Huge fan of the “sunshine and stoic characters swap personalities by the end,” and I had to apply it to Bagginshield.
Bilbo starts out happy. Cautious, but happy. He is constantly trying to keep himself (and by proxy the company) positive. Even after they've been through some relatively messed-up things, he tries to stay smiling. Compare that to Thorin. He's stoic and regal. Really oozes of generational responsibility. Every expression of his has some kind of frown or solemnness, even when he is smiling.
After the battle of the five armies, though? Bilbo and Thorin end up with matching wounds in a way. A left leg Bilbo can never walk on again without a crutch, and a right hip that aches with too much movement or pressure that will hinder the fighting prowess Thorin's name is synonymous with.
The company tries to keep them separated. After the whole arkenstone situation, they didn't think it would be safe for Bilbo. Thorin's insistence on being near him didn't help. But as soon as Thorin can bear the pain of walking he goes to Bilbo's tent.
He's stopped a few times, naturally. When he finally makes it, though, he's welcomed by the hobbit that never stopped loving him.
Bilbo looks so small in that bed, the blankets puffing up almost like a shield. His eyes don't shine as bright anymore and his smile is a stranger to his cheeks.
"Hey," Thorin musters awkwardly.
"Hey," Bilbo mutters back, and Mahal help him; he sounds so weak.
Thorin goes up to his bed and leans on it, mainly due to his hip screaming for rest. He puts Bilbo's hand in his. "How do you feel?" There's an uncertainty to it all. A careful dance around the subject of both of their betrayals.
Bilbo squeezes his hand with a strength fueled by fear. His own mortality was dangled in front of him with one smooth bash to his leg. As a result, he doesn't dare let go for fear that the very essence of his life will fade away. "Like shit," he whispers.
Thorin gives him a weak smile. "Better than death?" As if he knows exactly what Bilbo thought. He wasn't awarded a response. Instead, he got a blank stare with hazel eyes glossed over by tears.
"May I?" He climbs into the bed anyway.
Bilbo clutches at his hair to ground himself in the reality that yes, they are both alive. Not okay. Just living.
"I want to go home," he mumbles as a single tear escapes.
Thorin manages to keep his smile, somehow, and presses their foreheads together. "I know, I know. You have my deepest apologies for unleashing this hell upon you. I should never have ripped you from Bag End, had I not-"
Bilbo silences him with a weak finger on his lips. "No. I came on my own volition," he says with more confidence.
Thorin grabs his hand firmly in his own and kisses it. "No matter where you reside, allow me to join you. The rest of my life I devote to you, Bilbo Baggins, and I can promise you that I will never, ever, let such harm come to you ever again."
Bilbo's tears come like waterfalls down his cheeks. He presses his face into Thorin's beard and pulls on his hair as if it were the salvation to absolve all his sins.
The future was uncertain. Their lives could cease that night, or they could live to see a thousand more horrors. But they would face it together, and despite the ache in Bilbo's heart, he knew Thorin meant his promise. He was safe with the King Under the Mountain. With his oaken shield.
