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Thorin heaved a sigh as he sat down next to his nephews and the rest of the Company, forcing himself to play a part in their conversation with the visiting Gandalf.
"They say the Raven has wings," Kíli was saying in awe.
"That's impossible." Fíli said shortly in response.
Tauriel, who is sat next to Kíli, fingers intertwined, shook her head. "There are myths that some races, after they fall in love with their soulmate, grow wings."
Gandalf hummed in agreement. "One race, only. But it is very rare. Extremely rare, actually."
"What race then?" Dwalin asked from his seat next to Norí; everyone pretending not to to notice the pair leaning into each other.
Gandalf paused, eyes flicking to Thorin briefly before answering. "Hobbits."
All eyes automatically darted to Thorin, who drew in a sharp breath as pain engulfed his heart.
His hobbit, dead, out of his reach, because of him.
He stood up suddenly, his minor headache growing and thrumming in his mind as he wished the others goodnight and left.
As he slammed his door shut, images, unwanted and unbidden flash through his mind. Bilbo, reappearing, helping, despite Thorin's despicable words and actions. Bilbo, darting forward and blocking Azog with his sword, saving Thorin's life. Bilbo, falling backwards, body twisting as he plummeted from the cliff of Ravenhill.
With a small gasp of pain Thorin collapsed on his bed, his heart and head aching. He didn't bother changing, or even wrestling with the blankets covering his bed. Instead he just lay there, salty tears dampening his cheeks for over an hour.
He was awoken suddenly by harsh shaking and his eyes snap open. He relaxed slightly when he realises Dís is the one rousing him, though not too gently.
He scowled at her and turned away. "What?"
Dís rolled her eyes. "You look awful."
Thorin groaned. "Thanks."
"Seriously, you look like crap on a stick." Dís continued, wrenching open curtains, and sounding way too chipper.
"Just leave be, Dís," Thorin mumbled. Dís turned round suddenly to face him.
"You've got to stop this Thorin." Her voice serious. "You're suffering."
"I'm performing all of my duties, Dís," Thorin countered. "Erebor is doing well."
Dís made an annoyed sound. "You're suffering, you oaf. I'm not talking about Erebor. You're wallowing in self-pity and loathing. So stop it." Thorin finally lifted his eyes to meet hers, and something in them made her soften slightly. "I know, you miss him," she ignored the sharp intake of breath. "I know, it hurts, but it's been five years, you have to start caring for yourself better."
Thorin made a sound, but it died in the back of his throat. "I... I can't."
Dís laid a hand on his shoulder, then slapped him. His hands jumped to his stinging cheek.
"Thorin Oakenshield, I have been through enough without watching you slowly wither away. You are going to wash, get changed, and you are going to come downstairs, and help me plan Kíli's wedding." She threatened; "or so help me, I will kill you myself. Your nephews miss you, the real you. And so do I."
Thorin sat there for several moments, blinking in shock. "What'd I do without you?" He murmured.
"Get eaten by trolls?" Dís quipped before standing up. "There's a clean shirt on the chair there."
"We are not putting Tauriel in pink!" Dís repeated. "With her hair, and complexion, I would rather set the place on fire as they say 'I do'."
Thorin allowed a small smile to flit across his lips. "What about white?" He suggested. "It is traditional."
Dís hummed in agreement, before the door flew open, Dwalin and Norí rushing through, followed by several guards.
"What?" Thorin demanded, but all further protests died on his tongue as he saw the look on their faces.
"Orcs," Dwalin told him. "Army, right outside the gates." Thorin stood automatically, and let Dwalin lead him to the battlements, where the rest of the Company where waiting, along with many soldiers.
Thorin, holding Bilbo by his coat, the hobbit's legs scrambling over air-
Thorin shook his head to clear the image from his mind, and paled at the sight before him. A huge army or orcs was situated a few hundred metres from the gates, brandishing weapons that gleamed in the sunlight.
"Where did they come from?" He demanded.
Dwalin shook his head. "The sentries reported movement in the night, so we added more to watch, and then when the sun rose, this is what greeted us."
"Have any demands been made?" Dís asked, her eyes flitting from one orc to the other.
Dwalin shook his head again. "What I'm wondering, why are they not attacking? They are literally giving us time to gather our forces, to give Dale time to come to our aid-"
"Even if we had time to prepare, we are not ready for an attack of this size," Thorin argued. "But Dwalin, gather our forces." Then he raised his voice. "This is Thorin Oakenshield, King Under the Mountain, speaking. What do you want from us?" His voice echoed across the army before them, before one very gruesome, tall orc stepped forward.
"We want nothing from you, dwarf-scum." It shouted, to the laughter of the orcs. "Merely the Raven."
Thorin frowned in confusion, raised an eyebrow to the others, but all shrugged, looking worried, scared or confused. "So why bring an army to my doorstep?" He yelled back, but his statement was met with cruel laughter.
"You don't know..." The orc laughed again, his tone mocking. "The Raven has sworn their protection over Erebor, and any who call the mountain their home. Especially Erebor's Company."
Thorin's eyes widened. He turned away from the army. "What is he talking about?" But the others were mirroring his own shocked look, leaving him just as clueless.
"Leave my land, or face war!" He shouted, but the orcs just laughed.
"We all know you are not powerful enough to defeat us," the orc replied, and Thorin's gut twisted. "And so we will wait, for the Raven."
"What do we do Uncle?" Kíli asked, his eyes betraying the nervousness he is feeling.
Thorin hesitated. "We fight them." Dís nodded. "We have no other choice."
Thorin could feel blood trickling down his arm, and he didn't know whether it was his blood, or the blood of an orc, but he didn't care. "Retreat!" He ordered, his ears filled with the sounds of metal on metal, of the groans and screams of dying dwarrow.
The tattered army move back, away from the relentless waves of orcs, who thankfully do not follow. Any remaining dwarrow and the few men banded behind him, as Thorin realised with relief, Dís, the Company, Gandalf and Tauriel are still alive, still fighting. Dwalin cutting down orc after orc with his axe, back to back with Norí.
Tauriel and Kíli danced around each other, arrows being shot in all directions as Dís disemboweled and decapitated all orcs in range. But he can see the exhaustion on their faces as they move to clump behind him, breathing heavily.
The tall orc from earlier makes his way through the ranks of orcs still standing, his smile twisted and humourless. "You should've stayed in your castle. Now you will die, dwarf!"
Thorin felt a fleeting sense of loss; his family, and friends, and his people, would all be slaughtered by stinking orcs, before a calm voice cut across the cheering orcs from behind them.
"Oh, uh, yeah, no, sorry, that doesn't work for me." The voice was so familiar Thorin felt like he had been stabbed in the stomach. The orcs all turn, snarling and growling towards the owner of the voice. A figure, silhouetted by the evening sun, stood, facing the orcs.
"The Raven!" They shout, and several grin in triumph. Their leader shouted; "you will surrender, now Raven, or these dwarves will die, slow, agonising deaths."
The Raven merely laughed, mockingly, but it sent another jolt through Thorin at how achingly familiar it was. "Yeah, that still doesn't work for me, it would mean breaking my habit." The figure's features are still indistinguishable, both from the distance and because of the bright, setting dun behind him.
"You see," the Raven continued, in a chatty tone, that reminded Thorin of Bilbo, convincing three trolls that the dwarrow had parasites. "I sort of got into a the habit of saving their king's ass." Thorin gaped slightly. "I mean, it is an ass worth saving." Thorin's mouth fell open even wider. "And as well as that, I grew rather fond of thirteen of them, including previously mentioned king. So no, I won't surrender, or let them die." Thorin felt like his mind was short circuiting.
"You would die for that scum?" The orc growls.
"Yes." The Raven responded instantly. "I mean, I know right now, they do look very dumb, with the shocked looks on their faces, and their mouths all droopy and open, but I assure you they are normally very- well, a bit- eh, okay, smartness isn't exactly their top quality, but believe me, they do have other attributes. And, well, you guys aren't perfect either. It doesn't seem like a single one of you has ever heard of personal hygiene, and thus I highly recommend you look into that."
"You will stop your blabbering, and die!" The orc yelled. "Our leader will be glad to hear of your death-"
"Oh right, that was the other thing." The Raven cut in. "Sauron, the big boss man. Him, yeah.... he's dead. Gone. Kaput. No longer in existence. Lifeless. Never to retu-"
"Impossible! Sauron is undefeatable! You lie!"
"I may have once been a burglar, but I like to think I'm an honest one." The Raven put in. There was several gasps from behind Thorin. "The one ring, you know, the one that would make him all powerful? It's melted, in Mordor. I should know, I dropped it in, hence it took so long getting here. So he's no more. Kinda a bit of a flaw, when you think about it, being able to be defeated by just dropping a ring in special lava, but I suppose everyone has their Achilles' heel." The Raven paused. "I actually had quite a long journey, so if you wouldn't mind getting in a single file line, and letting me kill you-" He is cut off when several arrows are shot in his direction, but he nimbly sidestepped them. "Didn't think so. But anyhow, worth a try. Ok, who wants to die first?" He shifted, and then two large wings, as tall as the figure, unfurled and stood proud, the bottom feathers touching the grass and dirt, the top of the wings reaching as far as his head. Unsheathing twin swords, he twirled them in his hands and moved forward.
The Raven was a fast, sure-footed, nimble fighter, the likes of whom Thorin had never seen before. His skills were unparalleled by anyone Thorin had ever seen, as the Raven cut down orc after charging orc.
The Raven would sometimes leap up, hovering over the orcs, dodging arrows as he threw sharp knives, impaling the orcs every time. Then duck back down, swords whirling and flashing as the Raven cut a path towards the shell-shocked dwarrow.
Then, the Raven flew up again, sheathed his swords, his right hand continuing to throw his knives at the orcs, as his left reached into a pocket.
He then tossed a tiny object over the orcs, and the dark object spun in the air as it was hurled towards the dwarrow. On reflex, Thorin reached up and caught it smoothly, before slowly opening his hand.
In it lay a single, small, withered acorn.
All the breath left his body and Thorin felt ready to collapse. His eyes darted back up to the Raven, silver flashing and dark wings beating hard. A rush of strength filled him as he lifted his sword, and roaring, charged into battle, his people on his heels.
Thorin impaled another orc when a sharp voice rang across the bloody battlefield. "Stop! Or the blonde dies!"
Everyone stopped to turn and stare at the orc leader, who was holding Fíli over a sentry post, a knife held to his throat.
"No!" Several cried out. "FÍli!"
"Now," a calm voice said. "This is giving me deja vu. Anyone else? No?" The Raven in a blink of an eye, tossed a knife, impaling the orc's hand, making him stumble back and drop Fíli, who plummeted to the ground.
He was going to die, like Bilbo did.
But the Raven surged forward, leaving the ground as he soared through the air, deftly catching the falling prince, returning him to the ground before swooping back to the post, and holding a sword against the orc's neck before Thorin can move.
When the Raven spoke again, his voice was icy cold, huge black wings outspread and blocking his face from view. "Now, you're going to die. You want to know why?" He paused slightly. "You hurt little lion."
Only four people have ever called Fíli this, Dís, Víli - Fíli's father, Thorin, and then Bilbo. And as the orc slumped to the ground, a knife in his heart, the Raven turned around, and Thorin couldn't breathe.
It was Bilbo.
"Now, orc-scum, you've made me mad. Really mad." His voice, although quiet, carried across the battlefield and silent warriors. His normally warm amber eyes were scorching with hate. "I suggest you run."
And the orcs did. Dropping their weapons, they all turned and fled, heading for the old tunnels Azog's army had emerged from five years ago.
The army started to gather the injured, but the Company, Tauriel and Dís gathered to him, all watching Bilbo gently soar down from the sentry post. He landed deftly on the ground, only metres away, his eyes flicking between, his face betraying nothing.
He was Bilbo, it was obvious, with his amber eyes, button nose and caramel curls. But his face had grown less round, as had the rest of him, his eyes carried a troubled, more experienced look. And drooping behind him were two huge, black wings, the feathers matching that of a raven.
Finally Gandalf spoke. "You look different."
Bilbo smiled, but it was tight, and strained. "As do all of you. Ok, uh, I know I have a lot of explaining to do, but first, five questions." He raised a finger. "One." He pointed at Kíli and Tauriel. "When are you two getting married?"
Kíli just opened and closed his mouth, several times, but Tauriel answered, automatically. "Four months."
Bilbo grimaced slightly. "Oh, summer wedding. Always preferred winter ones myself." But his face broke into a grin as his eyes twinkled with warmth. He looked like Bilbo again. Almost. Except for the hollowness of his cheeks, and skin-tight leather suit that showed how thin he had got. "Two, Balin, Dorí, still have that cute domestic thing going on?" All eyes flicked to the pair, in shock. Both avoided everyone's eyes.
"I'm going to take that as a yes. Dwalin, Norí judging by the braids in your hair and beards, you finally got your shit together? Took your time. Fíli, Orí, I desperately hope you two have managed to be in the same room without turning redder than a tomato- clearly not." Bilbo grinned that grin of his and Thorin's heart expanded and flew up into his throat. "And Tauriel, has your Ada and Bard started courting yet? Yavannah knows Thranduil could use the company, and for his pining to cease, now that Legolas has eloped with Aragorn."
"He what? And he what?" Tauriel managed to say.
"Thranduil should just ask Bard out, it would help with all the mutual pining and sad doe eyes. And Legolas eloped with Aragorn, heir of Gondor, because they were so desperately in love it was a little bit sickening and neither wanted the big flashy wedding which would come with two princes being married." Bilbo explained. He still refused to meet Thorin's gaze.
"You're alive." Thorin said gruffly.
Bilbo seemed to freeze and he finally looked at Thorin. A flood of emotions and all eternity seemed to pass before Bilbo spoke. "Yes. I am not dead. I was never dead."
"Then why didn't you come back?" Kíli finally managed to speak, and he sounded hurt, and slightly bewildered.
"I couldn't remember who I was, for... for a very long time." Bilbo explained, his eyes and tone sad. "When I fell, I hit my head hard. The healers say it's a wonder I ever remembered-"
"How long?" Fíli cut in. "How long could you not remember for?"
Bilbo hesitated before answering. "Three years."
There are several sharp intakes of breath.
"All I knew.. Something inside longed for adventure, like ours." He smiled a sad smile. "And then... it just happened. I became the Raven. And when I eventually remembered who I was, I swore my protection to Erebor."
"But you could've come back." Thorin murmured.
"I know." Bilbo stared at the ground. "But... I fulfilled my part of the contract, and I didn't want any gold. You... I betrayed you." His eyes connected with Thorin's again, and the last words are spoken only to the King Under the Mountain.
Thorin hook his head. "No." He said firmly. "No. You saved me. You saved all of us."
Bilbo's mouth had fallen open slightly.
"You know you look kind of dumb with your mouth open." Kíli joked and Bilbo laughed once but then he was crying as well. Fíli is the first one to cross the distance and engulfed Bilbo in a hug. Then Kíli. Then Bilbo stepped over and all the dwarrow are sobbing, crying and clutching handkerchiefs.
Dís and Tauriel stay back, watching with tender eyes.
Finally, Bilbo and Thorin moved at the same time and then Thorin is holding his hobbit close to him, and enjoying the sensation of soft wings wrapping around him. They slowly break apart, and all turn at the clearing of a throat.
Bard, King of Dale is standing there. Bilbo immediately stepped towards him. "Is he safe?" Bilbo asked.
Bard merely side-stepped as a tiny object came rushing forwards before throwing itself at him. "Bilbo!" It cried as Bilbo swung it up into his arms. When it stopped moving, it became clear that it was a very young hobbit, with black curls and bright blue eyes.
Thorin's eyes flicked from the child to Bilbo, who was hugging the child to him, as a gut wrenching feeling of disappointment and heartbreak fill him. "Is that- Is he yours?" He finally asked.
Bilbo's eyes darted to him, wide and surprised. Before he could answer, the child spoke. "I'm Frodo. And I'm four."
Thorin felt his eyebrows shoot up while Bilbo stuttered slightly. "Uh, yes, this is Frodo. He's my aunt's child. She and her husband passed away when Frodo was a couple years old. When I eventually returned, briefly to the Shire, I took custody of him."
"Are these the dwarves you went adwentuwing with?" Frodo asked Bilbo who nodded. Then Frodo pointed at Thorin. "Is that the one who gave you your wings?" Bilbo's eyes widened and a shocked look crossed his face.
"What?" Thorin asked, sounding incredibly surprised.
Bilbo stammered. "Well, I uh, I..." Frodo hopped out of his arms and carefully walked over to Thorin, who was standing, frozen, staring at a red Bilbo. Frodo tugged on his chain mail and lifted his arms. Luckily Dis scooped up the infant with a gleaming smile.
"I'm Dís," she said. "It's a pleasure to meet you, sir." Frodo giggled and tugged on one of her braids.
"Uncle Bilbo doesn't like titles very much." Frodo whispered, but in a very loud, carrying whisper. "Says they remind him of his soulmate. He also says I look like him." The fauntling tugged on his own hair. "Bilbo said I have the same hair and eyes."
Although Thorin had not thought it possible, Bilbo had become even redder as he grimaced slightly. "Frodo, remind to teach you how to keep a secret," he managed to say, his voice wobbly as he stared resolutely at everything but Thorin.
Dís not so subtly kicked him in the back, and Thorin stumbled forward several paces. As he straightened, he realised he was standing right in front of Bilbo and his throat went dry.
Then everything happened at once. A pained expression crossed Bilbo's face, the hobbit swayed and collapsed, Frodo screamed, an arrow became visible lodged in Bilbo's back and an lonely orc was shot down by Tauriel.
Thorin awoke suddenly at something tugging on his sleeve. He jolted slightly, his gaze immediately flicking to Bilbo, still unconscious, still in the hospital bed. Then he realised Frodo was chewing on his sleeve.
Carefully he pried the fauntling off and handed him an apple from the bowl of fruit on Bilbo's bedside table. It was dark, the middle of the night, and Bilbo had been sleeping for over 30 hours. In that time, Thorin hadn't left his side.
"Uncle Bilbo loves you." Frodo suddenly said. Thorin felt his face redden as his attention was captured by the fauntling. "He missed all of you, but it was you he talked about the most."
Frodo took another bite of his apple, clearly not realising the magnitude of what he was revealing to the dwarf.
"Do you wove him?" Frodo asked, despite his full mouth.
Thorin's eyes flickered automatically to the still sleeping hobbit. "Yes," he answered truthfully. "When he was gone, I was so sad. All the time. I missed him more than anything."
Frodo stared up at him from his lap with wide eyes.
"Dwarrow have something called Ones." He told the infant. "They're a bit like soulmates, except much more common, and the don't give you wings."
"Uncle Bilbo's wings are so pretty." Frodo said adoringly.
"Yes, they beautiful." Thorin agreed.
Frodo paused, then leaned closer to Thorin, pulling slightly at his beard to make him lean down. "Don't tell anyone, but there is a hobbit, back in the Shire, who is weally pretty."
Thorin smiled indulgingly.
"His name's Sam. But you can't tell anyone, it's a secret."
"Good to know you do know what a secret it," a dry voice croaked. Bilbo was awake, smiling softly at the pair of them. "But you really should be asleep Fro."
"He refused to until you woke up." Thorin explained, a faint blush tinging his neck.
"And Uncle Thorin said he would wait with me. 'Cause he wouldn't be able to sleep when you were hurt, he said." Frodo jumped across from Thorin's lap onto Bilbo's bed.
Bilbo's wide eyes shot to Thorin, who felt himself become redder. He cleared his throat. "I should probably remember that you have no filter before tell you important things."
Bilbo laughed gently, making Thorin's heart flutter near his throat. "It is worth keeping in mind. Frodo?" Both turned to see Frodo had fallen asleep, curled up, next to his uncle. Bilbo sat up carefully, so as not to jolt him, wincing slightly.
"Oín said you shouldn't move-" Thorin started, but was cut off by a very unimpressed look.
"I'm fine."
"Ok, but tell Oín I tried very hard to stop you from doing anything," Thorin said smiling. Bilbo smiled back, laughing slightly, then he suddenly stopped.
"I, uh," he scrambled for words. "You like my wings?"
Thorin turned even redder. "How much of that did you hear?"
"All of it," came the honest reply.
"Oh," Thorin breathed. "Bilbo, I... We... I..." He stopped. "Oh, we both know my talking about emotions needs work." He then, with an unexpected surge of bravery, moved forward, and softly captured Bilbo's lips in a kiss.
Bilbo brought his hands up to hold his neck, responding instantly and leaning up slightly. Thorin leant forward more, hand cupping Bilbo's cheek as fingers curled in his black hair.
It was soft, and tender, and slow, and so full of emotion, want, and love, that Thorin thought he could quite happily do this for the rest of his days. He shifted, still not breaking the kiss, to sit on the bed next to Bilbo, his free hand dropping to Bilbo's smooth hip.
Soft feathers gently curled around him as they finally broke apart, both smiling widely as Thorin rested his forehead against Bilbo's.
"I love you Bilbo Baggins."
"And I love you, Thorin Oakenshield."
When Bilbo was let out of bed by Oín, he left Frodo under Kíli and Fíli's supervision - Tauriel and Dís had promised to stay with the trio- and he and Thorin walked along the battlements, and talked of everything. And of nothing.
There was a lull in conversation, and they found themselves just staring intently at each other. Thorin's heart felt ready to implode when he wrapped his arms around his hobbit's waist, pulling Bilbo flush against his body and leaning down to kiss him.
Bilbo stood on tiptoe and kissed back with equal passion, one hand on Thorin's cheek, the other entwined in his hair. His huge wings wrapped around them, and Thorin had never felt so happy. So content.
They had a winter wedding.