Chapter 9: Soup

When Thorin woke up the next day, it was to Fili and Kili laughing. He looked at the cot beside him, smiling at the sight of Bilbo curled up under furs, snoring softly. He whipped his head back towards his nephews, color rising to his cheeks as Kili fake-gagged at him. He scowled at them, but before he could come up with a retort Bombur came bustling into the tent carrying a tray with four steaming bowls of soup. “I know it isn’t much, but Oin said you’re only allowed liquids until he knows for sure that your stomach isn’t damaged. I managed to add some extra flavors while he wasn’t looking, so don’t tell on me.” He laughed heartily, knowing that good food was just as important as rest when it came to healing.

Almost as if it was hobbit instinct, Bilbo started to wake up as he smelled the soup. He rubbed his eyes before sitting up, unable to grab the furs as they fell from his chest. He had gotten used to the stares from the others at the sight of the remnants of the poison, but he wasn’t sure how Thorin would react. He could feel eyes boring into him as he scrambled to pull his mithril and tunic over his head, not even daring to peek at Thorin. He thanked Bombur for the soup as it was handed to him, welcoming the warmth it provided. They hadn’t been able to find many utensils, and the few they had went to those unable to feed themselves. Bilbo had grown used to not using them on the trek to Erebor, especially when they had to eat and move quickly. He didn’t slurp down his bowl, instead savoring what little taste it had and feeling it warm him from the inside.

Fili and Kili continued their bantering as they ate, blissfully unaware of the fond looks they were receiving from Bilbo and Thorin. Kili spotted Tauriel walking in, almost choking on his soup as he gave her a giant grin. She laughed at this, bowing her head at Bilbo in greeting before she noticed Thorin was glaring daggers at her. “Master Oakenshield, it is wonderful to see you awake and well. I hope you do not mind me being here with you all, it brings me great pleasure to talk with your nephews and Master Baggins.” She bowed deeply, showing her respect. Thorin grumbled under his breath, but sighed in defeat when he caught Bilbo raising an eyebrow at him. “It is.. Quite alright. I have been informed how you saved them, and I want to give you great thanks for your help.” He remembered what Bilbo had said last night about one of the other elfs, and how she didn’t want to help Bilbo. He would direct his anger at her instead of Tauriel, conceding that she was most likely the reason they were all still alive.

Thorin sat back on his cot, propped up enough to eat his soup without drowning on it. He closed his eyes, listening to Bilbo tell another story of the Shire. This one seemed to be a happier memory for him, speaking fondly of the walks he and his parents would take when he was still a fauntling. He remembered how he could hear Bilbo talking to him softly while he was still unconscious, treating those nights as if he were telling bed-time stories. The details of the stories were lost to him, but he could still feel the emotions Bilbo was pouring into them. He opened his eyes as Bilbo laughed, more of a snort than his sarcastic laughs that he had been prone to doing during the journey. This one seemed more genuine, as he recalled how he had chased his cousin, Lobelia Sackville-Baggins, with a worm he had found after the rain. Bilbo had begun gesturing with his arms as he talked, almost as if he were telling the Shire fauntlings a grand story he had made up on the spot. This warmed Thorin more than the soup he had been drinking. ‘Mahal, let us keep him’. He couldn’t be bothered to chase this thought away, relishing in the fact that Bilbo had become part of the company, part of his family, part of him. His heart ached at the thought of letting the hobbit go back to the Shire, but he couldn’t force him to stay in Erebor. It was no place for someone made by Yavanna, and he would not make Bilbo suffer just for him.