Bagginshield Fanfics

Winter Emsiecat

Summary:

A teensy bit of angst regarding Bilbo's state of mind following the events in the Battle of the Five Armies. But fear not, he's got his schmoopy, devoted dwarf husband there to help.

I seem to be stealing all your prompts, bagginshieldhappiness (and your anon's in this case), I'm not sure whether to apologise or not. XD This one is: Imagine after BotFA, Bilbo starts to associate winter with negative feelings because it just reminds him that he almost lost Thorin. Thorin does his best to make sure Bilbo is always warm, making him hot drinks, sitting with him by the fire, etc. And sometimes at night Bilbo will close his eyes and trace the outline of Thorin's battle scar, haunted by the memory of almost losing what he treasures most. But then Thorin will cover Bilbo's hand with his own, stilling him with the reminder of everything he still has and how lucky they both are.

*Note: Thranduil's description as a gutter toad came from one very funny tumblr post I can't seem to find, so kudos to whoever it was that first coined that phrase. If you're wondering what a 'gutter toad' Thranduil looks like; it's the Rankin Bass version of Thranduil :3

Even though they had returned to the Shire, winter still doggedly hounded his thoughts like a wailing spectre.

Erebor, Ravenhill, the madness, and the battle were all a world away from here. The gently rolling hills, the green and lush country of the Shire enveloped the two of them like a warm blanket; healed their wounds both physical and emotional, and made them whole and hale again.

But winter... winter would find him no matter where they chose to make their home, and from the moment the last of the leaves were banished from the trees and the nights drew in, Bilbo was distressed.

It had taken him a good year to pinpoint the exact cause initially, as he had always loved winter as a faunt. Of course, there were bad memories surrounding the events during the Fell Winter, but they had never bothered him like this before.

The realisation had come upon him like the creeping of a nightmare one winter's eve two years ago. Thorin had gone to chop some wood for their fire and had been a long time in returning, and by the time he came back, Bilbo was nearly insensate from panic.

It was the memory, Bilbo had realised then as he did his utmost to hide his distress from his husband: the memory of Thorin bleeding out on the ice of Ravenhill, the sharp chill winds stealing his warmth, the ice and snow, the danger. All of it he now firmly associated with winter.

Bilbo had trembled like a leaf in the breeze that night, and finally with much gentle coaxing, Thorin had convinced his husband to tell him what had him so upset.

"You nearly died. I nearly lost you and this blasted time of year only serves to remind me of it," Bilbo had mumbled quietly into the crook of Thorin's neck, shivering as though even speaking the words might cause them to come true and Thorin might be ripped from him to never return. "Thorin I think I'm going mad, it's all I can think about on nights like this and I have nightmares and... I don't know what to do."

Thorin had murmured encouraging words, comforted him, and explained that he had heard of such ailments amongst warriors. That he himself had suffered the same thing as Bilbo for many a year until the passing of time and help from friends and family had eased the effects.

"'cept I'm no warrior," Bilbo muttered, a choked sob turned to a bitter laugh.

"You are a warrior, if not in the conventional sense. You have seen battle, Bilbo and you have known hardship. You are incredibly brave, you know."

Bilbo scoffed but Thorin was having none of it and had tightened his hold, nuzzling at Bilbo's hair. "Trust me in this, you are as much a warrior as anyone in the Company, and it's only natural what you went through would leave you with these feelings and fears. I'll help you if you'll let me."

Despite the lingering tremors in his limbs and intrusive flashes of memory, Bilbo calmed at the words and even offered his husband a tentative smile. "Alright, if you can help, I'm more than willing to let you."

Talking helped, Bilbo found. Where most hobbits preferred to keep their feelings to themselves and maintain decorum after tragedy or fright, Thorin encouraged Bilbo to speak his mind and show his emotions if he needed to.

It was a new notion, one Bilbo hadn't considered before, but Thorin was adamant that it would help, and he was right.

Once Thorin knew that winter was the worst reminder of Bilbo's fears, he did everything in his power to remind Bilbo of the pleasant things the season also brought with it.

Hot drinks a plenty, warm clothes and thick blankets, warm fireplaces and quiet evenings spent safely inside chatting, or reading, cooking, or anything else they could think of.

He reminded Bilbo of the hobbits' celebration of Yule and pointed out happy things in Hobbiton; the fauntlings playing in the snow, the beauty of the sunrise over the glistening frost of the hills.

Thorin always made sure to remind Bilbo of the good in winter and divert his attention from the bad. He consulted with Óin via letter, and even in passing, Elrond as Bilbo had seemed quite fond of the elf.

With time, the fear and distress surrounding the season lessened, the nightmares became fewer. And if on occasion, Bilbo would become too lost in thought whilst they lay together and trace the line of Thorin's battle scar, Thorin would pull Bilbo close and cover the hand with his own; reminding him firmly that he was still there, they both were and that was what mattered in the end.

Nowadays the memory of Ravenhill was still an unpleasant one, but it was distant enough that Bilbo felt content even when snow fell and the nights were long. He was confident enough to even visit the scene in his mind so that he could continue writing his book and Thorin had claimed that this was the mark of someone truly healing.

The dwarf frowned as he read over Bilbo's shoulder whilst placing a cup of tea at the hobbit's elbow and tsked. "I don't remember myself being quite that unreasonable, dear."

"Hm, no, you weren't nearly as bad as all that, but all stories require some embellishment."

Thorin snorted his amusement before lowering his head to press a quick slightly awkward kiss to Bilbo's lips as his husband leant back in his seat to regard Thorin upside down.

"I hope you're not taking what Kíli said to heart too much?"

His youngest nephew had rather thoughtlessly suggested the three of them be killed off in the book the last time he and his elven wife had visited. "It will help with anonymity and all that," he had claimed.

He hadn't meant it cruelly, and upsetting Bilbo would have made Kíli feel awful, but thankfully it was testament to how far Bilbo's recovery of the memory had come that the hobbit had just swatted at his nephew and called him a 'royal pain in the backside'.

"No, not so much... not in that way at least. Though... it isn't such a bad idea, Kíli did make a good point regarding the privacy of your family."

Thorin rolled his eyes and wrapped his arms around Bilbo, squeezing gently. "So you'll listen to his idea of killing us off but not my idea to make Thranduil's appearance like that of a gutter toad?"

"We'll see," Bilbo's grin was just a little too mischievous for Thorin's liking, but he set aside that sense of foreboding in favour of the happiness and contentment that surrounded them both.

The winters were not so harsh on him anymore.