Lay Down Your Heart [Married Bagginshield]

Lay Down Your Heart

Bilbo stared at the soiled towel on the floor near his bed, where Thorin still lay sleeping, an arm sprawled carelessly at his side. He should have simply picked it up and taken it to be washed, as with all other laundry. But this was not just laundry. It was more than just another soiled towel. It contained, within its hardened fibre, the remains of half a day and a night of mind-numbing passion, dried and cracked. He remembered coming home breathless and soaked from running through pouring rain, then collapsing together with Thorin on the rug in his study, and then not much else, other than the sensation of floating light above the ground, in a cloud of sweet oblivion. Now he was suddenly there again, in the waking world, once more in full possession of his senses, standing alone in the fresh sun. And in the white light of that bright morning, the sight of Thorin's seed clinging dead to that crumpled towel made his heart sink to a leaden low. He became aware, more than ever before, that, as much as he loved Thorin and as profound as their bond was, it was a barren love, one that could have never created new life. That would have happened naturally if Thorin had married a princess of his own kin, as he had been destined to. But not with him. It would have never happened with Bilbo, and the pain that he felt as this thought, this fact, acquired definite shape in his mind made him feel again like a thief, of something more precious even than the Arkenstone. Yet, there was not much more that could be done now than to collect the towel from the floor, and give it a good rinse in cold water.

Bilbo finally lowered a hand to the floor, feeling as if he was reaching into a dark pit, from which he himself would emerge sullied beyond repair. He gathered the towel in his little fist, then brought it up to examine it closely, not really wanting to look, but feeling drawn to its stark, sad truth nonetheless. Even if his senses retained the glowing memory of the previous day, it all seemed so far away now, as if all that had been good in it had happened to someone else, in another world. Without turning another glance to Thorin, Bilbo took a deep breath and went away, to do what was necessary.

When he returned to his bedroom, his heart in shreds, he found that Thorin was still asleep, blissfully unaware of the sorrow and the torment that something as mundane as rinsing a towel had caused the poor hobbit. Bilbo wanted nothing but to lie down next to him and die.

Yet, as he laid his head down on his pillow, barely removed from Thorin's head, a smile found its way to his lips, from somewhere unexpected. It seemed that no amount of guilt or anguish could change the fact that a certain royal dwarf was very beautiful and that this could be observed best when he slept peacefully. He was, in fact, disarmingly beautiful, and Bilbo could not fight the impulse to extend a hand towards his forehead.

Thorin stirred with a lazy moan and looked into the direction of the caress, his eyes half open. Bilbo tried to keep his smile aglow, as it would have been appropriate on a morning such as that, but it vanished as haphazardly as it had appeared.

Thorin noticed, of course. His eyes opened fully and studied Bilbo's face, without giving a proper morning greeting. He rarely did, preferring instead to think directly to the hobbit's mind through his brilliant eyes. "What is it, Bilbo?" he asked this time, sounding very lucid, and slightly grave.

"Nothing," Bilbo pretended badly, still not managing to recover his smile. "I'm just... looking at you."

The world-weary dwarf did not usually bite to such flimsy covers. "Something is troubling you," he insisted.

"I," Bilbo started but immediately felt gutted by what he was about to say. He reached towards Thorin again and brushed his finger warily against his throat. "I was just thinking that... That you waste yourself on me," said Bilbo eventually, his own words sounding terrible to him.

Thorin frowned, and in his look of disturbed confusion, Bilbo saw exactly how terrible they were. "I mean," he continued, feeling the need to at least explain, "I could never give you an heir."