A Hobbit stands before him.
—a young and smooth face/a withered and wrinkled face/laughing and crying/screaming and singing/the faces begin to blur together into a brown and white mess—
The Hobbit is familiar. He knows this Hobbit. Not personally, but distantly. He thinks he has perhaps seen him once in passing. He cannot quite place where but he knows him. He knows him.
—liquid darkness overwhelms him/drowns him until he can see no sight of flesh/the Hobbit dissolves into nothing but dust—
The Hobbit dies a horrible death. It unnerves him. It is an unnatural death; one he has only seen two other times in his life. It is a death that defies the very laws of nature. He knows this death.
—the Hobbit is saved/carries on broken and shattered in a way that cannot be fixed/lives on in a joy few would ever appreciate—
The Hobbit lives a good life. It is filled with joy and sorrow and hope and fear. It is a long life for a Hobbit, but so short to him. It is a life that is cherished like the rarest gems. He knows this life.
—there is a child/there is always a child/each walks a treacherous road that intertwines with one another/two destinies that are one/one will save and one will destroy—
The Hobbit raises a child. The child is sometimes different but there is always there. One is obviously a Hobbit babe with midnight curls and wide blue eyes that haunt him. But the other... the other is a Man with brown curls and gray eyes and a face set in a frown. He knows this child.
—the faces shift and melt into each other until all he can see is a blur/there is no order or obvious path to follow/only choices and mistakes and destiny that wraps like iron chains around her chosen/he cannot find where it ends but he can see where it begins—
He opens his eyes and knows. There is a Hobbit out there teetering between life and death. There are two children but only one that will be influenced by this Hobbit. But if the Hobbit dies before he can reach this child... He knows. He knows what he must do.
He knows he must save this Hobbit.
~*~
It took him two more days before Bilbo was finally able to corner Bofur, Bifur, and Glóin.
"So how long do you three plan to pretend that I don't exist?" he asked one morning after sneaking up on the three as they began braiding their hair and beards. According to his still healing memory, it was a task that took a good amount of time.
Bofur and Glóin didn't look at him while Bifur sniffed and shrugged.
"I can't apologize if you keep avoiding me," he pointed out, bracing his hands on his hips.
"Who says we want your apology?" Glóin growled as he worked on braiding a part of his beard.
He flinched but pushed on. "No one, but I still owe you all one. I'm sorry I left the way I did. I'm sorry I never told any of you the truth about my past. And I'm sorry I caused you all so much worry and fear. I never meant to hurt anyone. I only sought to protect."
The three Dwarves stilled.
"You're very selfish, do you know that?" Bofur finally commented, his dark eyes as hard as the stone he mined. "You don't care about the consequences of your death. You don't care about what it would mean to the rest of us if you died. You only care about keeping us alive in memory of a life that none of us ever lived."
"You're right. I am very selfish and self-absorbed," he agreed, nodding. "I'm also a manipulative liar who was willing to sacrifice the world just to keep some Dwarves alive. I'm far too secretive and independent, and I never really think about the consequences my actions would have on the people around me. But... But even though I'm all of this horrible stuff, it doesn't mean that my feelings aren't genuine. I truly love you all very much, and would do anything to keep you safe."
"If you love us so much then you need to quit trying to kill yourself," Glóin said, dropping his braid and meeting his gaze head on. With a jolt of surprise, he realized that Glóin had the same blue eyes as Thorin and Fíli and Dáin. He had never noticed that small detail before.
"I... I promised Dori I would do better," he said slowly, blinking and tearing his eyes away from Glóin's gaze. "I promised I wouldn't throw myself into battles recklessly, and I won't gamble with my life so easily anymore. Would it help if I made the same promise to you three?"
Bifur grunted and signed, 'Yes, it would.'
"Then I promise that I will no longer be so careless with my life," he vowed without hesitation. "I will be much more cautious in the future."
Bofur raised his brows and shared a look with Bifur. "You say that pretty quickly. Wasn't it just a few months ago you were vowing to save us at all costs? What changed your mind?"
Bilbo shrugged. "My original goal was always to keep you all alive against Smaug and in the battle with Azog. I knew what was coming so I could plan for it. But now? Now I'm as blind to the future as the rest of you. I only have an outline of what may come to pass. I can no longer throw myself in front of a sword because I don't know when that sword will strike."
Glóin scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Still not hearing the part about why you decided to linger in the land of the living."
"I was getting to that," he reassured, casting the Dwarf an annoyed look that earned him a small lip twitch. With a little more coxing, it would be a smile. "I decided to fight for my life for once because I'm finally in a position where I may be dying."
The three Dwarves tensed.
'Thorin said your soul and body tainted,' Bifur signed slowly while using the simplest words. Bilbo felt a surge of fondness for the Dwarf when he realized it was for his benefit.
"Óin said something similar," Glóin added slowly, his face shifting back into a scowl. "He wouldn't tell me the details but he didn't say you were dying."
"You said 'may be dying.' You don't know for sure," connected Bofur.
"Right. Gandalf says there may be a way to save me, but I'm not sure if it will work," he explained. "If that doesn't work, then my death is imminent. Knowing that makes living suddenly much more important."
The three Dwarves exchanged a look that he couldn't read before Bifur suddenly moved forward and pulled him into a bone-crushing embrace. He flinched slightly at the grip, but still returned the hug just as strongly.
"Does this mean I'm forgiven?" he asked, peeking out over Bifur's arm at Glóin and Bofur.
Bofur grinned his dimple-grin that made something tight in his chest finally relax. "We forgive you, Bilbo, for being too dumb to take care of yourself."
"We should know better by now to leave you alone unattended," Glóin agreed, nodding with a knowing smirk. "It was just asking for trouble. I'll admit though that part of me missed you, burglar. It wasn't the same without you around to nag us."
Bilbo rolled his eyes. "I understand. I had a hard time falling asleep without your snoring around to lull me into slumber."
Glóin cackled in response.
"Bifur, we would like to hug Bilbo too you know," Bofur stated, raising his brows at his cousin.
"Yeah, Bifur, share the Hobbit," added Glóin.
Bifur snorted and shot back an answer in Khuzdûl. He had no idea what it meant, but it made the other two Dwarves scowl and straighten up.
"What do you mean get our own?" Bofur demanded, poking his cousin in the shoulder. "Bilbo is ours! You just need to share!"
"I already broke this one in. I'm not about to go through the process all over again!" Glóin retorted.
Bifur rolled his eyes and retorted in his mother tongue. Soon the other two were firing back in Khuzdûl as well until all three were arguing. Bilbo simply listened to it all with a grin as he took comfort in having the forgiveness of all his Dwarves.
~*~
The days went by steadily and with them Bilbo found his memories returning and his body healing. It was a slow process, but he didn't mind. Traveling and healing gave him time to spend with his friends. There was still hurt and anger, of course, but he knew they were moving past it. Dwarves were good at holding grudges, but they were even better at protecting the ones they loved.
It was on one of these normal and completely average days that Bilbo remembered the real meaning behind Thorin's beads.
"We need to talk," he ordered as he marched up to the king while he was in deep conversation with a Dwarf he didn't recognize. "Right now."
The unknown Dwarf went silent and raised his brows while Thorin sighed deeply. "Bilbo, can this not wait? I am in the middle of—"
"Don't care," he retorted, grabbing the king's arm and dragging him off. Behind them he heard the remaining Dwarf cackle with clear amusement.
"This is feeling vaguely familiar," Thorin commented as he allowed the Hobbit to drag him away from most of the group. "Didn't you do this a few weeks ago?"
He rolled his eyes and released the arm he had taken captive. "I remember the truth about your beads, Thorin."
The warrior king immediately lost his smile. "Oh."
"Yes, oh," he repeated, crossing his arms over his chest and leveling a glare on the king. "You owe me an explanation."
"I was waiting for you to remember before I brought it up," the Dwarf explained quickly. "It wasn't right to dump something so important on you when you were still recovering—"
"I'm not talking about that," he interrupted, rolling his eyes again. "I'm not angry that you didn't tell me when I was still sick. No, what angers me is that you proposed to me back in Erebor and didn't tell me!"
Thorin winced and took a step back. "I... I did..."
"Why? Why did you give me your bead and not tell me the real meaning behind it?" Bilbo demanded, scowling. "Why did you leave me ignorant for so long? Why was it that Dori was the one who told me the truth? Hmm?!"
Thorin looked around, obviously trying to find an escape or an excuse. Bilbo stepped closer to the king just in case he tried to run off, the coward.
"Thorin, answer me," he ordered, poking the Dwarf in the chest. "Why did you hide your proposal from me?"
"Would you believe me if I said I was uncertain?" the king wondered, scratching the back of his head sheepishly.
Bilbo mentally ran that through his Thorin-to-Common translation and found the real answer. "You mean you were scared."
"I was not!" the king denied fiercely.
Bilbo just looked at him.
Thorin deflated. "Fine, I was scared. I didn't know how you felt about me yet so I wanted to move cautiously. I didn't want to be rejected."
"Did you ever plan to tell me?"
"Yes, at a later date. After I properly courted you and made you fall in love with me," the warrior explained.
He snorted. "You can't make someone fall in love with you, Thorin."
"You underestimate how persistent I can be," the Dwarf retorted, giving him a knowing look. "It was only through willpower that our crazy quest ever saw fruit."
Bilbo had to give him that. Anyone else who lost their kingdom to a dragon would have long given up on it. But not Thorin. "Fine. So you planned to court me and make me fall in love with you before you finally admitted that you proposed long before hand. Now what I want to know is why? Why propose to me before the actual courting?"
Thorin scowled and glanced away as his ears began to burn a light pink. "I... I didn't want anyone else attempting to court you. I didn't want the competition."
"Competition?" he repeated before snorting. "I think you're overreacting. No one here is going to attempt to court me."
"You don't see the looks you get from others," the king denied, his scowl growing fiercer. "They see how loyal and protective you are to us. They see your strength and bravery and cunning, and they hunger for it. They want that all for themselves. Even now I see the looks you get from the Dwarves and Men!"
The Hobbit turned around to look at the Dwarves and Men amongst the camp. Not a single one of them were looking their way.
"You're delusional," he said, shaking his head as he turned his attention back to the warrior king. "But that's not new to me."
"Just because you can't see it doesn't make it any less true," the Dwarf retorted, his voice lower than usual as he glared at the Dwarves and Men over Bilbo's head. "If you were not wearing my beads then nothing would have stopped them from trying to steal you away from me."
Though it was hardly the right time, Bilbo couldn't help but laugh. "Thorin, you never have to worry about someone stealing me away from you."
Thorin blinked and lost his scowl as he looked down at the Hobbit. "I don't?"
"Nope," he confirmed, stepping onto the king's boots and reaching up to grab his braids to yank his head down, "you don't."
Then, before Thorin could reply, he stood up on his toes and pulled the king into a firm kiss.