Disclaimer: The Hobbit, all characters, places, and related terms are the sole property of J.R.R. Tolkien's estate, and Warner Brothers, New Line Cinema, Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer, and WingNut Films.

Note to readers - I put this story aside a year ago at chapter 48. Once I decided to clean it up, I edited it (just to make it more readable - no plot changes) and I broke it up into many smaller chapters to make it easier to work on. So if this story is old to you, you will want to pick up at chapter 75.

The Halls of the Mountain Kings

It had taken nearly two years, but Bilbo Baggins had completely returned to the peaceful routine of the Shire. His home was refurbished, his pantry well stocked, and his garden appropriately planted. Or perhaps inappropriately planted, since he had brought back a few Elvish flowers he had admired, and Eastern vegetables that he had grown fond of during his journey across Middle-Earth. Yes, Bilbo was quite enjoying life in the Shire again.

That is what he told Gandalf the Grey, as Gandalf sat down for an after dinner pipe.

"Aren't you going to get that?" asked Gandalf.

"Get what?" replied Bilbo.

"There is a tapping on your door."

"I don't hear anything. Are you teasing me," Bilbo asked anxiously, "or is this an anticipated side-effect of multiple blows to the head? My physician warned me that damages from ill-advised adventures can take years to catch up and render me infirm."

Gandalf raised his hand and listened. "Oh, my. I did not expect this at all."

Gandalf rose from his comfortable seat in the great chair that Bilbo had prepared, and strode to the entrance. He opened the green door a crack, and then threw it open wide.

Bilbo peeked around Gandalf to see...nothing. Just the sky at dusk.

"I can't say that I am happy to see you, old friend." Gandalf spoke to the empty air.

Bilbo spoke up. "Gandalf? I don't see anyone."

"No, I am sure you can't. Bilbo, would you mind terrible inviting Thorin to come in and sit with us this evening?"

"Thorin, you mean..." sputtered Bilbo, "Thorin Oakenshield is out there?"

"His ghost, yes."

"No, I don't think I can. No, that's not quite. Hmmm, not to be rude, but I don't think that is a good idea at all."

Gandalf gave him an assuring smile, "Thorin could not harm you if he wanted to and believe me, he means you no harm. His business is with me, and if you do not mind, I would like to conduct it inside. Even ghosts enjoy the pleasure of a warm hearth in the evening."

(*************)

"So, is it a bad thing that Thorin's ghost is here?" Bilbo asked anxiously, once they were all seated. "Is he angry with me? I thought ghosts were supposed to... you know... move on."

Gandalf nodded and tugged on his pipe, perplexed, "They certainly are supposed to move on. I had thought Thorin was ready to depart, having set things right with so many, including you. It is not a good thing when spirits stay. What is that, Thorin? Oh, my, it is an even worse thing when they leave yet come back."

"Perhaps you and I need a drink, Bilbo," Gandalf suggested, "and I will translate for you."

"Should I pour one for Thorin, too?"

"I believe that would be a nice gesture. Make this seem a bit more ...normal."

Gandalf turned to an empty chair nearest the fire, and spoke to the not-so-empty air.

"Thorin, if you will tell your tale, I will speak it in echo, so that Bilbo will know what is said. He is our host, after all."

Gandalf turned to Bilbo and accepted the glass of port. "Thorin is pleased that you will hear his story."

Thorin's spirit sat in a chair and stared into Bilbo's fireplace. He smiled heartily as he began.

"The afterlife was everything we had been told, and more. I followed a river of ...stars... in the sky to the Dwarf Hall built by Mahal for his people. All of my ancestors were there, waiting for me, for this was the Hall of Heroes and Kings.

Because we had been Kings, or could have been Kings of our people, it was important for our souls to congregate in that place. It has been foretold that a King could rise again and resume his Kingship if needed to save his people in a time of great trouble. Whoever that King might be, he would need the strength and wisdom of all who had come before him, or after him. It was only through sharing of their knowledge that a perfect King of Dwarves could emerge.

I was happy there, reunited with my beloved father, Thrain, who had suffered so much in the captivity of Sauron. And my grandfather, Thror! I finally knew Thror in his prime, before gold sickness took hold of him. Oh, he was a magnificent warrior. My brother, Frerin, who had died so young in battle, was there. He could still make me laugh with his jokes and antics. It was a joyful reunion. Fili and Kili were with me, as well. I introduced them to family they had never met, to warrior they had only heard of from legend and song. There was endless feasting, dancing, music, and tales of great deeds.

I listened to them all, and spoke in turn of my own battles, friendships, defeats, and regrets. There was so much to tell about life in exile, and the hardships we faced. A future King would need to know these things. I was glad to tell it, and glad to tell the many things I had done wrong, so that none would repeat them.

Fili spoke as well. As young as he was, he had so many great adventures to tell, so many ideas and plans in his head. I wished I had listened to that boy more when I was alive.

And then there was Kili. Kili listened, same as us, but Kili never spoke. Not a word. Not even his name.

I asked my fellow souls what was to be done. They said that I should not worry, that it was natural for those who had died young, like Frerin, or experienced great solitude or torture before death as my own father, to be shocked and mute for a time. They became better in this place, and eventually all wounds healed.

Kili did not become better. He seemed to fade as time passed, though there was no true sense of time where we were. One day Fili and I looked, and Kili was gone."

Bilbo interrupted "What does that mean, Gandalf?"

"I am not sure." Gandalf said with a helpless shrug, "No one person's path to the afterlife is the same. Thorin is the first Dwarf who has passed over and come back that I have ever heard of. This is all new to me."

Gandalf turned back to the fire, "What is that?"

Thorin continued his story.

"I think I know what had gone so terribly wrong. It had to do with the time that Kili became separated from us, and arrived at Erebor with that Elf girl. I told Kili terrible, hateful things - that he had disgraced himself to care for an Elf, and insulted his mother and all Dwarf-kind, and he should be ashamed and never speak of the time he was with her. I made him send her away without even a proper good bye. That was a harsh thing to do.

I realized I had stopped his voice in this world and the next. I took a boy to war and sacrificed him for love of gold and old grudges. In the afterlife, he carried the burdens of my pride and poor judgment with him and denied a part of his life that was his alone."

Gandalf now spoke his own mind, for the benefit of Bilbo and Thorin, "So, Thorin believes Kili somehow found his way back to Middle-Earth, and Thorin followed. But Thorin, you do not know if Kili only went to another Dwarf Hall, for those who cannot recover. You do not know that he came all the way back to Middle-Earth."

Thorin was insistent, "Yes he did come here. The boy had unfinished business in Middle-Earth. He did not go to a lesser place. His place was in the Hall of Kings, with his family."

Gandalf raised his hands in apology, "I wish you well in finding him, but he is not here and I have no way of knowing where he might be."

Thorin sighed, "I have been hunting him for months, and there is not much time left - I can feel it. I have been to Blue Mountain, and every place Kili and Fili lived. I have been to Bywater, and Bree and I have been to Rohan - though why he would revisit that miserable winter, I know not. I have been through Erebor and back. I have been through Rivendell and Misty Mountains, Beorn's house and even Thranduil's Keep, but I cannot find him. Now, I have come here, to Bilbo, and the start of our journey.

There are but two places left to look. With my sister - and I admit I am a coward that I did not look in on her already - and with that Elf girl, Rhavaniel Mordemirdanian. I know where my sister is, and I will see her soon. But I cannot find the girl. I need your help, Gandalf."