Disclaimer: I do not own the Hobbit. Contains spoilers in later chapters if you have not read the book.

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There were many things that had happened in Bilbo's long life. Many things that he would have changed if he could have, but there was one decision that he could never regret: his decision to follow the dwarves on their quest to reclaim their homeland. He had never told anyone everything that had happened during the quest, and he never intended to. Some things were private. And others . . . they were painful to remember.

If you had asked him at the time why he had done it, he supposed that he would have told you it was due to something Tookish being awoken in him by the music of the dwarves. But in reality, he didn't really know. After all, even though he was a Took, he was also a Baggins and he was too old to be experiencing the wild urges that he had indulged in in his tweens. Even though he now knew the true reason he had gone, it is unlikely that he would have revealed it to anyone.

It was something that he tried to avoid thinking about when he could. The memory was still as raw as if it had happened yesterday rather than more than sixty years ago. He supposed the reason he was thinking about it now was because of Frodo. His nephew had left mere moments before after Bilbo had given him everything that he had been acquired on his own quest. Including his mithril coat. It was that, more so than anything else that had caused the memories to flood to the surface. Just touching the delicate silver rings and hearing them tinkle as he passed it to Frodo awoke the memory of when they had been passed to him by another.

Helping Frodo into the mail had reminded him of another helping him in the same way, so long ago. He knew that Frodo now needed those things more than he did, but it was difficult for him to part with them. Doing so felt like giving up the last hold he had on one who had been so precious to him. He still remembered the first time that he had realized that he cared for the dwarf in a way that was more than platonic.

He remembered that the realization had not come with soft words whispered tenderly in the dark, but rather a harsh condemnation of Bilbo's worth on their quest. The words coming mere moments after Thorin had saved him from falling to his death and cutting off the hobbit's thanks. It was the way that the words stung—words that Bilbo himself had said about him coming on the quest—that made him realize that he cared more about the dwarven king than he should.

It was the realization that his feelings would never be returned more than his homesickness that made him decide to turn back that night. He couldn't bear to be around Thorin day after day knowing what he now knew and seeing the disdain directed at him from those blue eyes. He had seen Thorin stir when he was challenged on his way out of the cave, and had seen him do nothing to stop him from leaving.

If the ground had not have opened beneath his feet at that very moment, he would have fled into the storm. He couldn't bear to be there anymore. Even the threat of him leaving and condemning them to the bad luck brought on by the number thirteen hadn't been enough to get Thorin to stop him from leaving. He never thought that he would say that he was glad that orcs had captured them, but if they hadn't, he would never have finished the quest.

Thorin's words after they escaped the caves before Bilbo had taken off the ring made him wish that he had not been trapped by the orcs. He couldn't believe that he had survived his capture, fall and encounter with the creature Gollum only to have his heart ripped from his chest once more. This time, however, there was no way for him to return home. His only option was to reveal himself and act like Thorin's words had not cut as deeply as they had.

He was pleased to see the surprise in Thorin's eyes as he stared at the commanding dwarf from across the clearing. Bilbo met his gaze, daring him to say anything more about the ineptitude of hobbits. Instead of rising to the challenge, Thorin turned his head toward the sound of a wolf howl. Even Bilbo's hurt at Thorin's words faded as he realized that they were once again being forced to run for their live.

Bilbo could still remember the feeling of dread that rose in him as he heard the heavy footfalls of the Warg closing in on him. If he closed his eyes, he could remember the feel of its hot breath and blood on his hand as Sting sank into its skull. He could still remember his guilt and disgust as he tried to pull his sword out of the bones of his first kill.

More than anything else, more than the heat of the flames or the fear of falling to his death, more than any of that he remembered the feelings of pride and fear he felt at he watched Thorin give the dwarves—and Bilbo—one final proud look before he charged the white orc. He remembered watching in fear and dread as Thorin was knocked to the ground. He knew that it was the end for the dwarf king. He also knew that there was nothing he could do to stop it. But more than that, he knew that he could not simply stand by and watch it happen.

With that in mind, Bilbo had charged the orc. He knew even as he did that it would be the end of him, but he hoped that his death might serve to convince Thorin that he was not worthless. Even if it didn't, he would die happy knowing that he had at least tired to save Thorin. However, he did not go out in a blaze of glory. Instead they were saved by the eagles. He was worried as they flew that Thorin did not stir, but once they were landed and he sat up Bilbo wasn't sure he was glad.

Thorin's eyes had burned as he looked at the hobbit. Bilbo knew then that he had made a mistake. Thorin resented him for saving him. Why would he not? Bilbo was worthless and now Thorin owed him his life. It made perfect sense that he would resent it. But Bilbo had been wrong. Thorin did not resent him, he was grateful. As the dwarf pulled Bilbo into a hug, the hobbit was suddenly forced to use all his self control not to weep from joy. His heart lifted as he realized that now the person he had come to love and admire had at least come to realized that he was not a waste of flesh. Even if nothing more ever came from it, it was enough.

If any of the others had bothered to ask him why he had charged into a situation that had little chance of success and a near certainty of death he would have told them that he didn't know. But it would have been a lie. It was a lie that he was never forced to tell. None of them ever asked because none of them cared about his motives; they were just glad that he had done what they could not. Thorin may have cared, but it was a question that he never asked either. Though after it happened Bilbo caught the dwarf looking at him more often than before and there was a softness in his eyes that hadn't been there before.

Then, when they were in Beorn's home and Bilbo had found himself lifted off the ground by the giant skin-changer, he remembered the panic that had flared in Thorin's eyes and the way the wizard had placed a hand on his shoulder to stop him from interfering. At the time, it had reminded Bilbo of another time he had been lifted off the ground. During the incident with the trolls he had not been able to determine what the flash of emotion that passed through Thorin's eyes had been, but it was the same emotion that was present then: fear for Bilbo's well being. It was then that things truly began to change.

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Sorry y'all but I had to do it. I saw the Hobbit the day before yesterday and I have been thinking about this ever since. I never thought that I would ship Thorin/Bilbo, but the more I thought about it, the more sense it made really. Even though I was hesitant at first, I just couldn't resist. Especially after seeing the image on izybelsun's tumbler where they point out the scene in FOTR where Bilbo cries after attacking Frodo. And with that for inspiration this fic was born.

I hope you have enjoyed it.

Stickdonkeys