An Ode to Broken Things
“Thorin, I have a weak heart. It has trouble pumping enough blood through my body. That’s why I’m always so low on energy. And…” Bilbo swallowed, forcibly keeping his eyes on the flickering flames. Thorin wasn’t moving by his side. “And it’s failing. There are healers in Greenwood who have gifts for mending hearts, but there isn’t much chance it will work. I haven’t been very responsive to any other methods, and… Well… I don’t have very long.” Bilbo dropped his eyes to his hands. He’d ripped the four-leaf clover Bofur had given him. It seemed horribly symbolic of his life.
Headed to Greenwood to see the healer Thranduil, Bilbo Baggins and Gandalf the Grey hitch a ride with thirteen dwarves headed to Erebor.
Bilbo had hoped it would be like the adventures he read. That there would be orcs, sword fights, torture, revenge, trolls, chases, or escapes.
He had never expected miracles or true love.