[ Thorin has carried heavy burdens for most of his life, of both literal and metaphorical kinds, but never unwillingly, and always proudly. Not so much for his own sake as for his people, and especially for Durin's line, with an unshakeable sort of faith. Despite how many defeats they suffered and how many losses were to be endured, he has always known the true heart of his people. He's never doubted their place in the world. Their value. To say that he's left certain personal concerns by the wayside in favor of the larger perspective would be something of an understatement. This is... not entirely personal, but very nearly so. He remembers in uncomfortable detail how Gandalf described his father at their last meeting - aged even beyond his years, half-crazed and delirious, and now truly lost to them.
He would never be in any state to rule - that possibility had been lost long ago - and their people need a king. Thorin is aware that a balance between honor, loyalty, and duty - between his family and his people - must be struck here. There is no room for selfish sacrifices, and he knows that, too.
Thorin has never asked for, nor wanted pity, and he does not find it in Bilbo's face here. There is only an understanding, and unhesitating support. A fleeting glance of something close to surprise crosses his own face as Bilbo reaches for his hand - it's a different gesture from the shoulder clasp that anyone else might have given him - but the warm, steady grip is unexpectedly reassuring. He wasn't asking for this, but it's offered freely, insistently, and he's very clearly moved by the gesture.
He returns it with a firm grip of his own, not at all caring if anyone happens to see him lift that hand to press it to his chest, briefly but significantly. He doesn't intend to hold onto it too long, though, unless Bilbo insists otherwise. ]
Gandalf found him, while we were floundering around in this wretched forest. This after he tried to convince me months prior that he was dead, but I knew that he still lived. After all those years of searching, I was this close. [ He shakes his head, frowning. ] The wizard says he could not have survived. I cannot believe that until I see it for myself.
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He would never be in any state to rule - that possibility had been lost long ago - and their people need a king. Thorin is aware that a balance between honor, loyalty, and duty - between his family and his people - must be struck here. There is no room for selfish sacrifices, and he knows that, too.
Thorin has never asked for, nor wanted pity, and he does not find it in Bilbo's face here. There is only an understanding, and unhesitating support. A fleeting glance of something close to surprise crosses his own face as Bilbo reaches for his hand - it's a different gesture from the shoulder clasp that anyone else might have given him - but the warm, steady grip is unexpectedly reassuring. He wasn't asking for this, but it's offered freely, insistently, and he's very clearly moved by the gesture.
He returns it with a firm grip of his own, not at all caring if anyone happens to see him lift that hand to press it to his chest, briefly but significantly. He doesn't intend to hold onto it too long, though, unless Bilbo insists otherwise. ]
Gandalf found him, while we were floundering around in this wretched forest. This after he tried to convince me months prior that he was dead, but I knew that he still lived. After all those years of searching, I was this close. [ He shakes his head, frowning. ] The wizard says he could not have survived. I cannot believe that until I see it for myself.