Oh dear Thorin. Sweet Thorin. One heir down and one lover no longer himself. If Bilbo is in there at all, he must be weeping. "If I am your undoing, Oakenshield," he responds strangely, "then I will rebuild you better than before."
He strokes his hands through the dwarf's thick mane as they come nearly to a union both long for -- even if the reasonings couldn't be more different. Run Thorin. Run far and run long. There is nothing you can do here to save your hobbit.
"We have saliva. And we have medicines. I will be all right. I don't want to rush off and find something better."
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Oh dear Thorin. Sweet Thorin. One heir down and one lover no longer himself. If Bilbo is in there at all, he must be weeping. "If I am your undoing, Oakenshield," he responds strangely, "then I will rebuild you better than before."
He strokes his hands through the dwarf's thick mane as they come nearly to a union both long for -- even if the reasonings couldn't be more different. Run Thorin. Run far and run long. There is nothing you can do here to save your hobbit.
"We have saliva. And we have medicines. I will be all right. I don't want to rush off and find something better."