"Thorin! Thorin, please! Look at me!"
"Don't do this..you're the king, you can't die!"
"You stupid stubborn dwarf!"
Bilbo jerked awake from his bed with a startled gasp, his eyes wild as they darted around the dark room as if he was expecting for the dwaf king to step out from the shadows and soothe his nightmares like he used to do.
Realizing that this time it wouldn't happen had Bilbo's heart clenching in his chest and he let out a choked sob, lowering his gaze as hot tears fell down his chin. He tried to cover his mouth with his hands but the noises broke past them, silent whimpers and whispers, the pleads filling the air for no one to hear.
It was one of those dreams again that had Bilbo's eyes filled with pain of loss, his heart beating too fast and the utter emptiness filling him from inside.
So much blood.
So much pain.
The empty battlefield filled with dead bodies and silence, few survivors stumbling over their former comrades with broken cries and shouts to desperately find their people. The smell of blood and fire, the heavy air filled with death weighed on the halfing as he stumbled over the bodies, eyes desperately searching through the survivors, the cold dread filling his heart as he realized the ones he was searching for weren't there.
Bilbo shook his head, sliding out of his bed and nearly collided with the wall as he ran in the bathroom just in time as he threw up, emtying his stomach with deep heaves as more and more tears fell from his eyes and wet his face.
Kili and Fili. Laying on the ground together facing eachother. Kili laid on his back and looked as if he was sleeping, his eyes closed and hair spread around him as his hand reached out for his brother who laid just a little further away from his younger brother. Fili was on his stomach, his own hand reaching yet not quite able to take Kili's hand on his own. The arrows sticking from both their bodies and the dried blood pooling around them had Bilbo turning around with wide eyes, his shoulders shaking as he tired to hold himself from breaking down just yet.
So many times Bilbo had imagined that moment in his head, so many times he had cried himself to sleep because of it. How Kili would have taken the first hits and sagged on the ground with a cry of pain. How Fili would have yelled for his brother, desperately trying to reach for Kili and make the mistake of turning his back at the danger. How Fili would take the next shot of arrows and still try to crawl for his brother, still try to reassure Kili they'd be fine, they were safe and he would never leave him. How Kili would smile even if his eyes were filled with fear and he'd reach out, their fingers barely brushing together before someone ended their lives.
Together till the end.
Coughing few times Bilbo rose up and cleaned his mouth before the sink, his grip tightening until his knuckles were white. He still remembered the two rascals that had arrived in his home all those years ago, and how fond he grew of them and their jokes. The bond between the two brothers had been something amazing.
Bilbo closed his eyes, breathing in shakily and swallowed through the lump in his throat.
"No. No no no, Mahal no!" Bilbo shouted running and sliding next to the body on the ground, his eyes franctic as he took in the wounds on the King's body. His hands hovered uselessly above them, not knowing what he should do. "Please, please don't Thorin. Not you too, please don't leave me alone." BIlbo cried silently, taking Thorin's cold hand on his own and squeezed it, wishing nothing more than to feel his love squeeze him back.
When he released the hand, it fell limp beside Thorin, leaving only a bloody mess on Bilbo's hands.
Thorin Oakenshield, Kili and Fili, they were all lost in that war. Bilbo returned home alone with darkness and empty void in his heart that no one else could fill again. He pushed himself away from the bathroom, feeling like every step he took weighted more and more as he walked back in his bedroom, stopping before the huge closet.
He hadn't seen them in years. eh had purposelly avoided the closet like a sickness, not able to take in the pain anymore.
But what was more pain in that situation?
His hands closed around the coppery nubs and he breathed out slowly.
"Fili and Kili, at your service."
"So, this is the hobbit."
Bilbo yanked the doors open, taking few stumbling steps back as he took in the clothes hanging there. He whimpered silently, hesistantelly walking forward and reached out, fingers sliding against the smooth fur of the clothes that once had belonged to a great King, and a great uncle. Beside the jacket were two more jackets, one lighter and one darker shaded and as Bilbo leant closer he could swear he still smelt them there.
It was like they were still with him.
The clothes were torn from where the arrows had pierced them, where a blade had sunk too deep and ripped the material. He hadn't even washed their blood away. He feared if he did that, even the last traces of his family would be gone.
Burying his face in the clothes Bilbo let out a scream, a scream filled with nothing more than agony and pain as he hobbit sunk on his knees before the clothes, his hands fisted in the material.
Bilbo lived for 60 more years but his condition got no better. Every night he dreamed, every day he wilted away. He slept away peacefully in his own home, it felt like a blink.
The next thing he knew was that he was standing in dirtect sunlight and he had to shelter his eyes. It was a field of some sort, a field beside a forest that seemed too familiar.
It couldn't be...
His breath caught in his throat as he recognized the twin laughter in the distance, his eyes watering as warm arms enveloped him from behind and a soft voice rumbled in his ear.
"Welcome home, Halfling."
Alright, so I really cried while writing this. Angsty music didn't really help either. Reviews are appreciated!