Days of Agony [Featured]

Pillow Talk

After his massage, Thorin slept till late in the afternoon, giving Bilbo time to visit Fili and Kili and forget the island of awkwardness in the middle of his day, or at least remember it with less stinging clarity. Of course, he mentioned none of it to Fili and Kili, and he was grateful that they did not inquire further than into Thorin's general state of health and level of peevishness.

"You're looking well, Bilbo," Fili had said the moment that the hobbit had walked into their room.

Bilbo actually felt a little crumpled, but he feigned surprise. "Why wouldn't I look well?" he said as he sat down on a chair between their beds.

"I imagine spending most of your time with bedridden Thorin can be a little... nerve-wrecking," muttered Fili under his breath, then looked at his brother, who returned a knowing grin.

"I remember he once had to drag us out of an icy lake in the Blue Mountains," chirped Kili without a trace of guilt over his childhood transgressions, "and he caught a little cold. Mother had to threaten with strapping him down to keep him in bed for two days."

Bilbo smiled and ignored the first impulse to ask what they were doing on an icy lake in the first place. "What about you two?" he asked instead.

"She didn't have to threaten us. We were sick as dogs for an entire week. Which was for the better, eventually, as we didn't have to deal too much with Thorin. He was sick as a dog, too, and furious about it."

Bilbo couldn't restrain a hearty laugh. "He seems to be taking it surprisingly well this time," he said.

"Lucky you," replied Fili with a little wink.

Their conversation had then turned to other topics, making Bilbo feel even more disconnected from his earlier self, whose hand and soul had quivered over what should have been the simple task of giving Thorin a therapeutic massage. But nothing was simple anymore between himself and the Dwarf King.

Bilbo now lay again in bed behind him, looking at the Thorin's wide back, and at his dark hair scattered over his pillow, as he slept on his right side. He remembered all the turmoil that he had gone through that day as if it had happened to someone else. He wanted it to have happened to someone else. There was no real reason for it to have happened to him. He had been together with Thorin on that quest that had bonded them for life, as Gandalf had said. They were very far from strangers to each other now. Why should he have felt uncomfortable about giving Thorin a massage that was meant to help his not quite mint condition? Why couldn't he feel as eager about that as he had felt about helping him soothe the pain in his heart by reclaiming his kingdom?

He was suddenly pulled from his thoughts by the delicate sound of Thorin starting to wake up and by the slight movement of his shoulder, which elicited almost at once a groan of protest. In spite of the obvious discomfort that it caused him, Thorin tried to turn.

"Thorin, let me help you," said Bilbo, jumping on an elbow and leaning over his side.

Thorin looked at him a little startled. "I'm too heavy," he said, still trying to move on his own and jolting in pain sooner than it could actually make a difference.

"Oh, I've put some muscle on me since I joined your Company. I think I can handle it," said Bilbo with a little smirk. "Come on," he insisted, sitting up on his knees, placing a hand on Thorin's chest and holding his injured left arm by the elbow with the other. He did not feel awkward touching him now. He felt wonderfully warm about it, in fact. Thorin himself felt wonderfully warm to touch. Sleep did that.

To Thorin's clear surprise, Bilbo's intervention did help him turn without a lot of trouble. He smiled to him once he was settled comfortably on his back.