Summary:
A bit early, but I wanted to post this one now so I can spend some time on my Yule fic tomorrow ;P
Chapter Text
"-Oh and this one we call 'the Burning Briar', or sometimes 'the Sickle'. I've heard that it is important to many races, but I can't say if I've heard of the dwarves holding it to any particular significance-"
"We do," Thorin replied smoothly, a smile tilting his lips.
The night air was cool this mid-spring evening, and the both of them were bundled up in cloaks as they sat upon a blanket on the hill above Bag End. Above them, the velvety black of night was studded with thousands of stars, and after they had finished the snacks Bilbo had brought with them, they had turned their discussion to those tiny pin-pricks of light.
Bilbo waved his hands, icy from the chill of the evening, as he indicated to various famous stars and constellations hung above them, twinkling like fireflies.
"What do your folk call it then?"
Bilbo's eyes were wide and wondering in the dark, the starlight seemingly caught within them, and Thorin reached out to brush a lock of hair from the hobbit's forehead, leaning in to indulge his whim and nuzzle his lips against the warm skin of his temple before answering. "We call it 'Durin's Crown'. It is important to us for more than one reason."
Bilbo's eyelids had fluttered shut at the contact, but now, with the unspoken promise of an explanation, he gave Thorin his full attention. The hobbit had always loved a story or a chance to learn some new interesting tidbit about dwarven lore or culture.
"When my ancestor Durin the Deathless awoke to the world, it was in Mount Gundabad, to the north of the Misty Mountains. He travelled south and eventually came upon a lake called Mirrormere. When he stopped there and looked into the lake he saw a crown above his head, made by the reflection of the stars above, despite the fact it was daytime and the stars should not have been visible. It was those very stars that he saw reflected in the lake. He took the crown as a sign; and later founded the city of Khazad-dûm beneath the mountains that fed Mirrormere. There is a pillar there to this day called Durin's Stone that is situated along the banks of the lake to mark the event."
Thorin's gaze softened, affection warming his heart as he noted the awed expression on Bilbo's face. It always filled him with joy to have Bilbo show such interest in any aspect of his people's history.
"What is the other reason for the stars' importance?" Bilbo murmured his voice hushed.
"Ah, that would be because the creation of this constellation was in part due to our own creator, Mahal. It was a joint effort between him and Varda. The tale goes that Mahal was working on making a silver sickle, and when he struck it with his hammer seven sparks flew up into the sky. Varda quickly caught them and set them in the northern sky as a challenge and a warning to Morgoth of his eventual downfall."
"Morgoth's downfall?"
A breeze set the oak leaves above their heads rustling and Bilbo scooted a little closer to Thorin for warmth. Already anticipating the move, Thorin lifted the corner of his cloak and beckoned Bilbo to curl close against him, wrapping them both in the warm woollen fabric. Their shared cloaks and combined body heat banished the chill quickly enough, and Thorin took a moment to formulate a satisfactory answer to the question posed to him.
He had long since learnt that hobbits were insular creatures, not much caring for the world outside their Shire, and even less concerned about the possibility of grand and terrible prophecies coming to pass. Bilbo was altogether a different hobbit. Though he still retained a certain naivety regarding the world beyond his borders; his eyes had been greatly opened by the quest. Coupled with this was the hobbit's naturally curious mind and insatiable thirst for knowledge; as such Thorin had found he did not usually have to explain things quite as thoroughly as one might assume.
"The prophecy of Dagor Dagorath, have you not heard of it?"
Bilbo's brow furrowed and he hemmed and hawed for a moment before reluctantly shaking his head. "The name seems familiar, I may have read about it somewhere when I was younger, but I'm afraid the details escape me."
"Another name for it would be the Final Battle," Thorin started without preamble. "I have heard of the prophecy before and it speaks of Morgoth finding a way to break the Door of Night, where he was banished, and destroying the sun and moon. It is said that then all the races in Middle Earth will rise to help defeat him and his servants.
"There is more to it than that of course, but I'm afraid I cannot remember it all. Once the battle is over though, our own legends state that all dwarves will be called forth by Mahal to help reshape Arda."
Bilbo whistled without pitch, impressed by the idea. Though after a moment his brow creased again and he murmured quietly. "When you say all dwarves, does this mean those of you that are dead as well?"
"That does seem to be what the prophecy implies, yes."
"Hmm," Bilbo fell silent then, seemingly troubled by something, though Thorin knew not to press him for details.
They spent a little longer simply gazing upon the glorious veil of the silvery pinpoints of light above them before Bilbo found the courage to speak of what was troubling him.
"You know, when hobbits die, we don't quite know where it is we go," he began awkwardly. "Some reckon we go to the same place as men... but others disagree with that. The thing is... I have a horrible feeling that wherever we go, it won't be the same place as dwarves."
Ah, so that was the problem.
Thorin felt a small twinge of hurt at the painful notion himself, but tempered it and brushed it stubbornly aside
Resting his chin atop Bilbo's head and inhaling the warm, homey scent of his hair, Thorin mumbled reassuringly. "You should know by now that I am a stubborn creature. Wherever you end up, I'll find a way to get to you."
A pointed chill settled on the skin of his throat, and Thorin realised his hobbit was nuzzling his neck with his cold nose. "Oh, I don't doubt that, dear. It's just... you say you will be called back to recreate the world so..."
"... You fear our parting then."
"Hm, I'm far too accustomed to your foolishness to have it torn away from me like that."
Thorin chuckled at the remark, but felt the need to give Bilbo a proper answer. In truth, he did not know for certain what would happen. There were none who did. However, Thorin was sure of one thing. He would fight every one of the Valar; destroy every prophecy if he had to if it meant seeing Bilbo again.
Pulling away from Bilbo's incessant nuzzling, Thorin gently caught him by the shoulders so that he could look him in the eye, his face a picture of solemn promise.
"Bilbo, I swear to you. Whatever happens, whether that prophecy is true or not, I will find a way back to you. I truly believe our spirits are meant to find one another no matter if the world is made anew and our bodies changed. I do not think anything could keep me from you forever."
Bilbo flung himself at the dwarf and wrapped his arms firmly about his shoulders sending them both toppling back onto the blanket with a sound of happy contentment. The hobbit then proceeded to bury his face against Thorin's neck once more, and Thorin could feel the grin pressed to his skin as Bilbo teased.
"Even if I came back as a dragon or something?"
Thorin gave an incredulous bark of laughter, but held Bilbo close all the same. "I'm not entirely sure it works that way... but yes, even if you were a dragon I'd find my way to you... just promise me you won't roast me alive. Being burnt to a crisp by my own husband really would make for an ignoble end."
"I think I can promise that."
"Good."
Settling himself more comfortably in Thorin's hold, Bilbo turned his attention to the stars once more, now that serious matters had been so neatly resolved.
There was silence for a time and then-
"Oh! Look, a falling star!"
"Hn?" Thorin disliked admitting to falling asleep, but he was undeniably comfortable here with Bilbo warming him and so he might have drifted off for a few moments.
"You were sleeping weren't y- oh wait look, there's another!"
It was true. This time Thorin saw it too. A streak of light cutting across the night sky and fading before either of them could truly appreciate the beauty of it.
"Quickly now, make a wish."
"Sorry?"
"A wish, Thorin. Whenever you see a falling star you get to make a wish... Do dwarves not do that?"
"We're made for mountain halls, we don't really star gaze much as a rule, saving some of our seers perhaps. Seeing a falling star is very rare for us, but even so we've never thought much of it."
Bilbo clucked his tongue and sat up properly again, leaning over Thorin to cover his eyes with a soft, warm, palm.
"Indulge me. Close your eyes and make a wish."
Thorin smirked, the whole thing seemed rather childish to him, but he played along all the same. It was only when he mumbled that he had finished his wish that Bilbo removed his hand. Thorin found himself gazing up at the hobbit still hovering over him and brought one hand up to thread through his curls, gently massaging his scalp.
"Hm, came true faster than I thought it might."
"What are you talking about?"
"I'd have thought it obvious. You are my wish."
Warm lips quickly muffled Bilbo's subsequent bright laughter and accusation of Thorin being a 'hopeless romantic' and the pair found that enjoying each other's company was far more pleasant than stargazing.