Dornessiti (Hobbit Short Story)

Chapter 15

A/N: Hey, guys! When did 1K reads happen?! You guys are so awesome! Also, this chapter is dedicated to TeresSue for her encouraging message and overall faith in me. Hope you like the new chapter!
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The bedroom door shut with a hollow thunk.
"So?" Asked Thorin, trying not to let worry taint his tone. Beyond the door and laid upon the bed was his daughter, newly returned to him, and he was anxious to hear any news, preferably of the good kind. Oin gave a sigh. He knew exactly how this situation was going to pan out. No matter how many years he'd been a healer, the job had never got any easier. Scarlet fever, battle wounds, pneumonia, he'd seen most things by this point. But being the bearer of bad news was something he'd never been used to, and he doubted he ever would.
"I don't know how this is going to turn out laddie," he admitted, whole-heartedly wishing he had better tidings to give his king "She's been looked after over the past few days, but she was out in the snow for far too long, the cold's settled in her lungs. Her chest's congested, she's got a fever... I'm not sure how well she'll recover."
"But she will recover, won't she?" Thorin insisted, praying internally for any scrap of good news. He'd only just got Hazel back, he couldn't lose her again. On hearing his desperate tone, Oin could barely look his king in the eyes. This was not going to go down well.
"I'm sorry, Thorin, I don't know what her chances are."
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Disbelief whirled around Thorin's head like a mountain storm, raging through his mind and destroying every other thought in its path. No. This couldn't happen. Not after everything they'd been through. He couldn't lose Hazel, not after all they'd done to get her home. She was safe, she was home, everything was going to go back to normal. He couldn't lose her. Not again.
"She is not going anywhere," He said, hating the tremor in his voice as bitter tears burnt at the corners of his eyes "I don't care how many nights I have to sit by her side. I don't care how long I have to take off work. I don't care if I don't eat, drink or sleep for a month. She is not going anywhere. She is my entire world, Oin, I am not letting her go. She will recover."
Oin said no more, knowing there was nothing he could do nor say to change his mind. He just nodded silently, slipping past Thorin and heading downstairs. The dwarf king stood unsteadily for a moment, swaying slightly as if he had been struck, before sinking slowly down against the wall, curling up protectively and putting his head in his hands. Bitter, grief filled tears filled his eyes and spilled down his face. He couldn't lose his daughter, not again.
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Dis was waiting for Oin, her eyes expectant yet worried as she stood vigil in the kitchen door. She'd heard the conversation upstairs, she knew her brother was upset, and she didn't want to make the situation worse by letting her emotions get the better of her. So she swallowed the rising pain in her chest and met Oin's gaze unwillingly as he reached the bottom of the stairs.
"What can we do?" She asked, her voice raspy like sandpaper as she fought back tears of her own.
"Keep her warm, make sure she eats when she wakes up and give her one teaspoon of this three times a day," he said simply yet sadly, pressing a bottle of pink looking medicine into Dis' hand.
"Thank you," she nodded "And I'm sorry about..."
Oin cut her off with a gentle hand to her shoulder. It seemed that unlike her brother, Dis was level-headed, sensible and knew how to deal with stressful situations. She was a single mother of two boys after all, and Oin admired her for her strength in such a time. Dis, on the other hand, was fighting to keep up her brave façade. She couldn't deal with this, not much longer. She felt like she would crumble under the weight of it all at a given moment. Her boys needed her, she couldn't keep leaving them to look after her brother. She didn't have the strength to do both.
"It's okay lass," Oin comforted "Just make sure someone comes and gets me if anything changes for the worse."
Dis just nodded solemnly, bidding Oin goodbye and seeing him out the door. Once he was gone, she headed into the living room and curled up in her brother's armchair, her head in her hands. She wasn't sure which was worse, a missing child or a gravely ill one. Hazel was home, yet the nightmare continued.
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Thorin crept into Hazel's darkened room, trying to push all thought of what might happen out of his mind. Traces of tears still patterned his face, but he wiped them almost viciously away with his sleeve. Crying wasn't going to solve any of this. The willow screen that usually hid the fireplace had been put to one side to allow for a roaring fire, giving the room a soft red glow. Thorin looked to the bed, where Hazel's tiny form lay, as pale as a ghost. She was cocooned in her blankets and was cuddling her blue teddy softly, her face painted with the kind of peace that only sleep gave her. Yet, even from the door, he could still hear the quiet wheeze of her laboured breathing. Her lips were tinted just a little too pale, her forehead was beaded with feverish sweat and her chest rose and fell with painful effort. Despite Brianna's best efforts, Hazel's condition hadn't improved and, horribly, may have worsened. The ride to the village had let the cold back into her lungs, allowing the fever to return with increased ferocity. Undeterred by Hazel's obvious ill-health, Thorin had thanked the family over and over, trying to offer them any reward he could afford for returning his daughter. Brianna had been a little reluctant to let Hazel go, worried that she'd run away from an abusive father after hearing her beg not to be taken home. It'd taken Thorin quite a while to convince her otherwise, explaining what'd caused his daughter to run away with Dis often inputting to back up his story. Hazel was returned to him in the end, although the family had refused to accept Thorin's offer of a reward. Instead they'd agreed on a promise. That if the family ever needed help or found themselves in difficulty, they were to come to him.
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Thorin placed a chair beside Hazel's bed and sat beside her, taking one of her tiny hands between both of his. Her bones seemed as frail as a bird's beneath his rough, calloused palms. He watched sadly as her chest rose and fell, her breathing raspy and harsh. The only hint of colour in her face was her flushed, feverish cheeks which almost flowed against her pasty white skin. Echoes of Oin's prognosis repeated like a terrible mantra, planting a crushing doubt in the back of Thorin's mind. He hurriedly brushed the thought aside, not wanting to linger on what might happen. He couldn't think about that. He had to believe Hazel would survive. Thorin leant over and kissed his daughter's forehead gently.
"Rest, dornessiti, you will be strong again."
Thorin sat vigil beside his daughter's bed for the next three days, smiling as colour slowly returned to her cheeks and her breathing began to ease. He kept hoping that maybe, just maybe, she would pull through.