With a heavy sigh Bilbo slumped quietly on a stone bench in a corner. He leaned back against the wall, tired beyond measure from the desperate situation his dwarves were in. Thorin grew more distant by the day, his loving words more often being replaced by cold dismissal, and every new rebuff sent another icy stab to the hobbits fragile heart. All Bilbo wanted now was to be left alone, to close himself off so he would not have to see the dark light that had corrupted the eyes of his beloved. He felt torn in pieces, part of him wishing he were home, or that he had never come, another part tempted to lash out, to blame the dwarf for his lack of self control. Gold sickness Balin had called it. If that was the case, Bilbo would bury away every last coin, if he thought it would bring Thorin back to them, but he knew it was hopeless.
He slipped a hand into his pocket, letting it brush past the handkerchief that contained the arkenstone, his own dirty little secret, and felt cold fingers wrap around the small treasure beside it. Slowly he drew it out, until it sat quite snugly in his palm, caressing the smooth surface and letting himself feel a small measure of peace. It was such a simple thing, but infinitely more precious than anything the hoard of the mountain had to offer. At least in his humble opinion, though judging by the way his comrades continued to exclaim over shiny baubles nearby, none of the others were likely to share his sentiment.
He had been so wrapped up in his own temporary bubble of happiness that he failed to see the dwarf lurking in the shadows nearby, unaware for the moment that he had caught the attention of his king. His peace was shattered, harsh words dragging him swiftly back to reality.
"What is that?!" Thorin growled, marching towards him with a frightening glower.
Instinctively, Bilbo closed his hand around the small object in his palm, hiding it from view. "Nothing," he stammered quickly, forcing a tense smile onto his face.
His denial served only to rile the king further, until Bilbo wanted to shrink away from him. "Show me," Thorin demanded, his tone indicating that there would be no other outcome to the situation.
Praying that his keepsake would be safe, Bilbo uncurled his fist, revealing an entirely innocent object. A single acorn. "I picked it up in Beorn's garden," he explained, in answer to the perplexed look that Thorin was now offering him.
His easy admission seemed to spark something in the dwarf king, for in a moment of stunning clarity, Thorin smiled in awe. "You carried it all this way," he murmured.
Bilbo nodded, his own face lighting up at the return of Thorin's sanity. "I'm going to plant it, once all this is over, so that Erebor will have something green again. One day there may even be a forest of them, outside the mountain, and every time we look at them we can remember how lucky we were to make it all this way."
Thorin's answering smile was brilliant beyond compare as he swiftly clasped the hobbit in a careful embrace. "And we will sit under them, in our golden years, listening to the ravens. I cannot think of a better end to this journey," he promised lowly. The two held hands tightly, even as they pulled back to see each others faces, but their shared joy was quickly dispelled when Dwalin reluctantly interrupted.
"Thorin, the survivors of Laketown are flooding into Dale!" he announced rapidly. His words cut through the air, and Bilbo winced in fresh pain as Thorin dropped his hands abruptly, a dark mask dropping over his gaze once again. Bilbo was left to trail behind him as the entire company hastened to the barricade over the ruined gates.
The encounter with the lake men had not gone well at all. They had been joined by elves, and the very sight of his most hated adversaries sent Thorin into an apoplectic rage. The dwarf had screamed obscenities at them, ignoring the pleas of the men for aid and damning them all for the crime of associating with his rivals. None had been able to reason with him, and few tried, so that by the time they retreated back into the depths of the mountain they were under siege. The king prepared for war, preferring to battle to the death rather than relinquish even a tiny fraction of the mounds of treasure that surrounded them. Bilbo had once more left their company, choosing solitude over a renewed search for the arkenstone.
The hobbit wandered the corridors for some time, feeling the weight of deafening silence bear down upon him until it left his head swimming. He let his steps guide him back towards the others, hearing their voices before he saw them, and when he peeked around a corner he found himself at the armory. He watched from a distance down the hall as the dwarves armed themselves with ancient weapons and glittering armor, unable to help himself from staring at the sight of the king dressed as a figure from legend. Thorin was clad in armor of purest gold, a crown on his head and something that shone like stars draped over his arm.
"Come here Bilbo," the king ordered suddenly, startling the hobbit out of his thoughts and causing him to flush in embarrassment. He had to fight the urge to flinch under such close scrutiny as he approached, and was startled when there was suddenly a filmy barrier between the two. It took him a moment to realize that it was some kind of mail armor, dangling from Thorin's hands like rippling water and thin enough that the light of torches illuminated the dwarf's form for him to see behind the metal. "I want you to wear this," the dwarf commanded. "If it comes to a fight, I would have you be safe."
Bilbo swallowed past the lump in his throat at the heartfelt admission. The caring words were such a sharp contrast to the mad glint in Thorin's eyes, but to know that the dwarf still worried even when he had lost himself was enough to convince Bilbo to raise his arms without hesitation. The mail slid down over his shoulders, coming to rest lightly against the exposed skin of his neck, cooling his flushed skin. It was surprisingly light, and the hobbit could not help but run his hands over it as he awkwardly straightened it to cover his thin cotton shirt. The fond smile that Thorin bestowed upon him at the sight of the hobbit clad in unfamiliar armor did nothing to steady his nerves this time. Neither did the reassurance that they could hold against a siege indefinitely.
The king sat brooding on his throne, ignorant to the pleas of the company for him to come eat, or sleep. Unceasing in his demands that they ignore the host outside the fortified gates and continue to search for the arkenstone. Bilbo began to wonder if he should feel bad, withholding it like he was, but then he would remember Smaug's words. The dragon had sounded so delightedly smug, even as he warned the hobbit of Thorin's impending madness. As if there was nothing he would have liked more than to see the king unravel, which was probably closer to the truth than Bilbo wished to admit. The beast had been a sadistic creature, reveling in the pain of others, and now it appeared that his legacy would live on even as the treasure began to poison the dwarves and drive them to insanity. None of the others had yet succumbed, but for all Bilbo knew it was just a matter of time.
He had never felt so alone, observing Thorin from amongst the shadows, wondering if there was yet something he could try to snap the king out of his mental prison. He gasped as he felt the touch of a hand on his arm, turning to glance at Balin and Dwalin, not sure if he should feel gratified or just more concerned when the king did not react to the sound of his distress echoing through the chamber. The brothers drew him back a few paces, into another room.
"Is there nothing we can do?" Bilbo whispered sadly.
Balin just heaved a tired sigh, his face drawn and aged. "I don't know laddie, I just don't know."
Dwalin was nearly growling in frustration beside him, hands clenched in tight fists. "You're giving up?" he asked with barely controlled outrage.
"What would you have me do?" Balin grimaced, shaken to see his brother so incensed.
The other dwarf appeared to give this some serious thought. "I'd shake it out of him," he snarled heatedly. "Or perhaps we could bash him over the head and knock some sense back through his skull," he mused with a dangerous glare, as if to challenge the two to question him.
Balin choked out a nearly hysterical laugh. "You know that won't work," he reminded his hot headed brother.
"It could be worth a shot," Dwalin grumbled, too annoyed to admit he knew the other was right.
Looking between the two, Bilbo felt a sudden surge of anger, that they should be so discouraged and lost. Their pain seemed to know no bounds, for they had known Thorin nearly all their lives. They no longer recognized this stranger wearing the crown, and that thought had Bilbo grasping for their arms in a comforting gesture. "I will speak to him. Perhaps... perhaps I can reason with him. He was nearly himself earlier, when we were talking. Maybe he just needs a little reminder."
Dwalin stared at him, his gaze inscrutable as he contemplated the hobbit, but Balin was smiling sadly. "Aye laddie," he agreed. "You may be the only one who can reach him now."
Squaring his shoulders, Bilbo strode down the hall with a small push of encouragement from the others. He glanced back at them only once, motioning for them to move off and give him some privacy, and they nodded in understanding, retreating to the treasure room. Soon the sound of their heavy foot falls had faded away, leaving nothing but a pressing silence, the quiet only broken by the thudding of Bilbo's heart and the incoherent mumbles of the king on his throne.
"Thorin?" Bilbo called out softly, laying a trembling hand on Thorin's knee when the dwarf shifted to acknowledge him. He waited patiently, and when the king offered him a glimmer of a smile he relaxed ever so slightly. "Can we talk?" He waited again, breath held in trepidation. A nod, and Bilbo began to force the words out. It was no carefully prepared speech, no diplomatic request, but a heartfelt plea. "We need to help the men outside. They... they are starving, and homeless, and it is our fault for waking Smaug. My fault," he winced, remembering the encounter with horrifying clarity.
To his surprise Thorin said nothing, merely staring at him as if he were not quite seeing the small man before him. Bilbo blinked in discomfort, wishing to escape the weight of that troubled gaze, but unwilling to provoke any sort of harsh reaction. Thorin's hand lifted, and for one fleeting moment Bilbo thought the dwarf intended to strike him. His flinch went unnoticed, the large palm coming to rest gently against his cheek, thumb sweeping broad strokes over his skin. It was unnerving, such a warm gesture, when the face of the king remained coldly expressionless. "Bilbo, you do not have to worry about them," Thorin promised lowly, his every word causing the hobbits heart to sink lower and lower. "They cannot hurt us in here, and once Dain arrives with his army we will send them away. The dwarves will become strong again, and you my treasure, you will stand beside me here, and I will cover you in all the gems you desire." The hand dropped then, the king turning away in an obvious dismissal.
Bilbo backed away, holding back a sob as Thorin's renewed muttering drove through his head. That was it then. They would go to war, maybe even die, and none of that even mattered, because even if they won there would be no victory. Not for Bilbo, who had lost the only thing important to him in this cold kingdom. What had they gained in the end? Not a home, that was for certain. Just a hall full of empty promises and ghosts. He suddenly felt very tired, and as he worked to place one leaden step in front of the other he stumbled over a bit of rock. With a startled cry, the hobbit lurched to the side and into empty air...
Author's note: So, I wanted to address the issue of Thorin's goldsickness, and I really really ship Bagginshield, and I came up with a rather morbid idea. This is going to be a short story, five chapters long that I already have fully written and am just editing, and full of angst, but there will be a happy ending, because I am a sucker for those. Please do let me know what you think, and the next chapter will be up tomorrow.