Days of Agony [Featured]

Where The Heart Is

Bilbo had fallen asleep in Thorin's armchair again. He had sat down to think about everything that he had learned about Thorin and about himself the previous night and had never got up. Now, as he stirred awake, all shades of pain woke in his body with him, and the heaviness in his head made him feel like he had not really been sleeping at all. He opened his eyes slowly, without focusing on anything, and through the mist of half-wakefulness, he could remember formless images of darkening paths and gathering shadows. It had probably been a dream, and not a particularly pleasant one. He sat up a little and rubbed his eyes.

He glanced at Thorin, who seemed to have fared better in that latter half of the night. He had certainly earned at least half of a good night's rest. Bilbo could still not dispel the image of the still sleeping Thorin tormented by his nightmare, of his hollowed stare as the hobbit had called to him to bring him back. He could not forget how Thorin had clung to him desperately for comfort, so unlike himself as he had known him, revealing to Bilbo what was probably the best kept secret of his heart.

Bilbo suspected that not many others knew the whole truth about Nyrath, although he had been told that Dwarves did not mind such a relationship much. But Thorin was not any Dwarf. His status might have very well forced that part of him into secrecy. Perhaps revealing it to someone now, after 140 years, had brought him the peace of mind that he had missed all along. Bilbo shivered a little at his own thought. Thorin had not simply revealed that information to someone just to unburden himself. He had revealed it to the person in whom, perhaps, his hidden hopes lay renewed. Of course, Bilbo himself had unknowingly pushed him to remember, but Thorin could have still not told him anything. It was a gesture of trust that intimidated Bilbo more than it made him glad, for he was not at all sure that he would be able to honour it as Thorin wanted.

He knew there was no point in letting his fears fester, however. He got up and went to wash up. By the time he came back, Thorin was awake. He looked well-rested enough but kept shifting on his back as if to soothe the deaf pain that immobility had probably put there.

"Do you want me to pull up your pillow a bit?" asked Bilbo.

Thorin nodded, and Bilbo helped him raise his head with one hand and worked on his pillow with the other. He could see Thorin looking up at him all that time. He looked back, smiling.

"There," said Bilbo as he laid Thorin's head back on the plumped pillow and sat down on the side of the bed.

He expected Thorin to lie back peacefully, but the dwarf tried to sit further up by pushing himself up on his hands and managing to cause himself pain more than anything. He obviously didn't have a lot of his strength working for him and he could only truly rely on his right arm for support. His left arm could be counted on to give him grief and not much else at that time.

"Thorin, let me help," jumped Bilbo.

"No, I can do it," refused Thorin, his face scrunched up in pain.

Bilbo sat back and watched as Thorin finally managed to hoist himself further up, sweating again from the effort.

"I see you're becoming a difficult patient," teased Bilbo with an arched eyebrow.

Thorin returned a well-executed glare, which Bilbo could only reward with a smile, aware that it all meant one thing: that Thorin was getting better. He could understand how anyone, but especially someone as strong as Thorin, could become frustrated with not even being able to get up from his bed for over two weeks. He wasn't really being difficult. He was just being true to his nature.

"You know," added Bilbo, "Balin says that the less strain you put on yourself, the sooner you'll get out of this bed. That's why I'm here. That's why we're all here."