Chapter 4: Medical Camp

As the company made their way to Dale, they tried to stay joyful and were cracking jokes. Bofur had managed to get the entire group to laugh at some, while other jokes caused a few groans. Even Gandalf had joined in, joking and laughing along with the dwarrows. As they approached the city however, they fell quiet. The gravity of the situation had started to weigh down on them, and not even Kili could find something to smile about. They walked through the gates, navigating through the many bodies and debris in the narrow streets. Balin and Gandalf were leading the charge, as they both knew the city quite well and Gandalf knew where the medical camp was. They neared a large clearing in the center of Dale, with a smattering of tents of varying sizes strewn about. Dain’s boar was tied up near one of the larger tents, and they could hear Khuzdul being shouted from inside. Balin sighed, feeling the start of what would surely be a long headache.

Gandalf picked up his stride, ducking to enter the tent. The dwarves stumbled in behind him, pushing into each other to try and all squeeze in. Thorin had switched to common tongue at this point, still yelling at the top of his lungs at the elf who seemed to be in charge of the camp. “What do you mean you’ve done everything you can?! He’s still unconscious and the morgul poison is SPREADING!” A few loud gasps were let out at that, alerting Thorin to the crowd. Thorin turned to face the company, anger and pain behind his eyes. Fili and Kili pushed to the front at the mention of morgul poison, Kili already having first-hand experience with it. Bilbo was laying on a cot, his robe and the mithril shirt laying on a chair beside him. They could see vein-like lines of black spreading across him and over his chest, where he was taking short labored breaths.

“Where’s Tauriel? She helped me when I got shot by a morgul arrow! Surely she could help here!” Kili spoke in a panic, eyes darting between their burglar and the head elf. The elf had a pinched look on her face, annoyed at the thought of having to deal with more dwarfs. “Tauriel is with King Thranduil, doing her duty instead of helping a halfling who probably won’t even make it through the night.” She spat out, unnerved by the sudden uproar this caused as the dwarrow drew out their weapons. Even Gandalf was upset with the chief medic, but stayed composed as he began to speak to her. “Perhaps she could be brought here to assist you, as surely you need the extra hands? I shall be going to King Thranduil to help mediate between him and King Thorin here, and Balin will accompany us.” She turned to face Gandalf with less contempt before sighing, “As you wish, Mithrandir. Just send her here when you reach the royal’s tent, Bard should be there as well as he is trying to organize his men.” She promptly made her way through the dwarves, walking out of the tent to attend to more patients.

“Well she’s just a cheerful one ain’t she?” Bofur tried to ease the tension in the tent, as all eyes fell between Thorin and Bilbo. The King Under the Mountain looked like a mess. He had taken off his cape and fur coat, leaving him in just his simple royal blue shirt and pants. Even his crown was tossed aside, lying on the ground next to Bilbo’s feet. His shoulders had sagged as the fight left him upon seeing his friends, and the hair he usually kept tied back had fallen loose, letting it fall down. This Thorin looked more like the dwarf the company had known back in the Blue Mountains, worrying over his family and his people. They never thought they’d see this much care come from the stoic dwarrow in regards to Bilbo.

He suddenly straightened his back, putting on the leader’s shield again as he cleared his throat to speak. “I said I would return with Bilbo once he is able to leave. I will not leave his side, as it is my fault he is in this condition.” Thorin tried to hide the crack in his voice as he talked, but could tell the others noticed as they had more pity on their faces than before. Balin stepped forward tentatively, knowing not to step on Thorin’s toes too much. “You’ve been with Bilbo for a couple of hours now Thorin, maybe it’d be best if you got some air and something to eat. Let us watch over Bilbo while you take care of yourself, it’s what he’d want.” He could just see it now, the hobbit tearing Thorin a new one for not taking care of himself again, trying to pretend he’s fine when he’s clearly about to pass out from exhaustion. And then Bilbo would turn on the rest of the company, reprimanding them for letting it get that bad. Balin chuckled at the thought, realizing how much they were all probably missing their dear burglar. Thorin turned back to face Bilbo, who had begun to sweat profusely. He quietly walked over to one of the chairs besides the cot, sitting down and leaning forward to put his head in his hands. If his shoulders began to shake slightly, no one had the heart to mention it.

He stood up from the chair after a few minutes, reaching for his fur coat and crown. He threw them back on, making sure his crown was sitting correctly on his head before turning to face the company. He scanned his eyes across the dwarrows standing before him, allowing himself to look at each one individually. He traveled for over a year with these dwarves, protected them with his life and trusted them with his. Maybe it would be wise to go eat before coming back to sit at Bilbo’s cot, he knew they would come get him when Bilbo woke up or if, Mahal forbid, he were to get worse. He hung his head, looking at the dirt under his feet before looking back up to address them, smiling slightly. “Alright. I will meet with Thranduil and Bard and rest. I will not be far should you need me, and I will.. Send Tauriel to help.” He bowed his head at the company, who all bowed in return. They parted, allowing Thorin to exit the tent with Balin and Gandalf in tow.