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There is a nagging sensation at the back of Thorin's mind and he slowly opens his eyes as a result of it. He is in his bed in the Blue Mountains, with sunlight flittering through the coverings over his small window and dust fluttering through the air. The smell of breakfast is heavy in the air and grounds him, though he does not yet know why he needed to be grounded.
When he walks into the sitting room and finds his sister and nephews, both barely in adulthood, setting out plates to eat, he is assaulted by a weight baring down on him. It nearly takes his breath away and there is blood, so much blood, and distant screams and the clang of metal and the harsh smell of copper replaces everything else and-
There is a hand on his shoulder. His eyes are round as the moon as he trains them on his worried sister, her lips moving to ask him What's wrong? Thorin? Thorin, answer me! but before he can answer his tongue turns to lead and all he can do his shake his head mutely.
That night, he readies his sister-sons and sends out missives to the ten dwarves who would follow the last of the Line of Durin. The sun of the next morn greets Thorin Oakenshield and his prince nephews as they march for Erebor. When Thorin turns from his home (never his true home, the Blue Mountains), it is with the knowledge that something will become clear to him in the coming months. Something will explain the blood and the war and the screams of his nephews.
Until then, he has his dreams of his children to keep from falling into a depression. They are sweet and joyous and he hopes to dream of plaiting flowers into his daughter's hair this night.
----
They travel fast, though with enough mercy to allow their ponies time to recover and to leisurely trot along when the weather is fair. Once they reach a certain distance from the Blue Mountains, Thorin sends his nephews on ahead. They go with questions, but he waves them away and returns to sit, watching his pony graze and smoking a bit of pipe-weed, comtemplating the increasing feeling of deja-vu in every move he makes.
With every laugh he nephews made, there was a matching scream in the back of his mind. He could not continue on with such things plaguing him, so he sent Fili and Kili on their own. Some days ago, they had received a letter by raven telling them to travel to the green lands of the Shire, a place protected by Yavanna's grace and sowed by her children. That is where his nephews ride to, and Thorin follows once the voices of dead and wounded had left him.
The night before he reaches the Shire, in his dreams his son sings a most curious song indeed and his daughter dances with her brother. These tunes and footwork are not dwarven and carry a mood that says they are about to meet someone long missed, though he has no idea who. Still, Thorin feels their longing and smiles at their merrymaking.
----
When Thorin lays his eyes on Bilbo, pieces begin to click into place. There are memories of this quest he had yet to truly venture on, memories of orc packs and burning cliffs and a great bear and eagles, memories of facing Smaug and falling to the gold-sickness that claimed his grandfather, memories of his nephews dying protecting him and memories of holding this hobbit close as he told him of his dreams.
Thorin had never dared to whisper about his dreams to others, so this last memory is more shocking than the rest.
Days into their travels and a night's rest at Bree allow him to think on this new knowledge. His children welcome him into their dreamland home as they always do, but they skirt around him and send him looks when they believe he is not looking. They whisper to each other before they turn to smile at him and glance at each other when they have the chance. It is secretive and annoying and for once, Thorin is glad to wake.
----
Another night in the wilds after Bree with the hobbit in his Company has Thorin waking in a cold sweat.
It feels as though someone has slapped him with the back of their hand. It feels like someone has drenched him in freezing water, though the only moisture he can find on his person in his own sweat. Thorin wakes from his dream of memories, now crystal clear, and he knows.
A lifetime crashes into him and leaves him reeling. He has walked these lands before with these dwarves and hobbit. He has fought trolls, met elves both kind and nasty, seen the white skin of Azog, and faced Smaug in his own halls of gold. He has stalked the battlefield and foolishly regected help and reason when he needed it most and he ignored everything that was right in world for the sake of a godforsaken gem and the gold that came with it.
Thorin knows that in that life, he was selfish and cruel and so very stupid.
With this knowledge of wrong choices and turns in his mind, Thorin sits his company down and converses with them. He does not tell them what he has learned, not even the wizard, but he talks to them. Thorin asks after the Brothers Ri and their lives, he asks about the Ur Family and how their brother came to be with an axe in skull. The stories of Oin and Gloin he knows, as well as the lives of Balin and Dwalin, but he asks them nonetheless. With hesitance, Thorin questions the hobbit, but not before apologizing. It takes him some time to form words after he has bowed he head to Bilbo, but they come.
"I humbly ask for your forgiveness, Master Hobbit," The words of husband nearly fall from his tongue but he catches the syllables in time. "In this our travels, I have not been kind or respectful of you and I regret this. I am the leader of this company and as such I should be fair and equal to my men, and you are one them. I believe you have much to offer this company, that you carry untapped potential, so I will withhold further negative judgement unless you truly deserve it." Which he wouldn't, Thorin is sure of this. Bilbo had never deserved any harsh word directed at him and Thorin was not keen to pepper him with unfair slights and ungained hostility in the light of his memories.
The easy acceptance that rolls off of Bilbo's tongue is welcome indeed, and the company sings lively that night as the campfire burns. Across the flames, Bilbo smiles shyly at Thorin and the king can feel heat on his cheeks. He plays it off as the fire's fault and laughs with Dwalin, though he can feel the heavy weight of Bilbo's stare. It is a welcome weight and his dreams show for it.
In his dreams, Thorin holds his children close and kisses Bilbo before pulling away to smile against his lips.
----
There are through the Misty Mountains and Thorin remembers this. He remembers not being able to spot their burglar among the dwarves after they clear the goblin city and he remembers the wizard's frantic shouting as if Bilbo was his child.
Most of all, Thorin remembers the promise Bilbo gave to him, to his company once he reappeared.
Worst of all, Thorin remembers the feeling of regret and loss when he does not see Bilbo because he is not there, he is nowhere to be found, again. His hobbit is not among the dwarves this second time around and this time Thorin is shouting with Gandalf, asking every dwarf if they had seen him.
And then he appears, seemingly out of thin air just like last time, and Thorin gathers him up into his arms and swears to never lose sight of him again, this he promises on the Halls of his Forefathers and Bilbo is trembling in his grip. The cry of wargs cuts through everything and they run.
Just for fun, Thorin recites his lines and bites back a grin when Gandalf finishes for him.
"Out of the frying pan," His voice calls as he drags Bilbo away from the chasing wargs.
"And into the fire!"
----
Thorin dreams of his children the nights leading up to their arrival at Beorn's. They are happy and encouraging and sweet. They are thanking him for a chance to live, a chance to breathe, a chance to love and be loved by parents they lost once before. Thorin wakes with tears in his eyes and a smile on his face. When his nephews ask why, he chuckles quietly and promises to tell them once Erebor is in their hands and crowns rest on their heads.
When they cover the remaining distance to the skin-changer's, it is not without pain and labored breath. Thorin curses as his side burns from the warg's teeth, but fights through it. He regrets challenging Azog on that burning cliff, especially knowing already that was a fool's chore, but he did it for the sake of Bilbo. Although his company had started to warm up to the hobbit since that night they talked and bonded, Thorin knew Bilbo would still have to prove himself before they would accept him. So for Bilbo's sake, Thorin allowed hmself to be treated as a chew toy and hoped to Aule that Bilbo would still come to his rescue.
Bilbo did and as last time, Thorin could not resist hugging the creature atop the carrock.
----
They make it through Mirkwood without much trouble this time around. Although his dwarrows are attracted to the merrymaking of the elves like moths to a flame, hoping for food in the dense wood, Thorin keeps them on the path. The spiders find them anyhow and it is Bilbo who frees most of them and cures the venom from their veins.
When the ordeal is over and the blue skies once more visible outside of Mirkwood's canopy of poison, Thorin proudly declares Bilbo's elven letter-opener to be named Sting.
----
Lake Town is much the same as it every was, but with the added time they had from not being captive in Thranduil's halls, Thorin allows his company much deserved rest. In this time, Thorin seeks out Bard the Bowman and forges an alliance with him. He tells him what he knows of dragons in general and how they cover their bellies in jewels as makeshift armor and he tells him of the possibilty of a weak spot on the great Smaug. Bard is happy to help, with only the price of the gold the men of Dale are owed. Thorin bites back the possessive, automatic response of his past life and they shake hands.
Nights after that, Thorin's company sits and talks. They speak of their families, of their memories, and of their thoughts. When the dwarrows start finding little to discover about each other, they turn to Bilbo and ask about him and hobbits. In turn, Bilbo tells them of his people's legends and their beliefs, how gold matters little to them (unless you are one Mrs. Sackville-Baggins) and food, love, and life mean the world to them. The halfing tells of his family and the great, empty house that should have been filled with tiny hobbitlings, but death stopped that plan in it tracks. He recalls the Fell Winter and the orcs and the screams, but does not let his voice tremble.
When Ori asks about hobbit customs and things, Bilbo surprises them all by announcing that many founders of the Shire were sired by male and birthed by male. Since then, Bilbo tells them with a smile, all fauntlings were taught to expect the possibility of a womb within the body of males and to take preventive herbs when they grew and coupled with lads or lasses. Though rare, the chance of a birthing male was still there even in this age of the Shire. Bilbo leaned in close with a tight-lipped grin, as if holding back sarcastic laughter, and whispered a secret to his dwarrow fellows.
Bilbo himself was found to be able to carry, but none in the Shire wanted a Took to carry their child! Not after dear Belladonna had gone adventuring! It just wasn't proper, Bilbo told them, and so not a single lass approached him to sire a fauntling or ten and not a single lad asked him to birth their child. Bilbo turns from the dwarrows with a pained smile and bids them goodnight, retreating to his rooms. If any of them hear muffled sobs through the walls, they politely forget by the morning.
That night, on the eve of their departure to Erebor, Thorin dreams of his children once more. Bilbo is not present this night, but he is the topic of discussion. His children are glad that no other hobbit wanted their mothering father, if only because that meant Thorin would be there to see them grow in Bilbo's belly and to see them walk and talk and to call them his.
Thorin's possessive streak runs through them, though it carries a gentle nature that has Thorin thanking Mahal, glad to have their greed be for their parents and not for devious gold.
----
They reach Erebor early, much too early, so Thorin bides his time and readies his company with strategies and makes sure they anticipate unwelcome visitors knocking on their door. Thorin tells them that the black-blood kith and kin of orcs would seek further revenge for Azog and for the Great Goblin, but he does not mention the wolves or the war that would kill him and his nephews. Instead, he seeks out the ravens and invokes the long-standing union between their families and has them send messages to Dain of the Iron Hills and to the Elfking. He swears to be fair to them and pleads for their alliance, needing three ravens to carry his entire message to each of the leaders.
Weeks pass and Thorin receives the tired ravens on the eve of Durin's Day with good news falling from their tongues. Dain is marching for Erebor and the Elfking will aid him, though both only agree to ally themselves with him once the drake is felled. Thorin, not expecting anything different, scoffs and shakes his head but makes plans to set aside portions of his treasure for the ungrateful allies.
When the light of Durin's Day falls on the dwarves, they already have a sizeable rock in hand and Bilbo is sneaking through to the dragon's lair, though not before Thorin pulls him into a quick embrace that leaves the hobbit in a blushing stupor.
----
When the dragon first fell and Thorin's thoughts were occupied with the Arkenstone, he was so very close to falling to the gold sickness. It was dangerous and captivating, this disease, and for a moment all Thorin could think or care about was that damned rock. Like before, his memories supplied, his children are whispering in his ear and calling him foolish, but it is Bilbo of the living who snaps him out of it. The hobbit, urged on and encouraged by the close friendship he had built with Thorin, had no reservations about slapping Thorin soundly across his cheek. The sharp sound echoed in the halls and then Thorin remembers.
Gold and gems are cold as metal and their worth is meaningless. What truly matters, Thorin hears in the echo of Bilbo's voice, is the love of family, the love of kith and kin and the warmth that comes from food and good drink. Gold can buy the food, but a person must prepare the ingredients with love in order to make a satisfying meal. Ale can be bought, but it is the company it is shared with that gives it its pleasant heat that curls in your belly.
War breaks out soon after Smaug is felled by Bard but this time, Thorin is prepared. He keeps either himself or Dwalin near Fili and Kili and makes sure Bilbo is nearby, and though he cannot stop the halfing from swinging his blade, Thorin can at least protect him from behind.
----
The battle seems to last for hours before the first bellows of a mighty bear sound across the war-ravaged land. Beorn is there and the eagles follow at his back and someone where Thorin can hear Bilbo scream for them. This yell is cut short and Thorin wants so very badly to find his hobbit but then Azog is right in front of him and he cannot move save to block the beast's blow.
Thorin's knee hits the ground as he rolls to the right and tries to strike at Azog's calves, blocking another swing with his trademark shield but not fast enough to dodge the burning hook in his shoulder. The pain is intense and has Thorin wavering in and out of consciousness but then he hears his nephews screaming for him and he roars.
Thorin cannot lose them again, he cannot bare the pain of watching them die once more, so he stands through his aches and sore muscles and fights. Anyone who saw his battle with Azog that day liken Thorin to a mighty animal, enraged and deadly and terrifying. They say his eyes glowed with murderous intent and his blade was a striking blue that was quickly painted black by Azog's blood. And his voice.
Even the mightiest of dwarrows cringe when they remember the hollowing sound of King Thorin's voice.
But Thorin thinks little of what his people will think of him as he slashes and meets Azog's steel with his own. He is alive, his nephews are alive, and Thorin is determined to keep it that way.
----
When he wakes, Thorin is staring at the canvas canopy of the healer's tents. His first instinct is to shoot out of bed, questions already rolling off of his tongue in a frenzy.
Where are my nephews? The halfing, Bilbo? Where are they? My company, how do they fare?
But the sounds never make it out of his mouth and are replaced by a pained hiss and groans. His wounds keep him plastered to the bed and he can fell the slick feeling of blood running down his torso and soaking bandages, but he cannot feel Death holding his hand and opening His door for the dwarf, so Thorin relaxes and bites his lips to keep from crying out. Belatedly, he realized the wizard was sitting at his side, gone in a flash when Thorin awoke and back just as soon with Oin at his heels.
Oin redresses his wounds and answers his unspoken questions. Fili and Kili live with injuries and Kili may never wake, he has lost so much blood but the medics hope this sleep is to only help replenish the lost ruby liquid, and Bilbo lays sleeping in the next tent. He suffered a hit to the head but thank Mahal his helmet took the brunt of the blow and he is expected to live, with a few deep gashes to heal and sprained ankle to keep off of.
Thorin does not remember falling asleep, but in his dreams, his children reveal their names he had forgotten and Bilbo is there, smiling and kissing his king and husband.
----
In the years that follow, Gunnar is born and Bilbo receives a heart breaking letter from his family in the Shire. His extended cousins, Drogo and Primula, have passed away and their young son Frodo is without a proper gaurdian.
With Dwalin and the Prince Fili and Kili at his side, Bilbo makes the trip to the west and back again, returning to Erebor with a dark haired, blue eyed fauntling in his arms, scared and alone and begging his uncle-cousin to stay away from water.
When Hilde is born, Frodo is in his tweens and already a brother to Gunnar, so the both of them adopt the role of protective siblings for their new sister. They grow up together, children of Yavanna and Aule with Durin's blood and influence.
When Bilbo reaches the unnatural age of one hundred and eleven, Frodo is tasked by the Grey Wizard to carry a golden ring south to Mordor. It takes all Thorin has to stop himself from throttling and killing the wizard right then and there, but before he can so much as yell his disapproval, Gandalf has spirited Frodo away to Rivendell. In the weeks after this, Bilbo is a wreck, both physically and emotionally. His ages catches up to him and Thorin's heart breaks as he watches his husband slowly die.
----
The ring is destroyed and Bilbo is in Rivendell, leaving his husband and children behind. There were no goodbyes, no last kisses or murmured words of love, only a letter written in Shire green ink and pressed with wax.
Thorin sleeps every night with this letter underneath his pillow. Their children become hollow shells of themselves for many years, but Thorin is there and they keep their minds.
----
The sun shines in the Grey Heavens, a breeze rolls across the land and Bilbo can move his fingers without feeling the cracking of bones. Time passes slowly for him, though his beloved Frodo keeps him company and Lord Elrond offers his silent support.
Bilbo feels a hand on his shoulder as he stares out to sea one morning and he expects it to be Elrond, offering to join him for afternoon tea, so he does not turn to greet the elf immediately.
When a rough rumble of a voice travels across his ear, Bilbo thinks he died all over again.
Though this time, his heaven is much sweeter within the grasp of a dwarven king.