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lotr_sesaTitle: From the Ashes
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
mahmfic
Beta: None. All mistakes are mine. Please feel free to correct any errors you find.
Fandom: The Hobbit
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Thorin/Bilbo
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1,278
Warnings: AU. Major character death. Angst. Post BOTFA. Post battle gore.
Notes: Written formonkiainen for the 2013 ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
lotr_sesa. She asked for Thorin/Bilbo BOTFA Fix-It. Specials thanks to drarryxlover and crazycatt71 for bouncing ideas off the wall with me for this fic.
Summary: Bilbo wakes to find death all around him.
Disclaimer: I do not own The Hobbit.
When Bilbo awoke, it was clear that the fighting was over. Fires blazed around him, and there weren't any sounds of battle cries but shouts for loved ones missing during the fight. As he sat up, the world spun and Bilbo groaned. Oh, Yavanna, his head! Bilbo felt around and confirmed it. There was a large knot on the back of head. What happened?
That was when he noticed it. Piles and piles of dead bodies. Bile rose in the hobbit's throat. Men, orcs, elves and dwarrows alike lay shattered on the ground, still as stone, fallen where they had died. Bilbo squeaked when he saw a brown boot and green cloak under his legs. He jumped up and out of the way to see who he had been unfortunately sitting on. The hobbit threw his hands over his mouth. The body was half-covered by orcs, but there was no mistaking that flaming red hair and pale face. Tauriel. Her eyes, usually narrowed with suspicion, were wide open and so empty. She still clutched her bow in her dominant hand as if readying for her next attack. Bilbo could no longer keep the contents of his stomach down and vomited on a piece of earth that hadn't been covered in blood and death.
He couldn't help but cringe with every step he took across the battlefield. Warm blood squished between his toes and stained the bottom of his feet red. As he walked he heard calls go out for the wounded or missing to respond. When he heard Tauriel's name, the hobbit shivered. If they only knew of her fate. How long would it take to find her body partially crushed underneath a pile of orcs in all this mess?
"Thorin Oakenshield, King Under the Mountain! Thorin Oakenshield, King Under the Mountain!!"
Bilbo stopped dead in his tracks and his blood chilled. Thorin? Thorin was missing. Yavanna, no. The hobbit fell to his knees, his hands breaking his fall. His fingernails scraped into the dirt as if he was trying to cling to the soil. Thorin couldn't be dead. Not after everything. Not after—
Even though tears stung his eyes and his head ached from his own battle wound, Bilbo somehow found the strength to raise himself up and continue on. He had to find Thorin.
Of course it was going to like finding a needle in a haystack.
What would the King Under the Mountain do when he saw Bilbo alive in dwarrow territory? Was he still sick with the gold-madness and in his fever order for his former lover to be executed on the spot? Bilbo had to risk it. He had to see Thorin one more time before he left Erebor for good. The hobbit had to see that Thorin was alive and well so he could have peace of mind for the rest of his days. Even if Thorin would despise him, marry another and continue the line of Durin. Bilbo needed Thorin to live.
No one seemed to pay Bilbo much mind as he crept around the dead and dying. Everyone was too wrapped up trying to find friends and family and healing anyone close to death right there on the battlefield. He trailed up the side of the mountain, scanning for any sign that someone may have missed that the King was still alive.
Bilbo had reached the top of the mountain at the edge of the destruction without luck and was preparing to turn back when he saw it. A body far from the rest of the carnage resting alone, twisted at an odd angle. The hobbit inhaled sharply. He had to try. With his short legs he ran as fast as he could toward the figure. Every step he took was agonizing. His brain running through a myriad of possible scenarios. Bilbo's breath caught in throat as he approached and saw all he needed to confirm it. Orcist. Thorin's sword was lying not even a foot from the body. He quickened his pace.
Bilbo fell to his knees beside Thorin, tears already streaking down his face, blurring his vision slightly. Blood. Dried, crusted, red blood caked Thorin's face and chest. If it all belonged to Thorin or if it was a mix of his own and his enemies, Bilbo couldn't tell. His right leg was turned about all wrong, completely broken. There were a few open wounds littering his arms and legs, but the offending wound started about two inches below Thorin's heart. Whoever attacked the King sliced up his abdomen pretty deeply, but thankfully not as deep as to spill his organs onto the dirt. Blood was still oozing from the large cuts. The hobbit felt his lover's wrist. His eyes widened when he detected a faint pulse. Thorin was still in there! He was still alive!
Bilbo shrieked for the medics to come quickly, that he'd found the King Under the Mountain. He had no idea when anyone would come because they were far from where the majority of the searching was being conducted.
He gasped and turned when thick fingers entwined his small ones. Thorin's stark blue eyes were half-closed and gazing at him. Bilbo kissed each of his lover's fingers without breaking the spell the King held on him. Thorin smiled, one of his rare genuine ones before hacking up a good amount of blood.
"Bil... bo.."
The hobbit nuzzled the dwarrow's hand, clinging to his life. "Shh, shh, don't talk. Someone will be here soon."
Thorin cupped Bilbo's cheek, dragging his thumb across the soft flesh. "I'm…" He let out a guttural groan and finally closed his eyes. His head lolling off to his shoulder and his grip on Bilbo fell limp.
Bilbo howled.
He didn't remember pounding and crawling at the dirt until his fingernails bled. He didn't recall Dwalin coming upon him, hulling him off Thorin's corpse and into the dwarrow encampment.
-----
When Bilbo awoke, he was clearly not where he thought he'd be. It wasn't his smial in the Shire with the green door and elaborate winding halls with his library full of books. This wasn't any of the camps set up for the great battle. He could tell because he wasn't staring up a canvas fabric nor could he hear the natural sounds of the outdoors like the hooting of an owl or the chirping of crickets. It wasn't even Rivendell. He remembered the quiet calming river that had lulled him to sleep and the sweet smells of the elven rooms. No, this place was different. It was familiar. It was… Erebor?
The walls were made of stone. Bilbo expected it to be drafty but the room felt warm as if a fire had been lit. He listened more carefully. Yes, he heard the crackling of wood being burnt. The hobbit could also hear someone breathing very close to him. Perhaps someone was sitting nearby.
But why was he in Erebor of all places? Maybe this was the dungeon and his companion was the guard.
Slowly, Bilbo rose, groaning as he did so. His head still ached from whatever had happened to injury him during the battle. The hobbit yelped as a strong pair of arms wrapped around his shoulders and he found himself buried in dark black hair.
"I thought I lost you."
Bilbo gasped and pulled back.
There he was. Thorin. Alive. Scarred, but well.
Bilbo tugged on his lover's long unbraided hair, drew the King down into a desperate kiss. Yavanna, Thorin was alive. Alive. Alive!
"I'm sorry," Thorin whispered against the hobbit's soft lips. "I'm so sorry, kurdel. I—"
Bilbo pressed his forehead against Thorin's. "Forgiven. You've always been forgiven."
Author:
mahmficBeta: None. All mistakes are mine. Please feel free to correct any errors you find.
Fandom: The Hobbit
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Thorin/Bilbo
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1,278
Warnings: AU. Major character death. Angst. Post BOTFA. Post battle gore.
Notes: Written for
monkiainen for the 2013 lotr_sesa. She asked for Thorin/Bilbo BOTFA Fix-It. Specials thanks to drarryxlover and crazycatt71 for bouncing ideas off the wall with me for this fic. Summary: Bilbo wakes to find death all around him.
Disclaimer: I do not own The Hobbit.
When Bilbo awoke, it was clear that the fighting was over. Fires blazed around him, and there weren't any sounds of battle cries but shouts for loved ones missing during the fight. As he sat up, the world spun and Bilbo groaned. Oh, Yavanna, his head! Bilbo felt around and confirmed it. There was a large knot on the back of head. What happened?
That was when he noticed it. Piles and piles of dead bodies. Bile rose in the hobbit's throat. Men, orcs, elves and dwarrows alike lay shattered on the ground, still as stone, fallen where they had died. Bilbo squeaked when he saw a brown boot and green cloak under his legs. He jumped up and out of the way to see who he had been unfortunately sitting on. The hobbit threw his hands over his mouth. The body was half-covered by orcs, but there was no mistaking that flaming red hair and pale face. Tauriel. Her eyes, usually narrowed with suspicion, were wide open and so empty. She still clutched her bow in her dominant hand as if readying for her next attack. Bilbo could no longer keep the contents of his stomach down and vomited on a piece of earth that hadn't been covered in blood and death.
He couldn't help but cringe with every step he took across the battlefield. Warm blood squished between his toes and stained the bottom of his feet red. As he walked he heard calls go out for the wounded or missing to respond. When he heard Tauriel's name, the hobbit shivered. If they only knew of her fate. How long would it take to find her body partially crushed underneath a pile of orcs in all this mess?
"Thorin Oakenshield, King Under the Mountain! Thorin Oakenshield, King Under the Mountain!!"
Bilbo stopped dead in his tracks and his blood chilled. Thorin? Thorin was missing. Yavanna, no. The hobbit fell to his knees, his hands breaking his fall. His fingernails scraped into the dirt as if he was trying to cling to the soil. Thorin couldn't be dead. Not after everything. Not after—
Even though tears stung his eyes and his head ached from his own battle wound, Bilbo somehow found the strength to raise himself up and continue on. He had to find Thorin.
Of course it was going to like finding a needle in a haystack.
What would the King Under the Mountain do when he saw Bilbo alive in dwarrow territory? Was he still sick with the gold-madness and in his fever order for his former lover to be executed on the spot? Bilbo had to risk it. He had to see Thorin one more time before he left Erebor for good. The hobbit had to see that Thorin was alive and well so he could have peace of mind for the rest of his days. Even if Thorin would despise him, marry another and continue the line of Durin. Bilbo needed Thorin to live.
No one seemed to pay Bilbo much mind as he crept around the dead and dying. Everyone was too wrapped up trying to find friends and family and healing anyone close to death right there on the battlefield. He trailed up the side of the mountain, scanning for any sign that someone may have missed that the King was still alive.
Bilbo had reached the top of the mountain at the edge of the destruction without luck and was preparing to turn back when he saw it. A body far from the rest of the carnage resting alone, twisted at an odd angle. The hobbit inhaled sharply. He had to try. With his short legs he ran as fast as he could toward the figure. Every step he took was agonizing. His brain running through a myriad of possible scenarios. Bilbo's breath caught in throat as he approached and saw all he needed to confirm it. Orcist. Thorin's sword was lying not even a foot from the body. He quickened his pace.
Bilbo fell to his knees beside Thorin, tears already streaking down his face, blurring his vision slightly. Blood. Dried, crusted, red blood caked Thorin's face and chest. If it all belonged to Thorin or if it was a mix of his own and his enemies, Bilbo couldn't tell. His right leg was turned about all wrong, completely broken. There were a few open wounds littering his arms and legs, but the offending wound started about two inches below Thorin's heart. Whoever attacked the King sliced up his abdomen pretty deeply, but thankfully not as deep as to spill his organs onto the dirt. Blood was still oozing from the large cuts. The hobbit felt his lover's wrist. His eyes widened when he detected a faint pulse. Thorin was still in there! He was still alive!
Bilbo shrieked for the medics to come quickly, that he'd found the King Under the Mountain. He had no idea when anyone would come because they were far from where the majority of the searching was being conducted.
He gasped and turned when thick fingers entwined his small ones. Thorin's stark blue eyes were half-closed and gazing at him. Bilbo kissed each of his lover's fingers without breaking the spell the King held on him. Thorin smiled, one of his rare genuine ones before hacking up a good amount of blood.
"Bil... bo.."
The hobbit nuzzled the dwarrow's hand, clinging to his life. "Shh, shh, don't talk. Someone will be here soon."
Thorin cupped Bilbo's cheek, dragging his thumb across the soft flesh. "I'm…" He let out a guttural groan and finally closed his eyes. His head lolling off to his shoulder and his grip on Bilbo fell limp.
Bilbo howled.
He didn't remember pounding and crawling at the dirt until his fingernails bled. He didn't recall Dwalin coming upon him, hulling him off Thorin's corpse and into the dwarrow encampment.
When Bilbo awoke, he was clearly not where he thought he'd be. It wasn't his smial in the Shire with the green door and elaborate winding halls with his library full of books. This wasn't any of the camps set up for the great battle. He could tell because he wasn't staring up a canvas fabric nor could he hear the natural sounds of the outdoors like the hooting of an owl or the chirping of crickets. It wasn't even Rivendell. He remembered the quiet calming river that had lulled him to sleep and the sweet smells of the elven rooms. No, this place was different. It was familiar. It was… Erebor?
The walls were made of stone. Bilbo expected it to be drafty but the room felt warm as if a fire had been lit. He listened more carefully. Yes, he heard the crackling of wood being burnt. The hobbit could also hear someone breathing very close to him. Perhaps someone was sitting nearby.
But why was he in Erebor of all places? Maybe this was the dungeon and his companion was the guard.
Slowly, Bilbo rose, groaning as he did so. His head still ached from whatever had happened to injury him during the battle. The hobbit yelped as a strong pair of arms wrapped around his shoulders and he found himself buried in dark black hair.
"I thought I lost you."
Bilbo gasped and pulled back.
There he was. Thorin. Alive. Scarred, but well.
Bilbo tugged on his lover's long unbraided hair, drew the King down into a desperate kiss. Yavanna, Thorin was alive. Alive. Alive!
"I'm sorry," Thorin whispered against the hobbit's soft lips. "I'm so sorry, kurdel. I—"
Bilbo pressed his forehead against Thorin's. "Forgiven. You've always been forgiven."
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Date: 2013-12-27 12:28 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-12-28 12:40 pm (UTC)