[ Now that tenacity wavers. It's not the returned grip, but instead the shift and his mouth goes lax, parting marginally as his hand is held to that broad chest. Bilbo does forget at times that they aren't alone. Sometimes it feels as though they're in a world all their own, when they allow their barriers to drop for one another, but there's clearly the sounds of meandering dwarves about and Bilbo, despite how he wishes he didn't, remembers soon enough. Still, that awareness and slow seeping awkwardness doesn't have him pulling his hand back, instead it merely acts as an urge to drop his gaze and chew on his bottom lip, just for a moment, before braving a glance to Thorin's face.
Habit has him wanting to lessen the burden by offering encouragements, that Gandalf might be wrong, that they might find his father alive, that Thorin might not be too late after all. But while Gandalf does have his ulterior motives that have him twisting facts to spur on certain actions by the rest of them, Bilbo doesn't see what there would be the gain from coaxing them into going there. Thráin is dead, Bilbo feels as though that's a certainty and any encouragement he could offer would be empty, even unkind. So he merely nods along, faintly and briefly, and then stills, gaze falling back to Thorin's chest.
There's so much history there. So many details that Bilbo doesn't know surrounding Thráin's disappearance. But if Bilbo knows anything, it's of Thorin's determination and his unwillingness to quit once he's set his mind to a goal. Those years of searching... Bilbo cannot fully imagine how hard Thorin must have searched and toiled, the amount of energy he would have put into salvaging a missing piece of his broken family far too extensive to truly measure. It makes Bilbo ache. And worry, just a little. Because he thinks there's a great deal of significance to that this close. Regret, maybe even guilt?
A breath in, a breath out and then he retracts his hand, letting it swing back down to his side. ] You were doing right by your people. You couldn't have known how close... [ He trails off, his nose twitching and lips pressing tight together for a momentary frown, only for everything to relax once more with a shake of his head. Gaze up now and there's a look; he hopes he's wrong, that it's pure regret for a missed opportunity, rather than a guilt born from the idea of needing to have done more. He thinks he knows Thorin though, so— ] Whatever it is you're thinking... it isn't your fault. [ Being blind to the chance doesn't diminish the fact that Thorin tried. He cared enough, loved his father enough to never entirely give up hope; that's worth something, even if the end result isn't what was sought. ]
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Habit has him wanting to lessen the burden by offering encouragements, that Gandalf might be wrong, that they might find his father alive, that Thorin might not be too late after all. But while Gandalf does have his ulterior motives that have him twisting facts to spur on certain actions by the rest of them, Bilbo doesn't see what there would be the gain from coaxing them into going there. Thráin is dead, Bilbo feels as though that's a certainty and any encouragement he could offer would be empty, even unkind. So he merely nods along, faintly and briefly, and then stills, gaze falling back to Thorin's chest.
There's so much history there. So many details that Bilbo doesn't know surrounding Thráin's disappearance. But if Bilbo knows anything, it's of Thorin's determination and his unwillingness to quit once he's set his mind to a goal. Those years of searching... Bilbo cannot fully imagine how hard Thorin must have searched and toiled, the amount of energy he would have put into salvaging a missing piece of his broken family far too extensive to truly measure. It makes Bilbo ache. And worry, just a little. Because he thinks there's a great deal of significance to that this close. Regret, maybe even guilt?
A breath in, a breath out and then he retracts his hand, letting it swing back down to his side. ] You were doing right by your people. You couldn't have known how close... [ He trails off, his nose twitching and lips pressing tight together for a momentary frown, only for everything to relax once more with a shake of his head. Gaze up now and there's a look; he hopes he's wrong, that it's pure regret for a missed opportunity, rather than a guilt born from the idea of needing to have done more. He thinks he knows Thorin though, so— ] Whatever it is you're thinking... it isn't your fault. [ Being blind to the chance doesn't diminish the fact that Thorin tried. He cared enough, loved his father enough to never entirely give up hope; that's worth something, even if the end result isn't what was sought. ]