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Mending the Broken Pieces	By : LadyLaran Category: Lord of the Rings Movies > Het - Male/Female Views: 13613 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own "the Hobbit" nor do I make money from this story. Tolkien and Jackson are the ones who own the characters and world.

Chapter List
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Author’s Note – Here’s the next installment. Nano is going great so far; I’m close to 22K words and going strong so far. It’s a Hobbit story so I’ll share it once I finish this project and get a bit more done on current WIPs. I’m excited for it so far!

Personal update, I received an email from my attorney with the brief he sent to the judge and disability people to appeal the decision. So I’m waiting again to see what happens next. Please keep me in your thoughts. I appreciate it so much.

Disclaimer – I do not own “the Hobbit” nor do I make any money from this story.

Chapter Twenty-Five – On the Mend

The potion Gandalf created wound up being a success; Oin made sure to add the main component, athelas, to the herbal kit he was building from Beorn’s garden. Hawthorn’s fever broke after two days of worry and sleepless nights for the company. Bifur had been the one sitting with her when the fever broke, and he had rushed out into the main room to report the news. Oin and Gandalf had hurried into the bedroom to check on her, leaving a relieved company to wait for further word on their hobbit’s condition.

The king-in-exile slumped in his seat, breathing a prayer of gratitude to the Valar for ensuring the sickness had left his One. Thorin had spent as much of his time at her bedside as her family allowed, grateful they had not tried to bar him from her sickbed. He’d sung to her or simply spoke of happier moments in his past in hopes that his voice would reach her and help guide her back to him.

The wizard returned a short while later, a look of relief on his face. That expression as well as the news he brought had raised the company’s spirits a great deal.

“Her skin is cool, though she has broken a sweat. I am not certain when she will wake, but Oin and I feel she is finally on the mend. Hawthorn will need to take it easy for a while and allow her injury to heal a bit more before she tries walking,” he told them.

“However long she needs, we can give it to her,” Thorin informed him. “I hope we are not too much of an imposition, Master Beorn?”

“Not at all,” the shape changer reassured him. “You and your company are welcome here for as long as it takes to get the little warrior healthy and back on her feet. I am happy to hear that she is doing better.”

“Thanks to your assistance,” the dwarf lord stated, knowing exactly how much he owed the man for his kind generosity and aid with tending to Hawthorn.

“Azog and his vermin enslaved many of my people,” Beorn told him, large fingers trailing over the manacles he wore. “I was one of them, forced to fight for sport. He destroyed so many of my loved ones, and I vowed vengeance when I escaped. I owe her a debt that I will never be able to repay.”

“I have the same debt,” Thorin shared. “That scum murdered my grandfather and several other members of my family. He hunted my line for far too long, and now we are free. My sister-sons will never fully know the fear the rest of us have lived with, and I am so very grateful to her for that.”

“Aye, we are free,” the large male stated, looking up from the manacles when the dwarf replied.

“If you are willing to have it done, I can remove those from you,” he offered, knowing he had to make the repairs to their equipment soon and could do so now that Hawthorn was finally on the mend.

“I will think on it,” Beorn answered. “I have worn them for so long to remind myself of why I fight against the orcs and Azog. With that wretch gone, perhaps it’s time to live again. It’s something to think on.”

In a way, Thorin understood Beorn’s response since he’d had the same doubts and fears since Moria. He’d forced himself to believe that the damned orc had died because his battered soul had needed to hide in that limited measure of safety that belief had provided. Looking back on it, he knew it had been a foolish thing to allow himself to do but now he could let his sister know that the one hunting their line was now confirmed dead in front of witnesses.

“I should write Dis,” he murmured, filling his pipe as he did so. “She needs to know about all of this.”

“I have a bird that can send the message to Rivendell, and they can send it on for you,” their host volunteered, startling the dwarf lord from his thoughts.

“I would appreciate that very much,” Thorin answered. “My sister will have my beard if I do not ensure to send some form of message now that we’ve left Lord Elrond’s home; she should be told the news of Azog’s demise. There was always a shadow of doubt in our minds, and I can now remove that doubt from her.”

“I would hold off until you have the opportunity to speak to Hawthorn,” Gloin recommended, smoking his own pipe for the first time since arriving at Beorn’s. “This way we will not impose too much on the elf lord’s generosity, and Dis will not try to take all of our beards for not telling her the important news if all goes well for you.”

“True enough,” he admitted. “Fili, you two need to write her and let her know you two are doing well and are safe. I’ll enclose it with my own letter; hopefully, that will be enough to ensure she will not indulge in hunting us down whenever our people make the journey from Ered Luin to here.”

“She sounds quite fearsome,” Beorn commented, making the company laugh.

“Our women are certainly that,” Balin answered, chuckling. “They have to be to deal with the stubbornness of their male counterparts, and they are formidable at anything they do. While Thorin rules our people well and wisely, his sister rules the family and we all know that we have to be wise in all that we do or risk her wrath.”

“She’s been known to dent cast iron skillets on the heads of her kinsmen who have been dumb enough to make her angry,” Dwalin shared, rubbing his own head while Fili and Kili did the same to their own.

“That is one dwarrowdam I would like to meet,” the shape shifter chuckled.

“You may have a chance when the caravan from Ered Luin get here once Erebor is ours,” Fili said, grinning as he did so. “I know Mum will want to meet those who helped us so you can probably expect to have her stop by. I’d keep an eye on the honey though; she’s got a sweet tooth and is known to hoard honey whenever she can.”

“I hope she does stop by and if she does, I will give her a supply of honey to last her a while,” their host replied, looking pleased.

The conversation went on from there, enjoying the more relaxed atmosphere that had emerged when the news of Hawthorn being free from the fever had been shared. All of them had been worried for the hobbit, and now it was a simple matter of allowing her a chance to rest and recover. Each hoped she would wake soon to help ease the last remnants of worry.

Over the next few days, Hawthorn would wake long enough to drink broth and tea before taking the herbal remedies Oin provide to help her recover from her injury. The periods of wakefulness were slowly becoming longer, and the ones who sat by her bedside were always pleased to see her blue eyes open.

Balin looked up from a book he’d borrowed from his host when he heard the soft sounds of the hobbit lass stirring. He smiled, watching as she rubbed her eyes before focusing on him.

“Balin?”

“It’s good to see you awake,” he said, helping her sit up a little and giving her water to drink. “You’ve more color to your cheeks which is very encouraging.”

“I’m still tired but feel a bit stronger,” she admitted, sipping the water.

“You will be tired for a while; you were rather ill for several days and healing an injury besides. That’s no easy thing considering how badly you were wounded,” the adviser told her. “Now, are you feeling clear minded or still too tired to focus?”

“Clear minded for once,” Hawthorn replied, passing him the now empty cup. “Is there something on your mind?”

“There is, and it’s rather important or I would wait until later to speak of this with you,” Balin said quietly. “You know I explained courtships but did not go further into how they end?”

“You said you would explain the traditions around betrothal and what follows that once it becomes closer to time,” she answered, tilting her head slightly to watch the dwarf.

“The time for that explanation has come, lass, and I need to know if you feel well enough to hear me out?”

At her nod, Balin began the explanation that he and Oin had been waiting to give. They had agreed that if either of them was in the room when she woke and was clear minded enough to listen then they would be the one to explain this to her.

“Normally, a courtship is ended when both parties feel that they have gotten to know each other enough to recognize that a life together is what they want. One will present a proposal to the other and if it is accepted, the betrothal ceremony will be held. This is usually the method used for such a thing, but there is another way to end a courtship in a less formal way than a proposal.

“This is done by declaring, before witnesses, that the partner belongs to the one making this declaration and publicly acknowledges that the belonging is mutual due to both belonging to each other. This becomes a more serious proposal when it is accompanied by an act of selfless love.”

Hawthorn blinked several times, realizing why Balin had brought this up.

“I did that, didn’t I? By protecting him and acknowledging that we belong to each other, I essentially proposed to him while on the cliff.”

“You did, but there is something you should know. Thorin is aware that you had no idea what your actions mean to our people and is willing to allow the courtship to remain unchanged should you deem yourself not ready for a betrothal,” Balin told her.

She was silent for several long moments, and the adviser remained quiet as well to allow her the chance to think about what he’d shared with her. Even though it was against tradition, Balin agreed with Thorin’s offer to allow Hawthorn’s actions to be overlooked for now since the courtship was so new and the lass hadn’t known that there could be more seen into what she had done against Azog than what she had intended.

“Thorin’s people are to be my people,” the hobbit murmured, voice quiet. “I’ve been adopted into a dwarrow family and am happy with that. If I’m to live and be a part of the community in Erebor, then I need to follow the traditions that Mahal bestowed upon His children. I may not have known what my actions would cause, but I will follow them just the same. I spoke the truth when I said he is mine and I am his. He is my cariad, and I will not ignore the other half of my soul.”

Balin gave her a proud look, feeling his throat tighten with emotion. She would make a remarkable queen because she was so determined to do right by the people of her soulmate. Mahal and Yavanna had truly blessed his king, and he knew that Thorin was appreciative of this blessing.

“I’ll pass your answer on to Thorin and your family,” he told her, going on to describe the betrothal ceremony and what she could expect to happen after it had been concluded.

Hawthorn listened to his words, acknowledging what would happen before leaving Beorn’s, and she also asked about the traditions around weddings for the dwarrow. She had no desire to unknowingly do something that could change things further for her and Thorin, and she also wanted to be prepared for what would be coming once Erebor was reclaimed.

After Balin had answered all of her questions, the adviser left the room to find Thorin and inform him of the hobbit’s decision regarding the betrothal. The king-in-exile entered the bedroom a short while later, approaching the bed and placing a soft kiss on her cheek before taking a seat on the chair.

“Balin told you about my decision,” she asked, watching him carefully.

“He did,” the dwarf replied. “I had hoped you would agree to this but wanted to ensure your wishes were carried out if you felt you were not ready for this step. I want your happiness, Hawthorn, and I would give anything to see to it that everything goes in such a way so I can help you obtain your heart’s desires.”

“When you told Balin that you would not hold my actions as a betrothal if I asked for that, you proved that you have placed my happiness and well-being over your own. That means a great deal to me, Thorin.”

“You are my One,” he said quietly. “You are the other half of my heart and soul; I would sooner be shorn of my beard and braids than to do anything that would cause you pain or grief.”

“As you are my cariad, I must go forward and do all I can to aid you and your people,” Hawthorn told him. “They will be ours to tend to, and I want nothing more than to be accepted by them as I have by my adopted family and the company. This means doing the right thing and following your traditions.”

Her voice trailed off as he reached out, taking her hand in his, and it took a moment to admit the reason that had just entered her thoughts. Her voice was soft, and there was a blush that rose in her cheeks as she shared the final reason for accepting this.

“There’s also the fact that this makes for a more romantic approach to our betrothal, and it will be a story to share with others as time passes,” the hobbit admitted.

Thorin pressed a kiss to the back of her hand, and he smiled at her. His heart felt so full at that moment in time, and he was silently sending prayers of gratitude to every Valar that might have had a hand in ensuring this beautiful lass was his.

“You should write it down so that the story can be read by dwarrow in the future so they will know of the incredible actions the Queen of Erebor took to protect her One and begin to bind him to her,” he answered, smiling even wider as the blush in her cheeks burned even darker.

Author’s End Note - Thorin, you are a bit more romantic than you think! He always surprises me when I’m focusing on his character during a chapter! I hope everyone enjoyed it. Thank you for reading; please let me know what you think of it. See everyone next chapter! ~ Laran
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Mending the Broken Pieces