Bonds that break
Author: wanderingsmith
May 13, 2016
Summary: "Thorin! We just spent blood and
tears to get you home-"
Thorin turned from his first
steps toward a distant Balin, his smile already
replaced by the distracted, serious look of someone
making plans even as he spoke, "You should find
Bofur. Tell him I told you to tell him to tell you
of Ones."
Rating: PG13
Disclaimer: I ain't got no money, and nobody'd
be daft enough to pay me for this. As it is thought,
so let it be said; you make the toys, I play with
'em..
AN: This was written probably 2 years ago..
I just kept waiting for the rest to appear. But it
isn't going to, obviously. So.. Let each of you
continue it in your own minds as you will.
Thorin limped slowly through the half-rebuilt great
gates, Bilbo walking at his side, his worried
watchfulness obvious.
When they were into the courtyard, Thorin paused to
stare and Bilbo echoed him, opening his arms wide and
turning to him with a proud smile, pulling Thorin's
attention, "Well. It took a few false starts, but:
welcome home, my king. Dragon dead, first wave of
settlers working on cleaning things up, allies in the
valley. You're home."
And Thorin smiled, soft but wide, first at his hobbit,
then while slowly gazing around.
His voice was almost tender, and quiet, as from a deep
well, when he finally repeated, "Home."
Bilbo blinked, trying to keep the sudden burning in his
eyes from leaking out. The relaxed peace he finally got
to see settling over his friend's features was
heartbreaking. Heartbreaking to think the dwarf had had
so many years of pain before this moment.
But his king finally had his home! And Bilbo had helped
bring him here.
"Well. A job we've all done well, if I do say so
myself." He took his own look around, balancing on his
heels, fingers curling into the burnt and worn coat
Bard's family had gifted him, so long ago; for a moment
feeling as though he were back home, chatting with
Hamfast in front of the Green Dragon as they watched
their neighbours bustle about. For all that it was
dwarrows hurrying back and forth, here, with cheerful
purpose, shouting and singing, hammers ringing.
Every moment some new section of wall was raised or
fixed; a mountain coming to life. He nodded, keeping his
smile firmly in place and turning back to the king, that
other life fading from his thoughts like fog in the
morning, "Gandalf tells me he knows of a path that
should still be open to get to the Shire, so I'll be
heading back. No doubt it'll be an unpleasant road, but
I've been gone quite a while now." The Lady only knew
what had happened to Bag End in his unplanned absence.
Dealing with it all would hopefully keep his attention
from wandering far to the East.
Thorin seemed to freeze. Not pale but.. slump slightly,
his smile fade. Before Bilbo could frown and question
it, he seemed to resettle, his smile regaining its
peace, his voice still as tender, "I hope it is not too
rough a road, I do not think my ribs are yet up to it."
Now Bilbo did frown, hands going to his hips as he
growled, "Your ribs are going nowhere but your bed,
watched over by Óin until they are actually healed!"
Thorin watched him with that quiet smile for a moment
before he turned as though looking for someone, "If you
and the wizard will but give me a day to settle my
affairs, I am certain Gandalf will find us a safe path."
"Thorin! *What* are you talking about?? *You*, are
staying *here*! We just spent blood and tears to get you
home-"
Thorin turned from his first steps toward a distant
Balin, his smile already replaced by the distracted,
serious look of someone making plans even as he spoke,
"And the dwarrows of Erebor *have* their home and are
grateful. But for myself..." For a moment he stared at
Bilbo with the oddest look the hobbit had yet seen on
those bearded features. Though.. for some reason he was
reminded of That Hug. Then Thorin shook his head,
looking as though he were berating himself, then focused
on Bilbo again, "For myself... you should find Bofur.
Tell him I told you to tell him to tell you of Ones."
And before Bilbo could explode about confounded
dwarrows, the king was walking away. Not nearly at his
usual pace, but far too quickly for the pain Bilbo knew
he was in.
-----------------------------------
"Bofur?"
The hatted dwarf looked up from his soup bowl with his
usual cheerful smile, "Aye, Bilbo?"
"Thorin said to tell you that he says to tell me about
ones."
Bofur blinked a few times, for a moment unable to help
himself from trying to parse that sentence. Then he
shook his head sharply and gave it up. "Ones?"
"That is what he said. What ones, I have no idea-"
"No no! I understand which Ones. I was just..
surprised." Bofur cleared his throat, deciding where to
start. "Well.. You see. Dwarrows can be a mite
stubborn-" he chose to ignore the snort from his
companion of many months' journey, "And when Mahal made
us, he knew that left to our own devices, we might never
get around to looking up from our precious crafts and
taking a mate and having littles. Therefor he creates
most dwarrows with their souls all twisted up with
another, so when we're born, our souls are shaped
awaiting their matching half. Their One."
Even while he repeated the old tale, there was a part of
Bofur's brain thinking of the ramifications of *why*
he'd been asked to tell their burglar this particular
dwarven secret. And Bilbo's gasp told him the hobbit was
only now finally coming to the same realization. "Not
all dwarrows find their match, and some don't realize it
when do they find them. Some say the instant they met,
they felt their soul echo and ring and rejoice. Others I
watched know each other for years before they stopped
one day in the middle of one of their usual spats, and
finally recognized the bond that had grown between
them."
"Bond?"
"Aye. Once you find your One and.. your heart
recognizes, *cleaves* to them... your souls start to
knit themselves back up together as they were meant to
be. Now, once they're all patched up, you can separate
for long periods just fine, like Glóin and his love have
during this quest, and the worst you suffer is missing
each other and missing the support and comfort of half
of your soul. But while the bond is being made, distance
is.. death." He made sure he was watching their hobbit
as he said that. And wasn't surprised to see him stiffen
and pale. "Say, here to Dale, would probably be fine.
But even as far as the Woodland Realm... Neither dwarf
would survive. They'd begin to feel pain, then weakness,
like a bad fever; seen that with my own eyes. And we're
told that between a few hours or a few days later, if
they remain apart, they'd die in their sleep. Mahal did
not wish for potential mates to casually turn away from
each other."
------------------------
Bilbo was still shaky as he walked slowly through the
hallways of Erebor. If Thorin had sent him to Bofur for
what seemed like the only possible reason... Then.. the
dwarf would have died from banishing Bilbo. And now...
Bilbo stopped walking. *IF* this was the case... could
he stay in Erebor? For however long it took? As no more
than a friend? Was that.. Thorin, the *king*, had never
offered any... any 'interest'. Obviously believing a
person your One did not actually necessarily mean a
dwarf wished to spend their life with them. Because..
surely Thorin would have *said* if...
He had not paid attention to his path and was surprised
when he suddenly heard Balin's high voice from a nearby
doorway.
"Aye, it'll do. With this we'll keep things calm until
Lady Dís comes, and no one will argue *her* claim to the
lad's regency until you return."
The reply as Bilbo ambled closer, hoping he could ask
his friend's opinion, was in a familiar deep voice that
froze the hobbit. Though he could not hear the more
rumbling voice, Bilbo found himself scrambling to recall
Balin's exact words, even as he blushed to be
essentially spying.
"But.. Ye can return, once..."
By now Bilbo was close enough to hear Thorin's response,
surprised at the almost hurt tone, "Have I not.. earned
enough for my people to... to court my One, Balin? Fíli
will be ready to rule by the time the bond is stable
enough to separate. I would.. I do not- I destroyed any
chance at the right to ask this of Bilbo... Yet I
cannot.. I cannot, Balin, *not* try. He has.. he has
been kinder than I deserved these last weeks. I cannot
help myself from praying he might.. that I might find..
that he might come to look on me kindly enough to allow
me to remain at his side."
Bilbo nearly could not hear Balin's answer over the
rushing of his blood, the babble of rising joy within
him. *Court*!! Oh he had one of three words to say to
his king for not speaking up before! Unless.. If he had
not known until after... Bilbo grimaced, glee quieting,
acknowledging that it would be difficult for anyone to
bring up such a topic after The Gate.
"If.. Well. I.. thought ye were not interested and were
only going with him to wait out the bond. But if you've
a mind to win him, which I think you aught, laddie,
indeed I do! But then, why not ask him to stay here?
Surely you know he would if he knew he was truly wanted
and would have a place!"
"..I cannot ask him to abandon his home, Balin. Not
after... The Shire is a good place, his home a cozy one.
If he is kind enough to allow me, I would find peace
there. Easier than a lone hobbit in a cold mountain in
need of a great many repairs, whose once-green slopes
will be dead for years to come. I have no complaint
Balin. Erebor is reclaimed and our people no longer
exiled, her throne secured by my family. I am
well-content to retire in that knowledge."
From his position sitting at the foot of the wall next
to the door, Bilbo heard Balin sigh in resignation, "It
will be as you say, my king."
The sound of familiar slow footsteps approaching from
inside the room made him tense, but he had not intended
to spy. And would not run from this conversation.
Thorin, obviously past the point where he needed to be
returned to bed, did not even see him before turning
down the hall away from him. Bilbo pushed himself up,
voice even. "Balin is right; I would stay here if I have
a place." He almost regretted speaking when Thorin
jerked in surprise and then flinched in pain. The hobbit
hurried over to slide himself under the king's good arm
to take some of his weight, scowling at the stubborn
dwarf.
Thorin frowned back, "Why would you not have one? You
are part of Thorin's Company."
Bilbo was tempted to stop them at the next hallway
chair, but the lines of strain around Thorin's mouth
were too deep: he needed to lay down. He only hoped they
would make it to the royal chambers, "There was nothing
in the contract about being given a home. Why would I
expect welcome in a dwarven mountain? And in any case,
I've no desire to be a spoiled hobbit of leisure among
hustling and bustling dwarrows."
Thorin shook his head slowly, frown turning worried on
those sickly-pale features, "You found your place in the
Company, you would find it among my people as well.
Whether as- Anything that you enjoy to do, there will be
a need and gratitude for it in Erebor. But.. You wished
to go home, earlier."
Too strained by the extra weight he bore to be able to
afford turning his head, Bilbo contented himself with a
glare at the dusty stone passageway, "..Knowing I had to
return, then yes, I would want to go sooner rather than
later. My family might have already decided I am not
coming back, what with the way I disappeared. They'll
sell my home. My blasted cousin Lobelia has probably
already stolen all father's silver. And if she has it
for more than six months, by Shire law it is hers. And I
would have to reacquire it."
"So you *had* burgled before."
The hobbit snorted at the hint of teasing, "No. I'd
never needed to. But many hobbits would have served you
well, yes." The sight of Thorin's bedchamber door made
him brighten, "If I am not returning, I could simply
write my cousins for the few things I'd like. Or we
could go at a later date, when you are healed and things
are not so unsettled. I've no intention of allowing you
into harm's way, my king."
Back to Fanfic
Back to The Canadian
Wanderer's homepage >