The One Ring has a will of its own, this is true.
It seeks to get back to its Master, so it whispers and coaxes and persuades. It seeks the easiest path to one’s heart and once it finds that path, it will try to take root and under the guise of granting the power to fulfill one’s wishes and desires, it will slowly, inexorably corrupt and destroy.
Even a Hobbit, with its simple desires for home, good food, comfort and a warm hearth, cannot remain wholly immune.
Thorin Oakenshield understands these things - he is not a fool, after all. There were many paths that the Ring could take into his mind. There are always the obvious ones - that would appeal to the lust for more power and wealth. That Erebor would simply become the Crown Jewel of a great Dwarven Empire, surpassing even the days when the Dwarves held Moria. That Durin’s Bane would be destroyed and Moria reclaimed at last by Durin’s Folk. That this Empire would stand for all time and no one and nothing, not even a Dragon, would ever take it away from its people.
A bright, glittering dream that too many deluded souls before him had already tried to reach for, only to fall into madness, despair and eventually, death.
Thorin could say no to these temptations very easily. He already knows what could result if he gives in to greed and pride yet again. He will not repeat the mistakes of the past over and over.
In the end, the path that the Ring is taking into his mind strikes at his very heart and it is so utterly, deceptively simple.
Bilbo.
Bilbo is a Hobbit, whose life will only be a little over a hundred years. Those who are of the Line of Durin are among the Dwarves with the longest life-span - three hundred years or more was possible, provided that they did not fall in battle.
And Thorin is already so very, very tired of grief and loss.
“I feel stretched. Thin. Like butter spread over too much bread,” Bilbo tells him. “And sometimes… sometimes I dream.”
“Of what?” Thorin asks.
“I dream that I am somewhere dark and cold, because I cannot bear the sun anymore. I dream of seeing my reflection in a mirrored pool… only, instead of my face, I see him.” And here, Bilbo takes a deep, shuddering breath. “I see Gollum. And I have become him. With only my Precious left to me.”
Thorin shakes his head. “Bilbo, I would never - “
“He was a hobbit once, you know. Gandalf said so. I believe him.” Bilbo wraps his arms around himself. “There was a story told to us once. Of why we hobbits do not ask for birthday presents on our own birthdays. That it must be the birthday hobbit who gives them away. Bad luck, misfortune. I think he was the reason for that story. His birthday present - his own - and he killed his cousin for it…”
“Stop - stop this - you could never do such a thing - “
“… and if I turn on you or Mahal help me, hurt our children and become that mad, pitiful, gibbering thing, in the dark and the cold…”
”I cannot keep losing you over and over again!”
Bilbo gasps, but he doesn’t struggle when Thorin wraps his arms around him, burying his nose in curls already gone silver-white with age. They don’t really speak of the Time Before, of the lives they had lived in the Past. They had agreed to leave the Past buried, for what use was it to dwell on such things, when they were both alive in this Now, together once more?
Thorin feels his Hobbit take another breath and then it is his turn to shudder when gentle hands make their way up his chest, curl around his neck even as Bilbo feathers kisses across the curve of his jaw. Thorin is unable to hold back a sob when Bilbo finally reaches his lips and deepens his kiss.
So very, very precious and so utterly fragile. And for all his strength and current health now, Thorin already knew that their time was drawing to an end. That it wouldn’t be long before he would be the one left behind once more, to wait and have nothing but memory to comfort him.
“Do not tell me that I will never lose you,” Thorin whispers raggedly when Bilbo draws back, keeping only the distance of a single breath between them. “Do not tell me that you can bear to be parted from me, even if it is true - “
“You, Thorin Oakenshield, are an idiot if you believe that,” Bilbo tells him fiercely and this time, the kiss, when it comes, is harder and Thorin welcomes it, even the nip on his lower lip that Bilbo quickly soothes away with his tongue.
“Listen to me, for I’ll tell you something true,” Bilbo says quietly, when they had both calmed down. Thorin was still disinclined to let Bilbo leave the circle of his arms, not that Bilbo had actually wanted to go anywhere else to begin with.
Bilbo takes on the voice he uses when he is about to tell the children a story. And Thorin wants to protest that he is not a child to be soothed and consoled with a tale but Bilbo said something true and he listens, instead.
There is a great city, where there are great towers of stone and steel, high enough to touch the sky. There are a great many people and their dress and manner are strange to me.
But I can see you and you look like my Smith again, but your eyes shine and you do not mourn. I see you and I know I’ve found you once more, my King and that is how I know I can go on. Because we’ll always find each other, in this world,in every life we live, until Arda itself is made whole and even then, I will find you. And perhaps, dearest, when that Day comes, we shall not be parted, ever again.
And Thorin can see what Bilbo is telling him, see it quite clearly, that great, strange city, his Bilbo standing before him, as bright and mischievous as ever, without the shadow of the Ring on him.
This is a true thing. Bilbo has told him. I will always find you.
And that Truth will stand, despite Sauron’s deceptions or the lying whispers of his Ring. And finally, Thorin could find it in himself to close his mind and his heart to that foul Thing.
Tomorrow will find them on a journey, to the House of Lord Elrond and a Council meant to persuade everyone to agree to the Ring’s destruction. Tomorrow would require Thorin Oakenshield to be the King once more, to attend to his duty to both family and his people.
Thorin has his husband in his arms, warm and alive. Tomorrow could wait for a while.
- end -