Bilbo watched, discreetly from the kitchen doorway, as Thorin sat by the fire, gently flipping the pages of Bilbo’s manuscript. It was but a rough draft, really, but Thorin treated it tenderly, almost reverently. It warmed something in the old Hobbit’s heart.
But Bilbo wasn’t totally believing the scene before him.
“What do you think?” Bilbo asked softly.
Thorin looked up and smiled. “It’s very good, ghivashel.”
“Thank you.”
“Truly a masterpiece.”
“You think so?”
“Of course!”
Bilbo nodded slowly. “You didn’t read it, did you?”
Thorin blinked a few times and gaping at Bilbo. “Why would you–“
“Not a single word.”
Thorin’s cheeks turned a shade darker and he looked into the hearth as if willing the flames to give him strength. Or help. “Are you saying I’m a liar?!”
Bilbo walked over to Thorin’s chair and ran a hand over his Dwarf’s silvered-haired head; the hair still thick and luxurious, simply braided. He loved Thorin so very much and while this conversation was not easy to have, it had to be done.
“You can’t see, can you?”
Thorin didn’t not move, nor did he speak. He sat still and continued to stare into the flames. “I am not blind!”
“No. Perhaps not. But you can’t see clearly. How long has it been?”
Thorin took several, slow breaths before his shoulders finally relaxed and he deflated, leaning back a bit into his chair. “More months than I can count.” He turned sad eyes to his partner, his husband, his love. “How did you know?”
Bilbo smiled in his own sadness. “I know you well, my love.”
Thorin nodded, conceding that fact. “I’d hoped it was … temporary. Maybe … an illness or something. I tried to even tell myself it was a trick of the mind.” Thorin’s voice grew very small. “But I am just an old fool.”
Bilbo hated hearing Thorin talk in such a way. But it all had to be said and, truly, Bilbo hoped his gift would mark an improvement. He prayed it would anyway.
“I have something for you.” From his waistcoat pocket, Bilbo pulled out a oblong, wooden box, slightly bigger than his hand. it was decorated with vines and leaves; clearly Elvish. “It’s from Elrond.”
“Why would he send me something?”
“I wrote him. Asked his advice.”
“About … my sight?”
Bilbo nodded. “He sent these.”
Thorin took the box and opened it. Inside where delicate, curved discs of glass, held in thin bands of sturdy metal, and obviously made to used in front of one’s eyes. “What in the name of–”
“He calls them …” Bilbo removed a letter from his other pocket. “Spectacles. You are to place them on the bridge of you nose and squeeze the sides. They should stay in place.”
Thorin did as he was told and, while everything in the distance became blurry, when looked down at Bilbo’s book, the words were clear and readable. He gasped at the changed.
“May I assume you can see?” Bilbo teased? Both amused and elated that the little worked. Thank Elrond and all the Valar.
Thorin nodded, his eyes wide, as he began to read the words before him.
“I’ll … make some tea,” Bilbo said, really just wanting to let Thorin be.
Thorin nodded again, lost in Bilbo’s world or words that he could now be a part of.
Bootsrcool 