Thorin's recovery takes a long time. Bilbo is with him every step of the way.
Thorin wants to hide his new disability. He hates the idea of not living up to his own myth, the untouchable shield of Erebor. But the fact of the matter was that his leg was unignorable. His gait was entirely changed.
There was a chunk of flesh missing from his upper thigh, muscle that had rot from orc poisons. His hips were now crooked from the redistribution of his weight, giving him searing back pain from standing for less than an hour. He had marched across Arda and back again yet now he couldn't stand long enough to hold court, wasn't that ironic?
His first thought upon seeing the havoc wrought on his body was of shame. Oh, how he wished he had died upon that hill. He didn't dare voice such feelings, his pride could not handle admitting such cowardly ideas. Still, he sourly wished could avoid the look in everyone's eyes when they saw him.
So many assumed his limits for him. He had limits, that was as plain as his injury itself, but to have them assumed was a great personal insult. Especially when someone close to him, Balin or his nephews or anyone else from the company, did so. The one and only saving grace was Bilbo.
He neither shirked away nor stared at Thorin. He assumed nothing, never implied expectation.
"Will you come with me? It is but a short walk, though the terrain is uneven."
Thorin's hip already hurt. He said yes anyways. His hip would hurt regardless. "We will have to take our time, but yes."
He watches Bilbo as the hobbit leads the way, eyes the basket slung over Bilbo's arm. He keeps silent. The path is thin but more even than Bilbo had led Thorin to believe, however on one side was the mountain and the other was sheer rockface going down a good distance. Thorin continued to walk carefully.
Soon they arrived to a large clearing, an alcove of sorts where a set of grand rose briars grew. The beauty of the yellow and red roses distracted Thorin from the smarting in his upper thigh, amazed at the life hidden away against the mountain.
"I was walking, you see, and it is easier on my feet to walk outside than it is inside Erebor. I found these and thought it might be nice to prune them." Bilbo had set down his basket, pulling out a set of old shears he must have borrowed from the forge.
"You wish to cut them? Why? They seem to be perfectly fine on their own." The old Thorin would have rejected the idea outright. This newer Thorin knew Bilbo had his reasons and wished to hear him out.
"We cut them to help them grow healthier. We cut one flower, three more grow in its place. Soon it will be even more beautiful than now. Come here." Bilbo motioned for Thorin to come closer to the roses, taking ginger hold of one flower. "We will cut right here, just above the stem with five leaves. Don't ask me why there, just how my mother taught me. Here."
Bilbo gave the shears to Thorin, watching as Thorin took the next flower in hand and cut as Bilbo instructed. For some time, they stood together as they pruned the roses until the pain in Thorin's hip grew too terrible to bear.
Sweating and panting slightly, Thorin admitted defeat. "If you wish for me to walk myself back inside the mountain, I must sit and rest a while."
"Well go on then, don't be proud! Sit down a while and I'll get these flowers finished. When we get back to the mountain, it'll be just in time for supper. We can take the trimmings with us and make some lovely tea and whatever we don't use I can see if Dori wants. He makes lovely perfumes."
As Bilbo resumed his work, Thorin admired the hobbit from his place on a patch of grass. He thought of Bilbo's mother, about what kind of hobbit she was. Surely, she was kind. After everything Bilbo had said about her, Thorin knew there was plenty of her living on in Bilbo whether the hobbit knew it or not.
"You know, back in the Shire," Bilbo said, bringing Thorin back to the present, "Yellow roses mean many things. Disappointment and grief, friendship and happiness."
The hobbit came and sat next to Thorin with a pruned rose in his hand. He quickly snapped the remaining thorns from the stem.
"And," he added, tucking the rose just behind Thorin's ear, "They symbolize new beginnings."
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