I am well aware that I am a bad person who hasn't updated in about a year. Getting caught up in school and preparing to college will do that. I am truly sorry. But here is the next chapter.

When Thorin woke, he very nearly scared the living daylights out of the elf tending him. The elf absentmindedly changing and cleaning a bandage on the king's arm, for with all his injuries it was unlikely the dwarf would survive. Even now there was barely any movement of the dwarf's chest to signify he still breathed. Several times the elf had to check for a pulse when he hadn't seen him breathe for several minutes. But the pulse was always there, sometimes weak, and sometimes very strong. However the last time he checked, it was barely there, and the elf was certain the dwarf was truly gone this time.

And so when a low voice rumbled out, clear and strong, "Why are you touching me, elf," the elf was understandably shocked. He froze still as one of the stone trolls that now resided permanently in the land between Bree and Rivendell. "Dear Elbereth, take me now, to be caught off guard by a dying dwarf of all creatures!" he thought.

He unfroze and turned his head to meet the intense gaze of the dwarf king. Well, it was as intense as one could be when swamped in bandages. "I am attending to your injuries," he replied evenly.

"And a dwarf cannot do exactly what you are doing?"

At this the elf stood up and left the tent. "Thorin Oakenshield has awakened," he announced to those waiting outside.

Gladdened by this news, in rushed the dwarves of the company who were not badly injured, followed calmly by Gandalf, whose arm was in a sling. Bilbo had been nowhere to be seen after the battle ended, and was currently unaccounted for.

"Don't crowd him! He has come back from death's door, at least give him space to draw a breath!" Gandalf scolded. The dwarfs took a step back, but still anxiously climbing over each other to determine if their king had truly returned from almost certain death.

"It is all fine, I am fine," Thorin reassured them, sitting himself up while Oin checked over the bandages. He still kept a firm hold on Daisy's hand, unwilling to lose touch.

Gandalf eyed Thorin suspiciously as the dwarves expressed their relief at his recovery. "You should not be this well, Thorin Oakenshield, even accounting for the skill of the elves," he said gruffly, peering down at him from under his thick eyebrows.

"What of it?" Thorin replied defensively with a glare to match the wizard's frown, pulling Daisy's hand slightly closer to himself.

This brought Gandalf's attention to the hobbit lying on a mat beside the dwarf. "By the Valar!" he swore, rushing to her side as quickly as he could while weaving between the dwarves that crowded the tent. Her face was ashen and thin, and her blonde curls hung dull and limp around her face. It was impossible to tell if she was breathing or not.

"Thorin! Drop her hand! You're killing her!" Balin gasped, grabbing the king's arm. Thorin, shocked by his friend's statement, did as told.

"What do you mean, killing her?" Gloin asked.

"It's just hand holding, not exactly what you'd call deadly," Bofur added.

"She's his Marked, remember? When the king is in trouble, there have been records of a king's Marked giving some of their health to allow him to get better, or in this case, heal. It is done through touch, and I take you two have been holding hands like that long enough. She probably doesn't even realize she's doing it," Balin explained.

"Will she live?" Thorin asked horrified at what he had unknowingly done.

"It is impossible to say," Gandalf said, straightening up from examining her. "But the elves will know better than I," he added, pulling his cloak around him and sweeping out of the tent.

"Oin, go look at Daisy," Thorin ordered once Gandalf had left. Oin shuffled over to the girl. He checked for breathing, and a heartbeat, and to the surprise of the others, he even lifted up her eyelid to look at her eyes. She had no major injuries, only a few scrapes that didn't even require a bandage.

"Her heart and breath are faint, only the elves can help, if anyone can," he reported to Thorin, albeit a little louder than necessary.

Thorin groaned, it was the last thing he wanted to hear.

Gandalf returned shortly with several elves in tow. They were quick to gather around the hobbit, and herded the company of dwarfs out of the tent. Thorin was slightly annoyed as they began some chant or song in their language, but knew it was for Daisy's benefit.

"What is going on? Will she recover?" Thorin asked when they stopped and began to file out of the tent.

The last elf turned around to Thorin, a look of pity on his face. "There is not much we can do for her," he said. "We cannot tell what is wrong, only that she appears to simply lack energy, any life. All we can recommend is that she rest to regain it."

Thorin lay back down (for he was still not allowed to get up even though he felt fine) with a growl and curled his fists in frustration. Daisy had to live, she just had to! But then he thought- what if he could give back what she had unknowingly given him?

Thorin rolled over, but hesitated a moment before taking her hand lying on the floor beside him. He didn't want to do any further harm to her. But he would never be able to live with himself if she died and he didn't at least try.

Feeling rather foolish, he grabbed her hand, and nothing happened. He thought for a moment, and then, feeling even more foolish, whispered in the secret language of the dwarves, "I give you my life."

The change, while not immediate was fast. First her breathing evened out to the point where she took deep, strong breaths; Thorin only felt lightheaded. And then the color returned to her white cheeks; Thorin himself was feeling quite weakened.

Satisfied that she was sleeping well, he released her hand, and with a smile he used what was left of his strength to roll back over onto his mat.