A Shot in the Dark (Thilbo - Bagginshield)

Chapter 18

The Hobbit waved a dismissive hand and stepped away from the Dwarves crowding him. "It's nothing, just a bruise! I probably got it playing 'Keep Away' with Smaug. Nothing to worry about."

Thorin looked to Óin, who nodded back with a scowl. Before he realized it, Bilbo found himself trapped between the two stubborn Dwarves with Thorin behind and Óin in front. Thorin held him by the shoulders with a firm grip while the healer begun to pull up his coat and shirt without an ounce of shame. The Hobbit yelped at the sudden prodding to his bare skin and squirmed back in order to escape those cold fingers. Unfortunately, he had little room to maneuver with a king standing at his back.

"Óin, stop that! I never gave you permission to touch me there!" he objected, trying to push the healer's hands away. Behind him, he felt Thorin sigh deeply before both his hands were captured by the king. The Dwarf easily linked their fingers together and then forced his arms down to his side where he could not reach Óin.

"Just accept it. Óin is very stubborn over these matters. He will win one way or another," advised the king, leaning down to speak into his ear. Bilbo scowled in answer and tried to resist the urge to head butt the royal Dwarf.

"Just as I thought. Your ribs are bruised," Óin declared, finally pausing in his poking to glare at the Hobbit. "Nothing to worry about, huh?"

He sniffed and raised his nose. "It is nothing to worry about. My ribs will heal in time. There is nothing you can do about them."

"What were you doing that ended with bruised ribs?" wondered Thorin, rubbing his thumb against Bilbo's knuckles.

"I fell down the stairs and onto the treasure," he replied absently, his attention mostly on the healer. "Óin, what is in that jar?"

"Something that will help with the bruising," the healer said as he pulled out a small glass jar and some bandages from his pack. He gestured to Bilbo's jacket and shirt and then motioned to the ground. "Take it off now and sit down. Don't force me to make Thorin do it."

Bilbo groaned but dutifully nodded. Once his hands were released, he stripped off his coat and shirt before sitting down on the cold treasure with his legs crossed. Behind him, Thorin released a strangled groan that had both Óin and Bilbo looking at him.

"Thorin... are you all right?" the Hobbit asked, blinking up at the king. Thorin had his eyes closed and looked to be in great pain as he clenched his hands into bloodless fists. When he looked closer, he saw that the Dwarf's face was even turning a light shade of pink that extended down to his neck and collarbone.

"Are you sick?" he wondered before looking back to Óin. "Is he sick? Do you need to examine him first?"

Óin snorted and shook his head. "He's fine. Just being a fool. Now hold still; this ointment took me weeks to prepare. I don't want to waste even a drop of it."

Bilbo reluctantly did as told, and allowed the healer rubbed a light-yellow mixture over every inch of his chest and back before wrapping it with clean bandages. As Óin finally tied the last wrap, someone dropped his dirty shirt on his head.

"Get dressed now. It's cold down here," ordered Thorin, staring fixedly at something off to the left. He glanced to where the Dwarf was staring just to make sure he wasn't missing out on anything. All he found was more treasure.

Maybe he's basking in being rich again? he wondered as he pulled his shirt on and then his coat. Or looking for the Arkenstone. Either reason is bad.

"No heavy lifting or taking on dragons for the next few weeks," Óin ordered as he packed up his supplies. He stood tall and pointed a finger at the short male. "I mean it, Bilbo. Don't do anything reckless any time soon. You may end up breaking your ribs next time."