FIC: A Great Battle Won in Silence
Title: A Great Battle Won in Silence
Relationship: Thorin/Bilbo
Characters: Thorin, Bilbo, Thranduil
Warnings/Spoilers: None
Rating: G
Word Count 2900
Summary: With Thorin and his company imprisoned, Bilbo spends difficult days invisible in the halls of the Elvenking.
Notes: Tweaking book-canon just a bit so Thorin is captured at the same time as the other dwarves.
The stronghold of the Elvenking was a maze of twisting corridors and flickering lamplight. Bilbo Baggins hurried after the line of captured dwarves, his magic ring heavy on his hand. Each time an elf looked his way he shrank back, sure that their keen eyes would pierce his concealment, but none seemed able to see him.
So--undetected, his heart pounding--he followed Thorin Oakenshield and his company as they were led into the dungeons of the Elvenking.
All was going well--as well as could be expected considering the dire circumstances--until the guard was met by another elf. "I'll take their leader," he said, gesturing to Thorin standing with his head hanging low. "You take the rest to the Eastern dungeons." So then Thorin went off in one direction, and the rest of the dwarves in another, leaving Bilbo standing aghast and uncertain.
After a long moment in which his little heart struggled mightily, he whirled and let Thorin be taken away from him, to stay with the company as they were led away.
They split up the other dwarves once they got to the Eastern dungeons, but luckily they kept them all in the same general area, so it only took Bilbo a day or so to locate them all. They were astonished to hear his small voice outside their keyholes--Bifur roared out a welcome in Khuzdul and a guard came to check on him, causing Bilbo a moment's panic--and soon he was running messages between them, which helped their spirits a great deal. If they wondered how their burglar was so very adept at hiding from prying eyes, they never showed it.
He found the Great Hall of the Elvenking, and watched him hold court there. He did not seem cruel--indeed, the elves were generally merry and Bilbo sensed no malice in them--so Bilbo couldn't puzzle out why they were still holding the dwarves captive. One day he heard one of the elvish courtiers mention that the Elvenking had been asked by someone called Curunír to hold the dwarves, but as Bilbo had no idea who that was, his friends' imprisonment remained a mystery.
However, as much as he crept around and searched, he could not locate Thorin Oakenshield, and this made his spirits sink quite low. As the days passed and he lived like a ghost in the halls of the Elvenking, stealing scraps to eat and hiding from all eyes, he began to feel like a ghost indeed, thin and pale and hollowed out. Sometimes the carved corridors seemed to close in on him, and now and then there was a truly dreadful feeling, as if something were searching for him, something terrible. Then he would find a quiet corner and crouch shivering in the shadows, making himself as small as possible until the feeling passed and he could breathe more easily. He did not sleep well, and when he did he had strange dreams in which he had wizardly powers. With the merest gesture, he could throw upon every door in the stronghold and free his friends--but there was no joy in the dream, only an emptiness that made him wake shivering, his hands curled around the ring that was keeping him safe.
And then one day he heard a guard discussing the Deep Dungeons and the prisoner held there. "Stubborn son of a warg," she said, tipping back her glass and wiping her mouth. "Won't say a word, just glares."
"They're all like that," said her drinking companion.
"Well, this one's even more like that," she said, and Bilbo felt glee ignite in him.
When she put down her drink and rose, grumbling about returning to work, Bilbo followed her on silent feet, and after a long walk through winding tunnels, he found himself standing outside the cell that held Thorin Oakenshield.
The guard was still nearby, so there was no question of speaking yet; Bilbo put his eye to the keyhole instead.
Thorin Oakenshield was sitting on the floor, his arms crossed, gazing into the distance without moving. There was a stillness about him that made Bilbo wonder if he had been sitting like that since he arrived. The feeble torchlight picked out the strands of grey in his hair and made his eyes gleam when it played across his features. He had an expression on his face that took Bilbo a long time to place, for he had never seen it there: Thorin looked like he was patiently waiting for something. Bilbo found himself nearly wishing he was the one imprisoned so he could sit and wait for Gandalf as well, but as it seemed unlikely the wizard would be showing up soon, it was going to be up to Bilbo to find a way out of this.
Another guard came along and relieved the one Bilbo had followed, which made Bilbo blink, because it would imply he had spent her entire shift gazing at Thorin through the keyhole. No, she must have had a shortened shift for some reason. Shaking his head, he started the long walk back to where the other dwarves were being kept, to report that their leader was alive and well, much to their joy.
He was back the next day to check on Thorin, who was apparently eating and drinking but otherwise moved not at all, gazing straight ahead with that uncanny stillness. At last there was a moment where the guard was playing noisy dice games with a friend; under cover of the laughing and good-natured cursing, Bilbo leaned in close to the keyhole.
"Thorin Oakenshield!" he whispered. "It's me, Bilbo Baggins!"
Unlike all the other dwarves, Thorin showed absolutely no surprise at the sound of Bilbo's voice. The corner of his mouth twitched slightly, and he stood up and moved to sit with his back to the door, his ear near the keyhole. "Burglar," he said, his voice a low rumble.
Bilbo swallowed. "I'm terribly sorry it's taken me so long to find you," he stammered.
"You stayed with my men, of course," Thorin said. "I would expect no less. I knew you would find me eventually."
Bilbo blinked in astonishment as it occurred to him that the thing that Thorin had been waiting for so patiently was himself. "All of the others are safe," he said hastily, trying not to think about it. "They're being held in the Eastern Dungeons."
Thorin nodded slowly. Then he said: "So. What is the plan?"
"I--" Bilbo felt rather like he'd had the wind knocked out of him. "I--thought you might have one," he managed.
A grumbling noise. "Do I know the layout of the palace? Am I aware of the habitual movements of the court? Have I had a great deal of opportunity to study the timetable of the Elvenking and his troops?" His voice had risen slightly; he cleared his throat and lowered it once more. "I leave such details to you, burglar."
"Oh. Well. Well, I shall come up with something, then," said Bilbo weakly.
Thorin nodded again. "I know. I trust you."
The dice game was breaking up, and Bilbo was forced to whisper a farewell to Thorin and slip into a corner so no one would trip over him. And so he sat and fretted, and the weight of Thorin's trust was a burden nearly as difficult as the weight of the heavy ring he bore.
: : :
The next four days found him at Thorin's keyhole again, although the guard was alert once more and there was no question of speaking to him. He watched Thorin's face and wondered how in the world he was going to get thirteen dwarves to safety. He was so worried, in fact, that he hardly heard the royal guard arrive until they were about to unlock the door, and had to scramble to the side to avoid them.
"You are to come with us to the Great Hall," said one of the guards.
Bilbo, peeking around the corner of the door, saw Thorin shrug and rise as if he were in no hurry at all. He held out his hands to be bound, but the guard laughed.
"We have no fear of you, Master Dwarf. Even if you were to overpower us, where would you go? There is no escape from the Elvenking's halls."
Thorin's expression showed only lofty sullenness as they led him from his cell, and Bilbo followed, ghosting behind them like his shadow.
The Great Hall was full of light and merriment, and as Thorin Oakenshield walked through the crowd in his stained leather armor and tangled hair, delicate hands were raised to cover mouths bent in laughter. But Thorin stood in front of the Elvenking's throne with his head high and met the King's gaze as though they were equals, and his eyes were dark with anger and old pain.
For a long moment, no one moved, and the laughter and whispers faded away into silence. Then the Elvenking glanced at one of the guards, and he brought his boot up against the back of Thorin's legs, so they buckled and he fell to his knees.
At the sight, helpless anger swept through Bilbo, and he took an involuntary step forward, and the ring on his hand throbbed like the pulse of his fury. And it came to him then, with a strange still certainty, that if he wished it, he could sweep the Elvenking from his throne with a wave of his hand. He could climb the dais and take the throne himself, and all the merry-making folk in the hall would bow before him if he only desired it. And not just the elves, but all the dwarves too could be brought before him and would hail him and his power, and Thorin Oakenshield himself would look upon him with awe and reverence and would kneel--
--What? No! thought Bilbo Baggins, shaking his head violently. I am no King! I have no wish to be! I am a Baggins of Bag End, and all I desire is to free my friends! He found that he had sunk to the floor, his breaths as quick and rapid as if he had survived a long struggle with a great enemy, his body trembling as the sweetly vile images receded.
No one ever knew what a great battle was fought and won in silence there in the Hall of the Elvenking, although perhaps Gandalf suspected, later.
When Bilbo looked up again it felt as if hours had gone by while he was wrestling with his bizarre fancy, and was shocked to find that no more than an instant had passed. Thorin was on his knees in front of the Elvenking, his hands clenched and his head held high.
And the pain in his eyes had set as hard as stone itself.
"I bear you no ill will," said the Elvenking, and Thorin made a sound deep in his throat. "But you have entered my lands unbidden, and stirred up a darkness in the forest, and I would know your goal."
"Any darkness in your realm was here long before we entered," said Thorin.
The Elvenking raised an eyebrow, but didn't answer. Instead, he gestured, and an elf-lord stepped forward. "And how do you explain this?" he asked.
With a flourish, he unsheathed Orcrist. The lights of the hall shimmered on its silver length like stars, and Bilbo saw Thorin make a sudden motion, brutally checked, as if he had started to surge forward to seize the sword. Bilbo saw his throat work briefly, and then he smiled. It was not a pleasant smile.
"I found it in a troll-hoard," he said. "In a heap of offal, covered with fish bones and flies."
The Elvenking's eyes blazed. "You ask me to believe such insolent lies? I shall ask you once again: where did you find this blade, you scavenger, you carrion-crow?"
"That is Orcrist, forged in Gondolin before the fall!" cried Thorin. "And truly, we can see how far the elves have fallen from those days. You are not worthy to bear that blade."
There was a hollow, bitter sound, and Thorin's head rocked to the side before Bilbo could even see the guard's hand move. A trickle of blood seeped from the corner of his mouth into his beard.
But for all that, it was the Elvenking who looked as if he had been struck.
Then the moment was past, and the King's face was composed once more, remote and icy. "Of course," he murmured, yet it carried to every corner of the hall, "I forget that I am speaking with an expert on the subject of great cities lost forever." He gestured to the guards as a ripple of mocking laughter ran through the hall. "I grow weary of this. Return him to his cell."
Bilbo followed Thorin back to his cell. Blood continued to trickle from his split lip, but he made no effort to wipe it away, holding his head up and glaring at all who stopped to stare as they passed. Luckily for Bilbo, tonight the guards were playing dice and drinking wine again, and soon enough he had time to creep up to the keyhole and hail Thorin once more.
"Ah, burglar!" Thorin murmured as he settled back against the door. "I have just returned from a very civil interview with the Elvenking."
Bilbo was about to say that he had witnessed it, but then he remembered the sound of mocking laughter and the stony pain in Thorin's eyes, and thought better of it. "Splendid," he said instead, sitting down with his own back against the door to keep an eye out for the guards. "I have no doubt that you impressed him with your diplomacy and charm."
Thorin chuckled deep enough that Bilbo could feel the vibration through the thick wooden door. "You know me well." A short silence. "Have you made any progress on getting us out of here?"
The guards raised their goblets and toasted loudly, cheering. Bilbo grimaced. "The only exit is through the main gate," he said. "I can slip in and out, but thirteen dwarves..."
"You could leave us," Thorin said. "Perhaps you can find Gandalf."
"I'm not leaving you," Bilbo snapped. "Besides, there's a forest full of spiders and other foul things out there," he added. "I'm safest here."
"Indeed." Thorin's voice was very dry. "I can certainly tell how extremely safe you are here."
"Anyway, I'm not abandoning you."
"Then there must be another way out," Thorin said.
Bilbo sat and listened to the guards dicing. Eventually they began to grumble because the wine was running low. "Go fetch us another flagon!" one roared at his friend. "We give too much to Laketown, don't leave enough for thirsty guards."
Bilbo twitched as a thought struck him. "I...I think I might have an idea," he whispered. "I have to go check something."
"Hold," Thorin said as Bilbo started to scramble to his feet. "Can it wait for an hour or so?"
"Well...I suppose so," said Bilbo. "Why?"
"It may be days until the guards are so lax again," Thorin said.
"That's true, but what--"
Thorin made an exasperated sound and shifted his weight against the door. "I do not know when we shall speak again," he said. "And I..." He broke off and growled under his breath for a moment. "I find your voice a comfort," he finished in a rush.
"Oh," said Bilbo.
"I would find any familiar voice a comfort, of course," Thorin added gruffly.
"Of course, of course." Bilbo sat back down. "What shall I talk about?"
"My men, are they well?" Thorin said eagerly. "Are they being mistreated?"
"Not at all," Bilbo reassured him, and went on to tell him a little tale of each of the company's time in the dungeons of the Elvenking: how Ori drew caricatures of the Elvenking on the walls with a bit of charcoal, how Bifur drove the guards mad with his Khuzdul, how Fili and Kili passed on jokes and riddles through Bilbo that kept them all laughing. Eventually he ran out of news about the company, but he kept talking about the Shire and Bag End, filling up the space between them.
"...I mean, all this adventuring business," he heard himself saying after a while, "I don't know what I was thinking, running off into it." He shook his head. "I think it was when you said I looked like a grocer," he said after a moment. "I mean, not that there's anything at all wrong with grocers, not at all," he said with emphasis. "But I could tell you thought there was, and I admit that kind of... So I guess that's why I ended up coming. And now we're here, and you trust me, and my goodness, I don't know quite how to react to that. Are you quite sure you're not ill, Thorin? Thorin?"
He peeked through the keyhole to find that at some point Thorin had slid onto his side and was fast asleep, his broad chest rising and falling gently with his breaths.
"Well, that's good," said Bilbo softly. "That's good."
He had to go check the wine cellars, but he decided it wouldn't be a problem if he took a few more minutes and made sure Thorin Oakenshield was sleeping peacefully.
Relationship: Thorin/Bilbo
Characters: Thorin, Bilbo, Thranduil
Warnings/Spoilers: None
Rating: G
Word Count 2900
Summary: With Thorin and his company imprisoned, Bilbo spends difficult days invisible in the halls of the Elvenking.
Notes: Tweaking book-canon just a bit so Thorin is captured at the same time as the other dwarves.
The stronghold of the Elvenking was a maze of twisting corridors and flickering lamplight. Bilbo Baggins hurried after the line of captured dwarves, his magic ring heavy on his hand. Each time an elf looked his way he shrank back, sure that their keen eyes would pierce his concealment, but none seemed able to see him.
So--undetected, his heart pounding--he followed Thorin Oakenshield and his company as they were led into the dungeons of the Elvenking.
All was going well--as well as could be expected considering the dire circumstances--until the guard was met by another elf. "I'll take their leader," he said, gesturing to Thorin standing with his head hanging low. "You take the rest to the Eastern dungeons." So then Thorin went off in one direction, and the rest of the dwarves in another, leaving Bilbo standing aghast and uncertain.
After a long moment in which his little heart struggled mightily, he whirled and let Thorin be taken away from him, to stay with the company as they were led away.
They split up the other dwarves once they got to the Eastern dungeons, but luckily they kept them all in the same general area, so it only took Bilbo a day or so to locate them all. They were astonished to hear his small voice outside their keyholes--Bifur roared out a welcome in Khuzdul and a guard came to check on him, causing Bilbo a moment's panic--and soon he was running messages between them, which helped their spirits a great deal. If they wondered how their burglar was so very adept at hiding from prying eyes, they never showed it.
He found the Great Hall of the Elvenking, and watched him hold court there. He did not seem cruel--indeed, the elves were generally merry and Bilbo sensed no malice in them--so Bilbo couldn't puzzle out why they were still holding the dwarves captive. One day he heard one of the elvish courtiers mention that the Elvenking had been asked by someone called Curunír to hold the dwarves, but as Bilbo had no idea who that was, his friends' imprisonment remained a mystery.
However, as much as he crept around and searched, he could not locate Thorin Oakenshield, and this made his spirits sink quite low. As the days passed and he lived like a ghost in the halls of the Elvenking, stealing scraps to eat and hiding from all eyes, he began to feel like a ghost indeed, thin and pale and hollowed out. Sometimes the carved corridors seemed to close in on him, and now and then there was a truly dreadful feeling, as if something were searching for him, something terrible. Then he would find a quiet corner and crouch shivering in the shadows, making himself as small as possible until the feeling passed and he could breathe more easily. He did not sleep well, and when he did he had strange dreams in which he had wizardly powers. With the merest gesture, he could throw upon every door in the stronghold and free his friends--but there was no joy in the dream, only an emptiness that made him wake shivering, his hands curled around the ring that was keeping him safe.
And then one day he heard a guard discussing the Deep Dungeons and the prisoner held there. "Stubborn son of a warg," she said, tipping back her glass and wiping her mouth. "Won't say a word, just glares."
"They're all like that," said her drinking companion.
"Well, this one's even more like that," she said, and Bilbo felt glee ignite in him.
When she put down her drink and rose, grumbling about returning to work, Bilbo followed her on silent feet, and after a long walk through winding tunnels, he found himself standing outside the cell that held Thorin Oakenshield.
The guard was still nearby, so there was no question of speaking yet; Bilbo put his eye to the keyhole instead.
Thorin Oakenshield was sitting on the floor, his arms crossed, gazing into the distance without moving. There was a stillness about him that made Bilbo wonder if he had been sitting like that since he arrived. The feeble torchlight picked out the strands of grey in his hair and made his eyes gleam when it played across his features. He had an expression on his face that took Bilbo a long time to place, for he had never seen it there: Thorin looked like he was patiently waiting for something. Bilbo found himself nearly wishing he was the one imprisoned so he could sit and wait for Gandalf as well, but as it seemed unlikely the wizard would be showing up soon, it was going to be up to Bilbo to find a way out of this.
Another guard came along and relieved the one Bilbo had followed, which made Bilbo blink, because it would imply he had spent her entire shift gazing at Thorin through the keyhole. No, she must have had a shortened shift for some reason. Shaking his head, he started the long walk back to where the other dwarves were being kept, to report that their leader was alive and well, much to their joy.
He was back the next day to check on Thorin, who was apparently eating and drinking but otherwise moved not at all, gazing straight ahead with that uncanny stillness. At last there was a moment where the guard was playing noisy dice games with a friend; under cover of the laughing and good-natured cursing, Bilbo leaned in close to the keyhole.
"Thorin Oakenshield!" he whispered. "It's me, Bilbo Baggins!"
Unlike all the other dwarves, Thorin showed absolutely no surprise at the sound of Bilbo's voice. The corner of his mouth twitched slightly, and he stood up and moved to sit with his back to the door, his ear near the keyhole. "Burglar," he said, his voice a low rumble.
Bilbo swallowed. "I'm terribly sorry it's taken me so long to find you," he stammered.
"You stayed with my men, of course," Thorin said. "I would expect no less. I knew you would find me eventually."
Bilbo blinked in astonishment as it occurred to him that the thing that Thorin had been waiting for so patiently was himself. "All of the others are safe," he said hastily, trying not to think about it. "They're being held in the Eastern Dungeons."
Thorin nodded slowly. Then he said: "So. What is the plan?"
"I--" Bilbo felt rather like he'd had the wind knocked out of him. "I--thought you might have one," he managed.
A grumbling noise. "Do I know the layout of the palace? Am I aware of the habitual movements of the court? Have I had a great deal of opportunity to study the timetable of the Elvenking and his troops?" His voice had risen slightly; he cleared his throat and lowered it once more. "I leave such details to you, burglar."
"Oh. Well. Well, I shall come up with something, then," said Bilbo weakly.
Thorin nodded again. "I know. I trust you."
The dice game was breaking up, and Bilbo was forced to whisper a farewell to Thorin and slip into a corner so no one would trip over him. And so he sat and fretted, and the weight of Thorin's trust was a burden nearly as difficult as the weight of the heavy ring he bore.
: : :
The next four days found him at Thorin's keyhole again, although the guard was alert once more and there was no question of speaking to him. He watched Thorin's face and wondered how in the world he was going to get thirteen dwarves to safety. He was so worried, in fact, that he hardly heard the royal guard arrive until they were about to unlock the door, and had to scramble to the side to avoid them.
"You are to come with us to the Great Hall," said one of the guards.
Bilbo, peeking around the corner of the door, saw Thorin shrug and rise as if he were in no hurry at all. He held out his hands to be bound, but the guard laughed.
"We have no fear of you, Master Dwarf. Even if you were to overpower us, where would you go? There is no escape from the Elvenking's halls."
Thorin's expression showed only lofty sullenness as they led him from his cell, and Bilbo followed, ghosting behind them like his shadow.
The Great Hall was full of light and merriment, and as Thorin Oakenshield walked through the crowd in his stained leather armor and tangled hair, delicate hands were raised to cover mouths bent in laughter. But Thorin stood in front of the Elvenking's throne with his head high and met the King's gaze as though they were equals, and his eyes were dark with anger and old pain.
For a long moment, no one moved, and the laughter and whispers faded away into silence. Then the Elvenking glanced at one of the guards, and he brought his boot up against the back of Thorin's legs, so they buckled and he fell to his knees.
At the sight, helpless anger swept through Bilbo, and he took an involuntary step forward, and the ring on his hand throbbed like the pulse of his fury. And it came to him then, with a strange still certainty, that if he wished it, he could sweep the Elvenking from his throne with a wave of his hand. He could climb the dais and take the throne himself, and all the merry-making folk in the hall would bow before him if he only desired it. And not just the elves, but all the dwarves too could be brought before him and would hail him and his power, and Thorin Oakenshield himself would look upon him with awe and reverence and would kneel--
--What? No! thought Bilbo Baggins, shaking his head violently. I am no King! I have no wish to be! I am a Baggins of Bag End, and all I desire is to free my friends! He found that he had sunk to the floor, his breaths as quick and rapid as if he had survived a long struggle with a great enemy, his body trembling as the sweetly vile images receded.
No one ever knew what a great battle was fought and won in silence there in the Hall of the Elvenking, although perhaps Gandalf suspected, later.
When Bilbo looked up again it felt as if hours had gone by while he was wrestling with his bizarre fancy, and was shocked to find that no more than an instant had passed. Thorin was on his knees in front of the Elvenking, his hands clenched and his head held high.
And the pain in his eyes had set as hard as stone itself.
"I bear you no ill will," said the Elvenking, and Thorin made a sound deep in his throat. "But you have entered my lands unbidden, and stirred up a darkness in the forest, and I would know your goal."
"Any darkness in your realm was here long before we entered," said Thorin.
The Elvenking raised an eyebrow, but didn't answer. Instead, he gestured, and an elf-lord stepped forward. "And how do you explain this?" he asked.
With a flourish, he unsheathed Orcrist. The lights of the hall shimmered on its silver length like stars, and Bilbo saw Thorin make a sudden motion, brutally checked, as if he had started to surge forward to seize the sword. Bilbo saw his throat work briefly, and then he smiled. It was not a pleasant smile.
"I found it in a troll-hoard," he said. "In a heap of offal, covered with fish bones and flies."
The Elvenking's eyes blazed. "You ask me to believe such insolent lies? I shall ask you once again: where did you find this blade, you scavenger, you carrion-crow?"
"That is Orcrist, forged in Gondolin before the fall!" cried Thorin. "And truly, we can see how far the elves have fallen from those days. You are not worthy to bear that blade."
There was a hollow, bitter sound, and Thorin's head rocked to the side before Bilbo could even see the guard's hand move. A trickle of blood seeped from the corner of his mouth into his beard.
But for all that, it was the Elvenking who looked as if he had been struck.
Then the moment was past, and the King's face was composed once more, remote and icy. "Of course," he murmured, yet it carried to every corner of the hall, "I forget that I am speaking with an expert on the subject of great cities lost forever." He gestured to the guards as a ripple of mocking laughter ran through the hall. "I grow weary of this. Return him to his cell."
Bilbo followed Thorin back to his cell. Blood continued to trickle from his split lip, but he made no effort to wipe it away, holding his head up and glaring at all who stopped to stare as they passed. Luckily for Bilbo, tonight the guards were playing dice and drinking wine again, and soon enough he had time to creep up to the keyhole and hail Thorin once more.
"Ah, burglar!" Thorin murmured as he settled back against the door. "I have just returned from a very civil interview with the Elvenking."
Bilbo was about to say that he had witnessed it, but then he remembered the sound of mocking laughter and the stony pain in Thorin's eyes, and thought better of it. "Splendid," he said instead, sitting down with his own back against the door to keep an eye out for the guards. "I have no doubt that you impressed him with your diplomacy and charm."
Thorin chuckled deep enough that Bilbo could feel the vibration through the thick wooden door. "You know me well." A short silence. "Have you made any progress on getting us out of here?"
The guards raised their goblets and toasted loudly, cheering. Bilbo grimaced. "The only exit is through the main gate," he said. "I can slip in and out, but thirteen dwarves..."
"You could leave us," Thorin said. "Perhaps you can find Gandalf."
"I'm not leaving you," Bilbo snapped. "Besides, there's a forest full of spiders and other foul things out there," he added. "I'm safest here."
"Indeed." Thorin's voice was very dry. "I can certainly tell how extremely safe you are here."
"Anyway, I'm not abandoning you."
"Then there must be another way out," Thorin said.
Bilbo sat and listened to the guards dicing. Eventually they began to grumble because the wine was running low. "Go fetch us another flagon!" one roared at his friend. "We give too much to Laketown, don't leave enough for thirsty guards."
Bilbo twitched as a thought struck him. "I...I think I might have an idea," he whispered. "I have to go check something."
"Hold," Thorin said as Bilbo started to scramble to his feet. "Can it wait for an hour or so?"
"Well...I suppose so," said Bilbo. "Why?"
"It may be days until the guards are so lax again," Thorin said.
"That's true, but what--"
Thorin made an exasperated sound and shifted his weight against the door. "I do not know when we shall speak again," he said. "And I..." He broke off and growled under his breath for a moment. "I find your voice a comfort," he finished in a rush.
"Oh," said Bilbo.
"I would find any familiar voice a comfort, of course," Thorin added gruffly.
"Of course, of course." Bilbo sat back down. "What shall I talk about?"
"My men, are they well?" Thorin said eagerly. "Are they being mistreated?"
"Not at all," Bilbo reassured him, and went on to tell him a little tale of each of the company's time in the dungeons of the Elvenking: how Ori drew caricatures of the Elvenking on the walls with a bit of charcoal, how Bifur drove the guards mad with his Khuzdul, how Fili and Kili passed on jokes and riddles through Bilbo that kept them all laughing. Eventually he ran out of news about the company, but he kept talking about the Shire and Bag End, filling up the space between them.
"...I mean, all this adventuring business," he heard himself saying after a while, "I don't know what I was thinking, running off into it." He shook his head. "I think it was when you said I looked like a grocer," he said after a moment. "I mean, not that there's anything at all wrong with grocers, not at all," he said with emphasis. "But I could tell you thought there was, and I admit that kind of... So I guess that's why I ended up coming. And now we're here, and you trust me, and my goodness, I don't know quite how to react to that. Are you quite sure you're not ill, Thorin? Thorin?"
He peeked through the keyhole to find that at some point Thorin had slid onto his side and was fast asleep, his broad chest rising and falling gently with his breaths.
"Well, that's good," said Bilbo softly. "That's good."
He had to go check the wine cellars, but he decided it wouldn't be a problem if he took a few more minutes and made sure Thorin Oakenshield was sleeping peacefully.