Oath of Love [Married Bagginshield]

Oath of Love

Thorin barely saw where he was going. He only knew that he had to reach his chambers as swiftly as possible. It was still early in the evening, much earlier than he usually retired to bed, but it was not really to bed that he was rushing. Bilbo had woken up with a cold that morning. A bad one. In fact, Thorin had awakened him with a tense call of his name and a touch of his flaming forehead. Bilbo had stirred with an unwilling whimper and his eyelashes had fluttered like the wings of a moth worn by exhausting flight, sending Thorin in immediate search of Oin and of his sister, cursing himself for not having noticed the night before that something was not right with Bilbo. He had seemed slightly tired, but, at such a late hour, it had not occurred to Thorin to ask if perhaps it was more than that.

Neither Oin, nor Dis had declared the situation too dire. Bilbo had simply caught cold. It was nothing to be overly concerned about, and they both gave assurances that they had the matter well in hand. Thorin had been soon herded out of their bedroom, and on to his kingly affairs. Don't worry, they'd said, he's in good hands. As true as that latter statement was, on that day, Thorin had found it harder than usual to stop his thoughts from trailing off to the one he loved. Half of his heart had remained with him in their bed, clinging like dandelion seeds to his curled eyelashes.

But here he was now, finally free to go where he'd wanted to be all day.

As he found himself facing the door to his bedroom, he breathed to stay his rushing blood. Then he opened the door as silently as he could, and walked inside. There was a fire raging in the hearth, filling the room with more heat than he was accustomed to, but he had expected that. His sister sat in an armchair near the bed, her head leaning lazily against its back.

She turned to him as she heard his steps. "There you are," she said, shifting in her seat for more comfort. "You're early tonight."

"You have been here all day," said Thorin, unable to keep tension out of his voice, crouching beside her, and leaning against the arm of her chair.

"It's all right to admit that you're worried," she said, brushing a loving hand against her brother's face. "And it's rather sweet."

Thorin surrendered a little smile. "How is he?"

"He'll live," said Dis with a consoling look in her eyes. "He has a stubborn fever, and everything seems to hurt. I've barely managed to get him to eat a little."

"Would a hot bath not help?"

"It would, but I think we should just let him rest for now. He's been so ill today, the poor thing. I'm glad that he's finally able to sleep properly."

Thorin looked forlorn at the small mound under the furs covering the bed, and at the tuft of ruffled hazel hair sticking out into the pillow. It was all he could see of Bilbo from where he was. His sister's account of his progress for the day stabbed at his already broken heart.

He felt her hand against his face again. "I don't suppose you've had any supper?" she asked, in that same soothing tone that told him it really was nothing but a cold, no serious reason to feel broken-hearted.

He glanced at her. "No." The last thing on his mind as he had rushed to his rooms had been supper, but now that it was mentioned, he realized that it did hold a certain appeal.

Dis smiled, and motioned to get up. "I'll bring something over," she said, standing and smoothing her robes.

"That is not necessary," said Thorin, following her up.

She gave him a know-better, motherly glare. "I'll bring something, you'll be looking for it later." She was younger and shorter than him, but she had a power to impose her opinion on domestic matters that he could have never thought to dispute. Yet, she also had a very tender heart. She perched herself up on her toes and gave him a peck on the cheek. "You've got a good one here, Thorin. Hold on to him."