo looked up at him, slowly nodding.

“…You’re important,” he offered, unable to think of another way to say it. “You need to stay alive, so you can reach your home.”

“And what of your home?”

Bilbo stared down at the table, before taking another drink. “…I miss Bag End. But… I don’t know how I’m going to go back after this.”

Thorin winced. “…I’m sorry. This…I wish I could say it won’t impact you, but… I’m afraid your marriage prospects will not be the same when you return. Even should you not disclose it, it will impact you.”

Bilbo snorted. “I’m on an adventure. I’m pretty sure my marriage prospects were completely ruined the second I ran out of Bag End with a contract in my hand.”

He glanced over to see Thorin staring at him. “…Adventure is… not a desirable achievement?”

He couldn’t help it.

He laughed.

“Oh- no, no it certainly isn’t. Hobbits don’t much care for adventures. They’re uncomfortable things, full of strange people, and you can never be sure of what time you’ll make it back to dinner. No hobbit worth their salt would ever be caught on an adventure. Not unless they’re from across the water. Those are some strange folk over there. I should know, my mother was one.” He sighed, thinking about his dear mother. “…She was a Took. Tooks are known to be strange. But she… she had such a passion for life. My father looked past the adventuring, and the two were quite happy together. Till the end of their days.” He sighed, finishing off his drink, and setting it down. “But no. No, I don’t think you need to worry about any prospects of mine. I’d contented myself for quite some time to be a bachelor, and that is how I shall remain after this.”

Thorin nodded. “…I wish I could take that approach. As the king, it will be expected of me to find a consort. No matter how… undesirable, I may be.”

Bilbo stared at him. “Undesirable?”

Thorin nodded. “My failures as a prince, my beard… I am not so handsome as you, and my reputation has not been… kind.”

That wasn’t- he couldn’t possibly- “I’m not attractive! And you might not be quite as attractive as Bombur, but you cannot tell me that there aren’t ladies lining up to court you. Or lads. And I don’t understand what your beard has to do with it.”

Now it was Thorin’s turn to stare. “…As attractive as… Bombur? He is married, yes, but if there were a dwarf here to have that attention, it would likely be Gloin. He’s had to weave a marriage braid into his beard and not just his hair, so that he is left alone- what makes you say you are not attractive? Your lack of a beard certainly, I understand that, but you are-“ Thorin stopped, as Bilbo stared at him.

“Hobbits don’t grow beards,” Bilbo pointed out. “And- how can anyone here not see how gorgeous Bombur is? You comment on it all the time! He’s got the best appreciation for food of the lot of you! Standing next to each other, me and Bombur, you’re telling me you don’t think Bombur to be the more attractive?”

“No, I don’t?” Thorin’s arm had fallen from Bilbo’s shoulder at some point during the conversation, and now they were facing each other, both completely confused. “Why- what makes you think you aren’t attractive?”

“I’m skinny. I’m a twig. I lost all my weight when my parents died, and even before this trip it was a struggle to try and put it back on, and now I don’t think I’ll ever be back up to a respectable weight.”

“Hobbits consider weight to be a feature of attractiveness?” Thorin interrupted.

“Of course! It shows a healthy appetite for food and life!”

Thorin sighed, and nodded, turning back to his drink. “I understand the confusion. For dwarves, it is our beards. To have a healthy beard, to care for it, to show it is well maintained, shows that not only are we able to give great life, but also that we are able to craft well. That we can craft beauty in all that we touch. After Smaug, I shaved my beard as a mark of my shame, and it has never grown back properly.”

Bilbo reached across, resting a hand on Thorin’s. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize.” They sat in silence for a moment, before Bilbo frowned. “But… if beards are how you see attraction, what do you see in me? ”

Thorin glanced over at him. “…You really don’t see it?” When Bilbo shook his head, Thorin sighed. “Your eyes. They’re… piercing. Sharp and clever, hidden behind your bright smile. And while you don’t have a beard, the hair on your feet is thick, and beautiful, and… incredibly distracting. Not to mention your courage… anyone would be honored to have you as their partner.” Thorin’s face fell. “And now… I’m so sorry.”

Bilbo snorted, shaking his head and knocking his shoulder against Thorin’s. “Like I said, I’ve given up ever finding a partner. Even if I do survive this quest, I imagine I’ll return home and live the rest of my days perfectly content with my armchair… my books… how did you know about my garden?” he asked, remembering the words Thorin had spoken during those horrible moments.

“You’ve smiled at every plant you’ve seen as we traveled, and spent a fair few moments asking Beorn about his plants. Not to mention I saw your garden in Bag End, when I was there.”

Bilbo shrugged. It was a fair point.

“Right. Well. I’m off to sleep again. Don’t stay up too late brooding,” he commented, patting Thorin on the shoulder, only for Thorin to gently capture his wrist, halting him.

“…Should you have nightmares again… come find me. Even if I’m asleep. I… would offer you what comfort I can.”

Bilbo smiled sadly. “Thank you, Thorin. I think… I may have misjudged you too.”

Chapter Text

He’d been doing well.

He’d been doing. So. Well.

The spiders of mirkwood were terrifying, but he had his ring in his pocket, and he could slip it on and become invisible-

He could become invisible.

He’d had the ring when Azog took him.

He could have slipped it on. Could have disappeared. Could have spared himself that misery.

Bilbo had to cover his mouth as he began to cry, realizing that escape had been right there, and he’d missed it.

Carefully, he pulled himself together, grasping his sword that much tighter, and heading off to rescue his dwarves.

Then came the elves.

Bilbo had to sneak into their dungeon, terrified that any moment he’d be discovered and thrown in prison. Tortured.

He was alone.

Invisible, yes, but alone.

Completely alone, for the first time since he’d met that Gollum creature in the caves beneath the Goblin mountains.

For the first time since he’d been dragged off by Azog and the other orcs, he wasn’t with anyone. Thorin wasn’t here. The company wasn’t here. Gandalf was far away- he needed to find the company- needed to find his friends- needed to find Thorin-

He found a remote corner, curling up on the floor and biting his knuckles as he cried, wishing once more that he’d never run out his door. That he’d never gone on this insane adventure.

But without you, Thorin would be dead.

Did that make it worth it?

What Azog had done to him?

Did that make the nightmares, and moments where he couldn’t breathe because someone had patted him on the shoulder- was Thorin’s life worth that?

Yes.

Without a shadow of a doubt, yes.

Of course you’re doubting it. Only a fool wouldn’t.

After several minutes, he shook himself, the last of the tears drying on his skin as he stood up.

He needed to find his dwarves.

They’d rescued him.

It was his turn to rescue them.

“Bilbo!” Bofur cheered, only for Bilbo to hush him quickly.

“I know, I know, I’m here- where are the others? Have you seen them?”

Bofur shook his head. “They split us all up, took our weapons and everything. They even split up the twins.”

Not good.

“Right. Are you alright though? Was anyone injured? Have the elves treated you well?”

Bofur scoffed. “Well enough for elves. No, I don’t think anyone’s injured, but- Bilbo,” he reached out, catching Bilbo’s hand. “Are you alright? You look half scared to death.”

Bilbo swallowed tightly. “I’ll be alright. Just as soon as I know all of you are alright.” He didn’t look reassured, but Bilbo didn’t have time to continue arguing. “I’ll be back, I’m going to go see if I can find the others, and a way out of here.”

“Good luck!” Bofur called after him, and Bilbo winced at the noise, quickly ducking into another alcove and slipping the ring back on.

Next he found Nori, Fili and Kili, and then it was rapid succession for the others.

But by the time he’d found Balin, he was at the end of the corridors he could search, and still no sign of Thorin.

“He’ll be alright, lad,” Balin tried to encourage him. “Thorin’s made of sterner stuff, and if we haven’t been hurt, Thorin won’t have been either. They know he’s the one with the power to negotiate.”

Bilbo nodded, rocking back and forth on his heels as he tried not to let it get to him. “Right. Right. I just… need to find a way out. For all of you. And find Thorin. Before time runs out and we miss the window for the mountain. No pressure there- definitely something I can do-“

“Easy, easy, here, take a seat outside the door, alright?” Balin helped him sit down, sitting on the other side of the door with him. “I don’t doubt you’ll find a way out of this, but you’ll not do us any favors by working yourself into a mess. Take some deep breaths, alright?”

Bilbo shakily nodded, feeling himself fall apart. His nerves were a mess. His clothes were a mess. His buttons were all gone on his shirt and jacket, his necktie had been lost in the battle with the spiders-

He gasped as he clasped a hand over his scars, looking up only to see Balin’s gaze turn sad.

“…I’ve already seen it, lad.”

Oh, oh no, no this was bad.

He could feel the tears welling up in his eyes, and Balin urged him to come closer, holding his hand gently through the bars of the cell as Bilbo began to cry.

“There there. Let it all out.”

“He- I-“ he couldn’t get words out, but Balin just patted his hand, a welcome warmth in all of this.

“I had suspected, at Beorn’s, when he insisted you have some privacy. None of us think less of you for it.”

“The others know?” Bilbo whispered as he sobbed.

“They suspect. Some of them, at any rate. I don’t think the twins have figured it out, but they’re young. Unfamiliar with war and its horrors. They wouldn’t judge you either.”

Bilbo nodded shakily, holding tight to Balin’s hand. “…I… I keep thinking I’m doing well and then-“ he gestured to himself, and Balin patted the back of his hand.

“Recovery is a long road. Just because you haven’t reached the end, doesn’t mean you’re not still walking.”

Bilbo nodded rapidly, trying hard to get the tears to stop. If a guard came, it wouldn’t matter if he did turn invisible if his sobbing was so loud they could find him anyway.

After several minutes, Bilbo started to feel a bit more like himself, a bit more in control, and Balin gave him a wry smile. “Chin up lad. You found us, I’m sure you’ll find Thorin in no time.”

Right.

“Thank you, Balin. Really. I… I think I needed to cry.”

“Of course. We all have to grieve in our own way. Even if the timing isn’t what we wanted it to be.”

“Right. I’m going to keep looking. Is there anything you want me to tell the others?”

“Just that ‘the sun will shine in the coldest mountain’. They’ll know what I mean.”

“Right. Good. ‘the sun will shine in the-‘ the sun doesn’t shine in the mountain though.”

Balin chuckled, shaking his head. “They’ll know what I mean. Now go. Find our leader.”

After two days, he finally trailed the right guards to a hallway far removed from the others, where he finally found Thorin’s cell. He waited until the guards had dropped off Thorin’s food and left, before sneaking closer.

Instantly, Thorin was alert.

“Who goes there?” he demanded, and Bilbo hastily removed the ring.

“Shh, Thorin, it’s me!”

“Bilbo!” Thorin got up from his cot, coming to stand at the other side of the door, grinning a bit. “Hello Burglar.” Then he frowned. “How did you do that? I didn’t see you at all, it was as if you were there in an instant.”

Oh… oh no.

“I…” How was he supposed to explain this? Explain his own failure?

Thorin’s gaze sharpened. “What’s wrong? Are you injured? Did someone hurt you? If they have, I will hunt them down-“

“ Thorin, ” Bilbo shook his head, trying not to cry. “…I found a ring… in the goblin tunnels… it turns me invisible.”

Thorin frowned. “I don’t understand, why do you say this as though the ring itself is some great evil? This sounds incredible.”

“…In the goblin tunnels. Before…”

Thorin pulled in a breath. “Before Azog.” Bilbo nodded, his hands shaking as he clenched them, staring at the floor, trying to hide his tears.

“…I forgot. I forgot I had the ring. If I’d slipped it on…”

He startled as Thorin lifted his chin with a finger, directing him to look up. “This ring was in your pocket, yes?” Thorin asked, and Bilbo nodded. “Your hands were bound behind you, as were mine. You couldn’t have reached it.”

“But- but if-“ he tried to sort through the mess of words in his head. “The… before, in the battle, before they grabbed me, if I’d put the ring on then, ”

“Wargs have a better sense of smell than bloodhounds. They would have eaten you, and I would not have known your fate.” Bilbo shook, leaning against the cell door, and Thorin clasped his shoulder with one hand, supporting him. “…I had a dagger, hidden on my belt, when Azog took us. I couldn’t reach it with my hands bound behind me. I still think back to that day and wonder if there was something more I could have done to use it. But thinking on past battles will only get us so far.”

Bilbo sniffled, wiping his eyes with his sleeve. “You sound like you’re speaking from experience.” 

“I have seen my share of wars, Master Baggins. Far too many. There is always a cost. And always a hope we could have done something to spare it.” Thorin frowned at him. “...you have paid so high a cost already…” He took a breath, squeezing Bilbo’s shoulder. “...Thranduil has offered me a deal. A way out. I have not taken it.” 

“...What is the cost?” Bilbo asked. 

“It is not the cost itself, but what other treachery I believe him capable of. I cannot trust anything the elf says. He has gone back on his word before… but perhaps it would be for the best.” 

“No- Thorin, no. If you don’t trust him, neither do I. I’m going to find a way out. I am. And then- then we’re going to make it to Erebor. We’re going to face that dragon. We’re going to win. ” He wasn’t sure where this confidence came from, but seeing Thorin give up? 

When Thorin didn’t give up against anything, not even Azog. 

Even when Azog had pinned Bilbo down and raped him, Thorin never gave up trying to reach him. 

This wouldn’t be where Thorin gave up. 

“...You’re certain of this?” Thorin asked, and Bilbo nodded. 

“I am. I don’t know how I’m going to do it. But I am going to get you all out of here- just you wait and see.” 

Thorin grinned, clasping Bilbo’s hand through the bars and bringing it forward to kiss the back of it, even as Bilbo blushed furiously. “If you are certain, then I have full faith in you. Now go, before the guards come back. Be safe.” 

Bilbo nodded, slipping away, ignoring the blush on his cheeks, or the pounding of his heart. 

He would get them out. 

And then… 

And then figure out what exactly he felt about Thorin, and knowing exactly how soft his lips were. 

Chapter Text

Thorin scowled at the dark circles under Bilbo’s eyes. “You’re not sleeping.”

“Hard to sleep when my nightmares are so loud I could easily alert a guard to my presence,” Bilbo countered. “How are you doing?” he asked, trying to distract Thorin.

“I’d do better knowing my company is safe,” Thorin pointed out, reaching through the bars of the cell to grasp Bilbo before he toppled.

Bilbo just nodded, not seeming to notice Thorin’s hand on his arm. “The others are safe,” Bilbo informed him. “Fili and Kili are passing messages through me, and Nori’s started trying to steal keys off guards as they go past. It hasn’t worked yet, but I give it another two days before he manages to grab something. ”

“I meant you, ” Thorin pointed out. “Even without your earlier attack, you’d still need rest. Now? Your body still needs to heal-“

“Yes I know what my body needs, thank you,” Bilbo snapped, pulling back, even as Thorin reached for him still.

Then Bilbo stopped and shook his head, looking half ready to start crying. “…I’m sorry. I- I’m sorry Thorin, I didn’t-“

He cut off with a groan, and Thorin nodded. “I understand. But please: care for yourself. There must be somewhere here you can sleep.”

“No, not without-“

He cut off as he heard guards approaching, and Thorin’s eyes lit up. “Slip in here when they open the door,” he hissed, and quickly backed away from the cell door as Bilbo disappeared.

The same two guards appeared with his food, and he backed to the far wall, raising his empty hands to show he was unarmed.

The guards took less than a minute to open the door, drop off the food, and leave again, locking the door behind themselves, but as they left, Thorin grinned as Bilbo appeared in front of him, in the cell.

“What now?” Bilbo asked, scowling. “Now I’m just trapped in here with you.”

“And a bed. I can wake you before you start screaming, so they won’t find you.”

Bilbo was perfectly still for a moment, then he had an armful of hobbit as Bilbo hugged him tight.

“ Thank you, ” Bilbo whispered, and Thorin nodded, wrapping his own arms gently around his hobbit.

He couldn’t do much to help, but he could do this.

Teeth were in his neck, and he’d long since lost his voice from screaming. There was nothing more to do.

“Bilbo!” someone was calling for him.

Thorin?

Was that Thorin?

He couldn’t tell. Couldn’t see, apart from the firelight dancing along Azog’s face, lighting up those cold, cruel eyes.

Those teeth, dripping Bilbo’s blood.

Then Azog’s teeth were digging into Bilbo’s lip, even as Bilbo tried to shove him off.

He wouldn’t move. Why wouldn’t he move? Why couldn’t he move?

His hands were bound, bound and holding onto a knife, but as he tried to stab Azog-

Thorin-

Thorin!

Somehow, his knife was in Thorin’s neck, and Thorin was gasping for breath, bleeding out in his arms as Bilbo held him, trying to will the blood back into Thorin.

“Master… Burglar…”

There was so much pain in Thorin’s voice, and above them, Azog just laughed.

He laughed, and laughed, the sound cruel and grating, and Bilbo wanted to scream but he couldn’t make a sound-

Thorin…

Thorin….

Please, Thorin, don’t be dead… Don’t be dead- don’t be dead don’t be dead don’t be-

He woke up to a hand covering his mouth, and immediately tried to jerk away, but there were arms pinning him down-

Someone was holding him down-

“ Bilbo, ” Thorin hissed, and Bilbo stilled.

Thorin?

Why was Thorin on top of him? What was he doing?

“The guards! Put your ring on!”

The guards-

The dungeons!

He nodded and Thorin released him, Bilbo hastily grabbing the ring and slipping it on, not a moment too soon as guards rounded the corner, glaring into the cell, even as Bilbo cowered behind Thorin, invisible with the ring on his finger.

“Back against the wall,” they instructed, and Thorin stood up, moving to the wall even as he subtly nodded.

He was giving Bilbo approval to sneak out.

As the door opened, Bilbo slipped out, careful not to get too close to the guards.

He needed to find them a way out.

He refused to let Thorin die. In here or anywhere else.

In the end, it took a week of sneaking through the elven dungeons before Bilbo discovered the wine cellars, and their way out.

Clinging to the outside of a barrel as they made their way through freezing water and rapids was not a pleasant experience, and Bilbo had barely managed to get everyone safely out of the barrels before he collapsed onto the banks of the river, throwing up the water that had made its way into his lungs.

They were all safe. That was good. Oh, that was very good. He’d take the nausea and vomiting if it meant that everyone was safe.

He startled as a hand clapped his back, but it was only Dwalin, clapping him hard to help him expel whatever water was still trapped.

“You did good,” Dwalin commented, looking around. “Get all that water out, you did good. We’re all out.”

He knew Dwalin could see the scars.

He hadn’t asked which of them knew, but he had felt their eyes on him in the dungeons, and knew that of the company, there were only five he wasn’t sure about knowing.

Fili, Kili, Ori, Gloin, and Dori all had remained ignorant of the bite along his neck. The others had all seen it. And said nothing.

Once he was breathing properly again, he waved Dwalin off, straightening up in time to see Gloin glancing hastily away.

Make that four dwarves who didn’t know.

He needed something to cover the scars. Soon.

The coat was itchy, but it covered the scars well, so Bilbo refused to be parted with it.

Laketown was… sad. He could feel it in the stares sent their way, the way the people hunched over and clung to the shadows.

There was a darkness here. One he understood far too well.

“Master Baggins,” Thorin called, and Bilbo looked up from where he was sitting next to the fire in Bard’s house. “You haven’t eaten yet. Here.”

Bilbo accepted the bowl Thorin handed to him, smiling a bit at the stew. It was good. And that just made it harder for him to eat it.

“…I know your nightmares have not eased since our escape,” Thorin whispered, “I hope you know I meant what I said before. If I can help-“

“While that’s appreciated, I’d rather handle the nightmares on my own, thank you.” Bilbo winced. He hadn’t meant to snap. It was just… hard.

He hadn’t let himself think about those nights in Thorin’s cell, where Thorin held him through the night, the two of them crammed onto that tiny cot, Thorin’s gentle hands and deep voice waking him from the nightmares.

It… hurt. Knowing that Thorin had been able to help.

Knowing he hadn’t been strong enough to handle them on his own.

He needed to be stronger.

Needed to be able to handle this on his own.

Needed to not be broken.

“I’m sorry,” Thorin cleared his throat, standing up. “I’ll… check in with the others. I didn’t mean to overstep.”

Thorin stepped away, and Bilbo ached to reach out for him, but he kept it to himself, tucking his hand under his arm in an attempt to warm himself up.

Just brilliant, Bilbo Baggins. How do you expect to prove you’re not broken, when every choice you make has you doubting yourself? You should go talk to him. Ask him what he meant with that kiss in the dungeons. Ask him why he let you share his bed. But no- you’re pushing him away.

Bilbo scowled.

He was broken.

There was nothing he could do to change it.

Thorin had been wrong, all those times he insisted Bilbo would heal.

What Azog had done to him had broken him.

Irreversibly.

Chapter Text

Erebor.

A stronghold to the dwarves, and a symbol to the rest of the world.

Or at least, that’s what it had been.

Bilbo stared out over the vast expanse of the mountain, and the sea of gold and gems that rested there.

Please.

Please let the dragon be dead already.

Dead or alive, Bilbo’s job didn’t have anything to do with the dragon. Other than avoiding it.

He was supposed to find the Arkenstone.

A big, white, jewel.

Distinct.

He’d know it when he saw it.

…He had no idea what he was looking for.

An ocean of jewels and gold, inside a mountain. And he was looking for a specific jewel.

“Couldn’t you have chosen something else?” Bilbo whispered to himself. “A cup, perhaps. I’ve passed about twenty of those already since walking in. No, you want a specific jewel.”

The gold shifted around him, and he ducked behind a pillar, trying not make too much noise.

The gold stilled, and silence reigned once more.

It was oppressive.

Overwhelming, and smothering, and he hated it.

But, silence meant there wasn’t a dragon about to drop out of the sky and eat him.

How fast of an ending would that be? It would certainly solve the nightmare issue.

Arkenstone… Arkenstone…

He scowled, looking around.

There was another gem, this time on a cup, and he shrugged, picking it up, only for a veritable hill of gold coins to come falling down.

Shit shit shit- can I put it back?!

He stilled, as the coins fell away, revealing thick red scales, along what had to be the dragon’s nostril.

No.

No.

Oh fuck.

He slowly started backing away, only to get hit with a blast of hot air as the dragon exhaled, and Bilbo had to bite his lip to stop the whimper.

All of a sudden, he couldn’t move. He couldn’t move, he couldn’t fight back—couldn’t stop Azog from consuming him completely-

He snapped back to reality, grabbing his ring and slipping it on in an instant as the gold around him fell away, the dragon waking from its slumber.

Its head was easily as big as Bag End itself, its eye sharp and terrible as it roved across the hall, looking for him.

He stayed perfectly still, hoping the ring made him invisible to dragons too.

“Well, thief, ” the dragon spoke, his voice grating on Bilbo’s ears like daggers or-

Claws.

Sharp claws, digging into his neck, his back, his hips-

“I smell you,” the dragon continued, and Bilbo winced, ducking down as the dragon’s head came far too close for comfort. “I hear your breath,” he passed overhead, turning, and Bilbo realized far too late he was hemmed in, the dragon’s tail blocking any exit. “I feel your air. Where are you?”

His eyes are on the side of his head- he’s used to being able to see everything. He can’t see me, and it’s confusing him!

Then Smaug’s head was directly in front of him, and Bilbo shook his head, ducking away.

The coins fell around him, but that worked to his advantage, every displaced coin causing an avalanche of more coins in all different directions as he ran.

He ran as if the orcs of Azog were at his heels, as if-

As if there was a dragon chasing him.

Finally, he ducked behind a pillar, catching his breath as the dragon surged past him, chasing the rippling coins.

This was bad.

This was very bad-

He needed to get out.

But not before he found the Arkenstone!

The mountain rumbled, and Nori shook his head. “I don’t care what Thorin says, I say we go down there and help him. We didn’t leave him to face Azog alone, we won’t leave him to face a dragon alone.”

“There’s a big difference between an orc and a dragon!” Ori pointed out, but Bofur snorted.

“Yeah. Azog’s scarier. All a dragon’l do is kill you.”

“What else would Azog do?” Ori asked, but Dori just frowned at him.

“Think of it this way, lad,” Gloin chimed in. “Why do you think they call him ‘defiler’?”

Dori reached over and smacked Gloin across the back of the head. “He doesn’t need to be thinking about those things! We shouldn’t even be talking about it. If Bilbo doesn’t want us to know, then we don’t know. ”

“Don’t know what?!” Ori asked, and Kili looked confused too, but Fili-

Nori noted that the lad strictly wasn’t looking at them.

Kili and Fili had been the closest to Thorin and Bilbo when they were rescued.

He’d wondered how much the twins had seen. Kili hadn’t seen anything apparently, but Fili…

“I’m going in,” Thorin announced, and the others cheered, grabbing their weapons.

Bilbo would never be hurt again.

Not if they could do anything to prevent it.

“‘Barrel rider’, now that is interesting.” Smaug pulled back, and Bilbo did his level best to keep his composure, even as he tried not to think about what those teeth would feel like, digging into him.

He’d be dead too slowly to avoid the pain.

Where was that blasted Arkenstone?!

“And what of your little dwarf friends?” Smaug asked, and Bilbo swallowed.

“Dwarf?” he asked. “No, no dwarves here, I’m afraid you’re quite mistaken.” It didn’t come out anywhere near as confident as he had hoped.  

“Oh I think not. I know the smell and taste of dwarf. Just as I know the smell of orc.”

Ice flooded Bilbo’s veins.

No.

No it couldn’t be.

“Barrel rider, you say, but is that all you have ridden? Tell me, did you enjoy the feel of the orc inside you? I’d wager you screamed loudly for him. ”

Bilbo had to cover his mouth, shaking as he remembered Azog, thrusting into him. Remembered the heat of him surrounding him.

Thorin- where is Thorin? I want Thorin-

“Struck a nerve, have I, little thief?”

He needed to respond- his wit was the only reason he was alive right now!

“I- he- that was weeks ago,” he finally managed, “how-“

“The noses of humans and dwarves may be uncultured and unfamiliar, but there isn’t much you can hide from me. His mark clings to you. Is that why you sought me out? So I could end your suffering?”

End it?

He… could he do that?

“It would be easy,” the dragon purred, as if guessing Bilbo’s thoughts. “I could simply breathe some fire in your direction- my flames are so hot I could end you before you felt a thing.”

He was considering it.

Damn him, he was considering it!

“I- I still have much to live for,” he tried, but the protest sounded weak to his own ears, and the dragon scoffed.

“Those dwarves? What will they do for you? They don’t know your shame. How long do you think you can hide it from them? They will turn on you. You are tainted by this.”

No… no they wouldn’t.

“Which will it be, thief? A merciful end? Or crawling back to your little group, desperate for their acceptance till the day they turn on you and kick you out, for being an orc’s fucktoy?”

He wanted to throw up.

He wanted this to be over.

He wanted Thorin.

…Thorin wouldn’t though. Thorin wouldn’t turn on him.

“He already knows,” Bilbo rasped, “he already knows, and he still believes in me.”

“Does he?” Smaug questioned, grinning, “or does he simply have a use for you still?” He tilted his head, chuckling. “I guess you’ll never know.”

He drew a breath, and Bilbo slipped the ring back on his finger, running.

Thorin was on the stairs.

Thorin was on the stairs, and Bilbo wanted to weep with relief.  

“You’re alive!” Thorin sounded relieved, and Bilbo let it assuage whatever residual thoughts the dragon had planted in his head. Of course Thorin wouldn’t cast him aside, it was Thorin!

“Not for much longer! Smaug knows-“

“Did you find the Arkenstone?”

“What- the dragon’s coming-“

“The Arkenstone,” Thorin cut him off, even as Bilbo panted for breath. “Did you find it?”

Bilbo stared at him.

That’s what was most important here?!

“We have to get out, Smaug’s on his way here.”

He tried to move past Thorin, only to be stopped by Thorin’s blade, barring the door.

What… what was he doing?

Thorin shifted his sword, holding Bilbo at sword point as Bilbo backed up.

“Thorin, Thorin, he knows. Smaug knows. About Azog.” Something twitched in Thorin’s eyes, and Bilbo continued, trying to get through to him. “He knows what Azog did to me- about- Thorin, are you hearing me?! ”

He stopped, staring to the right, where Smaug had just appeared.

It took far too long for Thorin to turn and look at what Bilbo was seeing, but once he saw the dragon he shifted his attention, taking a stance against the dragon.

A few moments later, the others joined them on the ledge, just in time for Thorin to order them all over it, jumping to avoid the dragon fire raging above their heads, Thorin’s hand pushing Bilbo forward out of the way.

As they fled the dragon, Bilbo couldn’t help but feel like that hand belonged more to Azog than to Thorin. 

Chapter Text

The only thing Thorin ever seemed to care about anymore was that damned Arkenstone.

It had been three days since the dragon fell, and Bilbo was starting to miss being the only insomniac of the group.

Now, most of the dwarves spent their evenings searching the treasure, or partying, or counting out their portions.

And Thorin…

Well.

Thorin had barely given Bilbo a moment to himself.

He desperately hoped the Arkenstone wouldn’t show itself, but sometimes he wished someone would find it, just so Thorin would stop staring at him quite so intently.

Usually, Bilbo would have welcomed the attention, but between Azog’s… attentions, and the way Thorin had held his sword to Bilbo, demanding the damned jewel…

It was clear, there was some kind of madness over the treasure.

The others were bewitched by it, but Thorin was consumed.

He never slept, never left the treasury, simply walking through the halls, counting the treasure as he muttered to himself.

Bilbo ran his hand over his neck, wishing his coat covered more. It was so close, he kept thinking the scar would slip out at any moment.

The others had seen it… right?

But he kept thinking of what Smaug had said.

“How long do you think you can hide this from them? They will turn on you. ”

No.

No, they wouldn’t.

Balin already knew. Dwalin knew. So many of them knew already.

But they never spoke of it.

Never talked about it with him-

Did they really think less of him for it?

Would they kick him out, now that his role in the company was over?

“Come with me,” Thorin spoke, startling Bilbo out of his musings and grabbing his hand, tugging him along.

“Thorin!” Bilbo complained, but followed behind the king. “Thorin, where are we going?”

Of course, Thorin didn’t respond to him, simply tugging him along by the grip on his wrist, and Bilbo had to breathe through the panic threatening to overwhelm him.

This was Thorin. Thorin wouldn’t actually hurt him. He was safe.

It was getting harder and harder to believe that every day.

Thorin pulled him into a room that seemed to be some kind of immense closet, closing the door behind them.

“Remove your coat.”

Bilbo stared at him. “Excuse me?!”

“Remove it!” Thorin snapped, then sighed. “Please, Master Baggins. Remove your coat. I have found something for you.”

Reluctantly, Bilbo began undoing his coat, shivering a bit as it revealed the healing bite along his neck, and he saw Thorin’s eyes transfixed upon the spot.

He shuffled uncomfortably. “The coat’s off,” he pointed out, and Thorin nodded, pulling out a strip of blue fabric from a pile of clothing, handing it over. “What-“

“For your neck,” he explained, and Bilbo grasped the material, turning it over to find that it was a fine, silken necktie, with embroidery and tiny gems sewn into it.

“Thorin, I-“

“I have seen the way you fidget with your coat. I know it still bothers you, his mark upon you.”

Bilbo swallowed. “I… thank you.”

He moved to wrap it around his neck, only for Thorin to stop him with a hand on his arm. “Allow me.”

Bilbo allowed Thorin to take the necktie out of his hands, wrapping it around Bilbo’s neck and covering the scar.

He should feel better.

He should.

Instead, it felt like he was proving Smaug right.

If the others knew. If they were faced with the daily reminder of what Azog had done to him… they’d abandon him in an instant.

Thorin was the only one who wasn’t abandoning him.

“There is… something else,” Thorin continued, and Bilbo looked up, waiting for him to go on. “…I would have you wear it, as a token of our friendship.”

He held up a sort of chainmail shirt, that shone in the light, delicate and beautiful.

“That- Thorin, I don’t need armor.”

“Put it on,” Thorin insisted. “It is mithril. Silver steel. No blade can pierce it.”

Bilbo bit back his objections, instead shrugging the shirt on, relieved to find that it was as lightweight as it looked.

Still, “Thorin, I look absurd. I’m not a warrior, I’m a hobbit!”

“And yet that bastard remains at large. It would ease my heart to know you are protected.” He didn’t need to clarify which one. “You must remain safe. You will be safe. From all dangers.” His tone darkened, and Bilbo swallowed, feeling incredibly small. “I do not trust the others. I have seen the way they stare.” He scowled at the door, as if they were listening in. “They have taken the Arkenstone. I am sure of it. One of them is false.”

What.

“Thorin- there’s an ocean of treasure down there, I wouldn’t be surprised if we didn’t find the Arkenstone for another year. The company is loyal, they wouldn’t do that-“ He squeaked as Thorin pushed him against a wall, and he had to breathe carefully to avoid the panic that was taking over.

“They would take the Arkenstone and hide it from me,” Thorin growled, “but they cannot take you. No one can have you. Not Azog, not them.”

Bilbo shuddered. “Thorin, you’re not-“

He squeaked as Thorin grabbed his chin, tilting his head up, and Bilbo realized suddenly exactly how close they were.

His heart pounded in his ears, and for a moment he thought Thorin might try to kiss him.

He wasn’t sure why that thought made his stomach turn in revulsion, and not delight.

But Thorin was just looking him over, and after a moment he released him. “I will allow no harm to come to you. You must stay by my side so I can ensure it.”

Bilbo just nodded, not arguing.

It wouldn’t do any good.

This wasn’t Thorin anymore.

The survivors of Laketown were setting up in Dale.

And instead of helping them, Thorin was barring the door.

Bilbo shook his head, trying to take this moment’s peace to relax.

The others were still staring at him.

Now Ori and Kili were shooting him inquisitive glances, and Fili was downright refusing to look at him, and-

And…

And he was regretting running away from Smaug.

Damn him, he’d been right.

He was tainted.

Marked.

The others could see it, and it wouldn’t be long till they turned on him. Kicked him out.

Abandoned him.

And if he went home? What then?

What life awaited him back in Hobbiton? He didn’t need Azog’s bite marking him, this whole adventure marked him. He would be an outcast there as well.

He really was alone.

He reached into his pocket, pulling out the acorn he’d picked up at Beorn’s.

Would… would Beorn allow him to return? Would he like company? The man seemed entirely unpleasant, but he’d been kind. He hadn’t judged Bilbo for what he’d lived through.

At least there, he wouldn’t be alone.

“What is that?!” Thorin called, and Bilbo startled, jumping to his feet.

Oh bother.

“Show it to me!” Thorin demanded, and Bilbo scowled.

“It’s nothing, ” he insisted, even as Thorin loomed over him.

Sighing, Bilbo slowly opened his hand, revealing the acorn, and Thorin looked… startled. “It’s just… an acorn I found. In Beorn’s garden. I thought… I could take it with me. Just… something to remember. After everything was done. Something… to remind me that there’s still life. Even after everything.”

“…You carried it all this way?” Thorin asked, his voice suddenly gentle. “A poor prize to take back to the Shire…”

Bilbo looked up, and Thorin was staring at him with wonder, a small smile playing on his lips.

He looked so much like how he used to, and Bilbo wondered if maybe, maybe, Thorin was still in there.

Maybe the gold didn’t have complete control over him.

“It’s… life. One day, it’ll grow, and I’ll… hopefully, I’ll…” he couldn’t say the words.

He didn’t even know where he’d plant the thing now. He didn’t want to go back to the Shire. But it was looking less and less like he’d be welcome here.

But with Thorin smiling at him like that… he could let himself believe…

Then the smile fell, and Thorin turned to glare at Dwalin, who was standing nearby.

“Bard’s approaching the gate,” he announced, and Thorin’s face darkened once more.

Bilbo wanted to weep.

He couldn’t keep doing this.

“Call everyone to the gate,” he announced, the darkness back in Thorin’s voice as he swept off.

Bilbo startled as Dwalin clapped him on the shoulder. “Chin up lad,” Dwalin spoke, “I know he seems overbearing, but he’s just protective of you.”

“I don’t think that’s what it is,” Bilbo pointed out, but Dwalin shook his head.

“…The scarf looks nice, but if you don’t have to wear it if you don’t want to. We’ve all got scars.”

Bilbo stared at him as he walked away, and took a moment to gather his breath again.

…Dwalin knew already, and wasn’t rejecting him.

Balin knew, and wasn’t rejecting him.

The others already knew.

And he was still here.

He chuckled, trying to shake his head to clear the thoughts.

Smaug was wrong.

He had to be.

He was still a member of this company, the same as the rest of them.

He didn’t need to leave. He wouldn’t be forced to.

And Thorin wasn’t the only person he could talk to.

But maybe… maybe he was the only person Thorin could talk to.

Bilbo’s tongue was almost bleeding from all that he’d been biting it as Thorin spoke to Bard.

He’d given his word.

He’d promised, and Bilbo had vouched for him.

As Thorin stormed off, refusing to hear reason from the others, Bilbo shook his head, refusing to let this continue any longer.

“ Thorin! ” Bilbo called, running to catch up with Thorin, who stormed into the throne room, his fur coat dragging behind him. “Thorin, you gave your word! Does that mean nothing to you anymore?!”

“I will not treat with liars and thieves,” Thorin growled, only slowing as he approached his throne.

“I’m a thief!” Bilbo pointed out. “That’s what you hired me to be: your burglar- does that mean you won’t uphold your word to me?!”

“Your portion of the gold is secure-“

“ Azog, ” Bilbo snapped. “You vowed, while he was raping me, that you would hunt him down. That there would be, nowhere, on this earth that he could hide from you.”

“I know what I swore,” Thorin growled.

“You vowed that you would gut him, and you would get revenge for me- and Azog said that killing you would make your promises empty. But he didn’t kill you! We escaped! Are you going to let that be an empty promise anyway?!”

He gasped as Thorin grabbed him by the throat, slamming him into the back of the throne. “Do not question my promises, Burglar!” Thorin roared, and Bilbo’s head rang, his vision blurring as he felt claws digging into his neck-

No, no, please no, I can’t do this again!

“…Bilbo?”

The hand let go and he dropped, his head ringing- he was back there again. Lying on the filthy furs, hands bound painfully behind his back as clawed hands ripped his clothing off, blood spilling from jagged teeth-

“Bilbo- Givashel- fuck, what have I done?”

He was shaking, and he couldn’t stop crying, couldn’t stop gasping for breath as he waited for the pain to start. Waited for sharp claws to rip him apart from the inside, for teeth to tear open his skin.

Instead, a shaking hand pulled his head forward, till he was resting it against a shoulder, another arm wrapped around his back, black hair obscuring his vision as the person holding him shook, just as hard as he did.

“I’m so sorry,” Thorin was whispering, and Bilbo slowly started to realize that no, he wasn’t being held by Azog. “Bilbo, Bilbo I’m so sorry, please… please come back…”

Something warm and wet was hitting his shoulder, and Bilbo slowly lifted his unbound hands, his fingers clenching in Thorin’s shirt-

Where was his coat?

Where was his crown?

Thorin pulled back, staring at him, and there were tears streaming down Thorin’s cheeks.

He… he was crying…

Why was he…

“Bilbo?” Thorin whispered, and Bilbo swallowed.

“…Thorin?” he asked, and Thorin nodded.

“I- I’m so sorry,” Thorin managed. “I should never have- I have failed you…”

Bilbo tried to remember how to breathe, but it was hard, and Thorin pulled him that much closer, weeping into his shoulder as he held Bilbo close.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Bilbo, I’m so sorry, Givashel-“

“Thorin,” Bilbo whispered, pulling Thorin back so he could look at him.

He’d never looked so broken, even when Azog raped Bilbo, Thorin had retained his anger. His fight.

There was none of that now.

Bilbo was staring at a broken king.

But not a mad one.

Bilbo tried to smile, despite his tears, wiping Thorin’s tears from his cheek. “…you’re you again,” he whispered, and Thorin nodded against his cheek.

“I’m myself. I’m me. I- I should never have-“

Bilbo tugged him closer, placing a gentle kiss to his lips, and Thorin sagged against him, holding him close, but so gently. So gently.

“It wasn’t you,” Bilbo whispered as he pulled back. “I forgive you.”

Thorin pulled him even closer, weeping into Bilbo’s shoulder, and Bilbo realized after a moment that Thorin’s head was resting above the scar.

And he didn’t care.

Chapter Text

How had it come to this?

Thorin had offered aid, had swallowed his pride and given gold from the treasury, and then-

Thranduil.

Had been a prideful ass.

And had delayed negotiations so long that the orcs had come.

The orcs had come, the armies had clashed, Thorin had led the company in a charge and then-

“ Azog, ” Thorin snarled, staring up the hill at his greatest enemy.

Bilbo swallowed, and it felt as though, even at this distance, Azog was able to see him perfectly.

As though that grin Azog sent their way was aimed at him.

Then he saw Thorin start running off towards the hill.

“Thorin wait! ” Bilbo called, running to cut him off.

Thorin only stopped when Bilbo stepped in front of him, forcing him to stop as the battle raged on around them.

“Bilbo-“

“It’s a trap! You can’t make it up there alone!”

“I promised you. I vowed I would get revenge for you-“

“I know you will, but this isn’t the time! I remember it, but so does he. He’s counting on you rushing in there, without a plan! He’ll kill you!”

Something softened in Thorin’s eyes as he looked at Bilbo, and he lowered his sword, pulling Bilbo closer and pressing a kiss to his hair. “…I cannot rest while he still lives,” Thorin explained. “And neither can you. I will ensure that you can find peace again, Master Baggins.”

Then he was off again, and Bilbo swore, before pulling out his ring and slipping it on, chasing after Thorin.

Azog was at the top of the cliff.

He’d seen Uncle Thorin and Bilbo arguing, before Thorin charged off towards him, and Bilbo disappeared.

…They couldn’t do this alone.

Fili cut down the orcs that were pulling closer to him, glancing over to see that his brother had found that damned elf he was so infatuated with, and was fighting well by her side.

He never thought he’d see the day he trusted an elf with Kili’s life, but if he was to save his uncle, he couldn’t try to pull Kili into this as well.

Cutting down two more orcs, he slipped through the ranks, dodging and slashing, till he found a break in the relentless waves, and ran up the hill after Thorin and Bilbo.

It was quiet up here.

Far too quite.

There should be orcs swarming this place, defending their leader, but instead Fili could only hear his own heartbeat.

The snow fell around him, and he glared at the dirt, wishing he’d paid more attention when Dwalin had been teaching him how to track.

Then he heard a sharp cry of pain, and a roar of anger.

Fuck.

He charged towards the sound, only to round a wall and see Bilbo, suspended in Azog’s grasp as Thorin stood on the ice, sword in his hands, but completely still.

Sting lay on the ground several paces away, along with Bilbo’s necktie, the scars Bilbo had tried so hard to hide now exposed as Azog grinned down at them.

“My mark on you healed nicely,” Azog commented as Bilbo struggled. “Maybe I won’t kill you. Maybe I’ll keep you once I kill your ‘king’.”

Fili tightened his grip on his sword.

The others might be trying to keep the truth of that night from him, but Fili had long suspected what Azog had done to their burglar.

No fucking way was he going to let that happen again.

“Would you like that?” Azog crowed at Thorin as Fili crept towards Azog from behind, sticking to the shadows. “Knowing that your pet is well used in your absence?”

“Let go of him,” Thorin growled, “I swore to you I would gut you, defiler. Release him and let us be finished with this.” But Fili knew him. Knew that there was no way Thorin would attack with Azog holding Bilbo as a shield between them.

But he also knew battle, better than most. He was a son of Durin, he’d been raised since his infancy for war.

He couldn’t charge in, those final few paces between himself and Azog he’d be entirely in the open, and Azog would simply snap Bilbo’s neck if he got too close.

But he didn’t have another weapon on him- Kili was right, damn him, a bow would be incredibly useful in this moment- and he couldn’t risk throwing his sword-

He was completely hidden in the shadows, but somehow, Bilbo still noticed him, his eyes widening even as he clutched Azog’s arm where he dangled above the ground.

Subtly, he shook his head, even as Azog and Thorin traded barbed insults.

Fili shook his head harder. He wasn’t going to abandon Bilbo!

Bilbo seemed to realize this, because after a moment, he subtly nodded, before turning his attention back to Azog, taking a breath, and letting one hand fall away-

To his belt-

He had a hidden dagger like Uncle!

It wouldn’t be enough to kill Azog, not even get them out of this situation, but it could distract him.

Bilbo pulled the dagger out, plunging it into Azog’s arm and Azog roared, dropping Bilbo to the ground where he rolled out of the way, gasping for air as Thorin charged Azog from the front, and Fili from behind.

Azog caught Thorin’s blade in his metal claw, but Fili’s sword slashed down Azog’s back and he stumbled.

“Fili- run! ” Thorin roared, pulling his sword back to strike once more at Azog, trying to distract him. “Get Bilbo out of here!”

Fili nodded, running to Bilbo’s side and helping him up, even as the hobbit struggled to draw breath, and once he was closer Fili saw that Azog had scraped up the side of Bilbo’s neck, and it was now bleeding.

Fili pulled Bilbo’s arm over one shoulder. “Come on, let’s get you out of here,” but Bilbo shook his head, trying to push off of him.

“My- my sword- my ring, they- they’re over there-“ he rasped, and Fili shook his head.

“We can grab them after the battle!”

Then he heard it.

The steady beat of the war drums.

The cries of orcs.

He’d known there weren’t enough orcs on the hill.

It had been a trap.

One they’d all walked into.

Bilbo pushed himself off of Fili, holding himself steady. “My sword, and ring. Or we won’t have ‘after the battle’.”

As much as he'd hated to see Fili fighting against Azog, it had been the chance he needed to get the vile orc away from Bilbo.

And now Thorin was gaining ground. Azog was a fierce fighter, but Thorin couldn’t get the image of Bilbo in his hands out of his head.

Couldn’t stop seeing the terror in his burglar’s eyes, as he was faced with everything Azog was willing to do to him.

That stark reminder of everything Azog was willing to do, everything he had done, drove Thorin to fight harder than he’d ever fought before.

Azog was wounded.

His shoulder was still recovering from the arrow wound, he walked with a limp from the stab wound to the leg Bilbo had inflicted last they met, and now not only was his arm stabbed, but his back was cut open by Fili’s own charge.

But still he fought.

With strength and endurance to match Thorin’s own, Azog continued to hold Thorin at bay, every strike met with one of Azog’s own, even as Thorin pushed every advantage he had, blocking each blow with his shield and using his sword with all the skill he possessed.

Until the war drums sounded once again.

Until Thorin heard the cries of another wave of orcs, coming from the north.

And this would be where they struck first.

Azog grinned.

“Even if you kill me, you cannot save the others. The son of Durin shall fall, and your little pet shall once again be ravaged by the orcs you so hate.”

Thorin swung at him, but Azog managed to block the blow, twisting the sword out of Thorin’s grasp as he stabbed Thorin’s side with his metal claw, too close for Thorin to block.

Thorin cried out, reaching for the dagger in his boot only for Azog to throw him across the ice, till he slammed into a rock a few paces from the edge.

His head rang, breath knocked from his lungs as he struggled to stay conscious.

Looking up, he once more saw eagles descending.

And once more, they would be too late to save him.

“ Today, the line of Durin shall end, ” Azog snarled in the tongue of Mordor.

Then he grinned down at Thorin, lifting a blade over his head, and Thorin weakly grasped for his shield, knowing he could not raise it in time.

Knowing there would be no hobbit to save him this time.

Please, Bilbo, be safe. Find peace.

“How will you gut me now?” Azog snarled.

And stopped.

He staggered back, his arm falling as blood suddenly began dripping from his abdomen as he stared in confusion.

A moment later, Bilbo became visible, his glowing blue sword sticking out of Azog’s stomach. “I can gut my own rapist, you bastard,” he growled.

Azog snarled, shaking, and raised his own sword again, Bilbo unable to pull Sting, and Thorin’s fingers grasped the strap of his shield.

With one final surge of energy he struggled to his feet, blocking the blow with his shield, and Bilbo grabbed the dagger from Thorin’s boot and stabbing upwards, into Azog’s head.

Azog fell back onto the ice, an elvish blade in his stomach and a dwarven dagger in his throat.

Dead.

Thorin fell back onto the ice and an instant later Bilbo was there, putting pressure on the wound. “Thorin? Thorin stay with me. Thorin! ”

“Fili?” Thorin asked. “Is he…”

“Broken arm, but Dain got to us and was able to get him to the healers. He’ll- he’ll be alright- Thorin! ”

“I would- apologize- I have led you into such peril-“

“Thorin Oakenshield you can save your apologies for once you’re healed, just stay with- stay with me- Thorin- Thorin the eagles are- it's almost over just-the eagles- Thorin! ”

The world slipped away, and Thorin finally felt peace.

Chapter Text

Slowly, so slowly, he opened his eyes, frowning as he took in the fabric roof and hanging lantern.

These were not the halls of his fathers.

Instead, there was a heavy weight draped across his chest, and he looked down to see a mop of curly brown hair on his chest, a hand draped across his stomach and a back leading to the edge of a seat.

Thorin couldn’t stop the smile as he reached up a hand, gently running his fingers through Bilbo’s hair.

“He has staunchly refused to leave your side,” a deep, old voice spoke next to him, and Thorin tilted his head to see Gandalf sitting on the other side of his cot.

“Gandalf… what happened?”

“A battle, my dear boy,” Gandalf said as if that explained anything. “How do you feel?”

Thorin thought about it, and frowned. “As though an orc stabbed me in the stomach.”

“And your mind?”

“My mind is as clear as it can be, I think, given whatever concoction I must have been given to keep the pain manageable.”

“Good, good. And you’re quite right, Oin’s drafts are helping to mitigate your pain.” Gandalf sighed. “Did I not say to wait before you entered the mountain?! There is a dragon’s curse upon that gold, Thorin Oakenshield, and you’re very lucky you managed to snap yourself out of it when you did!”

Thorin glanced down at Bilbo, still running his fingers gently through his hair. “…It wasn’t luck. Nor was it my own strength. I would not have known anything was wrong without Bilbo’s loyalty.”

Gandalf peered at him from under the rim of his hat. “’Bilbo’ eh?” he questioned. “I had no idea you two were so close.”

Thorin stared at him, scowling a bit as he gestured with his free hand to the hobbit sprawled on top of him.

“His attachment to you is to be expected, after everything you’ve endured. I simply hadn’t realized you had grown equally as attached.”

“…You know what Azog did.”

There was a heavy sigh, and for once, Thorin could see the years on Gandalf. “…It is not a fate I would wish upon my worst enemy. But he had not seemed eager to discuss it, so I have let the subject be. How has he been recovering?”

Thorin frowned, thinking back on the week he spent in his madness. About what had happened, leading up to it.

About Smaug-

“Thorin, Thorin, he knows. Smaug knows. About Azog. He knows what Azog did to me- about- Thorin, are you hearing me?!”

Smaug had known.

Thorin could only guess the horrible things Smaug had said to him, and Bilbo had run to him, hoping for comfort, only to be threatened with a blade against his chest.

“…He would be doing better were it not for me,” Thorin finally settled on, his fingers still brushing gently through Bilbo’s hair as the hobbit slept.

“Oh I don’t think that’s true,” Gandalf commented to the side. “He’s clung to you quite ardently so far. Only let us pull him from you so the healers could treat you. More than that, the others informed me of a neck tie he’s been wearing?”

Thorin slowly nodded, confused. “His scars. He’s been covering them. Azog ripped it from him in the battle.”

“And yet, he has refused all offers of a replacement,” Gandalf pointed out. “I wonder if that will change once you’re both recovered.”

That caught Thorin’s attention. “Both? He’s injured? Where?”

Gandalf cleared his throat. “Ah, I had forgotten you were not conscious for that. His throat bore the majority of the injuries of course, Fili informs me you already saw what happened.”

Thorin remembered seeing Bilbo scrabbling for breath as Azog held him up by his throat. Remembered hearing him cough as he hit the ground after stabbing Azog’s arm with a dagger Thorin hadn’t known about.

“And then there was his arm,” Gandalf continued, and Thorin frowned, peering down at Bilbo. “We weren’t able to reach him immediately, and it seems he fought off several orcs before we could get to him. He’d picked up your shield, but his arm was badly bruised. Oin suspects it may even have broken, and his shoulder had to be set back into place.”

Looking down, Thorin could see that while Bilbo’s right arm was flung over him, his left was tucked under his body, where Thorin couldn’t see it.

And still, his fingers were running through the hobbit’s hair. He couldn’t seem to make himself stop.

“…Why did he not hide, till the fighting was over?” Thorin wondered aloud.

“Because, Thorin, he could not have hidden you. He has refused to leave your side for a lot longer than just your time in this tent.”

Thorin blinked, staring up at Gandalf again. “…me? He… was defending me?”

He hissed as Bilbo shifted, putting pressure on his stomach, and Bilbo lifted his head a little in confusion.

Thorin let his hand fall away, and Bilbo blinked at him blearily for a moment.

Then his eyes widened.

“Thorin!”

Thorin groaned as Bilbo tackled him, arms wrapped tight around his head, and Bilbo immediately pulled back. “ Shit- I’m so sorry-“

Thorin chuckled, raising his hand to silence the unnecessary apologies. “…he’s dead,” Thorin commented, and Gandalf quietly excused himself from the tent. “Azog cannot hurt you ever again.” He frowned. “I am sorry. It seems my promises were empty regardless.”

“What? No! Thorin- Thorin you saved me! You fought Azog so I could get away- you blocked the strike that would have killed me-“

“And I promised to gut him. To hunt him down, and get revenge for you-“

Bilbo placed a finger to Thorin’s lips, halting him. “You did get revenge for me. You made it possible for me to get my own.”

“That’s not what that means-“ Thorin tried to get out from behind Bilbo’s finger, but Bilbo just shushed him.

“Azog’s dead, we both killed him, end of the story.”

That definitely wasn’t right. “But you’re the one that-“

“We both killed him,” Bilbo interrupted. “Now focus on recovering. Gandalf said he should have the mountain free of dragon sickness in a week, so just rest.”

“Will you rest?” Thorin asked after Bilbo pulled back a bit. “I hear you haven’t left my side.”

Bilbo snorted. “I’m getting plenty of rest, don’t worry about me.”

“I do worry about you though.” Bilbo smiled a little, and Thorin lifted his hand, gently cupping Bilbo’s cheek. “…why did you kiss me?” he finally asked. “When I came out of my madness?”

“Why did you kiss my hand in the dungeons?” Bilbo responded.

“…Because I was overcome. And to not have shown you how much you meant would have been physically painful.”

“Overcome with what?”

Thorin smiled. “Why did you kiss me when I came out of my madness?”

Bilbo paused.

Swallowed.

“You… you looked… so broken. I’d never seen you in that much pain. I couldn’t leave you in it alone.”

“You kissed me to ease my pain? After I attacked you? ”

Bilbo sighed. “…I kissed you because I love you. And I can’t leave you alone in pain. You’ve never left me alone in it.”

“I love you too,” Thorin whispered.

Bilbo smiled, leaning down and kissing him gently, even as Thorin ran his fingers gently through Bilbo’s hair once more.

“…Keep doing that?” Bilbo asked.

Thorin nodded, and Bilbo sat back down, laying his head once more on Thorin’s chest.

Thorin contented himself with running his fingers through Bilbo’s hair, till the hobbit drifted back to sleep.

It was all he could hope that Bilbo had found some peace in this as well. 

Chapter Text

Fili sat at his brother’s side, his injured arm wrapped in a sling as he watched his brother’s chest rise and fall.

The elf maid Tauriel was sitting on Kili’s other side, and Fili had to admit, she’d done a lot to keep his brother safe. And now she waited for him to recover, sitting silently as they both heard the various conversations happening outside the tent.

Gandalf had stopped by not too long ago, informing Fili that his uncle had woken up, but that he and Bilbo were having ‘important conversations’ and shouldn’t be disturbed for a while.

Fili had an idea of what those conversations involved, and decided he didn’t want to disturb them for quite some time.

“Ah, Fili!” Balin stepped into the tent, drawing Fili and Tauriel’s attention. “How’s your brother doing?”

“Oin says he’s stable,” Fili explained, turning back to him. “The bolt to his side wasn’t infected, though it looks like his shoulder wasn’t so lucky. Still, Oin thinks he’ll make a full recovery.”

Fili had taken two crossbow bolts in the battle, but neither had hit anything vital, so now they were just waiting for him to wake up.

“Are you sure your king will allow me to remain?” the elf maid asked Balin. “I do not wish to cause a problem-“

“Uncle won’t give you grief,” Fili assured her, not looking up. “You told off Thranduil, and saved Kili’s life. That’s all he’ll care about.”

“And what of you?” Balin asked, standing next to Fili’s chair. “I still haven’t heard how you got that injury.”

“An orc mace got my arm,” Fili explained. “Oin said it broke in two places, but it’ll heal.”

“Right. I more meant where you were. One moment you were with us, then Dain was dragging you down from Ravenhill with that injury.”

“…I saw Thorin and Bilbo go after Azog, so I went with.”

“You saw what happened then?”

Fili nodded. “…I saw Bilbo stab Azog. Twice. Once with a dagger he’d hidden in his belt, then again as Azog was about to behead Uncle. I was too far away to reach them that time, but… first Azog stopped, stabbed, then it was like Bilbo appeared out of thin air, his sword already buried in Azog’s stomach.”

Balin thought carefully, tilting his head a bit. “…Now that is a good descriptor…”

Fili frowned at him. “What is?”

“Nothing. I just thought of Bilbo’s battle name is all.”

“What- Battle name? ” he asked, “I thought only dwarves could have one.”

“The same as no outsider may learn Khuzdul, but we may teach it to our sworn brothers, so too a battle name may be given to those who have proven to be dwarves in spirit. I’d say Bilbo has long since earned that honor.”

Fili watched as Balin left the tent, and wondered what exactly Balin was up to.

It didn’t matter.

Thorin and Bilbo were alive. Kili was alive.

Everything else could wait.

Silence. 

Oppressive, consuming, wrong. It surrounded him. 

Bilbo hung in Azog's grasp, and Thorin- he couldn't- he couldn't do anything damn it all! 

Blood dripped from the hobbit's neck as he screamed, Azog grinning down at the both of them. 

"Did you promise him safety?" Azog asked, then suddenly Bilbo was in his arms, unclothed as blood poured from the vicious bite on his neck.

They were back in the cave, but there was a different reason Thorin couldn't breathe, beyond just the pain of his broken ribs. 

Bilbo's eyes briefly met his, betrayed. 

"You have failed," Azog snarled, and his sword came down- falling- Thorin and Bilbo were falling-

Then Azog was gone-

Instead it was him, his teeth dug into Bilbo's neck as the hobbit screamed- but he couldn't push himself off-

No, no no Bilbo!

He wrenched his eyes open, trying to breathe through the terror. 

A nightmare. 

Nothing more.

There was a hand, shaking where it was clenched in Thorin’s own.

He frowned, noting the ever present darkness of night, and glanced down to see Bilbo shaking on top of Thorin, jolting sporadically.

“Bilbo,” Thorin whispered, not willing to let Bilbo suffer the same nightmares he was plagued with. “Bilbo wake up,” he spoke, even as Bilbo whimpered in his sleep. “Bilbo, you’re safe. It’s over. Wake up. Givashel, please wake up.”

He rested a hand on Bilbo’s uninjured shoulder, trying to shake him awake.

After several moments, Bilbo stilled, breathing heavily, but no longer shaking.

“…Thorin?” he asked, and Thorin shifted his hand, carding it through Bilbo’s hair once more.

“I’m right here.”

Bilbo lifted his head, and Thorin’s heart ached as he saw the tears slipping down Bilbo’s face. “…He’s dead, right? I didn’t… I didn’t dream that?”

“Azog is dead,” Thorin confirmed. “He can never hurt you again.”

Bilbo nodded, sagging a bit. “Good… that’s… that’s good…”

Thorin frowned. It had been nagging at him, but he didn’t know if now was the right time to mention it.

Bilbo saw the look, and sighed. “Go ahead and say it, whatever it is.”

“…When I… threatened you, after Smaug… while engulfed in madness… you mentioned that Smaug knew what Azog had done.”

Bilbo swallowed, looking away. “…Smaug could still smell him,” Bilbo whispered. “He… he called me Azog’s ‘fucktoy’. Said the others would turn on me if they knew.”

“Bilbo-“

“He offered to kill me, Thorin.”

What?

“He offered to let me die, painlessly. And I thought about it. I-“ Bilbo cut off, tears streaming down his face now, even as Thorin reached out and took his hand. “I… I didn’t even want to die when Azog was raping me, I just wanted to escape, but… in that moment? When I was talking to Smaug? I nearly let him kill me. Just so all of this would be over. What does that make me?”

“A survivor,” Thorin insisted, clasping Bilbo’s hand tight. “Bilbo, I wanted to die when Azog had us. When he held you in his grasp, I was trying to goad him into killing us, because death is a favorable fate to what you went through. There is no shame in wanting that pain to end.” He was crying too, and he slowly pushed himself up, till he could hold Bilbo close to him as the hobbit wept. “I am so sorry I was not there for you this past week. I was blinded by gold. I have failed you, and broken every promise I made.”

“No, no, Thorin you had done no such thing,” Bilbo managed. “You- you did everything in your power to save me. Everything you could. I do not blame you for the madness, nor for not being able to kill Azog.”

“I wasn’t able to save you though,” Thorin pointed out. “That was Fili. He had to step in where I failed.”

“You can’t win every fight,” Bilbo pointed out. “You survived Azog. That’s more than anyone else has done before.”

Thorin pulled back a bit, cupping Bilbo’s face and wiping the tears away from him. “I survived him because of you. No other reason. Three times now, you have saved me from Azog’s blade. How can I ever repay you?”

Bilbo smiled wetly, tears glittering in the lamp light. “…Save me from his memory?” Bilbo asked, and Thorin nodded.

“For the rest of my days, if you’ll allow it.”

Bilbo scoffed. “If I’ll allow it, Thorin I’m begging you to let me stay by your side-“

“Done,” Thorin agreed in an instant. “I will not be parted from you. You will have my support, my gratitude, my love, until the day we die.”

Bilbo shook, pulling Thorin that much closer and weeping into his shoulder, even as Thorin gently stroked his back, holding him and whispering gentle words of love into his hair.

He would never leave Bilbo. Never be parted from him.

Never stop protecting him. Especially from himself.

Chapter Text

Morning light found Bilbo arguing quite adamantly with Thorin about staying in bed, even as Thorin insisted on seeing to his sister-sons and their condition.

“Their condition- you were stabbed! ”

“And I am not dead, and as such will see that my family remains alive.”

“You’re going to be dead if Oin or I catch you out of that bed,” Bilbo countered. “Kili’s still asleep but Oin says he’ll recover well enough on his own.”

“He woke up in the night, actually,” Fili spoke from the entrance to the tent, and Bilbo turned and smiled at him.

“Did he? Oh good.”

“He wasn’t in nearly as bad a shape as you were, Uncle,” Fili commented, coming to sit at Thorin’s other side, grasping his hand with his own uninjured arm. “What were you thinking? You knew it was a trap!”

“I could not let him live. Not after…” Thorin trailed off, and Bilbo knew what he’d been about to say. But also knew Fili shouldn’t know about any of that.

Fili sighed, glancing over at Bilbo. “Are you alright?”

Bilbo nodded. “Quite alright, thank you. Oin saw to my injuries. Says I’ll make a full recovery so long as I rest. Which is what you should be doing, the pair of you.”

Fili chuckled, raising his uninjured hand in defeat. “Thought I’d come say hello while you two weren’t busy. I’ll get back to Kili-“

He stopped as Thorin grabbed his hand before he could pull away again. “Thank you. For what you did on the battlefield. I would not have reached Bilbo in time to save him.”

Fili nodded. “Of course. He’s family.”

Bilbo stared at him, shocked. “I- I’m not-“

“Of course he is,” Thorin spoke over Bilbo, who was still trying to get words to work, and after that statement was quite sure he’d hit his head and was dreaming. “Tell me. If I asked him to be my consort, do you think he’d say yes?”

The squeak that left Bilbo’s mouth was completely undignified, but from the smiles Fili and Thorin sent his way, they didn’t care much about dignity.

“I think you’ve got a decent chance,” Fili commented, squeezing Thorin’s hand before standing up, and respectfully bowing out of the conversation and tent.

“…You mean it?” Bilbo finally whispered after several moments. “You… want me? ”

“I promised you. For the rest of my days.”

“But- me? I don’t understand- why me?”

Thorin reached for Bilbo, and immediately Bilbo was at his side, clutching his hand close. “Are you asking why I love you?”

“I’m asking why you think the others will accept me as your consort. I- Thorin, I can’t give you an heir!”

“Fili is my heir, and from what I saw in the battle I have chosen well.”

“But- what will the other dwarves say? I know the company won’t mind, but what about everyone else? I’m a hobbit- I- I’m broken. ”

Thorin scowled, cupping Bilbo’s face in his hand. “You are not broken. Hobbit you may be, but you have saved my life in battle so many times that were I not to marry you I would owe you a king’s ransom. They will understand.” Thorin tilted his head. “…Will your relatives?”

Bilbo shuddered. “I’m going to have to go back to the Shire to sort that out, aren’t I. I can’t exactly let Bag End go to the Sackville-Baggins.” He scrunched up his nose. “You know, I rather hope they’re the ones I talk to? I can’t wait to see Lobelia’s face when I tell her I went on an adventure, and am marrying a dwarf.”

Thorin chuckled. “Does that mean you accept?”

“Of course I accept. There’s no one else I’d want to spend my life with-“

Bilbo let Thorin pull him down into a kiss, his hand gentle on his face, his lips soft against Bilbo’s own, and Thorin’s beard…

As they pulled back, Bilbo placed his own hand against Thorin’s cheek. “…I’ve always thought your beard looked amazing,” he managed, and Thorin-

Thorin blushed.

“You would be the first to think that,” Thorin managed, but it sounded- stilted, like he was having trouble getting the words out.

Bilbo grinned. “Then I’ll have to keep saying it till you believe me.”

Kili was awake the next day, and even with Oin's warnings, Fili still helped him sneak in to see Thorin and Bilbo.

"Uncle Boggins!" Kili cried, pouncing on Bilbo who barely managed to catch him, even as Kili winced at his jostled injuries. 

"I swear you're worse than your uncle!" Bilbo commented, trying to push Kili into sitting on the bed, even as Thorin chuckled. "Oh come on, I can't possibly be the only reasonable one here!" 

"I'll regain my reason once the joy of having survived wears off," Thorin commented, pulling his nephew into a hug, then dragging Fili into it, who immediately tugged Bilbo in as well. 

Bilbo scrunched his nose up a bit, but relented, holding tight to his family. "Don't ever do anything so reckless again, any of you," he commented, "my poor heart won't be able to take it. I'm trying to live another fifty years over here."

Fili and Kili pulled back, aghast. "You only have fifty years left to live?!" Kili asked, horrified, and Fili immediately tried to make Bilbo sit down.

"What were you doing in the battle?! You're so old!!" 

Bilbo snorted. "I'm barely fifty one as it is, another fifty years isn't 'only' for hobbits." 

Thorin was staring at him, wide eyed, and Bilbo sighed, already predicting what Thorin would say next. "You... you are a child," 

"No," Bilbo cut him off, "no I'm not. In hobbit terms I'm middle aged. Most of my cousins my age are already married with children of their own, so don't start getting all out of sorts about this." 

Thorin snagged his hand, pulling him closer to the cot. "...There is much about hobbits I still have not learned yet, I fear." 

"Well, there's an awful lot about dwarves I don't know either. We'll just have to learn them together." 

Thorin smiled up at him, and Bilbo found himself smiling back, and in the background Fili leaned over to Kili. "Ki, I think they're gonna kiss! We should leave!" 

Thorin let out a heavy sigh, and glared at the two. "Yes, you should. Before Oin catches you and you implicate us into your mayhem." 

Kili and Fili chuckled as they hobbled out of the tent, and then Thorin was tugging Bilbo closer, pressing gentle kisses against his lips, and Bilbo smiled. 

This, he could get used to.

Two days after waking up, Oin finally allowed Thorin out of the healer’s tent. Only to attend a meeting with Bard and Thranduil.

Bilbo walked by his side, supporting him with Thorin’s arm wrapped around his shoulders and his arm around Thorin’s back.

As they made their way through camp, trying to make it to the tent where the meeting could occur, Bilbo started noticing that while they walked, the dwarves around them stopped, staring at them in awe.

And whispering amongst themselves.

Usually, he would chalk it up to being so close to the king, but right now it felt like every dwarf in the camp was staring at him.

“What are they saying?” Bilbo asked as he stared around at the dwarves, who were all staring directly at him as if they’d never seen a hobbit before.

“They’re saying you’ve earned your battle name,” Thorin said, with no little amount of awe in his own voice. “They’re calling you Bilbo Hiddensword.”

What?! “But- I already have a last name! What’s wrong with Baggins?!”

Thorin was chuckling, pulling Bilbo closer to him as they walked. “Not a last name. A battle name. A name earned in battle, that defines who you are both on the battle field and outside of it. My own battle name is Oakenshield, and it is how they know me. Not all dwarves get one, and it is rare for an outsider to be given one. It is seen as a mark of a great hero. For that is what you are to us.”

Bilbo stammered. “I- but- but Thorin- I… I’m not a hero. Not a warrior.”

“You slew Azog the defiler. And countless other orcs, while defending me on the snow. You charged into battle in the burning pines, despite not knowing how to wield a sword. You stabbed Azog in the leg when you weren’t even clothed, dripping in blood from your own injuries. What else would you call that if not a warrior?”

They were at the entrance to the tent now, but they had paused before entering, both staring at each other. “…What you have done for my people. What you have done for me… Never doubt yourself, Bilbo Hiddensword. You are a warrior. One of the greatest I have ever known.”

Bilbo blushed, and nodded, and they both stepped into the tent.

“Finally,” Thranduil commented from where he was sprawled across a chair- and how exactly the elf managed to look regal while doing it Bilbo would never know- as he drank wine from a cup.

Bilbo wondered exactly how much of this was a show to piss Thorin off even more. It was working.

Thorin scowled, taking his own seat as Bilbo sat next to him, and Bard smiled politely at Bilbo, and grimaced politely at Thorin.

“If we can resume negotiations now, that would be most helpful,” Bard began, only for Thranduil to cut him off.

“I want to know why none of my elves have been allowed into that mountain despite your assurances that we could look for the gems of-“

“Yes, I’m sure you’re eager to return to that,” Bilbo cut off, before Thranduil could say something to anger Thorin more, “but as I explained in my letter, Gandalf has forbidden entry to the mountain until such a time as he can make sure all dragon sickness is gone. Last I spoke to him he said it should take about four more days.”

“You were in the mountain and have returned unharmed,” Thranduil pointed out, “why should elves fear what Dwarves do not?”

“Because entering that mountain early- to fight off the dragon, I’d point out- led to Thorin’s own brief break from reality.”

“Which none of us are eager to repeat,” Bard assured them, “and the aid from Dain and his men has been most helpful. Along with the aid from you, king Thranduil,” he tacked on. “This meeting is not to discuss that, but rather what the plan is for the coming winter. All our homes were destroyed, and while we’ve been able to take shelter in Dale, the city is crumbling, and the few buildings that were not destroyed in the dragon attack were decimated by the orcs. We will not have shelter against the elements.”

“The men of Laketown will be allowed to take shelter in Erebor this winter,” Thorin announced, “and not only will Erebor pay what was promised, but as token of apology, we will work together with your men to rebuild Dale so that come next winter the city is back to its former glory.”

Bard nodded. “That is very generous. However, given the last agreement we had, I would feel better having that in writing.”

“Of course,” Bilbo agreed immediately. “We can draft up a treaty in the next- should we say, two days? That way we can bring it to you, have you look it over, make all necessary changes, and have it signed before we return to the mountain.”

“I see no issue with this-“

“And who are you,” Thranduil cut in, “to speak for the ‘king under the mountain’?”

Thorin glared at Thranduil. “He is my intended. And you shall treat him with the respect he is owed.”

Bilbo resigned himself to the chaos as Thranduil and Thorin started shouting at each other, and Bard raised an eyebrow at Bilbo. “I thought you two were already married.”

Chapter Text

Blood.

Blood dripping from his neck, from his hands, from his stomach- from Thorin-

Azog lunged at him but Bilbo dodged, his sword in his hand but he was too slow- always too slow-

He couldn’t stop him-

“Bilbo,” Thorin whispered, and Bilbo gasped awake, shaking in their bed. “Same dream?” Thorin asked, pulling him close, and Bilbo shook his head.

“…It was the battle. I was too slow to save you.”

Thorin sighed, running his hand through Bilbo’s hair, before tracing over the marriage braid woven in all those months ago. “You did save me. My Hiddensword.”

Bilbo couldn’t help the small smile tugging at his lips at the name. “My Oakenshield.”

“Dis should be arriving with the next convoy. Do you think she’ll forgive us for getting married without her there?”

Bilbo sighed, settling back into bed, staring up at the roof over them. “…I think I’ll be safe. You on the other hand… she’s going to be quite upset with.”

“Maybe I can convince Oin to induce a coma.”

Bilbo laughed. “No need to go that far. We could just run away.”

He’d meant it as a joke, but Thorin sat up in bed. “There’s an idea. I know you wrote to the Thain, but we have been meaning to visit the Shire to get the last of your things. We could leave in the morning.”

Bilbo burst out laughing. “Are you suggesting we run away to Hobbiton to avoid your sister?!” he wheezed, and Thorin pulled him closer.

“I’m suggesting that you have very rude relatives that we need to go deal with, and it was completely unavoidable that we would miss Dis’s arrival.”

“She’s going to be even more angry with you than she is already,” Bilbo pointed out, but Thorin just shrugged.

“Let her be angry. I won’t see her for months.”

“You’re terrible.” He smiled as Thorin tilted his head up and kissed him gently.

“And you married me. What do you say, shall we give your relatives something to talk about?”

Bilbo grinned, sharp and possessive as he pulled Thorin into a deeper kiss. “Most definitely.”

They avoided the cliffs where Azog had first cornered them, instead taking the longer route, but still stopping by Rivendell to pay their respects.

Or rather, Bilbo’s respects, and Thorin’s begrudging acceptance.

Either way, Lord Elrond was delighted to see them, welcoming them into his home once more.

They stopped by the old troll horde, and Bilbo wrinkled his nose at the smell, even as they stared up at the statues.

“Did I ever thank you for saving our lives that day?” Thorin asked.

Bilbo shrugged. “I think you just… didn’t insult me. No, hang on, you said it was my fault you got captured.”

Thorin sighed, pulling Bilbo closer to him and pressing a kiss into his hair. “How did you put up with me?” he asked. “I was so cruel to you.”

Bilbo shrugged. “…I figured you just didn’t trust me yet. That I hadn’t earned it. I wasn’t a fighter, and that’s all you wanted from me.”

“And now, I would give anything to make sure you never had to become one…”

Bilbo reached over, pinching Thorin’s cheek. “None of that. What’s done is done and I’m quite content with the way my life has turned out, thank you very much.”

Thorin wrapped both his arms around Bilbo, holding him close, closing his eyes and remembering those horrible moments where he was unable to reach Bilbo. The moments when he couldn’t do anything to keep him safe.

Then he kissed Bilbo’s hair, letting himself focus on the moment.

Bilbo was here, in his arms, completely safe.

They might not ever consummate their marriage, but that was hardly a concern of his when Bilbo smiled up at him that brightly.

“If you keep smiling at me like that I’m going to kiss you,” Bilbo warned, and Thorin realized belatedly that he was smiling too.

“Oh how terrible, my husband wanting to kiss me,” he commented sarcastically, chuckling as Bilbo reached out for him, trying to grab him.

“Get back here! ” Bilbo laughed as Thorin took off running into the woods, grinning from ear to ear.

Rarely had he seen so many hobbits so shocked, but Thorin held Bilbo’s hand proudly as they walked through the Shire, making their way towards the town hall.

A rather cross looking hobbit stopped at her gate, glaring at them with crossed arms. “Well. Look who finally came back from the dead. What would your poor father say if he saw you, Bilbo Baggins?”

“He’d congratulate me on marrying for love, I’d imagine,” Bilbo commented, “it was rather important to him, Lobelia. Something you never figured out.”

The hobbit huffed, glaring up at Thorin. “What’s there to love about him? ” she asked, and Bilbo stepped in front of Thorin, glaring at the other hobbit. If he’d heard correctly, this would be Lobelia Sackville-Baggins. Bilbo’s distant cousin and hated relative.

“He is the kindest, most loyal, fiercest person I have ever met and I love him. I love his passion, his vibrancy- when I’m with him I feel like I’m seeing different colors. And I will thank you very kindly to keep your snide words- and sticky fingers- to yourself.”

Thorin smirked behind Bilbo, proud beyond words of his husband.

Then Lobelia opened her mouth again. “And what about that atrocious neck tie you’re wearing, eh? What’re you trying to hide?”

Bilbo swallowed, every muscle in his back suddenly a line of tension, and Thorin placed a hand on Bilbo’s back, stepping forward at the same time as he pulled Bilbo back towards him, away from her. “He doesn’t owe you any answers. Back off."

He pulled Bilbo away, even as Lobelia spluttered, and he slowly reached down and grasped Bilbo’s hand where it was shaking.

“She doesn’t deserve to know anything,” Thorin whispered, and Bilbo nodded, his eyes vacant.

“I know. I just want to go home,” he whispered back.

He’d recovered a bit by the time they made it to the town hall, only to be greeted via a tackling hug from a young hobbit, who Bilbo caught with a great ooof.

“What do you mean you’re running off to live in a mountain?!” the hobbit cried, and Bilbo laughed. Someone must have run ahead of them to spread the word.

“I’ll miss you too, Drogo,” he said, and the other hobbit pulled back, looking Bilbo up and down, his eyes lingering on the neck tie for a moment, before he tilted his head, and looked up at Thorin.

“…I can see why you’re leaving,” he declared with a nod, and stepped back. “Prim’s gonna miss you. Tell me you can stay a week? She agreed to marry me and I don’t want you to miss the wedding.”

Bilbo glanced to Thorin, who nodded. “We can stay for a week, that shouldn’t be a problem.”

Drogo whooped with joy, and tried to hug Thorin, who stepped back and Bilbo placed a hand on Drogo’s shoulder. “He’s not a hugging type,” he explained. “But we’d be delighted to attend. Tell me about Prim, how’s she doing? What was the courtship like? Tell me everything.”

Drogo grinned. “Only if you tell me about your courtship! What’s a dwarf courtship like? I see beads in your hair- are the rumors true? Did you learn to make them yourself?!”

As Bilbo told the watered down tale of their adventures, Thorin found himself unable to look away from Bilbo’s smile.

He’d been through so much, but still he was able to smile brightly, so… vibrantly, and he thought he understood.

Understood why hobbits found attraction in the vibrancy of life that ones partner could exude.

After all the darkness he’d endured, Bilbo should have been broken a thousand times over. Instead here he was, smiling and laughing in the sun, grinning like he didn’t have a care in the world, and-

Smiling at him.

At Thorin.

And Thorin couldn’t help but feel like the luckiest king in the world, to have Bilbo’s smile in his life.