Many Paths: Chapter Six
May. 15th, 2015 10:54 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
flakediceTitle: Many Paths (6 of 10)
Author(s): Flakedice
Artist(s):![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
charlies_dragon, penumbria_fics and croix_souillees
Fandom(s): The Hobbit
Type: Slash
Rating: Mature
Word Count/Art type: 44,550 words
Characters/Pairings: Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield
Warnings/Spoilers: major character death, graphic violence, gore, torture, psychological torture, ptsd, (tiny bit of) self-harm, suicide (sort of), mental illness (Please highlight to read)
Summary: Bilbo wakes up in Dale. With the memory of a battle won but lives lost, he finds an army of Men and Elves readying to attack Erebor. Bilbo tries to save his dwarves. Again and again.
MANY PATHS
Thorin's madness was like a flood, ebbing and flowing beyond restraint. Dragging Thorin deep and beyond help.
Thorin was the only one who could break himself free.
It didn't stop Bilbo from trying, though he never pushed for results in the way he had.
Instead Bilbo focused on the battle. It was there that Fili, Kili and Thorin had lost their lives. And it was there, with the help, he might save them.
~x~X~x~
Bilbo seeks out Dwalin. Dwalin who refused to follow Thorin’s orders at the gate and had helped try to break Thorin free of the dragon sickness once before.
But Dwalin is loyal even now. He will not accept anything that can be seen as treason.
Bilbo knows his shove isn't intended to harm him.
Bilbo's feet, once nimble and silent, drag with terror and weariness. He stumbles. Back and over the side of the walkway.
The pile of spears in the treasury below does the rest.
~x~X~x~
Bilbo found Balin in a room filled with dusty crumbling books.
"Is there no way to come to an agreement?" Something that would prevent the bloodbath the new day would bring.
Balin regarded him with weary eyes. A look of warning. "Nothing short of treachery. Thorin is king, his word is law."
Bilbo's heart sank. Even if he could convince the Company to act, Thorin would see it as betrayal.
And Bilbo had seen the worst resulting from that thought.
Balin shook his head. "I'm sorry, lad. Thorin is king. They'll be no changing his mind."
~x~X~x~
The ice cracked ominously below Bilbo's feet and he froze, arms held out from his body to balance himself.
Fili stopped in his tracks, eyes wide as the ice gave out a low moan. He stilled, halting his advance across the breaking ice, eyes filled with fearful frustration as he glanced towards Thorin.
Thorin where he circled Azog, both of them carefully edging sideways on their tilting disc of ice.
Where Thorin was likely to die if they couldn't get to him soon.
"Fili!" Kili shouted across the frozen river where he and Dwalin were caught in their own battle. He punched an orc in the face before kicking it back onto thinner ice.
The impact broke a hole and with a howl, the orc fell into the freezing water.
Letting out a yell, Dwalin threw an axe at the orc that had been making its way towards Fili. "Watch yer back!"
The orc fell, mouth gaping and the ice let out another deep groan that rippled under Bilbo's feet.
Fili made to edge closer towards Thorin only to freeze at the loud noise the ice made beneath his boots.
"Hon lûmpul, kozadayil." Azog's dire smile was visible where he faced Bilbo.
Thorin ignored him, shifting sideways, his leg stiff.
He was leaving red stains on the snow. It was injury enough to slow him down.
Thorin couldn't afford that with Azog.
Bilbo edged forward. The ice groaned but not as loudly as it had for Fili. Bilbo took a step forward. And another.
"Bilbo!" Fili tried to follow him but stopped as the ice protested loudly. It cracked, small splinter lines branching out, stopping the young Durin in his place.
Bilbo ignored him, concentrating on getting as close to Thorin and Azog as he could. There wasn't much he could do in a full-on fight but- His hand crept to the pouch at his belt, reaching for the last stone inside.
Azog lunged forward, blade swiping at Thorin's head.
Thorin ducked, letting the blade cut safely through the air above him. Leaning forward to prevent the tipping sheet of ice from dumping him into the icy water.
The ice sheet tipped back the other way, sinking under Azog's weight-
And Bilbo's stone got Azog across the back of the head.
Blood sprayed into the air. Azog stumbled forward. For a moment it looked like he was going to land on Thorin's sword. But then Azog had a bent leg under him and he was springing backward.
Thorin sprawled forward, sword cutting deep into the ice as the ice sheet tilted with Azog's departure.
Bilbo only had had a moment to see the ice tip back, Thorin still clinging to its surface and then Azog was coming.
"Snaag akashuga!" The white orc's mouth twitched into a sneer. Despite his weight, he had no trouble crossing the distance between them. He had found thicker ice to support him.
"Bilbo!" One of Fili's knives flew through the air, only to be knocked aside by Azog's blade. He advanced towards Bilbo, ice crunching beneath his feet.
Bilbo retreated, moving sideways, away from Fili and Thorin. He was lighter than Azog. There was a chance he-
Azog brought his blade down hard on the ice.
It cracked wide, a twisting fissure that snaked out to the ice under Bilbo's feet. And it started to widen.
Azog was in the water, ice breaking around him. But he was still standing, the ice barely at the level of his chest.
It wasn't deep enough to drown an orc, he suddenly realised in horror. But it was more than enough for a dwarf.
Or a hobbit.
Azog started wading towards him, icy water spraying up.
Vaguely aware of the others shouting, Bilbo stepped backwards.
Ice cracked, giving way beneath him.
"Bilbo!"
Bilbo was flung forward, arms windmilling. He landed on ice, one hand in icy water. Bilbo instinctively rolled away-
And into the water.
Cold enveloped him, a hard icy fist that squeezed the air from his lungs. Bilbo kicked out, thrashing upwards.
"-ibo!"
Bilbo gasped for breath, the cold air scraping his raw skin. His vision was blurred, water and shock masking his sight. But he still saw the white lip of ice before him.
With a sobbing breath, Bilbo clawed his way towards it, clinging desperately to the freezing surface. Ice shavings curled up as tried to claw himself from the water.
"Hurry Bilbo!"
He could hear the thrashing in the water behind him, horrifyingly close.
Azog.
Terror gave Bilbo extra energy. He lunged up, fingers clawing the ice's surface as he pulled himself from the water.
A large hand grasped his ankle, yanking him back.
"Bil-"
He was under the water again, sound muffled, enclosed in cold.
Bilbo kicked and clawed desperately, until the grip on his ankle was gone.
A large hand landed on his head, forcing him deeper.
Pale bubbles burst past his gaze in a desperate stream heading up towards the surface. Lungs burning, Bilbo desperately tried to follow them, clawing at the hand that held him down.
But his fingers were numb, his limbs growing heavy and weak. His lungs were on fire.
The hand holding Bilbo down pushed hard on his head and Bilbo's mouth opened.
The freezing water burned its way inside.
~x~X~x~
Bilbo surfaced with a gasp.
Wood. Woollen blankets.
Bilbo burst into terrified tears, arms shaking as he wrapped them around himself. He drew in deep ragged breaths, the air burning his lungs.
But he could breath. He wasn't underwater.
He was alive.
It was a long time before Bilbo could move from the bed.
~x~X~x~
"There's an army of orcs out there!" Bilbo thrust a finger towards the northeast. "Azog and his army." A shudder ran down his spine at the reminder. Of ice and a large hand. Freezing water. "Gundabad orcs!"
Thranduil stiffened. He pinned Bilbo with an icy stare. "Gundabad. Mithrandir has been talking to you of his fell premonitions."
"Gandalf speaks the truth!" Bilbo refused to be intimidated, hands balled up at his sides. "There is an army marching towards us even as we speak."
"An army that none of my scouts have seen." His eyes narrowed, into pale blue slits. "That nobody has seen." He flicked an elegant hand, summoning the guards standing outside the tent. "We will treat with Oakenshield on the morrow. I suggest you get some rest, Master Baggins."
~x~x~x~
"You heard Gandalf! An army is coming."
Bard's expression was grim. "Even if what he says is true, what would you have me do? Thranduil’s army is greater than any force I could muster, even if I wished to move against him.” His mouth tightened. “I asked Thorin Oakenshield for aid and he refused. We were starving before the elven king arrived with food."
Bilbo couldn't refute that. If Thorin were in his right mind, Bilbo knew he would have given aid, maybe even shelter. Thorin knew the desperation of being hungry and homeless.
But he hadn't. And Bard had allied himself with the only one who was willing to give his people what they needed to survive.
Even if the elven king had his own motives.
"I know well that Thranduil seeks his own share of the treasure." Bard continued, following his thoughts. "But I must look to the future. An alliance with Mirkwood may save my people." He held Bilbo's gaze. "I would ally with Erebor if the King Under the Mountain had honoured his word."
Bilbo's word.
"We need what was promised to us to rebuild Dale, to survive. As it stands, Erebor is a threat." Bard caught Bilbo's gaze. "Can you tell me that we are safe from Thorin Oakenshield? That he would be content with his mountain, even if he had honoured his word?"
Bilbo remained silent. Once he would have been able to refute Bard's words. But now he had the memory of Thorin ordering Thranduil's death, the Arkenstone's light reflected in his victorious gaze.
"Thorin is not himself. But he will not remain so." Bilbo said quietly.
"But I cannot risk my people on a simple hope." Bard said with frustration.
There would be no convincing Bard. Bilbo was not inclined to try any further. Bard would do right by his people.
Bilbo didn't want his help at the expense of that. The people of Lake-town had lost their home just like his dwarves.
Because he had roused Smaug’s wrath.
"At least look to your people's safety,” Bilbo implored. “Whether you believe an army is coming or not, would it hurt to take precautions? Reinforce the walls. Make secure a building for your people to find safety." Bilbo had heard that Dale's great hall had been a point of refuge. He grasped Bard's arm, holding his gaze. "If the worst happens, then you will be prepared, your people protected."
Bard's expression was troubled. "I will consider your words."
He could say no more. Bilbo nodded, stepping back. He had done all he could here.
~x~X~x~
The reinforcement of the wall and securing the Great Hall saved lives. But it didn't make much difference to the outcome of the battle.
It was clear that Bilbo would not be able to convince Bard and Thranduil. He was on his own.
~x~X~x~
Bilbo chose his time carefully. He had learnt that approaching anyone working amidst the gold drew Thorin's suspicion.
Against the Company, rather than Bilbo himself.
Bilbo waited until the change in shift for those searching, waiting on the path towards the kitchen. It didn’t take long for tired dwarven steps to reach his ears. Gloin and Oin. The younger brother steadying the elder's steps.
"Master Oin." Bilbo stepped out from the shadows.
Gloin stopped, eyes wide with surprise.
"Eh?" Oin lifted his head, damaged ear horn rising to his ear. He spotted Bilbo . A look of surprise crossed his face, followed by narrow eyed assessment. "What is it, laddie?"
"Could I speak to you?" Bilbo resisted the urge to shuffle his feet. "About a medical matter?"
Gloin cast him a shrewd look. He clapped his brother on the shoulder. "I'll see if Bombur's got something for us to eat." He gave Bilbo a meaningful look. "Don't take too long."
Bilbo nodded. The whole Company was aware Thorin was suspicious.
Oin nodded to his brother, distracted, gaze fixed on Bilbo in concern.
Bilbo waited until Gloin had walked out of sight. When he spoke, his words were blunt. "I want you to teach me to dress a wound."
Oin's eyebrows bounced. "Laddie, if you're injured I'd be happy-"
"It's not for me."
Oin's brow furrowed, his gaze sharp as it fixed on Bilbo's face. "What sort of wound are you talking about?"
"Large." Bilbo cupped his hands together to outline it, feeling the ghost of Thorin's blood beneath his fingers. "From a blade thrust straight through the chest." He measured out the placement on his own body.
Oin had fallen into a curious stillness as he listened. "You've seen this wound?"
The curious emphasis suddenly reminded Bilbo of Oin's talk of portents, of ravens and Erebor's reclaiming.
Bilbo met his gaze levelly. "I have."
Oin nodded slowly, face becoming grim. "Aye. Come with me, lad." He gathered Bilbo with an arm around his shoulders. "I'll teach you what to do."
~x~X~x~
Bilbo expanded on the knowledge he had learnt from Oin.
He worked in the healers’ tents after the battle. Staunching wounds that bled heavily and applying bandages to seal wounds from infection. He learnt the signs of fatal wounds and those which could be saved.
And he learnt how to save them.
He watched the dwarven healers, their intricate instruments and ingenious woven bandages at work. He observed the Elven healers with their quick fingers and shinning needles.
Bilbo watched.
And tried to heal them again and again.
~x~X~x~
Fili had landed awkwardly. Hitting the side of the tower and bouncing off to strike a protruding ledge.
The fall should have killed him. But it didn't.
And now Fili was the only Durin left of Thorin's line.
Bilbo knelt at his side with a wince at the sight of the splintered bone protruding from Fili’s twisted leg.
He wasn’t sure it could be saved.
"Kili," Fili gasped, his hand griping Bilbo's arm with surprising strength.
Bilbo held his gaze, the desperate pained stare that tightened Fili's face. Throat tight, he shook his head.
Fili's face crumpled before becoming a pale mask. "Thorin?"
Bilbo's hands clenched. He flexed them before carefully peeling back Fili's bloody trousers. "Killed by Azog."
Fili's eyes fell shut and his head rolled back. He was silent as Bilbo examined his leg.
And if there were tears on his face, Bilbo said nothing, simply patted his limp hand. He concentrated on doing what he could for Fili's leg until Oin arrived.
Heart heavy and eyes wet.
~x~X~x~
Bilbo stayed by Fili's side in the healer's tent, watching him sleep.
When he woke up the next morning, he wasn’t surprised to find himself in Dale.
~x~X~x~
Azog's blade punctured Thorin's armour, sheering muscle and clipping bone. But it had missed the life-spilling arteries.
Bilbo worked at Thorin's clothes, hands quick and sure, having parted the cloth and rent armour a hundred times before.
This was a wound he had seen before. One he could stop from becoming fatal.
Thorin, who had been staring up at him with that fond gaze that never failed to stutter Bilbo's heart, let out a hiss, wincing at the rough treatment.
"You've become bold, Master Baggins." A small smile bent Thorin's blood-flecked lips. He choked on a laugh, coughing, shoulders heaving.
The jagged movement sent a new wave of blood welling out to stain his clothes.
Bilbo pulled a bandage from the bag he had thrown to the ground. Slapped it to the wound on Thorin’s front, pressing down hard. Slid another beneath Thorin's shoulder to cover the exit wound.
"I've had plenty of time of practise attempting to save your life, Thorin." Bilbo replied grimly. And this time he would succeed.
Thorin's breathing had become pained but his eyes were fixed on Bilbo, wide with surprise. Slowly a smile crept across his face, making the pinched lines smooth away. "You never fail to surprise me, Master Baggins. You-"
He broke off with a choked gurgle.
Bilbo stared at the fletched arrow cutting through Thorin's throat. Black with ragged feathers.
Thorin choked, blood spraying from his mouth to bead on his beard, jolting under Bilbo's hands.
A fatal wound and not a kind one.
Bilbo lunged to hold his head in his hands, meeting Thorin's desperate eyes as he attempted to breathe.
The second arrow was a mercy.
~x~X~x~
Black Speech:
Hon lûmpul, kozadayil – 'Watch them fall, dwarf filth.'
Snaag akashuga! – 'Weak Halfling!'
~x~X~x~
On to Chapter Seven
~x~X~x~
Author(s): Flakedice
Artist(s):
charlies_dragon, penumbria_fics and croix_souillees Fandom(s): The Hobbit
Type: Slash
Rating: Mature
Word Count/Art type: 44,550 words
Characters/Pairings: Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield
Warnings/Spoilers: major character death, graphic violence, gore, torture, psychological torture, ptsd, (tiny bit of) self-harm, suicide (sort of), mental illness (Please highlight to read)
Summary: Bilbo wakes up in Dale. With the memory of a battle won but lives lost, he finds an army of Men and Elves readying to attack Erebor. Bilbo tries to save his dwarves. Again and again.
MANY PATHS
CHAPTER VI
Thorin's madness was like a flood, ebbing and flowing beyond restraint. Dragging Thorin deep and beyond help.
Thorin was the only one who could break himself free.
It didn't stop Bilbo from trying, though he never pushed for results in the way he had.
Instead Bilbo focused on the battle. It was there that Fili, Kili and Thorin had lost their lives. And it was there, with the help, he might save them.
Bilbo seeks out Dwalin. Dwalin who refused to follow Thorin’s orders at the gate and had helped try to break Thorin free of the dragon sickness once before.
But Dwalin is loyal even now. He will not accept anything that can be seen as treason.
Bilbo knows his shove isn't intended to harm him.
Bilbo's feet, once nimble and silent, drag with terror and weariness. He stumbles. Back and over the side of the walkway.
The pile of spears in the treasury below does the rest.
Bilbo found Balin in a room filled with dusty crumbling books.
"Is there no way to come to an agreement?" Something that would prevent the bloodbath the new day would bring.
Balin regarded him with weary eyes. A look of warning. "Nothing short of treachery. Thorin is king, his word is law."
Bilbo's heart sank. Even if he could convince the Company to act, Thorin would see it as betrayal.
And Bilbo had seen the worst resulting from that thought.
Balin shook his head. "I'm sorry, lad. Thorin is king. They'll be no changing his mind."
The ice cracked ominously below Bilbo's feet and he froze, arms held out from his body to balance himself.
Fili stopped in his tracks, eyes wide as the ice gave out a low moan. He stilled, halting his advance across the breaking ice, eyes filled with fearful frustration as he glanced towards Thorin.
Thorin where he circled Azog, both of them carefully edging sideways on their tilting disc of ice.
Where Thorin was likely to die if they couldn't get to him soon.
"Fili!" Kili shouted across the frozen river where he and Dwalin were caught in their own battle. He punched an orc in the face before kicking it back onto thinner ice.
The impact broke a hole and with a howl, the orc fell into the freezing water.
Letting out a yell, Dwalin threw an axe at the orc that had been making its way towards Fili. "Watch yer back!"
The orc fell, mouth gaping and the ice let out another deep groan that rippled under Bilbo's feet.
Fili made to edge closer towards Thorin only to freeze at the loud noise the ice made beneath his boots.
"Hon lûmpul, kozadayil." Azog's dire smile was visible where he faced Bilbo.
Thorin ignored him, shifting sideways, his leg stiff.
He was leaving red stains on the snow. It was injury enough to slow him down.
Thorin couldn't afford that with Azog.
Bilbo edged forward. The ice groaned but not as loudly as it had for Fili. Bilbo took a step forward. And another.
"Bilbo!" Fili tried to follow him but stopped as the ice protested loudly. It cracked, small splinter lines branching out, stopping the young Durin in his place.
Bilbo ignored him, concentrating on getting as close to Thorin and Azog as he could. There wasn't much he could do in a full-on fight but- His hand crept to the pouch at his belt, reaching for the last stone inside.
Azog lunged forward, blade swiping at Thorin's head.
Thorin ducked, letting the blade cut safely through the air above him. Leaning forward to prevent the tipping sheet of ice from dumping him into the icy water.
The ice sheet tipped back the other way, sinking under Azog's weight-
And Bilbo's stone got Azog across the back of the head.
Blood sprayed into the air. Azog stumbled forward. For a moment it looked like he was going to land on Thorin's sword. But then Azog had a bent leg under him and he was springing backward.
Thorin sprawled forward, sword cutting deep into the ice as the ice sheet tilted with Azog's departure.
Bilbo only had had a moment to see the ice tip back, Thorin still clinging to its surface and then Azog was coming.
"Snaag akashuga!" The white orc's mouth twitched into a sneer. Despite his weight, he had no trouble crossing the distance between them. He had found thicker ice to support him.
"Bilbo!" One of Fili's knives flew through the air, only to be knocked aside by Azog's blade. He advanced towards Bilbo, ice crunching beneath his feet.
Bilbo retreated, moving sideways, away from Fili and Thorin. He was lighter than Azog. There was a chance he-
Azog brought his blade down hard on the ice.
It cracked wide, a twisting fissure that snaked out to the ice under Bilbo's feet. And it started to widen.
Azog was in the water, ice breaking around him. But he was still standing, the ice barely at the level of his chest.
It wasn't deep enough to drown an orc, he suddenly realised in horror. But it was more than enough for a dwarf.
Or a hobbit.
Azog started wading towards him, icy water spraying up.
Vaguely aware of the others shouting, Bilbo stepped backwards.
Ice cracked, giving way beneath him.
"Bilbo!"
Bilbo was flung forward, arms windmilling. He landed on ice, one hand in icy water. Bilbo instinctively rolled away-
And into the water.
Cold enveloped him, a hard icy fist that squeezed the air from his lungs. Bilbo kicked out, thrashing upwards.
"-ibo!"
Bilbo gasped for breath, the cold air scraping his raw skin. His vision was blurred, water and shock masking his sight. But he still saw the white lip of ice before him.
With a sobbing breath, Bilbo clawed his way towards it, clinging desperately to the freezing surface. Ice shavings curled up as tried to claw himself from the water.
"Hurry Bilbo!"
He could hear the thrashing in the water behind him, horrifyingly close.
Azog.
Terror gave Bilbo extra energy. He lunged up, fingers clawing the ice's surface as he pulled himself from the water.
A large hand grasped his ankle, yanking him back.
"Bil-"
He was under the water again, sound muffled, enclosed in cold.
Bilbo kicked and clawed desperately, until the grip on his ankle was gone.
A large hand landed on his head, forcing him deeper.
Pale bubbles burst past his gaze in a desperate stream heading up towards the surface. Lungs burning, Bilbo desperately tried to follow them, clawing at the hand that held him down.
But his fingers were numb, his limbs growing heavy and weak. His lungs were on fire.
The hand holding Bilbo down pushed hard on his head and Bilbo's mouth opened.
The freezing water burned its way inside.
Bilbo surfaced with a gasp.
Wood. Woollen blankets.
Bilbo burst into terrified tears, arms shaking as he wrapped them around himself. He drew in deep ragged breaths, the air burning his lungs.
But he could breath. He wasn't underwater.
He was alive.
It was a long time before Bilbo could move from the bed.
"There's an army of orcs out there!" Bilbo thrust a finger towards the northeast. "Azog and his army." A shudder ran down his spine at the reminder. Of ice and a large hand. Freezing water. "Gundabad orcs!"
Thranduil stiffened. He pinned Bilbo with an icy stare. "Gundabad. Mithrandir has been talking to you of his fell premonitions."
"Gandalf speaks the truth!" Bilbo refused to be intimidated, hands balled up at his sides. "There is an army marching towards us even as we speak."
"An army that none of my scouts have seen." His eyes narrowed, into pale blue slits. "That nobody has seen." He flicked an elegant hand, summoning the guards standing outside the tent. "We will treat with Oakenshield on the morrow. I suggest you get some rest, Master Baggins."
"You heard Gandalf! An army is coming."
Bard's expression was grim. "Even if what he says is true, what would you have me do? Thranduil’s army is greater than any force I could muster, even if I wished to move against him.” His mouth tightened. “I asked Thorin Oakenshield for aid and he refused. We were starving before the elven king arrived with food."
Bilbo couldn't refute that. If Thorin were in his right mind, Bilbo knew he would have given aid, maybe even shelter. Thorin knew the desperation of being hungry and homeless.
But he hadn't. And Bard had allied himself with the only one who was willing to give his people what they needed to survive.
Even if the elven king had his own motives.
"I know well that Thranduil seeks his own share of the treasure." Bard continued, following his thoughts. "But I must look to the future. An alliance with Mirkwood may save my people." He held Bilbo's gaze. "I would ally with Erebor if the King Under the Mountain had honoured his word."
Bilbo's word.
"We need what was promised to us to rebuild Dale, to survive. As it stands, Erebor is a threat." Bard caught Bilbo's gaze. "Can you tell me that we are safe from Thorin Oakenshield? That he would be content with his mountain, even if he had honoured his word?"
Bilbo remained silent. Once he would have been able to refute Bard's words. But now he had the memory of Thorin ordering Thranduil's death, the Arkenstone's light reflected in his victorious gaze.
"Thorin is not himself. But he will not remain so." Bilbo said quietly.
"But I cannot risk my people on a simple hope." Bard said with frustration.
There would be no convincing Bard. Bilbo was not inclined to try any further. Bard would do right by his people.
Bilbo didn't want his help at the expense of that. The people of Lake-town had lost their home just like his dwarves.
Because he had roused Smaug’s wrath.
"At least look to your people's safety,” Bilbo implored. “Whether you believe an army is coming or not, would it hurt to take precautions? Reinforce the walls. Make secure a building for your people to find safety." Bilbo had heard that Dale's great hall had been a point of refuge. He grasped Bard's arm, holding his gaze. "If the worst happens, then you will be prepared, your people protected."
Bard's expression was troubled. "I will consider your words."
He could say no more. Bilbo nodded, stepping back. He had done all he could here.
The reinforcement of the wall and securing the Great Hall saved lives. But it didn't make much difference to the outcome of the battle.
It was clear that Bilbo would not be able to convince Bard and Thranduil. He was on his own.
Bilbo chose his time carefully. He had learnt that approaching anyone working amidst the gold drew Thorin's suspicion.
Against the Company, rather than Bilbo himself.
Bilbo waited until the change in shift for those searching, waiting on the path towards the kitchen. It didn’t take long for tired dwarven steps to reach his ears. Gloin and Oin. The younger brother steadying the elder's steps.
"Master Oin." Bilbo stepped out from the shadows.
Gloin stopped, eyes wide with surprise.
"Eh?" Oin lifted his head, damaged ear horn rising to his ear. He spotted Bilbo . A look of surprise crossed his face, followed by narrow eyed assessment. "What is it, laddie?"
"Could I speak to you?" Bilbo resisted the urge to shuffle his feet. "About a medical matter?"
Gloin cast him a shrewd look. He clapped his brother on the shoulder. "I'll see if Bombur's got something for us to eat." He gave Bilbo a meaningful look. "Don't take too long."
Bilbo nodded. The whole Company was aware Thorin was suspicious.
Oin nodded to his brother, distracted, gaze fixed on Bilbo in concern.
Bilbo waited until Gloin had walked out of sight. When he spoke, his words were blunt. "I want you to teach me to dress a wound."
Oin's eyebrows bounced. "Laddie, if you're injured I'd be happy-"
"It's not for me."
Oin's brow furrowed, his gaze sharp as it fixed on Bilbo's face. "What sort of wound are you talking about?"
"Large." Bilbo cupped his hands together to outline it, feeling the ghost of Thorin's blood beneath his fingers. "From a blade thrust straight through the chest." He measured out the placement on his own body.
Oin had fallen into a curious stillness as he listened. "You've seen this wound?"
The curious emphasis suddenly reminded Bilbo of Oin's talk of portents, of ravens and Erebor's reclaiming.
Bilbo met his gaze levelly. "I have."
Oin nodded slowly, face becoming grim. "Aye. Come with me, lad." He gathered Bilbo with an arm around his shoulders. "I'll teach you what to do."
Bilbo expanded on the knowledge he had learnt from Oin.
He worked in the healers’ tents after the battle. Staunching wounds that bled heavily and applying bandages to seal wounds from infection. He learnt the signs of fatal wounds and those which could be saved.
And he learnt how to save them.
He watched the dwarven healers, their intricate instruments and ingenious woven bandages at work. He observed the Elven healers with their quick fingers and shinning needles.
Bilbo watched.
And tried to heal them again and again.
Fili had landed awkwardly. Hitting the side of the tower and bouncing off to strike a protruding ledge.
The fall should have killed him. But it didn't.
And now Fili was the only Durin left of Thorin's line.
Bilbo knelt at his side with a wince at the sight of the splintered bone protruding from Fili’s twisted leg.
He wasn’t sure it could be saved.
"Kili," Fili gasped, his hand griping Bilbo's arm with surprising strength.
Bilbo held his gaze, the desperate pained stare that tightened Fili's face. Throat tight, he shook his head.
Fili's face crumpled before becoming a pale mask. "Thorin?"
Bilbo's hands clenched. He flexed them before carefully peeling back Fili's bloody trousers. "Killed by Azog."
Fili's eyes fell shut and his head rolled back. He was silent as Bilbo examined his leg.
And if there were tears on his face, Bilbo said nothing, simply patted his limp hand. He concentrated on doing what he could for Fili's leg until Oin arrived.
Heart heavy and eyes wet.
Bilbo stayed by Fili's side in the healer's tent, watching him sleep.
When he woke up the next morning, he wasn’t surprised to find himself in Dale.
Azog's blade punctured Thorin's armour, sheering muscle and clipping bone. But it had missed the life-spilling arteries.
Bilbo worked at Thorin's clothes, hands quick and sure, having parted the cloth and rent armour a hundred times before.
This was a wound he had seen before. One he could stop from becoming fatal.
Thorin, who had been staring up at him with that fond gaze that never failed to stutter Bilbo's heart, let out a hiss, wincing at the rough treatment.
"You've become bold, Master Baggins." A small smile bent Thorin's blood-flecked lips. He choked on a laugh, coughing, shoulders heaving.
The jagged movement sent a new wave of blood welling out to stain his clothes.
Bilbo pulled a bandage from the bag he had thrown to the ground. Slapped it to the wound on Thorin’s front, pressing down hard. Slid another beneath Thorin's shoulder to cover the exit wound.
"I've had plenty of time of practise attempting to save your life, Thorin." Bilbo replied grimly. And this time he would succeed.
Thorin's breathing had become pained but his eyes were fixed on Bilbo, wide with surprise. Slowly a smile crept across his face, making the pinched lines smooth away. "You never fail to surprise me, Master Baggins. You-"
He broke off with a choked gurgle.
Bilbo stared at the fletched arrow cutting through Thorin's throat. Black with ragged feathers.
Thorin choked, blood spraying from his mouth to bead on his beard, jolting under Bilbo's hands.
A fatal wound and not a kind one.
Bilbo lunged to hold his head in his hands, meeting Thorin's desperate eyes as he attempted to breathe.
The second arrow was a mercy.
~x~X~x~
Black Speech:
Hon lûmpul, kozadayil – 'Watch them fall, dwarf filth.'
Snaag akashuga! – 'Weak Halfling!'
~x~X~x~
On to Chapter Seven
~x~X~x~
