Disclaimer: The Hobbit, all characters, places, and related terms are the sole property of J. R. R. Tolkien's estate, and Warner Brothers, New Line Cinema, Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer, and WingNut Films.

Author's Note: Fill for a prompt on the hobbit-kink meme.

Dedicated: For Ballykissangel.

A King's Arms

"See, lads? It is not so bad."

Between Balin's reassuring, calming tone from his place in his barrel and Thorin's commanding nod, the dwarves grudgingly get into the barrels bobbing in the water.

"That's it, Master Gloin. Watch yo—"

It is the nearly simultaneous incidents of Bilbo suddenly breaking off mid-sentence and Ori's startled yelp which interrupt Thorin's intense study of the water before him. The dwarf whips about in time to see the scribe catch the limp hobbit and then ease him down carefully to the ground.

For an instant there is a chorus of worried cries and exclamations. In the next moment the group's voices drop to a hushed murmur at a warning wave from their king – they are breaking out, and the situation is perilous. Thorin reaches Ori and Bilbo a second after Oin, dropping to one knee to see better.

"He's out cold," Ori whispers, his face pale with worry, "and...and so light." He holds up a thin wrist.

And Thorin does now see: the deep lines in the Halfling's face, the almost white skin, and the frighteningly thinner than normal frame. How had he not noticed, failed to at least inquire after the hobbit's well-being before? An explosive breath escapes him and he presses his lips into a firm line. It is overhearing the low, fierce debate going on behind him concerning whether the burglar should or shouldn't be put in a barrel by himself which spurs Thorin into action.

"I shall take our burglar," Thorin says, standing and facing the others. To his surprise (and yet not) Bombur, Bofur, Bifur, Dwalin, and Balin all level hard looks at him. Time is of the essence, so the only thing Thorin can do, meeting each look in turn, is promise solemnly, "I will take care of him."

Sparing just an instant to see Ori and Oin together are lifting Bilbo, the dwarf climbs into a barrel with Dwalin's assistance. Once he is in, his uneasiness of water comes rushing back; forcibly he pushes it away. Not now. There is a moment where it is uncertain if he and Bilbo will manage to both fit, but they do (and Thorin swallows the rising guilt and anger at it all because they should not).

Then there is a rush of water from above, sending the barrels racing down the river. Shortly after shouts are heard, elves are seen through the trees pursuing them, and arrows fly through the air towards the dwarves. Thorin curls himself around the unconscious hobbit to protect him as best he can from the fray.

It is peaceful, with the crackling campfire filling the quiet. The tension and fear from the dwarves' long, wild, wet ride is now faded, only a concern for their hobbit lingering. Guilt and shame are there, too; what Oin had learned from everyone regarding the amount of rest and food (and lack thereof) Bilbo had gotten during the weeks he wandered the dungeons had made him growl, while the others scowled and blushed at failing their burglar.

A shifting from the bundle of few dry cloaks in his lap snaps Thorin out of his brooding thoughts, and he drags his gaze from the fire to look hopefully at the stirring hobbit cradled in his arms like a dwarfling. Bilbo blinks once, twice, gaze trying to focus. The dwarf's smile slips at the panic that shines in the hobbit's eyes when they open a third time. The smaller creature starts squirming.

"Bilbo," the dwarf calls quietly. Green eyes fasten onto his blue ones.

"Thorin?" Bilbo's voice comes out weak and frightened.

"It is me," he tries to reassure him.

"What happened…?"

"You collapsed on us, giving us quite a fright. Oin says you were exhausted, not taking proper care of yourself."

Bilbo follows this with a confused frown. His eyes widen, the panic flaring up even more in them, and gazes wildly about. "The others," he rasps.

"Safe. All of us are safe, thanks to you, Bilbo Baggins."

Something twists in the pit of Thorin's stomach when Bilbo's expression remains scared and unsure. Gently, he shifts the hobbit up so that he is leaning against the dwarf's broad chest.

"We are all here. See, there's Gloin. And over there Fili and Kili…," Thorin identifies each of their company with a pointing finger.

Overwhelming relief washes over the dwarven king as he finally senses the creature start to relax, Bilbo's fear completely fading when the five members of his adopted family – yes, family, Thorin silently accepts – one by one come to check on their burglar with promising words, fond silences, and comforting touches. The hobbit smiles when Dwalin and Bofur carefully touch their foreheads to his, and Thorin knows the little one will be all right.

"Sleep," he urges when the Halfling yawns widely. "You are safe, and shall soon be well. We're going to look after you."

The hobbit is asleep before Thorin even finishes speaking, snuggling into the warmth the dwarf provides. The king blinks at this display of simple trust. He is aware that even after everything that has happened and having earned his acceptance, he has not gone out of his way to befriend Bilbo. Eyes flashing, Thorin carefully holds the Halfling closer, and silently promises he shall do better his part in caring for little Bilbo Baggins from now on.

THE END