The Dance

Notes: I will never ever look through iTunes again to find something to listen to, it's just not worth it. Especially not if I find a heartbreaking song that I absolutely adore and that provides me with the mother of all angsty plot bunnies. I swear, my heart is sore after writing this.

This is a songfic based on the soul wrenching 'The Dance' by Garth Brooks...find it and listen to it and it'll be enough to make you cry. It is part of my 'Then and Now' universe, so maybe knowing that all will be well in the end will ease the pain of reading it somewhat.


Looking back
on the memory of
The dance we shared
beneath the stars above

Balin and Gandalf had turned for one final wave 'Goodbye' before rounding the corner and disappearing from view. Bilbo was alone again, alone with the memories, memories that normally only haunted him during the long and lonely nights. But seeing two members of their Company... His hand reached for the ring around his neck of its own volition and the tears he'd held at bay while both wizard and dwarf spoke of their adventures began to fall. And he saw them once more, blue eyes filled with love and adoration, not with pain and longing as they had been the last time he'd laid eyes on Thorin Oakenshield...

Closing the door, he dragged himself to his favourite armchair, sinking down into its softness...almost as soft as Thorin's hair after he'd washed it...and stared at the ring in his palm through a sheen of tears. And his mind returned...not to Erebor or the battle, no. To Esgaroth, the last night the Company had been the guests of the men of Lake-town.

Thorin's hand had rested on the small of his back all the way back to the house they had been given and if their companions guessed what was going on between their leader and burglar, they remained silent. Well, except for Fíli and Kíli who were beaming whenever Bilbo turned to them. And when they entered Thorin's bedchamber together, that wasn't all that strange either. After all, Bilbo had occupied it almost the entire duration of their stay since Thorin had wanted to make sure their burglar got over that nasty cold he had caught riding down the river on the barrels.

But that night was different. Thorin had not simply tucked Bilbo into the big bed and held him. The moment the door was closed, the dwarf had pulled Bilbo into his arms, had kissed him until the hobbit was sure he had died and gone to Valinor. Surely such bliss was not of this world. And when Thorin whispered, "Stay with me," it took Bilbo a fair few moments to figure out what the dwarf meant. And when he finally nodded, Thorin's smile made Bilbo's heart flow over with love...

The light of the moon was shining in through the window as big dwarven hands...so gentle, so tender...slowly removed Bilbo's jacket and vest and Thorin leaned in to place kisses on the hobbit's cheeks, his forehead, his lips before he began to trail a path down Bilbo's neck. The spark of arousal made the hobbit's head spin, and he lowered his gaze, blushing. Thorin's hand came up to cup his face, his eyes saying more than a thousand words could have.

For a moment
all the world was right
How could I have known
that you'd ever say goodbye

Bilbo's hand was trembling as he reached out to touch the dwarf's broad chest, fingers sliding through his hair...softer than he had expected...and tracing old and not so old scars. When he found those Azog and his warg had inflicted, he placed tender kisses on the raised flesh, his eyes gazing timidly at Thorin. "You saved me," the dwarf whispered with a smile. "In more ways than you can ever imagine. And if there was a way..." Bilbo shook his head and place a finger over Thorin's lips.

"That is for tomorrow. Tonight belongs to us." And he wished it would never end. The dwarf nodded and smiled, pulling Bilbo down for another kiss. And then he gently but insistently pushed the hobbit down onto the mattress, mapping his body with hands and lips. Bilbo could feel tears well up and then run down his cheeks, tears of joy and amazement. Thorin Oakenshield, King of Durin's Folk and hopefully soon King under the Mountain once more had chosen him, him, little Bilbo Baggins of the Shire. For however long the dwarf deemed Bilbo worthy of his affections, the hobbit would love him as fiercely as he could. And once Thorin moved on...and he would, Bilbo was sure of it...he would treasure the memory of this night for the rest of his days. There would be no other for him.

But as Thorin made him feel things he hadn't known were even possible, he hoped. Against all the odds, he hoped...that maybe Thorin would let him stay after regaining his kingdom, that he maybe would want Bilbo to stay. Would ask him to be more than just the Company's burglar... That night, he could dream.

And now I'm glad I didn't know
The way it all would end, the way it all would go
Our lives are better left to chance I could have missed the pain
But I'd have had to miss the dance

Would he have acted differently that night had he known? That only a few weeks later those blue eyes would turn cold, that he would be called a traitor and thief? That those gentle hands would close around his neck not in a caress but to strangle him? That only a few days after the encounter on the battlements, Thorin would leave him forever, that his dwarf would go where Bilbo couldn't follow.

His heart had splintered into a million pieces at the sight of Thorin's broken body. And the words he had rasped, begging Bilbo's forgiveness...asking him to accept his signet ring as a last token of...of his true feelings. Part of him had died the moment those blue eyes had glazed over in death. He had cried for what seemed like weeks, had shed tears over the passing of not only his king, but also Fíli and Kíli. Thorin's nephews had always been there, had supported the slowly evolving relationship Bilbo and the dwarf king shared. And now they were gone, all of them...gone.

And yes, there were nights when the pain was too keen, when not even Thorin's ring could make the phantoms of the past disappear, that Bilbo wished he hadn't run out of his door. But then he remembered Esgaroth, and he knew...there was no going back. And he wouldn't want to, not really. Not if it meant letting go of those memories...

Holding you
I held everything
For a moment
wasn't I the king

His hands were buried in the black and silver hair of the dwarf when Thorin slowly, ever so slowly and carefully, sank into his body. The dwarf had taken every possible precaution to make sure Bilbo felt nothing but pleasure, and while there was a small spike of pain, it faded quickly and was replaced by pleasure the hobbit had never known. It was Thorin's eyes that were his anchor, his only anchor to the real world. If not for those blue orbs, Bilbo might have simply floated away he did not know where.

Despite the fact that their bodies were locked together, were as one, it was Thorin's eyes that seemed to delve into Bilbo's very soul. And as Thorin began to move, his hardness brushing again and again against that hidden spot within Bilbo that made him see stars, the dwarf's eyes never left his. And Bilbo knew that at least for that moment, he was the most important entity in Thorin's life. More important than all the gold and riches in Erebor. And maybe...maybe...he truly was.

But if I'd only known
how the king would fall
Hey who's to say
you know I might have changed it all

Looking down at the ring, he wished as he had so often, to be able to turn back time and relive the day of the battle. Now that he knew how Thorin, Fíli and Kíli had met their doom, maybe there would be a way to save them. Even if he had to give his own life for theirs. Not that it was much of a life anyway.

He had seen it, under the rage and fury, the heartbreak and hurt in Thorin's eyes. And he'd known that for all the threats, Thorin wouldn't have been able to harm him. So he had been searching for the king on the battlefield the next day. And he had found him, once. And he had heard Azog's words, had seen the flicker of fear in Thorin's eyes... Bilbo knew his life was about to be taken. But at least he had seen Thorin one last time, and he knew Azog would not survive. But the deadly blow never came, and as he heard the orc's grunt behind him, he slipped his ring on his finger. And then he had witnessed how Thorin had finally been able to lay one of the nightmares of his past to rest by beheading Azog the Defiler.

He had run away then, ducking around orcs and goblins... Why had he not searched for Thorin again? Why had he believed that Azog would be the greatest danger? Why had he found him too late? Tears had run down his face, through the blood and dirt that covered him head to toe, but there had still been hope. At least for Thorin. For them. Only that hope had died a few hours later. He should have been there, should have used his ring to save the heirs of Durin. And he would have gladly laid down his life for them.

And now I'm glad I didn't know
The way it all would end the way it all would go
Our lives are better left to chance I could have missed the pain
But I'd have had to miss the dance

What if...what if would not bring them back. Would not bring Thorin back. What if would not turn Hamfast Gamgee knocking at his door into a rude and grumpy dwarf, no matter how he wished for it. What if wouldn't turn the blue of Thorin's ring into those blue eyes that Bilbo could so easily lose himself in.

The pain of that knowledge was his ever-present companion. It tangled with the agony of his loss, and they were spreading, nesting in his heart and soul until he could hardly remember what life had been like without heartbreak and hurt. The only way to remember it was to lose himself in memories, in the memory of that night.

And even when his nephew Frodo came to live with Bilbo, he couldn't hope to touch the old hobbit's heart. A wall of pain shielded it from joy and happiness, a thicket of brambles and thorns. And if...after some years...some of Bilbo's smiles were genuine and Frodo had found a way through this wall of pain, Bilbo still knew that he'd never know true happiness again.

Yes my life is better left to chance
I could have missed the pain but I'd have had to miss the dance

As he turned one last time to gaze upon the shores of Middle-earth, Bilbo once more reached for the ring around his neck. And he knew that no matter what hardships he'd had to suffer, what pains he'd had to endure, his life had still been blessed. He had known love, and the memory of it would journey with him across the sea. A small smile appeared on his wrinkled face then, and his heart was light.


FIN.