The Light that Wakes [Bagginshield]

The Road Not Travelled

Bilbo closed the last book for the day and stood up from his reading table. His back suddenly decided to announce its annoyance with being stuck to the back of a chair for the past few hours, making him stretch until his bones cracked.

As he stepped out from behind the table, ready to call it a day well spent, he heard the door opening and a steady cadence of steps coming in. In the months that had passed since Thorin had gone back to being up and about, he had come to recognise the rhythm of his steps even when the great dwarf was trying to be quiet. There was a resolve in them that was hard to miss.

Bilbo stopped at the side of his reading table, waiting. Thorin soon appeared in the frame of the door, looking very slightly tired, but otherwise in good spirits. Bilbo felt as if he hadn't seen him in days, which was not entirely far from the truth. They had seen each other every day in the past few weeks, but it had mostly been for short periods of time, and mostly in the presence of others, sharing a meal, discussing important matters of the kingdom or even enjoying a casual talk over a pint of ale. They had not been alone together that much since their last close encounter. It had not been something they had agreed upon formally. They had simply and naturally drifted apart to a certain degree, and Thorin had been increasingly busy as he had gotten better and better.

"Have you had your supper yet?" asked Thorin as he advanced towards Bilbo.

"Yes, Fili and Kili kept me company a little while ago."

Thorin raised his eyebrows. "In here?"

"Yes, if you can believe that," said Bilbo, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Well," said Thorin taking a few more steps forward until he was only a few feet away, "one more achievement for you to be proud of. Getting Fili and Kili to enter a library willingly."

Bilbo smiled, but somehow he couldn't bring himself to laugh.

"I was detained longer than I had hoped," said Thorin, his voice lowered in a slight note of disappointment.

"No matter," said Bilbo, "there's always tomorrow."

"Of course."

Thorin looked like he wanted to say more, and certainly his deep blue eyes spoke more loudly than the volumes that surrounded them. He uttered no more words, however.

Bilbo felt now more than ever that his world seemed very small in Thorin's presence. He was back to his imposing self. His shoulders were straight again and his head held high. He moved with relative ease, although Bilbo knew that certain wounds were still filled with sullen aches. Only his prideful glow seemed a little tamer now, but it was still a glow, if of a healthier shade.

There had not been much time for contemplation in the past few days, but now, in the grand stillness of a tall hall of stone filled with stories of toil and courage, Bilbo found himself mesmerised by Thorin's stature as he stood there, finally ready to rule the kingdom of his birth right. His gaze, darkened by the shadows from the torches lighting the room, carried such ripe power, such fire held within tight reigns, that Bilbo felt helpless before it, too helpless even to protest. He knew then what he had known all along but had been using his expert burglar skills to avoid facing: that, as much as he missed the Shire and his beloved Bag End, he could not leave Erebor. He could not walk away from Thorin without regretting it for the rest of his days. He desired to be where Thorin was and he desired more than they had now. Even though no doubt remained in his mind, his heart still skipped a beat as Thorin came closer to him, apparently with tender intentions.

Bilbo slipped deftly away from Thorin's reaching hand and made for the door. "I was planning to go to bed early," he said once he had reached a safe distance. "Good night." He looked back and saw Thorin glance after him with a smile that was a little sad, a little exhausted, but kind more than anything.