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It’d been a wretched day, and it didn’t seem about to get any better. The sky was overcast, just dripping like the faucet in his kitchen these days, but enough to make the air humid and his walk home miserable.
William pulled his paper above his head and grimaced when the ink slid like grease against his fingers. Just what he needed. Of all the days to forget his umbrella, of course it had to be today. Couldn’t have been yesterday, when the sudden rainstorm had lasted all of five minutes and had been gone by the time he’d left the office. No, it had to be today, where he’d gotten as far as the bus before it had started drizzling.
The crowd was getting thicker, and every now and then someone taller than him walked past him, offering him a brief moment of reprieve with their umbrellas before they moved on. Someone pushed past him and jostled his arm, and with it, his makeshift umbrella. He tightened his fingers into the greasy feeling paper and continued on. All he had to do was make it to the Tube and he’d be fine. He could take it to his stop, get in the bus, walk home, maybe get some sleep for once if he actually could without dreaming…
The rain started coming down harder. People began to move quicker, running as much as they could, only pushing him around all the more. “Come on,” William muttered. His satchel bag was tugged further up onto his shoulder, and he knew he should stop and actually put it across him instead of just hanging it over his shoulder, but he didn’t have the time. Not when he could see the entrance to the Tube right there, and he could make it. The crosswalk sign came on, and he began walking with everyone else, bracing himself for the crowd that was about to hit.
Push, push, shove, duck under the large and awkward umbrella that nearly took his head off, thank you very much, keep walking, shove, push, shove-
The minute his shoulder collided with the other man’s, it was as if every one of his dreams had come true. Literally. He froze a few steps away, the crowd still moving him along. He was there on the street, a multitude of people around him, all of them talking on cell phones while cars moved around him.
But in his mind, William was somewhere else.
Green trees and the Gamgees waving hello, off across the Misty Mountains with the dwarves, Mirkwood, Smaug the dragon and Erebor, beautiful Erebor that will be home but not yet, not when blue eyes are glaring in hatred. Banished, cast out, his pin gone.
Walking along the river. Racing across the empty Wold. Rohan, the King and friend who died too soon, the boisterous dwarf brothers, running along the White Mountains, the gleaming citadel and pride of Gondor replaced with torn hands and black rocks. Running in the dark, stumbling out of the spider cavern, trying to cross Mordor, the orcs, running for his life, the Ring, that horrible Ring.
Blue eyes adoring him. Loving him. Dark hair with a crown, fearsome braids that his own fingers put in every time they get mussed, and they get mussed a lot when his husband keeps insisting on playing with Fili and Dernwyn’s children like he’s Kili or something, and
Abdicating. Going to the Shire. The last days there as the ankle gets worse and worse until even the warmth does it no good. Arwen’s visit. The painful goodbye.
Going west, hands together as they leave behind their family who insisted on coming to see them off. Feeling the years, the aches and pains, all fade away as they go West to Aman. Holding hands, sharing kisses as they go together, him-
And Thorin.
William was going to faint, and that would be just like him, wouldn’t it? Dwarf comes into his life, and he faints. At least there wouldn’t be a dragon this time, right?
Dwarf. Thorin.
William spun around. His eyes desperately began searching everywhere for the person he’d bumped into, trying to recall who it was he’d bumped into. Dark hair, a bit of a beard, perhaps. His head had been tucked down, but he’d been a bit taller. Maybe…maybe there’d been a hint of blue eyes.
“Thorin?” he called over the crowd. No one answered, except the honking of a car off in the street. The crowd was still moving, and he found himself pushed up onto the street. He tried to look behind him, casting his gaze this way and that. He had to be here, it had to have been Thorin.
“Thorin!” he shouted and tried to head back. But he was too close to the Tube’s entrance to not get caught up in it. He shouted and shoved back, trying to get back to the street. There, right there, a glint of blue eyes staring at him, and he had to get back!
He’d spent so long alone with those dreams, dreams of a different life, and damn if he was going to spend his life alone when the only man he’d ever loved, the only man he’d ever wanted or needed, was actually here.
But before he knew it, he was onto the escalator down, and there were too many people glaring at him when he tried to get back up. William crossed his arms and realized his hair was hanging in his face. He was drenched, or just about; somehow, he’d ignored and forgotten about the rain. His paper was gone, missing somehow, but his book bag was still hanging from his shoulder. He hefted it up without any enthusiasm and tried to look over the people coming down behind him. There were no blue eyes anywhere.
Distraught, he clenched his fists and kept his eyes on the bottom. The stairs, he could take the stairs back up and try to find him. Thorin was there, and he just had to get to him. He took a deep breath, and then a second and third when the first did nothing to calm him. He felt like a mess of nerves, jittery and more anxious than he’d been when he’d nearly been run over that bus last year, and really, that’s what his mind was thinking about when his dwarf, his king, his husband was back up there, somewhere, on the street?
Maybe he’s not coming for you because he wants nothing to do with you, his mind whispered, and William tried to push past the thoughts. His relationship with Marcus had done absolute wonders for his self-esteem, and now his mind seemed to taunt him at every corner.
But this wasn’t Marcus. This was why he’d finally cut the man out of his life, because Marcus hadn’t been anything he’d needed. Marcus had cut him down, worn him into the ground, then had tried to foist the blame onto William. And all along, it hadn’t filled the void in William’s heart.
And now, now he knew why. His mother had called it ‘self-preservation’ once, before she’d died, but William knew why. It was because his husband had still been out there, somewhere and he just needed the escalator to move-
Finally, he reached the bottom. He immediately pushed past the crowd and raced up the stairs, taking them two at a time and feeling his shoes skid on the wet stairs the higher he got. Finally he was at street level, panting for air. He just needed to get back to where Thorin was going. Maybe the bus stop, and he could see one arriving on the other street corner now. He could make it. He popped himself up onto the tips of his toes to try and find that familiar face, the dark head of hair. He’d been wearing a coat, he thought, and he immediately berated himself again. You idiot, of COURSE he was wearing a coat, it’s raining out, and the only moron who didn’t catch that note this morning was you.
Someone caught his shoulder too roughly in their haste to make it down to the Tube in time, and his satchel flew off his shoulder. The worn clasp gave, and his papers and files flew across the street. People gave him a wide berth now as he frantically tried to catch papers as they hit the wet ground. He didn’t care, he’d dry them out later, but he had to move, had to run before the bus-
The bus, the one that was pulling away. Even now, it turned away, merrily heading down the road. William knelt on the wet pavement and watched it go. He could’ve walked, his mind supplied, helpful and kind for once, but if Thorin had gone to the right around the corner, there were a dozen shops or cabs he could’ve been in, and maybe…
Maybe he hadn’t even recognized William. His hair wasn’t curly or honey-blonde anymore, but straight and a light, light blonde if someone was being kind, silver and old if they weren’t. He miserably looked at the papers around him, getting further soaked as the rain continued to beat down. He could barely see the bus anymore, as swift as the rain was pouring, and he slowly turned back to the sheets scattered everywhere. A random passerby offered him one that had gone too far, and he gave her a nod before she scurried off.
Gone. Thorin was gone. He’d had a chance, and as usual, he’d botched it. His eyes burned and he bit his lip viciously to keep them at bay. William Badge, crying in the middle of the street like a child, looking like a wet rat, letting the love of his life disappear. He wondered what his mother would say if she could see him now.
His mother. Oh god, she hadn’t changed a bit, from one life to the next. His heart ached for her again. Maybe he’d go down to the cemetery today and talk with her for a bit. Tell her about all the advances in cancer research they were making these days. She’d like that: it’d been one of her final requests to her family, after all. It’d been too late for her, but she’d demanded they keep supporting the cause to save another family the pain they’d all gone through with her.
Thinking about her was just making his mood worse. He caught a soggy paper – absolutely ruined, of course – and shoved it into his satchel. The next paper was handed to him by another passerby. He gave a nod of thanks and pushed it into his bag. He was going home and curling up on his favorite chair with his mother’s quilt, and he was fairly certain he was going to sit and cry into his cup of tea, but that was his business and his alone.
He wondered where the hell his courage as Bilbo Baggins had gone. He could’ve used some. Maybe it’d been a hobbit thing.
Another paper was handed to him by yet another kind Samaritan. “Thanks,” he offered, pushing it deep into the bag. He couldn’t help but glance behind him into the crowd. No dark hair, no dark coat. No blue eyes.
He’s long gone, and probably always will be. If that was even Thorin.
“You’re welcome.”
William froze. That voice. That voice.
When he finally got the courage up to turn back, blue eyes watched him, hope in their depths. “It is you,” the deep voice said, relieved. “I’d thought I’d missed you, that you’d gotten on the Tube.”
“No, I, I came back up,” William said, swallowing when his voice seemed clogged in his throat. “Trying to find you.”
Familiar lips turned up into an even more familiar smile. Despite the shorter hair and the less than thick beard, it was still unmistakably Thorin. Even when they both stood, Thorin was taller than him and managed to hold a regal bearing. He always had.
“God I’d hoped it was you,” Thorin murmured.
William dropped the entire satchel and flew into the embrace Thorin opened without even hesitating. He clutched at Thorin as tightly as Thorin held onto him. The rain was sliding down the back of William’s shirt, leaving him chilled, but Thorin’s arms were warm and welcome, so welcome, and fresh tears welled in his eyes.
It was Thorin, and he was home.
They finally parted, eyes immediately seeking each other. Thorin gave a grin. “I don’t suppose it’s still ‘Bilbo’, is it?” he asked.
William let out a wet laugh. “No, it’s…it’s William. Though some of my friends still try and call me Bill every now and then.”
“William,” Thorin tried out, and god, he didn’t think he’d ever loved his name so much as when it was on Thorin’s tongue. How the man managed it, William didn’t know.
Thorin gave a small nod that looked like a bow. “Thedric, at your service.”
William’s mother had had a cousin named Thedric, some distant relation of William’s he hadn’t seen since the funeral. ‘People’s ruler’, it meant, or so he’d been haughtily told. He hadn’t owned the name, and it hadn’t really fit on a short and pudgy child. But…it fit on this man, this beautiful man that William hadn’t known he’d been missing until it’d been given and taken from him so suddenly in one afternoon.
“I missed you,” he said without thinking, then felt absolutely foolish. He shouldn’t be foolish, not now, not when this was his husband before him, but…times changed. Perhaps Thorin – Thedric – didn’t feel the same.
But Thedric began to smile. “And I you,” he murmured, and he bent down to rest his forehead against William’s. William gave a soft sigh. “Beloved,” Thedric whispered, and William was fairly certain he was going to cry again for the third time in the middle of the street where they were being passed by as two odd sorts in the middle of a rainstorm.
“Do you have an umbrella?” William asked randomly, and Thedric laughed as if it were the funniest joke he’d ever heard.
“I don’t, no. And the dryer’s out at my place, so I’ll have no towels to dry off with, either. Going to be a long, wet ride all the way out of the city.”
“Lucky for you, I’m in the city, and I have plenty of towels,” William said, feeling cheeky and courageous. “Good thing you bumped into me, eh?”
“The best thing ever,” Thedric swore. He leaned in and pressed the softest of kisses to William’s lips. It was wet from the rain and a bit cold, and yet, it was still the greatest kiss he’d ever been given. It was full of promise and a love that had somehow gone from Middle-Earth to modern day England.
He reached out for Thedric’s hand and soon found it entangled with his. His satchel was picked up by Thedric and hung over one shoulder to rest against his opposite side; the appropriate way to carry it, of course, and he was treating it as if it were his own. He didn’t seem to mind that the satchel was dirty and wet. Of course, the both of them were dirty and wet, and beads of water glistened in Thedric’s beard.
Together they headed back down the escalator, hands still intertwined with one another. It felt much as the journey West had: holding hands as they’d started another adventure together.
Perhaps they’d begun another one, just now. He squeezed Thedric’s hand and got a replying squeeze in return. When he glanced up, Thedric was smiling at him, just as he had the day they’d been reunited in Gondor after the long journey with the Ring. Like he couldn’t believe it was real, and William knew the feeling.
But it was real: somehow, he’d found Thorin again. Or perhaps Thorin had found him.
He didn’t know, nor did he care. All he cared about was that they were here, together, another chance to spend a lifetime together.
“I’ve got a tea I think you’ll like; you always did like raspberries.”
“It sounds perfect.”
William smiled.
End