Coming Home (Bagginsheild and Acorns)

Bilbo's Acorn: Watching

As much as the hobbit grieved, it was nothing in comparison to how Thorin felt. He was forced to watch the love of his life cry. He saw the unbearable misery that the burglar felt. Thorin watched painfully close, but still too far away. He stared helplessly when Bilbo inevitably broke down in his hobbit hole, crawling into a corner and sobbing all alone.

"Thorin, please. I need you." The hobbit trembled.

Thorin dropped to his knees in front of his burglar and took the hobbits face in his invisible hands. He reaches out a thumb to wipe away a tear but it trickles down his lover's face untouched. He was helpless. Thorin Oakenshield, King Under the Mountain, killer of hundreds of orcs was bested by a single tear.

"Why did you have to come?!" Bilbo whimpered. "Why did you have to show me what life could be only to abandon me?"

Thorin wrapped his arms around the hobbit.

"I'm here! I'm right here!" He shouted. "I haven't left you!"

The hobbit sunk onto his side and let silent tears drip across his face.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry, my love! Don't cry!" Thorin yelled even more loudly than before.

His chest filled with frustration. All he wished was for Bilbo to be happy and that was the one thing he could not do. He leapt to his feet in a fury.

"Damn that stupid gold! Damn the mountain! Damn my stupidity!" He bellowed.

Bilbo was oblivious and curled up into a tighter ball of grief. Thorin's fists tightened.

"Damn you hobbit stop crying and smile!" He shouted in frustration, slamming his fist into the curved wall of the bedroom. It was met with no resistance. He threw another punch and another until he was exhausted collapsing in front of Bilbo. He lay down beside the hobbit looking into his unseeing eyes. An invisible hand stroked Bilbo's cheek adoringly.

"Don't cry anymore." The king whispered. "You have everything you've ever dreamed of. You have your books and your armchair... And I will never leave your side for a moment."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Thorin kept his promise, and eventually both of their pains subsided. Thorin was more than content to watch the gentle hobbit go about his days. When Bilbo planted their acorn, the strong king did something he never thought he would, cry. His heart ached at the joy of the memories that Bilbo would recall under the oak tree.

As the hobbit leaned against the bark, Thorin would lay lazily in front of him, pretending Bilbo was speaking to him. And, to be completely honest, Bilbo was too. This was by far the king’s favorite part of the day, sitting and listening to the hobbit. Although he knew everything that his burglar would relate, he treasured the time that Bilbo set aside just for him.

Nothing could compare to Thorin’s joy when Frodo arrived. The wriggly little hobbit looked just like his uncle, Thorin mused. The addition of a child was just what Bilbo needed to bring him back to life completely. Thorin leaned against the fire-place humming. The uncle and nephew sat on the floor, rolling a car back and forth. The king couldn’t help but note that Frodo’s silky curls quivered just the way his uncle did when he laughed.

Thorin missed his own nephews terribly, but seeing his burglar so happy was more that enough to content his days. As he promised, Thorin watched over Bilbo and never left his side. He also grew quite attached to young Frodo.

Bilbo set the little hobbit in his bed and smile at him as he wriggled under the covers.

“Goodnight Frodo.” He smiled, kissing him on the forehead.

“No! Not goodnight! You must tell me a story first.” The child protested.

His uncle sighed in mock annoyance. “Fine, which one?”

“Thorin! Tell me about uncle Thorin.” Frodo squealed.

The king under the mountain sat lightly at the foot of the bed and leaned against the wall, awaiting the long tale. Bilbo spoke of the king’s bravery and intelligence, of his skill in battle and his unwavering character. Frodo listened eagerly until his tiny eyelids were too weak and sleep took him.

The child always fell asleep before Biblo was finished singing Thorin’s praises. A smile touched the king’s lips as the burglar kissed his nephew  and turned out the lights. For the first time in ten years Thorin did not follow the hobbit immediately. Instead, he knelt down beside Frodo’s sleeping form, gazing at the delicate creature.

“For all your uncle’s compliments he showers upon me, I am no hero. I hope that, someday you understand how perfectly astonishing your uncle is. He is stronger of will and heart than any dwarf and has more bravery than the entire race of men. His strength and forgiveness knows no bounds. I pray that you realise someday that the young hobbit is the real hero of that adventure.” And with those gentle words, the king under the mountain kissed the child gently on the forehead and patted his arm.

Despite knowing he could not be heard, Thorin tiptoed out of the room after Bilbo, careful not to wake his nephew.